Riders on the Storm

“There is nothing more praiseworthy in friendship than loyalty, which is its nurse and guardian.” – St. Aelred of Rievaulx, Spiritual Friendship

Jacob was my fellow rider on the storm. The two of us spent a lot of time on the road together; and one of my favorite memories of him was in 2001 when the two of us drove down the Pacific Coast Highway listening to a mix tape he had made for the occasion, aptly called “Riders on the Storm.” The year before, we had become close while riding in the back of a minivan on the way to a weeklong high school Missions trip to Tecate, Mexico. We both found ourselves deeply uninterested in the conversations of the other high school students sitting around us and we began to connect as we talked about music, art, girls, and God. Our conversations continued and became the highlight of the Missions trip for me as our friendship began to take shape. At the time, I had earned a very uncool reputation as a pious and vocal Christian at an Evangelical High School; and in my attempt to become part of all the social cliques in my class, I ended up feeling alienated by each of them. I was lonely, anxious, self-conscious, and depressed and had developed a very low opinion of myself. Jacob, on the other hand, seemed to glide easily above all the social storms of high school with a cool and even intimidating confidence. I often felt like Jacob was too cool for high school and I wasn’t nearly cool enough, which made me always wonder why Jacob remained so loyal and committed to our friendship, a friendship that he initiated and nurtured much more than I. In Mexico, we students were invited to write notes of encouragement to each other called “Barnabas Notes.” I experienced them as well-intentioned but mostly cliché and disappointingly superficial, except, of course, a note I received from Jacob, which I continue to treasure to this day, over 20 years later. He wrote, “I just wanted to let you what an encouragement you have been to me the past few days. I hope we can always be this way together. God is working in our lives and changing the world as I see it…I’m soooo glad we were able to talk about our relationships. It is really healthy. It is weird because sometimes when you pause before saying something deep, I can almost see Jesus filling you with His spirit and word. It is amazing. I love you, Dan. – Jaköb.”

            After the Mexico trip, our friendship continued to grow to such an extent that we decided to plan our own road trip to Disneyland the next year during the same week that our fellow classmates trekked back down to Tecate. Jacob, who had done most of the trip planning, knew that we would be driving through some rough weather along Route One. So, he put together a mix tape of music that we both loved which would serve as a soundtrack for our exciting excursion. As the dark, cloudy skies shot down bullets of rain, Jacob dodged the dangerous debris of rockslides along the winding road while we listened to Jim Morrison sing, “Riders on the Storm.” Although I don’t remember most of the other songs included in the mix, there was at least one Beastie Boys track as well as the song “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead, which began to play the moment the storm ceased, and the sun appeared in all its glory over the Pacific Ocean as we approached Big Sur’s Bixby Bridge. When Jerry Garcia sang the opening line about his words glowing with the gold of sunshine, it was almost as if he was rebuking the storm and calling forth the sun. I remember my eyes watering at the overwhelming beauty of the moment, which was facilitated and made possible and enhanced by Jacob, my loyal friend and fellow rider on the storm. Since then, we travelled together through Canada and Europe, through Zion, Yosemite, and Joshua Tree, through snowy mountains and desert plains, through resort cities, rugged coasts, and redwood forests. We even stumbled upon the tomb of Jim Morrison while walking through Paris. We weathered many storms together, meteorological, emotional, and spiritual; and he always remained loyal to our friendship and to me, always a faithful rider through stormy weather. Although the cetacean cyclone of his suicide has cast the darkest and most oppressive shadow over me, I cannot deny the hope that we will once again share an even more overwhelming moment of beauty together, like riders passing through a storm, shedding tears of triumphant joy and absurdist laughter, towards the golden sunshine of what Jaköb called, in his final letter to me, “Eternal Love from afar.”