Jim the Biker

Near Sweet Valley, PA I passed a charming little cottage; new construction, but made from locally milled siding with the bark still on it. Outside in the clearing were little red Japanese maples, ferns, and river rock. There in the middle of it all was a buddha overlooking the garden and the river beyond.
Though I was a little hesitant to knock on a stranger's door, I just had to stop and meet the person who lived there. I imagined several possibilities of whom this might be: a young writer perhaps, a new couple from a big city seeking some peacefullness. I met neither.

After explaining why I stopped and knocked on the door, I learned that Jim was a disabled veteran returning to the land of his youth. He explained that he was a practicing Buddhist, for to claim oneself as a Buddhist was to not be a Buddhist any more, as one is always practicing...

He loved it there, and built this house with timber from his property- the property he loved as a child.

He used to be a biker in either the best or the worst biker gang, depending on how you looked at it. He lived in Albequerque, New Mexico for awhile but it was simply not to compare with the forest and the river - the river who's rocks he had carried up to his garden.

He said that he was exposed to Agent Orange while in the war, adding that "it never happened", as if quoting the officlal government reports.

He also told me that from that exposure he had skin cancer and only expected to live another year or two.

I am glad I stopped.