That part of my life is over.

We had slept in the van again, but only for a couple hours, then it was time to drive again. Not sure who was driving, maybe Emery, maybe myself, we pulled onto the onramp to get back on Highway 94 and it felt as though the chain fell off my bike. Stepped on the gas, and there was noise from the strong engine, but nothing else. We turned off to the side of the onramp, put it in park, then in drive – same thing, no forward movement. “Transmission,” Someone mumbled.

We had been coming in from Chicago, I’d dropped off the clown or the fat guy in the city, said, “Thanks, we’ll call you, love to do it again, see you around…” I had made previous arrangements to fly the juggler in and pick him up in Grand Rapids the next day then drive to the show in Mount Pleasant. Everything was timed out perfectly. Now, everything was perfectly fucked.

This was my first tour on my own, in my first van, with my first crew. We were expected to meet the agent who sold our show that afternoon, rub elbows, impress him, go to lunch, listen to his stories of when he bought and sold the Brooklyn Bridge, broke down on the Verrazano or the Dan Ryan Expressway or the Turnpike, Thruway, Holland Tunnel, Brooklyn Bridge. We had to show up shiny, bright eyed, eager, firm handshake! Now we were in peril.

“Y’need a new rear end.” The truck driver said. “That’s what she said.” I mumbled. “Whazat?” He asked. “Where can I get on of those today?” I asked desperately. It was Saturday, starting to rain, which was another count against us. “Dunno.” He mumbled back. Emery and I got on the phones and tried to solve the problem, we had to try.
Within 20 minutes we had it miles away in someone’s barn slash auto repair place. Now to get a rental car, we’d have to come back for the van, since he said it’d be a few days. We’d be in Wisconsin or Ohio, but we’d figure that out later, had to make it to the gig, the show….
”Can you make the show?” The agent always begged to know when we ran into travel problems.

The agency guys ended up picking up my new juggler and transported him to the venue. My credit cards had all been declined when we tried to rent the car, but I had access to cash and happened to find a cash only car rental place in Benton Harbor. There were about 10 other insurmountable obstacles that got in my way, problems that I was sure would end my “big,” and “oh so special” world as I knew it at the time. But we were on the road. We made it to the show, in the rain. The agent sat in the front row, with his wife, the rest of the agency, arms folded. We knew it was going to be bleak. I tried to brief the juggler how the show would run, he seemed to get it, I asked Emery to hold his hand. With 5 til curtain I heard a rumbling, “thunder?” No the house was packed with about 600 people.

In the end, everything worked out. I had no way of knowing that or trusting that idea as I meandered through my struggle. I made efforts to do what I could to move forward and that was all I could do. The rest was going to be what it was. But if I wanted to, I could’ve let my struggle and suffering overpower and destroy me.

This is a small story, I share it because it has meaning; when it gets hard I want to cry, when it gets bad I want to run, when it gets difficult I want to blame, when it gets ugly I want out. And sometimes when I dive in, it gets worse, it gets harder, there is no relief, sometimes more pain. But what life continues to show me is that the results continue to reveal themselves. And in the end, I will be okay.

My real changes and victories from my immediate past year are still presenting themselves to me. I came into my year with a great self-imposed suffering brought on by my own fear, self-will, loss of self, and a complete lack of faith. What I’ve found over this year, little by little -is that if I do what is in front of me, the best I can, stay honest, if I give of myself, and stay grateful, everything becomes a gift.