The Day I met Kay

“Is there a Doug Beckstein in this camp?” the man with the clipboard asked.

He was driving a golf cart at Strawberry Music Festival. If someone has a golf cart they are a volunteer with a mission. I think he was from the command post. I think this was good news. Hope so.

“Here I am” I replied.

I was drinking a rum drink with Patrice and Rusty before noon waiting to see if I could get a cabin. I was on the disabled camper waiting list for a warm cabin. I needed a cabin. The tent did not work out to keep me warm. Getting a cabin at strawberry is like finding a parking spot at Costco. Strawberry Music festival has five thousand campers who come to Camp Mather outside Yosemite for four days of music.

“Do you want to ride with me in the cart or throw in some gear? The golf cart driver inquired.

“I’ll ride behind you on my bike. Here is my duffle bag.” I said heaving the bag into the small square platform he called the cargo area.

Patrice gave me a motherly hug, took my blender drink and waved goodbye. She had curly hair like Shirley Temple. I was leaving her nest campground we called CAMP CHEMO. She and Rusty invited me to my first Strawberry Music Festival years ago. Now due to cancer treatment I needed different accommodations. I left my soggy tent still steaming in the midday sun and I climbed on my bike to follow the golf cart.

The golf cart proceeded quickly but carefully through the camp traffic. There were people walking, parents pulling children in overstuffed wagons, kids on bikes out of control, people just standing the in middle of the road talking, RVs inching into an impossible parking spaces, musicians playing instruments and walking in the road.
Park rangers on horses.

The golf cart created a path through the traffic flow with me trailing behind. I am trying to balance riding on a bike going r e a l l y s l o w. Sheer will on my part. One week after my last chemo treatment in the city and I am trying to balance on a bike on a muddy road following the wake of the golf cart.

“How is it going back there?” The man with the clipboard and golf cart asked looking back at a whobbly bike rider.

“No problem.” I yelled. That blender drink in the meadow a few minutes ago was not helping me balance. I love a challenge. Why not make it really hard?

“We are heading to the other side of camp near the dining hall,” the man with the clipboard and golf cart yelled.

“Great, I’m right behind you.” I echoed.

Wow I got a cabin I thought. I am so lucky!

Our mini parade of golf cart and bike proceeding in the opposite direction of the flow of traffic was successful. No collisions just a few near misses. The golf cart stopped. The man yanked the duffle bag out of the cargo area. I dropped my bike and ran after him like a kid coming home for dinner.

The man with the clipboard unlocked the padlock to my cabin. There ya go. Enjoy. I'll bring back a little heater for you. " As he left me he told me,

“You can tell THOSE campers to move their stuff off of YOUR porch.” The man said.

“OK, who do I thank for this cabin?” I asked.

“_________ made the decision.” He replied walking up the hill toward his golf cart.

“How long do I get to stay in this cabin?” I asked.

“The entire festival all four nights.” he replied.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked.

“It’s on the house. No cost to you. You need a cabin to get your rest.” he drove away.

I turned around on “my” porch and leaned over the redwood railing to address the campers below "my" cabin.

“Hi I’m Doug. I am your new neighbor. Please do not move anything on this porch.” I felt like I was on the back of a train on a whistle stop tour addressing a crowd of one.

“Hi I’m Kay. Are you hungry?

“Yes I am.” I said.

“Please come down and have some lunch. We have plenty of food. I'll fix you a plate. Do you drink beer?" Kay asked me.

"Kay, I will drink and eat anything. Thank you very much!" I replied.

Kay invited me to sit down and eat in her campsite. She had comfy chairs with an easy-up canopy overhead. A propane stove glowed to keep us warm. Kay told me later that I looked pale when she first met me. The chemo treatments burned the color out of my body. Thanks to Kay's cookin I was on the mend.