When I awoke early the next morning, I started getting everything together in a very slow and lethargic manner, feeling very grimy and dirty as I was still wearing my jersey and covered in the filth of a seventy mile ride from the day before. After getting everything together, the same lady from the night before pulled beside me and told me that if I wanted to use the facilities of the pool to take a shower seeing that they were giving lessons and the showers were open. I thanked her and asked if there was a Becky that worked at the pool because the Scotsman that I bunked with at the Tribune city park told me to stop in Eureka and ask for Becky. The lady answered that she was Becky and I told her that the Scotsman said "Hi" and that he was doing good and still traveling well. She was happy to hear and she told me that she does offer her house up to cyclists and that if I wanted, I could go there and chill for the day or if I wanted to stay the night, I could do that as well. I thanked her and rolled my bike over to the pool and took my shower, feeling more refreshed than a morning flower dabbled with dew facing a rising sun. I breathed in a fresh start and decided that I might need to use Becky's laundry and waited for her to return by reading some of my book.
When she came back, I waited a bit and when I stood up, a young girl stepped out with her hand held out, introducing herself as Betsy, Becky's daughter, asking me if I was going to stay with them for the night. I spoke with her mother about laundry and agreed upon a place to sleep inside for the night. I followed her to her house to which she gave me a grand tour and said some quotable things that I really enjoyed hearing:
"This is my home. I don't do anything special for you guys. It is what it is. I just ask that you make yourself at home."
I enjoyed hearing some directness from another human being tinged with respect to the fact that I'm a simple man with simple pleasures in life. I feel as though she understood the cycling culture due to the fact that she's housed so many of them and she knew that it didn't take much to make us feel comfortable. After the tour and the pointing out of the washer/dryer, I came to the conclusion that she wasn't just offering up her house to me; she was making me apart of that house for however many few days I felt like I needed to gather myself. She needs to have clones of her and her family scattered along this route, especially in the desert where a cyclist longs for warm people such as herself.
She told me she would be in and out, as would her five kids, and I should make myself at home in every respect. When she left, I started my laundry and looked into the sink and found a perfect way to make myself feel at home and show my appreciation at the same time. I did the dishes while I waited for my clothes to wash and dry. Throughout the day, which I spent reading and writing a bit, I was slowly introduced to her kids one at a time. Betsy, I had met at the pool. Brooke came in behind Betsy. Later, the only boy, Chuck, who I had to give props to for coming out as head strong as he has living with five other women. Bailey came third. And Becky, the last daughter, was the last to officially meet. Each of them, separately, were just as kind as their mother. And as the afternoon wore on, and the pool began to close, they all started to gather together as a family, and when that happened, the music started playing and they began their circus dance of raucousness and horseplay. I thought to myself, as I sat there and answered all of their questions and inquiries and watched as they flung themselves here and there, how entertaining. But I tagged right along with their silliness very slyly and tried to fit right in, making smart remarks and throwing the jokes in with the best of the mixes and muddles. We had dinner and they started talking about other cyclists they'd put up and the different type of people they'd met; I won't go into detail as I don't want to ruin your stay when you find your way coming through Eureka and in the depths of the kindness of these wild hearts. Then, the subject of puppy chow came up and when I had related to them that I'd never had the snack, all of them held their hands to their mouths in different fashions as to show the different ways one can be surprised and made references to the rock I had lived under and how much my life wasn't complete!
So, with the plans of making puppy chow that night, I accompanied Brooke to the pool where we got the vacuum ready. When they had planned on going to the pool for the weekly cleaning, I don't think they expected me to jump at the chance, but I hadn't had a pool in eight to nine years and hadn't vacuumed one in the same time, if not longer. It's not that I enjoyed doing it when I had it, but if I could indulge myself just once without having to do it all summer, I would tag along and indulge myself as such.
The rest of the family met up poolside and Chuck and a few others dove in to enjoy the empty water. They had an exciting challenge in trying to drag Brooke into the pool and I almost flung her in myself just to sate the anticipation of seeing her hit that water. They say that Chuck is a state champion wrestler and after seeing him tackle and mangle with Brooke, I could see where he acquired the strength and practice to become such a talented tosser. I helped finish up the pool and felt very accomplished in cleaning a pool after so long and still being able to do a decent job. We packed everything and headed back home. When I got there, Bailey and her friend decided to drag me out to get a watermelon. We got the watermelon seeded with good laughs and silly jokes popping in and out of the car.
When I entered the house, I found puppy chow being churned about in a big bowl and dove right in to the addicting food. It was as good as they had explained and I took half a cup and realized that any more would make me explode rich goodness all over the place. So, I settled myself on that and talked a bit more with Becky, the mom, before she was suddenly called to her motherly duties once again. So, left alone in the living area with everyone else in their respected rooms, I sat at their grand piano and messed around for a while, letting my fingers become acquainted with the keys and the familiar touch of ivory and my ears to the once-upon-a-time chimes of the keys on string and the chords that rung out, taking me back to the upright back at home. I hadn't played in ages and was glad to be in front of the black and white buttons that would set off an explosion of harmony that made me smile so, reflecting my teeth back at the white keys in front of me.
When she returned, Becky set my place on the couch and as I was very grateful, we bid each other "Goodnight" and I fell asleep with the thoughts of being a part of a strange family that day and living in a home after being on the road for eleven days. And it's not that eleven days is a long time, but to have the comfort of a home and family reminded me that I couldn't wait to get to mine so that I may wake up every morning close to a familiarity that warms one to the bone. So, I must make a public appreciation to the Schmidt family for making me one of their own for one night. Today, the morning after, I leave a McDonald and look forward to being closer to the friends and family that make me so.
wow. great story.
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