A Day with Ray and a Lesson in Love and Community
There’s a loud honk in the driveway. Based on the bravado of such a brazen disturbance of my tranquility it can only be one person, my neighbor, Ray.
Ray lives 6 or 7 lots upriver from me, I can’t remember exactly, but he’s close enough to cause considerable trouble. When you don’t see him keeping the vegetation on the side of our community road trim with his John Deere, Ray can be seen behind the wheel of his oversized pickup truck, flipping jumbo dog cookies from the window to any canine within the distance of an effortless toss.
Ray had stormed up the driveway the day before, informing me that he was there to “show me some things”. Since I was busy with other commitments during his first impromptu appearance, I suggested we meet the next day at 1pm. It’s 12:15 pm and Ray has shown up 45 minutes early to which I inform him of his early arrival. He blinks vacantly, with an “Oh .”
I tell Ray he’s in luck as my previous meeting was canceled and a ridiculously beautiful smile leaps through the creases and folds of his ancient face as he barks enthusiastically, “Get in then!”
I ask Ray if I can bring my dog, Maggie, who was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer and is now my stylish must-have accessory of the season. I put her carefully in the back seat and Ray chirps excitedly, “Can she have a cookie?” I nod and with one flow-state flick of his wrist, a cookie the size of Maggie’s leg, flips over the seat and lands beside her. As she begins to peck away unenthusiastically at the monolithic dog treat, Ray starts driving off, explaining what he was about to show me.
The community where I live is located on the outskirts of a tiny little town with a population of 750 people, at last count. Ray is one of the original developers of the community and at 94 years old is about as elder as an elder can get. Since I first moved here from Seattle and expressed interest in participating in the activities of the HomeOwners' Association, it wasn’t long before the Board of Directors suggested that I step into the President’s role. Upon first hearing that, my imagination flashed forward to state dinners, visiting dignitaries, and hobnobbing with heads of state, then I came fluttering back down to earth to the modest scope of my presidency, ruling fairly and compassionately alongside some 50 different community members, of which there are maybe 40 or so in the winter months.
Ray is clearly eager to show me the ropes, and the first order of business is to give me the key to the city - or in this case, the gates to the two community parks that are part of our little slice of heaven up here in the North Cascades. After giving me the key, we head to the park named after Ray. He orders me out to unlock the gate, then shows me where the power and water is located, all set for community get-togethers or larger gatherings.
As was always the case, the main topic of Ray’s concern is the lack of community events. I mention to him that we just had a potluck BBQ with a presentation by the local Sheriff’s office on the Neighborhood Watch Program, which he approves of boisterously - “YES! We need more of that!” And I agree. It’s sad how many people don’t know their neighbors and have no intention or care to do so. We understand the importance of community in plant medicine circles and the plants and fungi certainly teach us about how important it is, but for the most part, most places hold a collection of disconnected units called households, who don’t seem to speak the same language as each other. Yet in the face of a natural disaster they would likely find humanity in themselves and others - so, why not practice togetherness more regularly, when shit isn’t hitting the fan?
After touring the two parks, there isn’t much else to see in the community but Ray has other plans, “We’re heading into town!” he announces. I hesitate and question Ray about how long this is going to take, since it is the middle of my work day. “Not long!” His exuberance is impossible to say no to, and I immediately feel that the opportunity to hang out with my Brother Ray, takes precedence over anything else I have going on. Looking in the seat behind us, little Maggie throws me an indifferent look as she stands guard over her half-eaten giant dog cookie.
Next stop is the old shingle mill, where Ray tells me he worked 7 days a week for 5 years straight and never missed a day. As he proudly shares this fact, I ponder if he’s ever been present or if maybe he is the proverbial poster boy of ‘chop wood, carry water’ and his work IS his zen practice? It isn't long before Ray brings up his former business partner, George. And like Ray’s wife Bonnie says, ‘Everything is George’s fault [eyeroll]. According to Ray, George was a thief and a cheat and accused Ray of stealing gas, while it was George who was the fuel-thieving conspirator of all things evil on planet Earth.
Since Ray has told me about George more times than I can count, I know all about this man who shall be nameless, except his name is George. And each time Ray recounts his misdeeds, I wonder how he can live this long and not know how to let things go. I ask Ray if he’s ever going to let George go and he answers with pure conviction, “NO WAY!” George has been dead for years and he’s still lurking behind every corner, waiting to siphon Ray’s gas and then gaslight him into oblivion.
After touring the shingle mill, Ray announces we’re heading into town. “Town’ consists of Main street, with no stoplights, Starbucks, or Subways. As we pass the local firehall, Ray tells me about the town parade and how every year he and his bride would drive down main street, with a handful of community leaders and random parade goers - and he’s almost at a loss for words at how great that was. The parades are still going on, but Ray no longer participates - I don’t ask him why.
As we drive down Main Street, Ray suddenly slows the truck…he winds down the windows and reaches for the radio controls, cueing the soundtrack of a thunderous marching band, cranked to ELEVEN. Rolling along at parade speed, Ray honks his horn and waves at everyone in the street. I have no idea if he knows them, or if they are just lucky ducks, with an impromptu parade, marshaled by nonagenarian extraordinaire, Ray. And playing the part of a bewildered and highly entertained Ferris Bueller, yours truly, basking in the joy of an hour and a bit spent with one of my beloved elders.
Ray drops me back at the cabin. I tell him how grateful I am for the tour and for him having the vision and drive to build our beautiful little community on the river. I tell him how much I love it here and thank him for his service. He counters with a heartfelt “Ok, Cowboy!”
Ray drives back down my driveway to his home up the river. I feel like this has been a right of passage, Ray handing me the key, sharing some history, and telling me more of his story. Despite him being unable to let go of old George, he does have a point about community. It’s something we all have to work on - and the funny thing is, when you do, you wonder why you didn’t do it sooner.
So get to know your neighbors. Go hang out with some elders. Organize and socialize and say hello. Lend a hand, coordinate efforts, clean up, break bread, plant gardens and trees. Healing and raising the vibration isn’t just about your individual journey, because that “you” is just made up. You are Love, Consciousness, The Universe - you are The Everything and Nothing all at once and so take your light into the world, lead by example, and show up for your community, because we really are all in this together.
