It was so hard for me to get up the courage. Sure I'd drive by every couple of years, but I hadn't visited one of my neighbors after I sold my mansion to an internationally famous skateboarder. I felt ashamed to sell my mansion under financial duress. I also didn't want the new owner of my former mansion to feel like I was stalking my home that I designed and built from a dirt lot with my dreams and sweat.
My dreams were telling me that I had to go back though. My dreams never stop until I do what they tell me to do. Accomplishing my dreams is the only way I've found peace from my them. Now my dreams told me that I had to talk with my former next door neighbor, one of the best cardiologists in San Diego County.
I tried to call his home number but the telephone alerted me that it was disconnected. I tried to find his Internet listing, but he apparently retired from cardiology. My searches came up empty. No, I had to go to his home. I had to go to my former neighborhood in my dented-up, dirty Nissan. I had to ask him for help for surferdude.
His wife had told me in the grocery store that they had built a new home for themselves on the vacant lot at the end of the culdesac. So I parked there. There were two new homes on the once empty lot, but I could tell by the architecturally artistic design of one of the homes that it was theirs. They have exquisite taste. I walked along their front path enjoying every step through their art that they had created and rang the doorbell.
Dogs barked frantically. That was a good sign. They always had two dogs. Then out walked my neighbor, the one with which I had to speak. He walked through the courtyard with a perplexed look on his face.
"Hi Paul! It's me, Isolde Ulrich."
"Isolde!" He opened the gate and gave me a big hug. I realized how stupid I was in that moment to have not visited. He didn't care that I lost my mansion. He cared about me!
"Oh, I love your new house!"
"Thanks. Rebecca's not here."
"That's O.K. I came to see you."
He lead me into his foyer. The view of the Batiquitos Lagoon and ocean was always better on this lot than any other lot, and they had designed a vanishing edge pool on the edge of the cliff which amplified the view of all the water. They did the lot justice. I remembered their life-sized wooden deer near the front door from their former home. The home was marvelous with its few, potent pieces of art and ushered the viewer's focus to the true beauty beyond the window---the view.
We sat across from each other at this 12 ft long dining table and had coffee and caught up. It had been 9 years. He told me how skaterboy only bothered to drop by their former home when he first moved in and wanted their approval on the backyard skatepark. Once they gave him their approval he never dropped by again.
He wasn't the only one with a skaterboy story. After touring him around the property with my son, Drew, he was supposed to autograph Drew's skateboard. Drew didn't want his autograph though. I was so embarrassed and didn't understand, since he had skaterboy's autograph on a hat already. So I pulled him aside and privately asked him why. Drew didn't like how skaterboy talked to me. He didn't want an autograph from someone who treated his mother with disrespect!
Paul mentioned, "He's divorced again."
I explained my theory, "It seems when his youngest child gets to be 5 years old, he finds a new wife like clockwork."
"It must be hard to have so many women after you all the time when you're famous."
"Yes. I have a friend like that. In fact, that's why I'm here. He's a famous surfer and had a heart attack. He's turning 48 tomorrow on our birthday."
"I'm retired."
"I noticed, but I just have to talk with you about this."
We talked a bit about surferdude and the best cardiologists at the various hospitals. I realized though, that I just needed to talk to Paul, not as much for surferdude, but for me.
Paul reassured me, "He's young, and as long as he deals with it, he'll have a long and healthy life. Some professional athletes don't want to admit that they have a physical problem, but if he deals with it, he'll have a long and healthy life."
After a long talk about our years apart, I gave him one of my books, signed it to Rebecca and him. He told me that I couldn't end my second book about BRCA 1 without telling my readers about my reconstruction story. It's just as important as making a decision to pre-vive breast cancer. He made me realize that my readers need to know how I designed a new way to reconstruct a breast from a blank pectoral muscle. When he said that, I knew why my dream required me to see him.
As I left, I asked him for his new address, so I can send Christmas cards---so we can keep up with each other. I'll not disappear from their lives again.
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
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