After a` feisty adjustment to the world, Dylan became even-tempered, and sometimes stubborn. At three, he fought being dressed until I promised that if he’d dress himself, he could wear anything he wanted. For years, Dylan wore a short-sleeved T-shirt
over a long sleeved shirt, a style I never saw anywhere else. Even as a child, Dylan was independent and thoughtful. After I left Laramie and Dan, he’d stay with me for the school year and spend summers with his dad, flying alone to Laramie from wherever we were. When he turned fourteen, Dylan asked to live full-time with his dad. I’d remarried and was living in Healdsburg, California (another story). It broke my heart, the hardest thing I ever did, but I let him go. It proved the right decision.
Dylan grew. At over 6’2”, he towers over me. Our birthdays are exactly, to the day, six month apart. We are opposites. Fortunately, there is no shortage of good qualities to be split between us, so while I’m an artist/writer, Dylan is a computer programmer/explorer; while I am expressive, Dylan is measured; while I tan easily, Dylan’s red-head complexion burns; while I love water, Dylan loves mountains. I took on the world and camped coast to coast; Dylan hiked the entire Pacific Crest Trail and the Rocky Mountain Trail, and biked 13,000 miles around the perimeter of the United States. (He even stopped to visit me on Beaver Island.)
I’d often worried that Dylan might resent his parents’ divorce, but he insists that he does not. In fact, he seemed to thrive. He had unusual freedom to find himself. Dan and I coparented, visiting each other, sharing long letters and phone calls. We supported whatever Dylan wanted to do—not everything worked out—and although I didn’t like all his girlfriends, I love the one he chose to marry—Ann Fish Kuhn, quite the adventurer herself, who was (whataya know) a missionary’s kid. Son of two MK’s, Dylan managed to find another one all by himself, somewhere in New Mexico. Dylan and Ann, married in Joshua Tree National Park and together for more than a decade, have settled in Reno with a cat, two campers, a pickup and a Subaru. At this writing they are all camped out someplace where their cat is exploring off leash, Ann is swimming with an unexpected flock of pelicans, and Dylan is probably hiking.
Which brings us, somehow, to our recipe, which takes place in (hold on!) Vermont, where Dylan and I went see my mother (then in her nineties), my sister Julia, and her daughter Anneke. Dylan was there to work with his long-distance computer programing partner, Jason Lemieux. Jason lived on a small farm in northern Vermont with his wife and two daughters, raising sheep and vegetables.
Spring Rolls with Peanut Sauce
In the Lemieux farm kitchen, Jason and Dylan teamed up to make spring rolls. They had a brotherly rapport and it was fun watching them cook together. Later, I found this recipe, from Perfectly Good Food, by Margaret Li and Irene Li, pp. 24, 25, and 318:
1. Float a rice wrapper in the warm water until it crumples.
2. Spread the pliable wrapper out flat on a table
3. Spread about 1/3 cup of fillings on the bottom third of the wrapper. (I usually choose a lettuce leaf, a couple mint leaves, a carrot & cucumber stick, and a halved shrimp.
4. Add some cooked vermicelli.
5. Roll it like a burrito: flip up the bottom, fold in the sides, and roll.
(I needed a few tries.)
Make the Nut Sauce:
This sauce is great on noodles, rice, and stir-fries. I make it often.
Whisk together or pour in a jar and shake:
3 TB nut butter 1 tsp. Sesame oil
2 TB soy sauce 1 TB water
1 1/2 TB vinegar or lime juice