Sign of the times

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign
© 1970, Five Man Electrical Band

The last forty miles of a 4,000 mile journey. A bad sign?

I'm beginning to like this global warming thing. Of course, we still have a roof over our heads. But you grow to appreciate things like that, knowing at any time you could join the growing throng of folks who don't.

As we began our trip to the Oregon coast two and one half weeks ago, I believe I blogged of an incident that occurred about three hours from home. It was when we stopped on the western-most edge of New Mexico at a tourist information center when I discovered a leaky ballpoint pen in my pocket. The large blue stain on my leg only spread from there--to my hands, the car keys, my wife's hands, my wife's pants, etc.

Little did we suspect at the time, we were being given a sign of what was to become known as "The Leaky Trip." I didn't mention in subsequent blogs the leaks that followed. That's because a couple of 'em involved presents we were taking to friends and family.

But as we pulled into our hotel in Blythe, CA for the night after crossing the heat of the Arizona desert--a heat that was to follow us all the way to Oregon--we noticed a vinegar like smell in the trunk of the car as we unpacked a few items. It was a bottle of wine we were transporting as a gift. Apparently, it couldn't take the 114 heat. It leaked. We had to chuck it. But at least it's memory lingered on in the aroma wafting up from one of our cases. Fortunately not the one containing our clothes.

Later that evening in our room, I discovered my aftershave lotion had also leaked. This is when we began to suspect we weren't getting the message being given us from the great beyond. But it did leave us to ponder many possibilities.

Double bagging the remaining three wine bottles in plastic that night, we proceeded onward the next day only to discover a second bottle of wine had escaped its containment at day's end. Fortunately, it wasn't enough to justify its destruction. Instead, we sentenced that bottle to ride the rest of the way in the ice chest. That was good, because it turned out to be the best Cabernet Sauvignon our sommelier-in-his-next-life nephew said he'd ever tasted. And it was from New Mexico!

Arriving in Portland, we thought we'd left the leaks behind us. We were wrong. On a Wednesday morning while everyone was sleeping, we received a call from our neighbor back home in El Paso. Our hot water heater was leaking! (Neighbor purchased a replacement and had it installed by noon the next day!) But it was another sign. And our laughing at leaking ink pens, wine and after shave bottles was growing weaker.

One of the thoughts I had at this point was this was some kind of omen for us to skip the beach portion of the trip. I'd seen a TV program about the tsunami that would hit the Oregon coast when the Juan de Fuca and North America plates just off the Pacific Northwest coast slip. The massive earthquake that could result would give you 12-15 minutes to see if you could gain enough elevation to survive.

But I decided we would risk it. After all, we embrace risky behaviors daily in the food and drink we ingest, the air we breathe and the government we allow to continue unabated. A tsunami didn't seem to be the object of our omens to me at that point.

Towards the end of our beach stay, we received an early "leak" regarding our planned rendezvous with Cindy Sheehan in Taos. We learned through a friend helping organize the event that Cindy wouldn't be there. Instead, she would be in Jordan on invitation from members of the Iraqi parliament trying to find some way to get American troops the hell of their country.

At the very end of our stay in Oregon we heard of one final leak. A big one. It was the skies over our hometown of El Paso. Sudden thunderstorms had decimated many neighborhoods. Some folks there had been told to climb up on their roofs to escape rising waters. It's been nearly a week and still Air Force One with the president aboard has yet to make a low flyover and tip its wings. With the waters in recession, hopefully folks have climbed down off their roofs and have given up thoughts of getting to "wave back" gestures to the president.

But on the last 40 miles of the trip, we drove into one of the worst storms I'd ever seen. It was scary, but we made it through! We have since learned two houses just up the street abutting ours will have to be gutted or destroyed. The raging waters running off the mountain to the west chose a shortcut through them. Our favorite organic food store is gone and many, many more homes flooded.

And as for any damage to our house? A couple of leaks in the ceiling! Looking around the neighborhood at those houses and the apartments behind them, the lower floors of which were inundated, we're feeling very lucky. Maybe that's what all those signs we couldn't interpret were about. Let's hope that's all the omens were trying to tell us about during The Leaky Trip.