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Chapter 7 "THE FIELDS ARE ALREADY WHITE WITH HARVEST" (John 4:35) The Good we Seek is Already Here           The above Bible quote tells us that the good we seek is already here. All we have to do is recognize, accept, and enjoy. But too often we look elsewhere for the blessings. We think that life would be better, if only. "If only what?"           It's a universal law, expressed in the Bible many ways, that we must "be faithful over little," in other words, appreciate and utilize what we have, and "I'll put you over much." It's a consciousness of having, rather than not having. Then more is given out of the awareness of the good we already have.           I'd been living from this point of view more and more, especially in Laughlin, where we were actually enjoying the "more." And that's because we are seeing it. The entire title quote says, "I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see how the fields are already white for harvest." Within these few words are the basic steps of creativity, and they were brought home to me as this chapter unfolded. With What we Already Have at Hand           I'd started the day by listening to a tape of a Sunday service by Rev. Roger Teele, the minister at the Mile High Church in Lakewood, which I attend when in Colorado. He was talking about prosperity and commitment, using the above Bible excerpt.           My Guidance said to look it up, and I did (but not until Tuesday; and that comes later in the story). In the meantime, I began to follow the Steps, as they were being revealed.           "See that the fields are already white with harvest." In other words, stop waiting for something to happen, and start doing something now with what you already have at hand. This step was emphasized in the Old Testament when Joshua was told that he could lead the Israelites out of the Wilderness (of confusion and transition), and enter the Promised Land, by first stepping into the "flooded Jordan River."           Once that first step was taken, even in the appearance of overwhelming negativity -- in this case the flood -- only then does God do His part to help us along to the next step. He stopped the waters, or the flowing of further negative ideas and thinking. We took our first step to prove our Faith, and then He helped by stopping further flooding. Remove the Character Defects           In AA's Twelve Steps, we ask God to remove the "character defects," which I interpret as the former habits and patterns that have kept us locked into the bondage of limitation, whatever it may be in our individual lives.           With these patterns finally stopped, we are able to move forward, as when the Israelites were "passing over on dry ground." In other words, they held firm to the ideas of God, rather than the negative thinking that kept them in the Wilderness so long (I've written an entire series, Journey to Freedom, based on this Exodus, so won't elaborate here). Current Priorities           Our second step is to "see" the good that is already at hand. For me it meant to start taking care of my current priorities, before launching into my new endeavors. In other words, I asked myself, "What's at hand to do?           I  wrote a Newsletter  update for the Freedomers, and sent it, along with a personal letter, then included some family and friends, as time allowed. But, in the meantime, I created several congratulations cards: Michael Martin, for having his parole hearing date set; and my granddaughter, Arianna, for resuming her college program, and getting clear on her major, Sociology.           Now, I had stepped into the flooded waters by taking action regarding the immediate business-at-hand: my family and friends, and my ministry. For some family bonding, I sent a Road Atlas to Brandon, my great-grandson, so he can keep track of our travels, and wrote to Airica, my teenage granddaughter, and sent her a new magazine, Teen People. A New World of Possibilities                     Monday morning, as part of my meditation, I looked up the title Bible verse, which opened a floodgate of inspiration that I've written at the beginning of this chapter. Then I read my Daily Reading, which I'd neglected for several days, and I knew that God was speaking to me, as He often does through books, TV, or movies with experiential aids.           Its title read: I am continually discovering a world of great possibilities. The main subject was seeing the possibilities at hand from a different perspective, which related to the John 4 verse. In other words, changing our outlook to see the world as God created it -- already complete and perfect. It concluded: With love and appreciation I see the potential around me.           Jesus also taught us to pray by His example of prayer when asking that Lazarus be resurrected. He gave thanks in advance for the desired result: Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me, I know  thou hearest me always. Answered prayer requires an attitude of gratitude.           And the Bible verse affirmed the overall message: When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me (Jeremiah 29:13-14).           Again, here are the Steps: 1. Search for me -- action. 2. With all your heart -- commitment. 3. You will find me -- promise (faith). 4. I will let you find me -- revelation. In other words, "It is done." The Silver Chalice           The lessons continued throughout the day as we watched an old movie, The Silver Chalice on TV. It was Paul Newman's first movie, a biblical epic based on the silver chalice from which Jesus drank the wine during His crucifixion.           Paul played Basil, who had been adopted into wealth, then had his adoptive rights denied, and his inheritance stolen. At one point, in searching for Peter, he lived in the very house, but didn't know the servant was actually Peter. The servant said, "Peter will reveal himself when he is ready." Again, the search, not seeing what is already there, and then having it revealed. First Within and then Without           The ongoing lesson here is that we stop looking out there for our answers, and look within to the indwelling Christ presence, the mystery hid for ages. Again, this was emphasized when I read my Daily Reading: God's loving presence is the firm foundation on which we build our true security. First within then without.           In the past, I'd always looked to Van to provide our finances. Yes, I knew that God is the Source, but I'd come to depend on Him providing through Van; not only for our income, but for the strength and guidance in our lives. When that was taken away, after his job layoff, my security seemed to crumble. Living with the reality of his incapacitation for the next five years, I was forced to rely on God, not only as a belief, but as a truth. I Depend on God           "I depend on God," is now more than an affirmation, for I know that God is always with me. He has revealed Himself to me in so many ways. And, of course, the truth is that He was there all the time. So His love and wisdom provides our security.           This lesson had been a source of solace when I called on Mike Scanlon on Monday, as directed by Marty. He said that my ideas were good, but that the timing wasn't right, and suggested that I talk with him again at a future time. This was okay with me, because I knew that I wasn't ready, yet, either. I wanted to be ready, but there was more preparation to be done. Chapter 8 "REACHING OUT AS LOVE" The Beginning           When the idea came to me for this book, especially the part about "Reaching out as Love," I thought it would be about our travels, and the people we would be visiting along the way, as well as new places we'd see. And definitely it would be a nice, happy book about love.           But, like my first book in this series, we started during the first two months when we lived in Freedom (our 35 ft. Holiday Rambler motor home) without turning a wheel. We simply stayed in the RV park and got used to the confined lifestyle, while in Golden, Colorado, near my daughter, Dottie, and her family, and with the added mobility of our Volvo.           I call this period The Beginning, which is needed in any trip or new venture. It is the preparation process before the beginning; when we make plans, consider our destination, make reservations, pack, and otherwise get ready. For me, at least, it's usually a learning period too.           As the Love Lessons are unfolding, I can clearly see that this preparation is necessary, before the next phase of our trip begins. Not that I personally made any effort, but rather that the experiential aide, as I term the process that takes me through the experience, rather than observing, is in progress. "Tell me Who You Are"           This process began when I played a tape of our church's Sunday service that Dottie sent me. The minister, Rev. Roger Teel, took us further than we might expect with his title, Tell Me Who You Are.           In fact, Van, hearing the beginning, decided to step outside for his morning cigarette; and that's what started this experience.           "Talk about being cut off," I said.           It was obvious that wasn't a good idea from my viewpoint, so he sat back down, and mumbled, "I heard his opening statements, and it's pretty much what you've been writing." He Wasn't There           I glared out the window, and tried to concentrate on the tape, though I felt rage. Once again, Van cut me off, or otherwise wasn't there. In other words, he wasn't participating in something I was doing, which is pretty much the story of our relationship. Oh yes, he gives me space to do what I'm doing, and he supports me doing it. But he doesn't enter into it with me. There is no teamwork aspect to our relationship; and the intimacy is non-existent.           Of course, this is characteristic of Van, and I've learned to live with it, but I don't like it. Actually, I learned during my years in the Twelve Step Program, CoDa (Codependents Anonymous), that wounded children from dysfunctional families, who become codependent, usually become alcoholics or addicts; or they marry -- or have a relationship with -- one, or with an otherwise emotionally unavailable person. As they say, "It's not an indictment, but an explanation." It Sounds Like my Biography           You got that right. As with all the Typical Characteristics of a Codependent, it sounded like my autobiography. All of my relationships fit that description. And, furthermore, I'm tired of it. However, I've learned that unless I change the patterns within myself, I'll only recreate the same situation next time. So I focus on my own pattern changes.           Nevertheless, I've also learned to recognize and express my feelings, rather than deny or bury them. So, as I listened to Dr. Roger's tape, I was angry. But it was difficult to stay angry, because he began talking about love. Of course, as is always the case when we hear a good sermon, it applies to the other person. But it really doesn't; not anymore than it applies to oneself. All is Love           The emphasis of the Sunday message is exactly what I write, "I am love." And I believe that. I also believe that God is Love, God is All, and All is Love; therefore I am love, and you are Love. In other words, there is no way we cannot be Love. And that is our true identity. Become Part of ...           In any event, the tape ended, and we went about our daily activities. Later in the day, we walked to Ramada Express Casino for a frozen yogurt; a love-relationship activity. And afterward we stopped by the open lounge to listen to a group, Lucky, play a varied selection of music from the forties through the present time.           Three couples of professional ballroom dancers gracefully glided across the postage stamp dance floor, or bopped, or jitterbugged. I decided to change the pattern of standing on the outside, and suggested we go inside and sit down in the last row. Actually, our view wasn't as good, but at least we were now part of the crowd sitting in the darkened lounge, though we declined to order anything to drink.           Our eyes no more than adjusted to the dark, than the band took a break. So, I took advantage of the time for us to move closer to the front. Wow! That's daring. Now we were at the little round table behind the dancers, in the middle of the room, although they took a break too. But Van was sitting by a group of drinkers and loud talkers, so he couldn't hear anything I said. Furthermore, from my viewpoint, he was detached and not participating. In other words, as usual, he was there, but not there.           This triggered more emotions, of the ad infinitum times I'd been with men -- dates or husbands -- who weren't there. Dissociation, is the technical term. This time I chose not to dwell on the feelings, and concentrated on several couples dancing to the canned music. Finally, the musicians and dancers returned, and we enjoyed the entertainment, until the next break when we too left.           In the past, I would have quietly seethed over my feelings about Van's behavior; or I would have indulged in a barrage of verbiage aimed at him about being so distant. But, with years of recovery programs, including therapy, I've learned to accept that's just Van being Van. I have choices: accept it and live with it, change myself, or leave the relationship. The Promise           Since I already know that I would simply recreate the same kind of person, I've chosen to change myself and remain in the relationship. When we work our recovery program, "The Promise" is that we will enjoy more fulfilling relationships. And in many ways, Van and I are more compatible than ever.           After his computer programmer job layoff, when the company downsized, Van went into trauma for the next five years, and life was about his getting through the process. And about our financial downward spiral; and finally our upward trend during his healing and recovery, mostly with the help of DA (Debtor's Anonymous) and my ongoing support. But this experience took its toll on our lives, and our relationship.           We financially bottomed-out, declared bankruptcy, and eventually down-sized from our large home overlooking the Pacific Ocean in San Diego's North County. The greatest vehicle for Van's healing, and therefore mine, was buying Freedom, with the financial support of his mom, Betty, and my stepmother, Arlene.           Some folks feared such confined quarters would be the end of our marriage. But the opposite is true. In fact, the first year's traveling actually brought us closer together. We both enjoy the diversity of travel, and being on the move, and seeing new as well as familiar places. And the old adage, time is the best healer, held true.           Van didn't like to make decisions about our destination or ventures, and he was perfectly willing to go where I chose, which added to our compatibility. And we both listened to God's Guidance and focused on living in the Present Moment.           I'd mellowed considerably through the years, especially after the temporary separation from Van in the fall of 1996, when I stayed with Dottie's family for two months while doing my Moral Inventory, as part of my committed Twelve Step Study.           At the end of that time, during a meditation, I was given an experiential aide of at-one-ment: Van-God-Joyanna. I also made choices to stop taking Van's Moral Inventory, and trying to fix him. I chose to focus on acceptance, rather than judgment.           In the meantime, during my two month's absence, Van became quite independent, as he discovered that he not only could survive without me, he could thrive. He took care of himself, and he resumed playing tennis every day.                               After I returned to Van in California, we gradually grew closer, even though we had both become less codependent and more independent. But that is the basis of true recovery. Now we each had a strong foundation that could merge into a base for our marriage. Maybe it's me           Yet, there was always my feeling of his distance and non-involvement that interfered with my feelings of satisfaction in our relationship. But again, I had a history of non-emotional attachment. And I began to wonder if it were something in me, as well as my mates. In other words, my projections. Needless to say, my having been abandoned by my natural parents and adopted by my paternal grandparents had definitely left a scar on my own emotional wellness.           I too had had a detachment issue, and I carried a deep message that said, "I'm not wanted, I don't fit in, I don't belong." This pattern finally changed as I asked God to remove it, along with other character defects that surfaced during my recovery process. "How do you Show Love?"           Now, while in Laughlin, before departing on the next phase of our journey, after the spring thaw, a deeper level of love-healing was surfacing.           I awoke the morning after our lounge experience with a zillion thoughts and feelings chasing through my mind. I hadn't satisfactorily dealt with the previous day's emotions, and I needed to free myself, so I took time for a lengthy meditation.           When Van awoke, I acted upon my inner guidance, and asked him: "How do you feel you show love to me?"           Without hesitation he said, "Respect, and doing things together -- being with you. Doing what you want to do."           Now for Van, a man of few words, this was a major communication, and I'm sure the timing was right, because we couldn't, or wouldn't have been able to have this conversation even a week sooner.           I then heard the next words I was to ask: "How do you show love to yourself?"           I could hear his inner child respond this time, "Being happy. Enjoying what I do." Had he not gone through the intense process of getting acquainted with Little Ralph, and healing that deeply buried, untrusting, wounded inner child he could not have responded this easily. In fact, during those five years while he was traumatized, and before his recovery, Van was emotionally paralyzed and physically immobilized. He barely functioned, and was like a zombie. It was not a happy time.           Now, he continued his answer, "By following the Laws of Spirituality, such as the Ten Commandments and the Universal Laws. And by avoiding the Deadly Sins mentioned in the Bible.           I interjected, "So this would be your relationship with your God-self?"           "Yes, and there's more. What's that called?"           "Do you mean "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you"?           "Yes, but there's something else."           "Maybe you mean the Great Commandment, 'Love the lord your God with all your mind, heart and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.'"           "Yah!"           For a non-religious person, Van's spirituality -- his relationship with God -- is intact. And it has supported him through his transition period. How do you Show Love for Your Mom?           But there were more Questions. And I was guided to ask the third, and the most revealing: "How do you feel you show love to your mom?"           I held my breath. This was the hardest question, and his answer could be life-changing. I knew that Van's relationship with his mom was the role-model for his male-female relationship, and therefore his and mine.           Betty was a strong-willed, opinionated, controlling woman, who admitted that she'd been a lousy mother, because she was too young and selfish when married at eighteen, while still in high school. And when his dad was discovered with another woman, and told to leave, Betty's mom continued with much of Little Ralph's care. It's when her mom died, that Betty went into a nervous breakdown, and unable to care for her son, sent him (at age 5) from Topeka, Kansas, to live with his dad and paternal grandmother in Denver, Colorado.           Until recently, he'd thought she'd sent him away, because he was a bad boy. The revelation about her health being the reason, was perhaps the most important factor in the self-esteem aspect of his healing.           When Van was in the Navy, his mom lived in San Diego, but there was always the distance between them. He said that she said, "I don't want to see you at my doorstep all the time." So they had that kind of relationship. And his relationship with his dad, too, was detached; they hadn't even seen each other for over twenty-years, until I finally persuaded Van to get together with him. Fortunately, he healed their relationship, because his dad died shortly after our second visit with him. Van had no other role model for a love relationship. Love is Respect and Freedom           Now came Little Ralph's answer: "I show love for Mom with respect, and giving her freedom to do what she wants."           I stopped dead in my tracks and responded, "Well no wonder you're the way you are. Your love concept of freedom, is conducive to non-participation, non-social, and non-intimacy." It was like a light had gone on and everything was suddenly brighter and clearer. Van's entire perspective of love is about staying out of the way -- non-involvement -- and giving the other person freedom to do what they want.           I gulped, but went ahead with the next set of Questions, as I was guided: "How do you feel that I show love for you?"           No hesitation as he replied, "Being respectful."           I said, "What about acceptance?"           "That's part of respect, which is pretty encompassing."           "Well, do you feel I show love by being supportive?"           "Yes, of course." Having Miracles Available           I could tell he felt he'd covered the subject, so I went on: "Okay, so how do you feel you show love for youself? I guess that would be like you answered the Question before: About Little Ralph and God."           Little Ralph spoke for himself, "Being happy, and enjoying myself and what I'm doing." And he also responded to the second part: "Having miracles available." And Adult Ralph clarified, "Allowing us freedom of choice, after having given us all the capabilities."           Again, even with his love relationship with God, the detachment, non-involvement as he sees that God has given everything to us, now it's up to us to use it. But no personal involvement or participation.           My part was to ask the Questions, hear the answers, and be non-judgmental, while understanding and accepting: That's Van. I could hardly wait to hear his answer to the next Question: "How do you feel your mom shows love for you?"           "She respects what I do, and she supports what I do. She gives me freedom to do what I want."           There it is again. The distance kind of love; non-involvement, non-participating. How could he be any other way? Money-Love           I asked, "What about your money relationship with your mom? It seems that in the past she showed love by financially supporting your projects. And now, when you're together, she gives you money. It seems like that's another love-concept between you and your mother."                     Van avoided that one. It was going too deep; seeing places he wasn't yet ready to see. He replied tersely, "I guess so."           But I wasn't willing to let it go, so I asked, "What is your money-love concept?"           This was non-personal, so he answered, "You can help another person with it. It can help the other person."           I asked, "Do you think withholding money is a form of withholding love? And giving money is showing love."           It's getting too close again, so he replied, "I guess it could be construed that way."           "Well, in my reality that's how it goes. Money can be used as a form of punishment. For instance, I was given an allowance, and if I wasn't good, it was withheld. I raised my kids the same way. To me it's a reality."           He looked blank, so I knew that part of the conversation had gone far enough. Reverse the Process           But we weren't through. Now it was my turn. Van had asked me, after the first Question, "How do you feel I show love for you?" Once I'd finished with him, I quietly went back over the Questions, and wrote out my answers.           I feel that I show love to Van by support, acceptance and understanding. And by doing things together; by being together.           Of course, Joanie had to answer the next Question. I (Joanie) show love to myself by having fun, being happy and being well. And by being creative, as with my writing." Being At-One           Earlier, while asking Van some other Questions, I'd had a flash of insight that revealed more light on the subject of our relationship. It first came as the answer to my feelings about my relationship with God. The answer very clearly is "Being at-One, integrated."           And then I realized that's the basic difference between Van's love concepts and mine. His is freedom, which I interpreted as detachment, while mine is integration, togetherness, harmony, compatibility. How could he and I ever have a compatible relationship with such basic differences about love?           As Scarlet O' Hara would say, "I'll think about that tomorrow." Today I had to complete these Questions. Take Care of ...           "How do I show love to my mom?" That's easy. From the time I was able to walk, my job was "Take care of your mommy, Joanie." And then, after my baby brother was born (when I was 2 1/2), my duties were "Take care of your baby brother, Joanie." So when Mom had a nervous breakdown (post partum blues) and was put in a mental hospital, I hadn't done my job right, and it obviously was all my fault. And that was the birth of that pattern. One that I have since asked God to remove.           Nevertheless, an intricate part of my nature is taking care of others. After I was adopted, and through the years, I wrote to her; and she wrote back. But during my thirties, her schizophrenia symptoms worsened and she stopped writing. I made several efforts to see her, which were rewarded with her cries, "I don't want to see her." Now why in the world would I have a "not wanted" complex?           And then when her caretaker husband, Ed, became incapacitated, I was asked to "take care of her." But she worsened, and I had to put her in a care center. Then I showed love by going to see her, and taking care of her affairs. This evaluation doesn't leave much room for doubt about my love concepts. Keep Them Happy           But what about my dad? My relationship with him has always been about food, and about being pleasant and funny. In other words, in both cases, my part is to keep them happy.           I can clearly see how insightful this exercise has been so far. My part is to take care of, and keep happy. How codependent can you be? But as I learn to accept myself, I see that's me, so why fight it? It's okay for me to have a ministry-by-mail with prisoners. If it weren't that, it would be something else; so I choose to do what I do. And that's part of my ability to love. It's how I show love. Solve the Problem           When I'd awakened prior to my recent meditation, I'd been dreaming about a man being released from prison, and our embrace in a loving hug that merged into Oneness. As I understand dream interpretation, the male represents intellect and the female represents feelings; so the dream meant that my intellect and feelings were merging, which also indicates a freeing of my ability to love on a deeper, more feeling level.           And this reality became clearer as I continued answering by reversing the Questions. First: How do I feel that Van shows love for me?           I remembered that when I was staying in Colorado, I had a problem with the computer, so called Van. Although he had been distant and detached in previous phone conversations, his warmth and interest surfaced as he carefully guided me through the steps of solving my computer problem. And I felt a sense of intimacy between us. That's when I realized that one of the ways Van and I relate in love is through his assistance and support with my computer writing and projects; problem solving.           For instance, he lovingly and patiently taught me how to use the computer as a word processor, while I sat there in tears trying to make my right-brain-mind function with the left brain. It was painful, so as a result, I learned enough to get by, but often I come up against obstacles beyond my knowledge, especially technical projects, such as scanning, or the logistics of transforming a manuscript on the word processor into a book format on the publisher. And so much more.           These realizations brought me to a new appreciation and acceptance of our love relationship. It was a turning point, and as a result I began to think of other things we had in common. In fact, I took myself through a process that comes up later in this chapter: writing down everything I like about Van. I Like it That Way           But for now, I'm still answering the question of how I feel he shows love for me. A major issue for me is his handling our finances, and all business and money-related matters. I was raised when women took care of the household, and men took care of business. Women were the nurturers and men were the providers and protectors. I like it that way.           But here's where the love relationship role-models of parents enter the picture. I'm getting ahead of the sequence of Questions, but it's necessary to weave the story together.           Because I was adopted and raised by my paternal grandfather and his second wife, they had a greater influence in my life as parental role-models. I have no idea what kind of a person I would have been, had I been raised by my natural parents. In fact, I shudder to think of the possibilities as I look at options. "He Didn't Want me When he got me"           For instance, my brother, Gary, was raised by my dad and his second wife, Ermith, so he reflects much of dad's influence, as do our two half-brothers, Larry and Bill. They, fortunately, had no heredity of mental illness, but all three boys have other issues resulting from dad's s'mother-love upbringing. A pampered, narcisstic, self-centered mama's boy, who had been abandoned by his father at an early age, then kidnapped (by his father) and taken away to Washington D.C., where his dad (my grandfather) went to medical school. But, as Dad said, "He didn't want me when he got me, so when Mom came, at Dad's request, he was glad to let her take me." A New Dimension of Understanding           So, it's with a newfound appreciation that I remember Mom Freeland (my adopted mother), whom I hated most of my life for her controlling, domineering, often violent behavior. It wasn't until I got into the Twelve Step Programs that I realized that I was raised by an alcoholic, which explained a lot, and added a new dimension of understanding.           Nevertheless, Mom Freeland had many virtues, and one of my favorites was her cooking ability. I love to eat, and that's how I felt nurtured. It's one of my most dominant love concepts. And one of my fondest memories is the tooth fairy leaving me cinnimon rolls. I can smell and taste them, even now; and I've never found any to equal Mother's.           Sewing was another of her skills that I appreciated. I can remember when she created a blue velvet dress patterned from one worn by Aubrey Hepburn in War and Peace. I loved that dress, and so it was a love association.           But these were not the most dominant features of Mother's character. When younger, before she married Dad Freeland, she had been a professional organist in the theaters, and played background music for the silent movies. She was an excellent organist, and much sought after. So she attained quite an ego to go with her inherent strong will and obstinate personality. But most of all, she was independent and ambitious. And those were characteristics that I reflected. I think of us both as being powerful women, which caused us to lock horns and battle on a regular basis. Dad was a Problem-Solver           Since I've wandered so far afield with my Questions, I'm going to bring Dad Freeland's influence here too, because it explains the love relationship between Van and I.           As a medical doctor, Dad, was busy and detached, distant; so I'm used to those characteristics in a man, which works well with Van and I. My clearest memories of Dad are his listening to the radio, reading the paper, or taking a mid-day nap. A Victorian-type male, he was not an emotionally available man, either. But, he helped me with my homework, especially story-problems, which my left-brain could hardly fathom; so the longer I took to understand, the more time he would spend with me.           Aha! Now the patterns are fitting into place, and the love relationship between Van and I makes sense based on the role-model of Dad Freeland (who was also my paternal grandfather).           Now we can move along to the second aspect of my recognition of how Van shows love for me by taking care of the finances and business, which, of course, Dad Freeland did as a husband-father in the thirties and forties. Happy and Carefree           With my parental-love role-models in place, I can now answer Questions. Once removed from the chaos of my natural parents during their struggles in the Great Depression, and with Mom's nervous breakdown, I was delighted to escape.           I was a happy, carefree child growing up at Kah-nee-ta Hot Springs, with our dogs for companions as we climbed the barren hills of Central Oregon and roamed the valley in search of agates and crystals. I also had a warm-water pool and a rippling river to swim, and my own chain-link swing and a sandbox, and a playhouse. And Mother was okay in those early years. Becoming Introverted and Guarded           But when she began drinking, her personality changed, and gradually I changed, becoming more introverted and guarded. Finally, at fifteen, I left and went to live with my dad and stepmother, Ermith. But my wounded inner child had withdrawn, and it wasn't until my fifties that we again reconnected. Freedom--Togetherness           Now I show love for her by making sure her needs are met, and as we've integrated, she shows love for me by being happy and creative. And our integration has opened the way for my at-one-ment with God. So it's no longer "we," but I, as One. And that's my love concept: Oneness, alignment, harmony, teamwork, partnership.           This is already an extensive treatise on love. But the conclusion is the highlight. Because once I recognized the differences in Van's and my love concepts -- freedom verses togetherness -- I understood the reasons for our respective behavior, and this process brought us both to a new level of acceptance.           As a result, I could give Van more freedom. Rather than seeing his behavior as "You don't love me," I understood that he was giving me freedom, thus showing that he loves me. What a breakthrough!           On the other hand, with his deeper understanding and freedom, we automatically experienced a greater sense of togetherness. So, perhaps it's not "Freedom verses Togetherness," but, as Van says, "Freedom--Togetherness," which equals: Oneness. It Was Fun!           Earlier I mentioned my recognition of some of the aspects of our love relationship, such as the computer and finances. The problem is that when Van went into his downward spiral, he found it difficult to function in either of those activities, and needless to say, I felt abandoned and unloved.                       However, as he completed his healing process, and enjoyed a greater degree of recovery, he resumed interest in helping me with the computer. And I'd learned not to be as needy and demanding in order to feel loved by his computer support. In other words, it became a more normal, healthy activity. I knew we were in a good place when, after some recent computer time, he said, "It was fun."           The same is true with finances. We'd begun working on our Spending Plan together, which was a push-through for us to discuss money. But after a full month of consciously staying within our income, he seemed relieved, and happy to resume the financial accounts. The difference is that now we are equally involved, and he's not left with the full responsibility.           I'm not going to list all of Van's fine characteristics, they'll be revealed as the Travel Series continues.           But I'd be remiss not to share Van's responses to the exercise in listing "Things I Like about My Love (our mutual term of endearment): Things I Like About My Love           "Just about everything." In the past I would have pursued that to learn what he didn't include, but now I didn't ask. I took it as a positive.           He then added: "we're compatible, and we do things together. You have a positive approach. You have good ideas."           His list wasn't going fast enough, so Joanie had to help: "I have a good sense of humor and I'm fun, right?"           Being a man of few words, Van had already figured his first statement was sufficient, but I always like the details, so I pressed further. "You like my spirituality, right? And my creativity?"           "Sure."           "And don't forget my great meals. Not that I cook that much anymore, as such, but I do fix quick and easy meals that we enjoy, and that are inexpensive, using what's on hand, right?"           He smiled as he said, "That's right." A Healing Time           Of course, Little Ralph likes our adventures down the hill for the 2-for-1 frozen yogurt, or the 99-cent hot dogs and free beverage too; as does Joanie. This keeps our kids happy and cooperative. And we both like the $1.77 breakfast buffet at Gold River.           In retrospect, I can see that this interlude at Laughlin has been a healing time for us. We've had fun, we've relaxed, we've exercised on our river walks and along Casino Drive to the coupon food offers, and we've grown back together as I've kept writing, and Van's helped on the computer. Also, we've kept our Spending Plan, and managed to live within our income. A Big Decision           In other words, we've done our preparation, and we're almost ready to See Places We've Never Seen Before. Though this title relates to our travels, I knew our inner journey had already been to places we'd never been before.           From time to time we'd discuss our plans for travel, concluding that we would be heading across Texas, Missouri and Tennessee. But the El Nino weather news warned of hurricanes and tornadoes. And the better Van felt, the more inclined he seemed to want to change our itinerary to first go north to visit Dottie and her family in Colorado. In the past, he got sick whenever we were there, so despite my desire to see my family, I'd given up the idea.           I knew another level of healing had taken place when Van announced that he wanted to go to Colorado when we leave Laughlin. Hooray!           But we still had another month in Laughlin, and Van's mother would be visiting, which means she would pay for us to stay at Harrah's four days and nights. But this would be a later chapter. Chapter 9 SINCE WE'RE NEIGHBORS, LET'S BE FRIENDS "Howdy"           Before marrying Van, I was outgoing and sociable. But, the old saying that married people tend to become alike, held true, despite my desperation to maintain my own identity.           Twenty years togetherness, plus isolation in my writers ivory tower, and I awoke with the realization that I too had become reclusive. Of course, this is characteristic of a codependent, and during my CoDa recovery program, I've endeavored to again open up and reach out; conscientiously encouraging my flickering love-light to burst into the flame of joy and friendship.           The truth is that Van also attempted to become more social, especially when involved in the MLM business. However, with the advent of his traumatic withdrawal from life itself, he reverted to the comfort and familiarity of his former non-social existence.           Yet, the very nature of this on the road lifestyle is conducive to sociableness. Being confined to 9 by 35 ft., no matter how luxurious, is still limiting, and saying "Howdy" to fellow travelers is not only acceptable, but expected. And then there's conversation about weather and road conditions, good accomodations -- RV parks or National and State Parks. Or exchanging information where gas, propane and dumpsites are located.           And once settled into an RV park, or even a Truck Stop, where coaches are often packed in like sardines, it's difficult to avoid human contact; though many RVers remain behind closed doors with curtains drawn, simply for privacy. Van steps out for a cigarette, or to check Freedom (the name of our motor home), or to utilize the facilities, such as rest rooms or showers when available.           It's been fun watching him open up and converse about RV-related stuff, "Where are you from? Where are you going? How do you like your RV; or RVing?"           Often I've remained inside at the computer or kitchen, partially because I covet my time for writing, and I've become so non-social that it's difficult to break the pattern and socialize. Furthermore, I savor the anonymity; being one of the crowd. Otherwise, the conversation inevitably comes around to my writing or my ministry, and I face the possibility of confront, criticism or rejection when it's learned that my ministry is with prisoners, and it's metaphysical. So I've chosen to avoid the issues by remaining reclusive.           And this in itself is a cathartic confession, especially since I am choosing to reach out as love, in our travels and relationships, and with my ministry. It's obvious that if I'm going to again facilitate workshops or lectures, it's time to become more sociable.           So, I've begun smiling and saying "Hello" to our neighbors, and to indulge in light chitchat in an effort to build up my confidence for coming out of hiding with a sign on our coach, or passing out flyers.           I'd rather put an ad for my books in newspapers in distant cities, but it's not the full scope of my abilities, and I actually enjoy the inter-relationship with people, once I'm doing it.           I was too busy writing while staying at the Riverside RV Park with full hookup; and we spent our spare time roaming the casino's for coupon specials, such as 99-cent hot dogs, or 2-for-one buffets. We also indulge in the free movie at Ramada, or the Tuesday $2.50 movie at the Horizon Discount Outlet mall; or paying the full $4.00 at Riverside Six movies for such unforgettables as Titanic and Wag the Dog, especially during the advent of our president's sexual exploitations. On the other hand, we chose not to submit to the temptations of gambling or drinking or expensive buffets, despite tantalizing inticements, such as promotional specials or other something for nothing offers with billboards and flashing lights.           But once we moved to the free RV parking on the hill above Gold River, and met our neighbors, Chuck and Alma from southeastern Oregon, I again felt the joy and warmth of camaraderie.           When Chuck noticed our Oregon license plate, he soon revealed that he also owns a farm at Madras, besides living in Nyssa (in eastern Oregon). And I shared that my parents had owned Kah-nee-ta Hot Springs, and I'd spent many happy summers there.           As we chatted, we discovered that we'd been at Kah-nee-ta, during the past summer, at the same time. And these coincidences are part of the fun of RVing. This common bond became the base of our short visits when standing outside, or meeting at everyones' favorite $1.77 breakfast buffet. Once we stopped to chat while looking at the used cars brought in for the big sale at Harrah's nearby upper parking lot. We even contemplated the possibility of a car to tow behind Freedom, sometime, but not now; and Chuck shared that he'd been a car sales manager for over thirty years in Nyssa, where they live.           One day, while talking outside their coach, I asked about the layout of theirs, and he invited me inside to see his wide model, and to visit with Alma, who seldom came outside. Now we too became acquainted. She voiced a preference for their other coaches, which are Holiday Ramblers, the same manufacturer as ours. What did you see in Your Telescope?           Spotting his telescope, I asked, "Did you see what was going on the other night with all the flashing lights across the river?"           In his softspoken voice, Chuck said "A homeless man went into the street to try to save his dog from getting hit. But instead, he got hit by the lady trying to avoid the dog."           Amazed, I asked, "Did you see all that in your telescope?"           "Yes, but I also heard it on the radio, and read about it in the local newspaper."           "That's a powerful telescope," I said.           Alma quietly spoke up, "When we were here last year, we watched a Mexican wedding over there along the river. We felt like we were part of the festivities." Here Today; Gone Tomorrow           I laughed, and we continued to talk about safe, non-controversial subjects. Something reminded me of my manic-depressive daughter, and I talked about her, then said, "She's moving to Bend, Oregon, as we speak." Alma shared about a relative with similar disorders.           I finally felt safe enough to reveal, "I'm a writer and have a ministry with prisoners, so I spend a lot of time on my computer." Not only were there no repercussions, but Chuck said he'd had a borrowed laptop on their last trip here. It felt good being with them, and I could feel a friendship building.           Of course, one of the pitfalls of making traveling friendships is their transient nature; here today, gone tomorrow. Because of my childhood abandonment issues, this can be challenging, but at least I know they will be leaving, and that allows me to prepare for a short term friendship, even if we exchange names and addresses. Most people, especially travelers, don't answer when I write -- and I always do, at least once.           I tend to want to become attached, and maintain relationships, but I'm learning to live in the Present Moment: enjoy who and what is here now without attachment, and move on. It's that way in this lifestyle. For instance, when we arrived here, a fellow with a cane directed us to a parking place on this very crowded lot. We saw him from time to time, but didn't become acquainted; and then one day he and his wife were gone. "We'll Take it"           And the second morning here, I said "Hello" out the window to John, who later pointed to the prize spot overlooking my favorite view of the Colorado River, the barren desert, and jagged mountains that reflect the sunrise and sunset.           "Do you want that spot?" He asked.           "It's got a 'taken' sign on it," I replied.           "You can have it," he countered.           I hesitated a minute, unable to realize that the exact place I wanted was waiting for me. "We'll take it," I said. But we didn't see John very much, and then we learned they had left to visit their son in Sacramento, but they'd be back later. Of course. He Slept Through the Whole Thing           Despite the number of people, there's not usually much excitement in this lot. However, I awoke one night to hear voices next door. Looking outside I saw a police car and several men talking. But why was there a pile of stuff sitting in the space next to the fifth-wheeler?           Eventually, as I watched, the police car left, and so did the other two men. Now the guy dragged his belongings across the asphalt and replaced them under his home. Finally, peace and quiet was restored.           The place was abuzz the next morning, as neighbor shared with neighbor their version of the middle-of-night events. To my amazement, the neighbor at our south said, "A tow-truck was working its way in the space between us, trying to hook up to the fifth-wheeler. But there wasn't enough room. Finally, the driver knocked on my door. He apologized, but asked me to please move my car."           As she told me the story, her husband looked surprised. "He slept through the whole thing," she said.           Then she continued, "A woman in another car had accompanied the tow truck. Maybe she was the guy's ex-wife." She stopped as we clung to her words as she gathered her thoughts, then continued. "Ordinarily the owner works nights, but he was there too. He may have been asleep while they tried to tow it away."           I gasped, "Can you imagine being sound asleep, and having your home jolted out from under you? Who called the police?"           "I don't know. I couldn't hear what all was going on; the woman was waving a paper, and finally the tow truck driver said, 'I'm not going to be part of this,' and he left."           "Oh, so that's why I didn't see it when I looked out."           "Yeah, things calmed down soon after the police arrived." Our neighbor had told her story, and they got in their car and drove away. But I knew there was more to the story.           Later in the day, Van came inside from talking with Chuck, and said, "They had their window cracked, and heard the lady say to the officer, "I have the title. It's mine. We'll go to court."           I figured there was more to the story, but I didn't hear it until we returned from our overnight jaunt to Roger Whittaker's live show at the Riverside Casino. Our Night -- and Day -- Out           But first we drove Freedom across the bridge to Bullhead, Arizona and got gas, plus our groceries, and then returned to park at the Riveside free parking lot, where RV's were allowed to park indefinitely. I figured it would be much easier to see the show and return to the convenience of our home.           We'd gone inside to the post office and had eaten our 99-cent hot dogs earlier, and then returned to change clothes. A vehicle pulling a trailer had parked next to us. I looked inside the covered pickup, and began talking to a large, gray and black dog laying against the open windows. I asked the pleasant thirtysomething gal standing nearby, "Is it an Alaskan husky?"           She nodded, "Yes, it's called a malamute. He's a talker." About then the dog began making low, gutteral sounds as if talking.           I chatted with the gal awhile, and noticing her tan, I asked, "Where did you find a tan this time of year?"           "We stopped at Valley of Fire State Park north of Las Vegas. It was really nice; especially after being in a terrible storm around Salt Lake City."           Her husband, who had been talking with someone at another RV, appeared, and we talked about the weather, and he introduced themselves as Kent and Linda. They'd driven over from Bend, Oregon, to visit a relative in Ogden, Utah, but headed south to get away from the storm.           I asked if they knew my brother, Larry, who owned an electric business in Bend. And then we talked about Kah-nee-ta, and soon we were enjoying a pleasant conversation.           "We just pulled in here a few minutes ago," Linda said, But we're thinking about staying in this area, and getting jobs,"                      Kent asked, "Do you know if it's okay to stay on this lot?"           We said, "Yes," and told them the advantages of where we usually stay. I liked these fellow Oregonians, and hoped to reconnect after the show.           In the meantime, we went inside the casino to attend the Roger Whittaker performance, and found our seat in the packed auditorium; at a narrow table holding six people on each side. As we chatted with the two ladies across from me (next to Van), one said, "We drove all the way from the Palm Springs area to see Roger Whittaker. We're going to stay overnight, then drive back." Roger Whittaker Live           Now we had new neighbors, of sorts, to get acquainted with, and the time went quickly. As we lamented the congested seating, one lady said, "Roger won't come here unless they guarantee 1,000 people." They were definitely fans, and showed us the program they'd bought, with pictures and information. All I really knew about Roger Whittaker was his music, which I played often, on our tapedeck.           Roger had a strong following, and everyone applauded as he took his seat on a stool in front of his group: a guitarist, a drummer, and a pianist. Wearing a casual black shirt and pants, he wove stories from his life, having been born in Kenya, Africa, with his music; some of which had an African flavor and beat. And other music reflected his English background.           But the audience came to life when he sang his "career songs": I Don't Believe in If Anymore, Last Farewell, and Durham Town. And they mellowed as he sang The Wind Beneath my Wings, which he'd recorded with Chet Atkins, but was "popularized by someone else," as he put it. Roger features whistling in his music, and encouraged this senior-oriented audience to participate, but without much success. However, they did clap in time with some of the catchier numbers, and when his female singing partner -- with a Teresa Brewer style -- pelted out Jambalaya, and another rouser, the old-timers came to life, and gave him a standing ovation to prompt an encore.           By the end of the evening, we felt we'd made another good friend with our bespeckled, gray-haired compatriot, Roger Whittaker. And though we parted company from him, and our temporary neighbors, we carried a warm-glow from their companionship, which could be reflamed with the flick of our tapedeck switch. Back to Reality           Unfortunately, we didn't reconnect with our parking lot neighbors, because they were gone when we returned, and we left early the next morning, before they were up and about. I felt a sense of loss, but knew that we'd touched lives for a brief time, and hopefully made their visit easier by passing along some of the information that had helped us enjoy our stay. And that's how it is with RVing.           In retrospect, the main reason we didn't stay longer to say "Goodbye" to Kent and Linda was because a van had sandwiched between their setup and ours, crowding so close to Freedom that Van could barely get out the door to check the area, before leaving. I felt trapped and uncomfortable, and I wanted to get out of there. Whether or not it was them, or something else, the energies in this lot felt stifling, and all I could think about was getting home.           When we arrived back at our Gold River RV parking lot, no one was in the access space, and Van easily drove home. Chuck's tow-vehicle was gone from the spot next to ours, but the fifth-wheeler occupant was standing by the fence surveying the view. Inside Information           I got out, and chatted about his job doing maintenance for Don Laughlin, "We saw you last night arranging chairs after the Roger Whittaker performance."           "Yeah, I help with the setup, and then between shows. I actually have to measure the distance between each chair." And he confirmed, "Roger Whittaker wants at least 1,000 people, so we have to take out the risers. Then put them back for the next entertainer. They all have their own ideas of how they want the room set up."           "They must have a big space to store the stuff between shows," I said.           "Not big enough," Jimmy added.           "Where did you say the bowling alley is going to be?"           "Above the valet area in front," he explained. "Don's going to enlarge his auto museum too." The chitchat continued as Jimmy pointed to the Gold River Casino and said, "The new owner is going to make a lot of changes here too. All that mine shaft decor is coming down, and he'll renovate the inside with a tropical entrance."           I felt sad when Jimmy said, "This free lot won't be here next year. They plan to upgrade, like Riverside, and charge for the hookups."                      The wind was blowing, and I was getting cold, but I couldn't resist, "I slept through that tow-truck episode, but the police and talking woke me up. What was going on?"           "Oh, a friend was letting me use it, while he was in prison. Then he got out, and took some money and stuff from his wife. He'd put the fifth-wheeler in her name to get insurance, so she decided to take it away to repay the money he took."           "Were you inside when they came?"           "No, I was at work. She called and said, 'I'll give you twenty minutes to get your stuff together.' I couldn't leave work then, and it wasn't enough time, anyway."           "How did you get them to stop?"           "I told them the situation, and the tow-truck driver didn't want to get involved. He said, 'It's costing her $800.00 for me to come up here.'"           Jimmy was walking toward his home,and I asked, "So is it taken care of now?"           "Yeah."           Like the saying goes, "If you want to know the truth, go to the source." I'd learned some of the truth, but why Jimmy couldn't afford a home, after twenty years working for Don Laughlin, still remains a mystery. The Generator Story           But I had my own problems, so went inside and asked Van to start the generator. He'd tried to start it at Riverside, but it didn't work. I'd prayed about it, concluding, "It is done," and now expected it to start. He pressed the button, but nothing happened. A second try, and still nothing.           "Well, you should have done it before we got back in here. Now we'll have to go out again to get it fixed. Besides, I'm really upset 'cause I thought it was handled."           "It probably is," Van said. "We'll take it out tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll ask around as to where to go."           "Ask Chuck," I said.           "Okay."           In the meantime, another RV pulled behind us, blocking our escape route, and I again felt trapped. Now I also felt angry, because we'd have a difficult time getting out.           "We should have done it today," I grumbled as I pulled down the blind on the back window that looked into the new neighbors window. I could see that they were from Illinois, and next to them, another RV had pulled in while we'd been out. It was from Wyoming, and the fortyish lady from Illinois was talking with the elderly fellow.           I returned to the sofa and pouted. Soon Chuck and Alma drove in, and the Illinois gal came over and said to him, "I came over to look at your view," and they began talking -- outside my window -- while she stood there in her sleeveless tank top with the cold wind blowing, as she enjoyed the view.           Soon she went home, and Van went outside to talk with Chuck. I heard the generator door open, and within minutes the generator started. I Flipped the Circuit Breaker           I opened the window, "Chuck, you're a magician. What happened?"           "I just flipped the circuit breaker."           "Yeah, he did it hard. I guess I didn't do it hard enough," Van said, rather sheepishly.           "Thank you, so much," we both said. And I added under my breath, "Thank you, God. You said it was done, and sure enough, it was taken care of." A Sense of Loss           As I am writing the above words, I heard Chuck start up his engine, and asked Van, "They aren't leaving are they?"           He stopped reading, and looked out the window. "No, I think they're just going out to dump, or maybe for gas."           I felt a sense of anxiety and loss. I don't want them to go. I must get their address. I really like these kind, gentle people. I thought to myself, "Why couldn't I have had parents like them?"           They had said that their son was coming to visit from Oregon, but then he decided it was too far, so changed his mind. They'd also talked about visiting her brother in Tucson later this month. We would be staying at Harrah's four days when Van's mom visits, and then we would leave. At best, we'd only be seeing our neighbors another week.           Preparation for changes were in progress. I looked out the window at the jagged mountains across the river, and heard the sound of an airplane overhead as the wind gently rolled Freedom.           Sunday morning we braved the brisk wind while walking down the hill to the Gold River Casino, and stood in line for 1/2 hour awaiting the $1.77 breakfast buffet; well worth the wait, as the food was delicious. It featured the usual breakfast entrees, fruit bar, and pastries, plus our personally cooked omelette. News From Home           After breakfast, we again faced the wind and walked a few long blocks to Ramada, with the intention of watching their free movie. However, the projector was being used elsewhere, so the movie was not shown. Despite all our activities and fun, I missed my daughter, so as we passed the telephones, I called Dottie. But I could hardly hear, so asked her to standby, and I'd call later from Gold River.           Once at their quiet basement phones, I again made connection, and she updated me on the family news, including some internal feuding; and finally concluding that the family dog, Rascal, and the cats, were all sneezing with some virus.           I hadn't talked with my son, Marquam, in Oregon for several months, because of his flexible schedule, and my unavailability to phones, but took a chance and called.           His roommate answered, and announced, "He's staying overnight at his dad's. They're flying to Reno tomorrow."           Disappointed, I said, "Well, tell him I called and I love him. I'll call next week." I said to Van, "At least he'll be in Nevada, so that's some connection."           Somehow, these family calls are stressful, as they bring up such mixed feelings: sadness, disappointment, frustration and anxiety mixed with love and concern. This time I had no intentions allowing the phone calls to diminish my good feelings, so I said, "Let's come back and see Sandy Hackett's Comedy Club tonight. I could use some laughs." I Could Use Some Laughs           We rode the shuttle bus home, and asked the driver to return at 7:15, otherwise, no telling when they come by. In the meantime, we'd about decided not to go, because Van hadn't finished his snack, and I was feeling lethargic, after my phone calls. But, I knew we needed to stretch beyond our comfort zone, and besides, I'd asked the driver to be there, so we rushed to the shuttle pick up stop, and right on schedule, he appeared. We showed our appreciation by tipping him $1.00, and rushed to the show ticket desk.           We bought our $12.95 tickets to Sandy Hackett's (Buddy's son) Comedy Club. My first disappoint: Sandy didn't entertain, in fact wasn't there, and the host was boring and rude as he bashed the audience for not laughing, "I'll slow down for you." The truth is he wasn't funny, nor was the second comedian. However, the featured guest, Zooman, from San Diego, had performed at the San Diego Zoo, and his professional background was obvious, and enjoyable.           We stayed later for the free entertainment, A Tibute to The Righteous Brothers, by impersonators. They informed us that originals approved their similarity in looks and sound; and rightly so, as they played excellent 60's music. Though I'm not a fan of their rock n' roll style, I especially enjoyed Unchained Melody, by these quality entertainers who played to a packed audience in the Comedy Club lounge.           During the act, each "brother" came into the audience, adding a touch of friendliness, by shaking everyone's hand, accompanied by the background group. Since we always sit further back, they missed us. But they again greeted everyone outside, after the performance, and I made sure I shook hands on our way out. Short Time           As we rode the shuttle up the hill, we again thanked the driver for making a special trip to pick us up earlier and drive us to the casino. Now, on the return, he chatted about the upcoming changes, and he confirmed that this free RV parking will no longer be available in the new look.           Again, I felt sadness about the changes, but gratitude for the time we'd been able to enjoy the facility. The two months in Laughlin had been so good for us. Van was finally pulling out of his trauma from his downsize layoff, and I rejoiced as he resumed interest in helping me on the computer with tasks beyond my word processor capabilities. His former pleasant disposition had returned, and with his attention to his inner child, Little Ralph, his former moodiness had vanished. Hooray! It had taken over five years, but I could see "The best is yet to be."           As we now faced short time -- Chuck and Alma leaving, and our moving to Harrah's, and then leaving, we cherished our remaining time here.           By Monday morning, March had finally arrived, giving a reprieve from the ongoing El Nino effects of a windy, cold winter. The RVers, used to sunshine and the outdoors as an extended living room, mushroomed into the parking lot. As I continued to finish revising my Journey to Inner Freedom course, Van sauntered outside, and spent the day talking with Chuck and The Boys.           A "new kid on the block" from the Rolls Royce of RV's, a Beaver Patriot, arrived and asked where to find a telephone. Van gave directions down the highway to the convenience store.           I thrilled to hear his laughter and see his smile as the light breeze rumpled his hair and the sun tinged his cheeks. RV related chitchat wafted through the open window, as I forged ahead to complete the chapter for Dottie to edit while we were in Colorado.           I stopped long enough to fix lunch, and when Little Ralph came in to eat, the other "boys" dispersed for their individual projects. But when he went outside again, they all reappeared. I knew he was happy, and that evening I asked, "Did you have fun with The Boys?"           "Yeah," he said smiling from ear-to-ear. I knew that his childhood feelings of not belonging were layed to rest, as the pattern had now changed, and he fit right in.           The next morning Van said, "The fellow with the white dog, from the end of the parking lot wondered if you have a Literary Agent. He said he has one, but wants another one, as his isn't doing anything for him. I knew you were busy, and didn't want to interrupt, yesterday, so he said he'd come back later."           "Thank you, I appreciate that. I'd love to talk with him, but I don't have an agent. Maybe I could get some ideas from him."           I'd always believed that's how it would happen, without my searching and efforting to find an agent or publisher, although I'd sent out over fifty query letters in the past. Now, I just keep writing, and trust God to guide me to the right place at the right time. Who knows, maybe it's an RV parking lot in Laughlin. I'm a Winner!           In the meantime, Chuck and Alma would be leaving the next day, and I'd asked for their home address. As we were leaving to get strawberry shortcake at Gold River, I peeked around the corner, but their Tracker was gone. "Darn! I don't want to miss them," I said to Van as we walked down the hill.           Digging into the giant heap of cake, berries and whipped cream, I was startled to see Chuck and Alma appear at our table, "You're smart to share one," he said. "We ate one each, and it's really too much."           They sat down and we chatted while devouring our dessert. However, it was dinner time, and soon the tables were full, so we got up and went our separate ways. Chuck had accumulated a pocketfull of nickels, and wanted to feed the slots before heading out in the morning.           We trudged up the hill in the warm spring evening air, and laughed as we heard a honk from the highway below when Chuck and Alma zipped by in their Tracker.           Meeting at our space, Chuck smiled and proudly announced, "I'm a winner. I put the nickels in the slots, and won $17.75.           We rejoiced with him, and I said, "Don't forget to give us your address."           "Oh, that's right," he said, "I'll be right back."           Within minutes he returned with the pertinent information that would be a lifeline between us during our travels. And I knew that one day our paths would again cross.           "Give me your address too," he requested, and I felt good that the connection was mutual. "In fact," he asked, "Do you have an e-mail address?"           "Yes, I have," and I unearthed it from my stack of unused files. "We'll have access to it at Dottie's, and I'll leave you a message."                                 "Good," he grinned. "I'll go find mine," and he disappeared. When he returned, he handed me the following poem: (add Christmas poem). Trying to Hold onto the Moment           A knock on our door the next morning, heralded the departure time for Chuck and Alma, "We're going now. Just wanted to say goodbye."           "Oh, I didn't think you'd leave so early," I gasped trying to hold onto the moment.           "Well, we're going to dump on the way, and just keep going. We'll stay tonight at Parker Dam, and then be in Tucson tomorrow."           And they were gone. We watched as he skillfully backed their Rockwood coach out, and departed down the highway with Alma driving the Tracker as far as the dump, where they would hook up.           Later, John, the neighbor who had offered us this spot, announced that he too was heading for the dump in preparation for his departure the next day.           A new neighbor had already filled Chuck and Alma's space, and were off enjoying the Laughlin activities.           We too intended to partake of our weekly ritual at the dump, and I walked behind our coach to guide Van's backup. Another neighbor was atop his Airstream, and I asked, "Why did you move?"           "I'm leaving tomorrow," he replied. "I'm going to a wedding in Mississippi."           "Oh, we're planning to visit relatives there later in the season. I'm waiting for the hurricanes to calm down."           "Well, I'm going on to The Carolina's and Pennsylvania, and then to Alaska, where I have a place to stay. I'll just have to take the chance that the weather will be okay."           I'd been directing Van, who was now ready, so I said, "Goodbye" and climbed on board. Release and Let Go            We lined up behind John at the dump, and then said "Goodbye" as he left.           "I guess this is a good place to release and let go," I thought, as Van hooked up and began the process.           When he finished, he hooked up to the fresh water and filled our tanks. "Life goes on," I thought. "People come and go in this lifestyle, and so do we. Actually, I like it."           "Let's stop for our mail at Riverside," I said to Van.           The sun was shining, and no breeze, as I walked along the River Walk, reading a short note from my mom. "It's a good life," I said aloud.           "Yeah," Van agreed.           We arrived at the Colorado Belle too early for pizza at the Boiler Room, so I called Dottie. She updated me on family news, and then our prepaid calling card ran out, so the conversation was short, but it felt good making the family connection. We selected a seat overlooking the River, and ordered barbecue chicken pizza.           The server arrived with two big glasses of water on a tray perched on one hand. As she lifted off one glass, the other became off-balanced and slipped from the tray, spilling all over Van's and my laps. Cold and wet!           We jumped up, and she began wiping up the mess on the table, as we swished at our wet pants. The waiter appeared and took the glasses and soggy place settings. Then a manager came by and asked if we were okay. We assured her we were fine.           Much to our delight, after we'd eaten, the waiter offered a free dessert cocktail consisiting of milk, hot fudge and whipped cream. We requested no Kahlua, and giggled as we sipped together through the big red straws. Yes, life goes on, and it's even fun!           I awoke the next morning as John's rig eased behind us, and down the road. Later, the fellow from the Airstream ambled toward the edge and took a long last look while leisurely puffing his pipe. Soon his red pickup with the black homemade top started, and away he drove.           "Oh well," I thought, "in a few days we'll be shifting to Harrah's for our visit with Van's mom. And then we'll head to Colorado. More adventure awaits as we "See places never been before" and some places we've already been as we participate in our family activities. Chapter 10 DO YOU PLAY TO WIN; OR NOT TO LOSE? Winter Olympics '98           While reading my People magazine at Harrah's Hotel in Laughlin, I paused to reflect on the words of Todd Eldridge commenting on the 1998 Winter Olympics, "Michelle (Kwan) skated not to lose, and Tara (Lipinski) skated to win." I remember when Michelle Kwan won her World Championship, she skated like she had wings; so light and confident. And then the price of fame, without being prepared, took it's toll and she began to falter; then spiraled downward, falling badly during several performances. She'd tasted defeat, and the uphill road to recovery was difficul, but she did some inner work, and made the transition. Yet, as Todd said, her flawless presentation at the Olympics was tremulous, and her tenseness interfered with her joy, and ours too. Silver was not what she wanted, yet it's what she got.           In the meantime, Tara enjoyed everything about the Olympic experience. She had fun; she was relaxed, and she gave us a memorable performance. I've Already Won           Our five days at the casino resort along the Colorado River offered many opportunities to consider his words during our five day visit with Van's mom. Besides the luxury of a room, eating two fabulous meals a day and attending several live performances, she and I played the slots.           The first evening, after a prime rib dinner, we selected our quarter slots and settled down for an evening of fun. Of course, I enjoy the benefits of already having won, because Betty pays for our room, meals and entertainment, plus my slots; Van chooses not to play. We are her guests here, mainly because she lives in a mobile home and doesn't entertain there. Much more fun for all concerned to meet at Laughlin several times a year. I'm a Winner           I've never won much at gambling, and usually pour the coins like sand down a rathole. But this time, at a five times pay slot machine, I won a $375.00 jackpot. Excitement abounded as the bells rang, light flashed, and everyone stood around offering congratulations, while the staff filled-out their paperwork, and then the change-person counted into my hand three one-hundred-dollar bills, three twenties, a ten and a five. Needless to say, I was ecstatic at being a winner,           I reimbursed Betty's generosity by handing over the bills to her. Since her policy is to change machines, after a win, so we moved on, and continued playing with the usual wins and loses.           It's amazing the difference when playing from already having won. I've learned to think of myself as a winner, rather than loser, in life; but once I'd actually won a jackpot, though small, I knew I could do it. By the same token, once a person has lost, they know it can happen, and something changes. It's important to remember to have fun and enjoying playing, which I did this time, especially after I'd won. I no longer felt I had to prove myself. I did it. I was a jackpot winner. The Big Jackpot Winner!            The next morning, I fairly floated through my Belgian waffle with Bananas Foster (a light Rum sauce), and approached the slots with pure joy. After all, I'd won. And I had fun, like Tara. Playing the ten times pay machine, I rejoiced over the cherries and bars as they paid off; and then I couldn't believe my eyes: two sets of 10 x's == 200 times the blue 7 -- $500.00. The excitement happened all over again. Only this time the change person counted five $100.00 in my hand. Now, I not only was a winner, but twice-a-winner!           Van dubbed me "the Big Jackpot Winner," and even though I gave the money to Betty, I still felt rich, and I rememebered a poster I'd hung in my kitchen: "I've been rich, I've been poor. Rich is better." Yes, definitely, especially with Betty treating to this opulence. "Howdy Debbie!"           That night the three of us took a taxi to the Riverside Casino to watch Debbie Reynold's live performance. As we left the elevator, I heard Van say, "Howdy Debbie." And a voice reply "Hi, how ya doing?" I turned in time to see her, escorted by a Security Guard, enter a door and disappear. Apparently the door to backstage.           Van held his mom's arm, and she supported herself with a cane with the other hand. Van's plan to take the taxi, and get out by the elevators to the auditorium worked perfectly, and Betty easily slid into the aisle seat at the elevated tier, with no one in front of her. Van sat next to her, and I took the aisle seat across from Betty. Perfect viewing.           Soon Debbie appeared on stage wearing her sparkling Las Vegas gown with the slit for her curvaceous leg. During the performance, she remarked about her trademark blonde wig, and often joked about her "lousy choice in men," such as Eddie Fisher, who divorced her for Liz Taylor; and Harry Karl, the millionaire shoe retailer, who gambled all his money, plus her eight million, leaving her penniless, and having to resume her Las Vegas stage career. She reimbursed her losses, and married a third time, to another loser.           It was fun having Debbie speak to us seniors, who comprised 99 percent of her audience, as she chatted about things we all have in common, as she joked about herself, and of course, President Clinton's sex life, the topic of most comedians and commentators these days of the Monica Lewinsky fiasco.           Debbie is a class impersonator, and did Bette Davis, Barbra Streisand and Katherine Hepburn quite eloquently.           As she talked about her memorable movie, Unsinkable Molly Brown, and sang familiar songs, including her trademark, Tammy, we felt like we were spending time with an old friend. And all too soon her show was over, and it was time to leave. We passed the table in the lobby where she was signing autographs to a line that went all the way down the hall; but we didn't stay. It's Called "Gambling"           Instead, we took a taxi back to Harrah's, and since we'd attended the 6:30 show, Betty treated us to a decadent chocolate Brownie ala mode, and then we played more slots. This time we didn't win anything; in fact, we lost much of our earlier earnings.           And the next day, after a leisurely breakfast of Mexican Huevos Motuleno (with chorizo), our luck wasn't much better. I was rapidly losing my winners enthusiasm, as I pumped quarters into several machines. The Golden Girls and Tom           We all gathered refreshed for an early dinner, before The Golden Girls, the stage show at Harrah's. Anticipating another after show dessert, I indulged in a light Caesars Salad.           Later, Van took his mom's arm and escorted her through the casino and to the showroom, where we walked right to our eighth row aisle seats in a theater-style layout. Talk about winning, no one sat in front of us, and we had an excellent view of the seven gorgeous blondes in their short golden military-type uniforms and caps; and the three handsome men in their army, navy and airforce uniforms.           Fast paced songs and dances at a similated military base on a Pacific Island entertained with patter from the men between numbers during costume changes. For their Las Vegas spectacular number they dressed like showgirls with sparkling beads and fancy headgear, while featuring a lady selected from the audience as the American Beauty Rose. The cute, short senior lady smiled and made the best of her "fifteen minutes of fame."                                           Mine came later, when all the cast came into the audience and selected dance partners. A Golden Girl asked Van to dance, but he refused. Suddenly a handsome Navy lieutenant asked me to dance, and I was in his arms, on the stage with the other nine couples, as Joe sang to a recorded band accompaniment.           As we spun and twirled, Tom asked where I lived, and I told him we live fulltime in our motor home, but claim Oregon, California and Colorado as hometowns. Tom told me that Joe would be leaving for Branson, Missouri, where he's featured in an Easter play. I smiled happily as we danced. How I loved chatting and being in on the inside information.           But all too soon, it was over, and I returned to my seat. Van glowed at my good fortune, as Betty leaned over and said, "Tell me later, but what was he talking about?"           From then on, Van referred to me as the Stage Star, and I must admit, the fifteen minutes of fame felt good as we walked out to the foyer, after the show, and Tom gave me a wink. I bought a group picture, and had him autograph it for me.           While eating a giant piece of carrot cake, I told Van and Betty all about our conversation. Betty even lost track of her Keno game with all the excitement. Two New Machines           Afterward, we played several new machines with fancy graphics. Betty's had a similated diamond mine shaft that the diamonds went down as she collected points. Quite complicated, but Van's engineer's mind explained it to her, and she had fun watching all the activity. In the meantime, I selected a machine with a giant thermometer that filled up with red, as I accumulated points with every win. Of course, I was hooked to stay at the machine for the 100 coin bonus, and eventually bells rang and flames blazed as it reached the top. Yeah! Another $25.00 win. Keeping Balance           I'd been eating quite lavishly, so the next day I decided to taper off with a delicious, large bran muffin with pineapple chunks, poached egg and hash browns. As usual, Betty played Keno during breakfast. Lots of times she looses, but always makes it up during the four days. She definitely plays for the enjoyment; another good concept of life. One morning she'd won $43.00, which paid for her previous games. Wheel of Fortune           That evening, after a delicious Chinese dinner, we headed for the slots. Betty was willing to venture to the non-smoking area where we played the Wheel of Fortune. It's fun, because whenever Spin shows, you get to press the Spin Wheel button for bonus coins while a chorus shouts: "Wheel of Fortune," and then it plays their little ditty, and the chorus cheers. Everyone stops to watch as the wheel turns, and cheers or groans accordingly. Usually it passes the 100 and 1,000 and only pays 25 or 30, which is still fun. I always say, "This time it's 1,000;" and to my amazement it went right past the 25 and 30, and stopped on 1,000. Oh My God! I was so excited, as the machine started spitting out $250.00 in coins, then ran out and the Supervisor had to refill it with more quarters. Whew! Another Win!           But, tradition says, "Once a machine pays off, move on;" otherwise you'll pour it all back. So Betty went back to the Diamond Mine, and I took a Double Diamond that offered a wheel spin for a bonus. I'm usually happy when winning cherries and bars, so was ecstatic when the bonus wheel hit 900, and spewed out quarters, plus the coins I'd already won -- over $250.00!           Betty also had been winning, so we decided to stop while we were still ahead. We walked over to the change booth and cashed in our winnings -- three full buckets of quarters. After Betty had received her money, she handed me five $100.00 bills, and said, "Here, we've come out ahead this time. You said you might need to fix the generator, so this will help." Joanie Had Other Plans           Delighted, I simply said, "Thank you." But Joanie's temperature shot up like the blazing thermometer. Like, I'm going to spend my winnings on repairing the generator! I had other plans. But at the elevators, we said our goodbyes, as Betty would be leaving early the next morning, and Van would get up to see his mom into the shuttle to the Las Vegas airport.           However, once she'd left, our day wasn't over. Joanie had plans to enjoy our luxurious facilities to the max. We had until 11:00 a.m. and she headed for the outdoor swimming pool, but the water was cold, so instead, I lingered in the hot tub. Pattern Changes           While basking in the warm sunshine, I reviewed our stay at Laughlin. Obviously Van and I had changed our money patterns, and this time his behavior was totally different with his mother.           For instance, when we went to see Debbie Reynolds, he'd arranged for the entire evening ( a first for him):  selecting easily accessible seats and plotting the easiest route to the elevators and auditorium (because her weak legs required a cane), and even arranging for the taxi. In the past, his extremely independent mother would have handled everything, but since his transformation, Van readily took charge (and I loved it).           At the casino, he held her arm, as he guided her into the elevator, past the long line (having asked for preferential treatment), and into her aisle seat, which she praised for its excellent view. And best of all, he felt good about himself. Spending Our Winnings           After my swim, we packed and left our baggage at the Bell Station, while we had a last breakfast: another bran muffin and tea for me, and Van savored a giant cinnamon roll. We'd been economizing for so long all winter, and then enjoyed lavished meals with Betty, so the lighter meal had been a careful choice, and seemed sufficient.           With my windfall winnings, I wanted to buy gifts for our family, so I carefully selected meaningful, but inexpensive gifts in the Gift Shop; decks of Harrah's cards for the guys and angel pens for the gals.           And then, after four months of waiting (since December, when I'd spotted a tiel blue pantsuit outfit in Harrah's dress shop), another highlight of the trip came when Van said, "I think you want to buy the blue outfit with some of your money."  Ordinarily, clothes aren't in Van's reality, so this suggestion indicated a pattern change of the highest magnitude.           I'd already returned to see if it was still there, and tried it on, marveling at its luxurious velvet sheen and perfect fit. I'd said to myself, "If Betty gives me extra money, I'm going to buy it."           Happily, I tried it on one more time, modeled it for Van, paid for it with my own winnings, and headed out the door. Because the outfit symbolized our inner winnings (transformations), I would cherish the memories every time I'd wear it; and I knew the elegant velvet pantsuit promised memorable times in the future. Changes in Progress           We took the shuttle up the hill, and Van carried our suitcases, while I toted my precious purchases to Freedom. All the familiar coaches were gone.           Changes were in progress, as the Snowbirds were returning home; and we too would leave in the morning. Even the local landscape was changing. We could see a huge crane atop the Gold River, and the old decor was coming down. When we would return in the fall, its beautiful gold and white colors would greet us.           One more necessary change must be made, so we returned to the shuttle and went to Riverside to collect our last mail, and then left our forwarding address to Golden, Colorado. Our Last Meal           "How about one more last meal?" I asked Van. He nodded, so I said, "Let's go to the Regency and try that prime rib we've been hearing about."           What a treat! Only $7.95, because we decided to share the 11 oz. tender morsels. Sitting in this local's favorite restaurant, with the waitresses greeting the customers by name, we began feeling homesick to return to our familiar haunts. I felt sad about leaving, but with the heat already in the nineties, I knew it was time. And Dottie was waiting to help with my manuscripts.           That night we looked out the window at the display of '60's Chevrolet Classics at Gold River's parking lot below us; and listened to the '60's music wafting our way from their disc jockey hosted outdoor dance.           I thought, I love this place! Where else could you have all this fun and entertainment while sitting on a free parking lot for two months; and feel more healthful and rejuvenated too?           Whether we were living to win, or not to lose, we were winners in Laughlin. In fact, our choices had offered us the opportunity to live at the level of win-win.           But, now we must move on; and that's another part of this lifestyle that I like: new places, new scenery, new people..

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