I was 19 years old when I dropped out of college. I’m not sure what I was running from or searching for, but I knew I had to get far away from the suburbs of Chicago where I grew up.

Course, I wasn’t brave enough to head out into the world by myself. But my pal, Mike, was willing to join me. We figured how hard could it be to stay alive and have a little fun along the way? We got in my Corolla and drove, The Who reverberating in our ears: Talking ‘bout my g-g-g-eneration! (Every road trip needs a theme song, right?) Anyway, for the next six months, Mike was by my side: eating, sleeping, hiking, hackey sack…

Eventually, we made our way to Happy Camp, California, and for $90.00 bucks a week, we were welcomed into a trailer park community. We tried to ignore the cockroaches scuttling around the kitchen, and I needed to use my red tarp as a barrier between the stained mattress and my sleeping bag. But it was home. A neighbor comes by and invites us to play a friendly game of poker after dinner. I was only a little afraid we might get swindled … or worse.

But when we knock on his door, Joseph greets us with warm hugs and cold pop. He was an older guy with graying sideburns. I notice he’d changed into a white button-down shirt, black polyester slacks. Now, as respectful guests, Mike and I were freshly showered, even though our clothes were still a little grungy from the road. Mike had that long-haired hippy, Guatemalan-shirt-thing going on, while I stuck with the more traditional: torn jeans, white t shirt, and patchy facial hair, cause that’s all I could grow.

Joseph introduces us to Ruth who is sitting at a small card table, staring up at the ceiling. Her hands are flopping around her lap like a couple of bony white fish. She nods her head; but no eye-contact.

We all join Ruth at the table and each of us swaps out a dollar for a couple rolls of pennies.  But before the game gets going, Joseph clears his throat, and speaks like a preacher: “Mike. Fred … Companionship is all there is. That and Jesus. But if you only got Jesus. Really, you got nothing at all. When I met Ruth here, I was Godawful lonely, lost. But now we got each other and Jesus. You two should be thanking God you got each other!”

“We don’t really have each other—we’re just kind of traveling together.”

“Maybe, you haven’t figured it out yet.” 

I was relieved when Joseph dealt the cards. I needed something to do with my hands. But I kept staring at Ruth. She had this translucent skin and greasy brown hair, she kept tucking behind her ears. She was wearing a white sundress with these little pink flowers. As the game gets going, Ruth starts making these cooing sounds to Joseph. It wasn’t exactly table talk, but I was starting to wonder if maybe there was something wrong with her.

I hate to be judgy, but part me wanted to get the hell out of there before I got infected; I was repulsed by these people.  But another part was in awe because these people were so real—the raw essence of love and humanity. Joseph interrupts my internal tug-of-war and tells of the time that Ruth sang in front of the congregation … and they all started crying. “She’s like an angel, touched by the hand of God.”

And then …  Ruth sang for Mike and for me: “My love goes out to Jesus. My love goes out to you. My love goes out to Jesus. My love goes out to you.” … Damn if I didn’t start welling up myself.

Well, Mike and I kept winning their pennies, one hand after another. We tried to lose a few hands, getting rid of good cards … only to draw even better ones…  Finally, I figured God just wanted us to win all their money.

The game comes to a merciful close. We thank them for a wonderful night, and for the first time that evening, Ruth rises from her chair (I notice she’s barefoot), and she allows the back of her hand to brush against mine. And I feel this warm current radiate through my entire body.

Mike and I head back to our cockroach-infested trailer in silence, pennies jangling in our pockets. I was so ready for a good sleep on my red tarp … but I’m up all night, thinking about Ruth, wondering if she was an angel.

I’ve thought about her many times over the years, but Mike and I never made our way back to Happy Camp. You see … Mike died in a carbon monoxide accident… in 2004 … on Christmas day…

And, there have been fires up near Happy Camp. I’m hoping Ruth and Joseph are okay. I’m hoping they’re still alive. I wonder if Jesus protected them.