VACATION
I opened my front door and there was Noman, my young neighbor from down the road. He had shaved his head. Noman had been feeding the chickens while Roman and I spent some time away following what has largely been half a year of me touring. We took what I refer to as a "Roman Holiday." No, it doesn't mean we go to Rome. We do whatever Roman wants to do. My job is to always agree and to always enjoy myself far more than I might have otherwise anticipated.
I got quite ill on tour. Twice. This is the kind of thing that drives Roman crazy. He is a natural mother and worrier. So he had decided that I was to take the cure, even if it killed me. That meant enzyme baths, which is basically snoozing in very hot fermenting cedar chips; mud baths, which is exactly what it sounds like; and a refreshing stay at Harbin Hot Springs in Northern California.
Harbin is in a geothermic region so it has some amazing natural hot springs to sooth a tattered soul. Since it is clothing optional, I spent my days lounging naked among the lovely trees, regularly being slathered in sun screen lotion by Roman. Roman is no stranger to Harbin. He had gone to massage school there many years ago. In fact he still knew a few people who worked at the school even though so much time had passed since he was there.
Now we were home. Back on the farm. Noman greeted us with genuine excitement and affection. He has changed so much since getting out of high school only a year ago. He started working with his dad and that has been so good for him. When his father asked if he would like to join the family business, he did it in a remarkable way. He wrote Noman a letter requesting a meeting at his office. A letter. Stamp and everything. When Noman went to the meeting his dad treated him very professionally and presented him with a formal business plan that not only offered him a job in the company, but a plan of slow transition that would have him owning the company in about 15 years.
In short, Noman's father offered him respect on a man-to-man basis, proving a level of trust and faith in his offspring that, when Noman shared the story, I was a bit shocked. My father's generation had a tendency to always treat kids like they were useless fuck-ups. My own father thought I would turn out worthless. That I would run off to California and become a hippy. That I would be in a band that made awful music. That I would end up married to another man and live on a chicken farm that raised chickens for fun. That I would spend days lounging naked among lovely trees while being slathered in sun screen lotion.
Thanks dad.
I opened my front door and there was Noman, my young neighbor from down the road. He had shaved his head. Noman had been feeding the chickens while Roman and I spent some time away following what has largely been half a year of me touring. We took what I refer to as a "Roman Holiday." No, it doesn't mean we go to Rome. We do whatever Roman wants to do. My job is to always agree and to always enjoy myself far more than I might have otherwise anticipated.
I got quite ill on tour. Twice. This is the kind of thing that drives Roman crazy. He is a natural mother and worrier. So he had decided that I was to take the cure, even if it killed me. That meant enzyme baths, which is basically snoozing in very hot fermenting cedar chips; mud baths, which is exactly what it sounds like; and a refreshing stay at Harbin Hot Springs in Northern California.
Harbin is in a geothermic region so it has some amazing natural hot springs to sooth a tattered soul. Since it is clothing optional, I spent my days lounging naked among the lovely trees, regularly being slathered in sun screen lotion by Roman. Roman is no stranger to Harbin. He had gone to massage school there many years ago. In fact he still knew a few people who worked at the school even though so much time had passed since he was there.
Now we were home. Back on the farm. Noman greeted us with genuine excitement and affection. He has changed so much since getting out of high school only a year ago. He started working with his dad and that has been so good for him. When his father asked if he would like to join the family business, he did it in a remarkable way. He wrote Noman a letter requesting a meeting at his office. A letter. Stamp and everything. When Noman went to the meeting his dad treated him very professionally and presented him with a formal business plan that not only offered him a job in the company, but a plan of slow transition that would have him owning the company in about 15 years.
In short, Noman's father offered him respect on a man-to-man basis, proving a level of trust and faith in his offspring that, when Noman shared the story, I was a bit shocked. My father's generation had a tendency to always treat kids like they were useless fuck-ups. My own father thought I would turn out worthless. That I would run off to California and become a hippy. That I would be in a band that made awful music. That I would end up married to another man and live on a chicken farm that raised chickens for fun. That I would spend days lounging naked among lovely trees while being slathered in sun screen lotion.
Thanks dad.
