Connecting with My Dad

My dad left when I was twelve, and I’ve seen him only a handful of times since then. He is a true nomadic hippie in every sense of the stereotype. He has lived on a fish farm in Thailand, in the last unspoiled frontier of the Philippines, Palawan, and, most recently, in Vietnam.

Last year, however, he had to come to the U.S. for medical attention. He ended up getting stuck in North America when Vietnam’s borders shut down because of COVID-19.

He is also a natural manifestor. When he got off the plane from Mexico, he told the friend who picked him up that he was looking for a van he could convert and live in while he was in the U.S. Of course, only a few miles down the road, he spotted a white van for sale for $500. He bought it and converted it into his home.

I had not seen him for several years before he called me and said he was going to come by and take me out to dinner. It was a wonderful visit, and then he was off again on his own adventure.

Several months later, he had settled into van life in Northern California and just happened to be staying about an hour from where my friend was housesitting in San Rafael.

I had also been traveling nomadically since my divorce was finalized and I sold my house in Fort Myers in June. I happened to be visiting my friend Stacey, so we took a scenic drive and saw him at The Russian House #1.

Later, he broke down in Petaluma, which just happened to be on my exact route from Vancouver to San Rafael, where I was headed for a pet sit at the same house my friend had been staying in.