Jason is a jerk. He has been angry all his life (I’m only five years older than him, and I remember him rearing back in anger as a babe-in-arms, trying to bite us when he got frustrated, throwing his ever-fattening short body into tantrums even as a young adult). He blames any personal failure on “the man” or on his father my uncle Sam. He’s probably bright enough to do okay, but he’s managed to flunk out of two state colleges (hard to do), and he’s been busted three times for pot.

He moved away from the family, ostensibly because he sought a more rural setting but probably because he couldn’t stand having us know how unsuccessful he is. He took his wife Leilani (they met while eradicating kudzu in Hawaii, when he did a volunteer service gig as part of a pot conviction) and moved to Jamul, which is a hot dry “census-designated place” a few miles north of Baja California. Jase works when he can at coffee shops, tries to get a tattoo business off the ground, and probably runs a fair amount of weed (Lani is attending junior college – there’s no way those two are supporting themselves, even in Jamul, on Jase’s taxable wages).

David picked up details when he called Jase back with the motel arrangements. Lani ran out of birth control pills. She didn’t have money for a refill for about a week. Did they call their clinic to learn how they should handle that lapse? Of course not. Did they take action or even make inquiries when Lani missed her first period? Her second? Her third? Jeez…

It’s all hard to believe. I wonder if the abortion is a Jase idea/obsession, and it took him this long to talk Lani into it? I’m thinking about his temper. Suddenly I have questions about their home life. But Lani doesn’t open up to any of us. She and Jase have this intense one-on-one relationship, and it’s like he forms a perimeter between her and anyone who might care.

David listened, and of course he tried to help. He countered Jase’s “It’s no big deal” with a gentle “Yes, it is, dude. You have to stop treating it like it’s a one-day job. Have you talked to your father about this?”

He didn’t expect Jase to clue in his mother. Aunt Bobbie is a flaming narcissist, and the last person anyone would turn to for advice or help. She describes Lani as the perfect daughter-in-law, the girl she never had, but clearly Lani hasn’t called Bobbie. Jase told David there was no way he’d tell his father – said Sam would “hold it against him” for godsakes, and when David said he was going to talk to me, Jase bleated like a baby “he’ll tell Grandma!” which was so far out of whack David didn’t even comment. All David could do, he told me, was arrange a couple of nights of accommodation for them, so at least Lani would have a chance at comfort and recovery.

We’d lost our appetite for uncle pizza during this talk. We poured a couple of beers and had a few hits off the protopipe (David gets much better stuff at the Harborside than Jase ever brings) and even got into David’s expensive tequila, but our moods didn’t lighten. We couldn’t get over how many bad choices Jase (and Lani) had made.

Even after we got comfortable (“dropped trou” is David’s phrase, and it perfectly captures how good it feels to get out of the jeans at the end of the day, especially for guys like David and me, who carry a bit of extra insulation), even after all of that we were still talking about the situation.

We agreed that David had to tell Sam. We were pretty sure that wouldn’t result in anything – Sam was sure to say “it’s Jase’s problem” and maybe even act uncomfortable about hearing the news – but we both knew we’d want to know, if we were in Sam’s place, and we agreed that David didn’t owe Jase confidentiality. (As I later learned, Sam acted exactly as we predicted when David told him. See, my mother is a confronter, but she’s the oldest of my grandparents’ kids. And David is such a stand-up guy that he’ll sometimes speak up too. But my Uncles Sam and Nate are total avoiders – middle children who learned early how to shine Grandma on and let all stress just roll off their backs).

We got onto the subject of Jase’s so-called business. It’s really pathetic if you ask me. He thinks he’s a tattoo artist, and he has a handful of customers who seem to agree with him. He’s always talking about expanding the business but he never has an actual plan: just ambitious wishes and grudges against anyone he perceives as not supporting him. He even has dreams of forming some sort of club or army – the Ja-Mules, he wants to call it, for location and stubborn determination – but we can’t figure out who the enemy is (I’m always reminded of that “What if they gave a war and nobody came?” question).

David gave a little lecture. “A business plan is like a military campaign,” he said. “Or a political campaign. Or any plan to make a big change in your personal habits.” He started to mulch some weed for the pipe. “They all take strategy and tactics. Strategy is the part the generals plan, in the war room with all the maps. It’s literally the big picture. But tactics are for the field of battle. They are the little moves the sergeants choose, in response to the actual conditions they experience. The problem with Jase (one problem anyway) is he has no strategy. I think he and Lani are pretty good with tactics, but they have no overall plan.”

Those words struck me. I like words and I love it when they grab me so hard I look them up. After David went to bed I went to the dictionary. Strategy comes from “strategos,” which is classical Greek for “general.” And tactics means “touch,” from the same language. It made total sense. It was as satisfying as when I looked up “ichthyology” and learned it was from the Greek “ik-thuse” which means “fish” and that the religious ΙΧΘΥΣ is an acronym for a Greek phrase which translates “Jesus Christ Son of God Savior.” Sweet.

I went to bed.