I Am Kane

I lived for some time on a remote mountain in Montana, miles from neighbors, without friends or family. The deer and elk herds drifted through the yard. We were aware of each other, taking note in passing, but we weren't really friends. The coyotes would talk just after dusk. I listened, intrigued, but with nothing to offer. My only connection to the world outside besides occasional cashiers, bank tellers and waitresses 60 miles away, was Saba, my border collie. She kept me from becoming invisible.

This was not the idea, though a wiser man might have gazed into the future, and made a clear prediction. Filled with optimism and excitement, leaving family, friends and a career behind, I embarked on this adventure with a wife and three teenage children. Over the next four years, kids set out on their own, and a marriage having overcome so many challenges, died of natural causes. I imagined I would ski in the winter and fly fish in the summer, and that I surely did. I had a cave-like theater in the house which, with the passage of time, I began to  inhabit like Howard Hughes. Cut loose from everything and everyone, I no longer felt an identity. At times I may have been bored or lonely, but I was not unhappy. I began to get concerned when I would talk to my dog Saba and she started to roll her eyes. No longer defined as a husband, father, or co-worker, or informed by family and friends as to who I was, I could be anyone. I would not look back.

I went to Club Med knowing there would be others who were there alone. I needed the company. I planned on diving the reefs of Grace Bay as I had done once before. Happy, energetic staff met the airport van, and I was accompanied to my room by a Jamaican named O'Neal, explaining the amenities and activities along the way. I paid little attention. I was looking around, trying to sense the culture and people there. The staff and guests seemed friendly and fun. He mentioned the flying trapeze. This was something I would never try, but I thought it would be interesting to see. The next morning in tropical heat, I approached the trapeze rig. It was tall, exotic and intimidating. The circus team was there, but no other guests. Both guys on the team were Jamaican, one being O'Neal. The girls were Australian and American. O'Neal asked me if I wanted to try it. I said I wanted to be Jamaican and asked if it was too late, or if it might still be possible. The two guys laughed and spoke to each other in patois. Then the instructor called Mad Max said, "no, is not too late Mon". I weakly protested that I only came to watch, as they put a belt on me while giving instructions. They asked if I was ready. "For what?" I said. "Can I take a written?"  I began climbing the ladder having been told that when my feet reached the rung with the red tape I would be high enough to turn around and step over to the pedestal. The rung with the red tape appeared to be 800' up. After trying a few times, I could manage a knee hang with good enough timing to attempt a catch. Up to this point trapeze was thrilling and I was glad I tried it, but this was the end of the road. Then, that which is so rare and wonderful, a moment that changes your life occurred. Swinging upside down and backwards, O'Neal appeared before me and grabbed my wrists and I sailed off in his hands. I cannot convey the effect this had on me. I left the next day, but for the next few weeks it was all I could think about. I was consumed by it. I was completely enchanted by the people, the atmosphere and especially flying trapeze. I had to go back. It felt like home at a time when no place else did.

I decided to bring all three children and spend a week reconnecting. I knew trapeze was something my daughter would enjoy and be good at. I didn't know them as a single parent. But, together we would find our way. My daughter’s boyfriend came along. This had not been part of the plan, but we would roll with it. The moment we arrived, the boys disappeared. It was sports all day and rage all night. What the hell was I thinking? My daughter and I met twice a day for trapeze. She was a natural. I loved being at the rig, and it was great being there with her. The laughter, poignant moments, exhilaration; I had no desire to be anywhere else. The Jamaicans, who love nicknames, began calling me Kane. As was their way, this was both affectionate and derogatory. Kung Fu was an old tv series still running in Jamaica.  The fights were in slow motion, but the hero, Caine (Kane), always won. They thought I did everything on trapeze in slow motion, but it always worked out. At the rig things worked out. But away from the rig, my daughter had broken up with her boyfriend.

I couldn't imagine how they would arrange this. They were sharing a room. He was hurt and began hanging out with other girls, of which there were many. I would come to understand that this type of situation was not uncommon. The dark side of paradise. It all came crashing down very publicly as we stood in a circle by the pool the day they were to leave. My daughter was sobbing, accusing her brothers and I of not supporting her. She was shattered. It was a knife in my chest. her boyfriend began tearfully apologizing. I looked at the boys, they were stunned. The dream of forging a new family relationship had melted in the midday sun. I would be staying another week alone, but everyone else went off to pack. I met them at the porte-cochere. They were silent, with heads down resignation as they climbed into the airport shuttle. Through the open door my oldest son was staring solemnly at me. I slowly walked over and placed my hand on the side window. On the inside, he matched his hand with mine. To the sound of an intolerably happy, ludicrously ironic departure song, the van slowly pulled away.

Alone and invisible, I walked through the resort in a dream. Surrounded by laughter, the blenders were whirring to loud house music and splashing in the pool. Somehow I got to my room. I laid on the bed and began crying. I became aware of the grotesque sounds I was making, which made me stop. I hadn't cried in 30 years. Apparently I was out of practice. I turned on the CD player and heard:

Bones sinking like stones

All that we've fought for

Homes, places we've grown

All of us are done for

We live in a beautiful world

Yeah we do

Oh all that I know

There's nothing here to run from

Cause here

Everybody here's got somebody to lean on

When it ended, I got up and found the cd case to see if the lyrics were printed. It was the soundtrack for "Garden State", a cd my daughter left at the house when she moved away. It featured a quote from the film: "Maybe family is just a group of people who believe in the same imaginary place".  I looked at the clock. It was time for afternoon trapeze. I picked up my grips and walked to the rig. They maintained a clipboard with the names of the guests and the "tricks" they were working on. Finding my name, I crossed it out and wrote "Kane".