As we crossed the Poughkeepsie River, I finally figured out how to shoot quick pics from Maynard's camera as a train came east to west. We're home. Penelope kept the home fires burning (perhaps at outside temperatures too high for comfort, but with absolutely no emergencies) beautifully. Mom has weathered a low period and a fall and has come out gracefully and still dedicated to the greenhouse at Avery Heights. I'm really looking forward to Lew's visit next week. I have to include Jacqui's incredible housework while we were away. She even cleaned our basement! What a woman.
Before I go further, I'd love to have you guys over some time soon. Please give me a call at 860-668-5672 to give me your schedule, and I'll do my best to coordinate. If the date that works best for most doesn't work for you, let's get together -- definitely.
I want to end with a few reflections that didn't fit with the daily news. First, I was struck by how nice people are; Gerry LaPlante said this after his bike trip across country last year, and it rings true. People are friendly. They like to chat. They aren't dishonest or antagonistic. They like to share things about themselves. In comparison to the way I live and think at home, the West seemed safer. Second, I admit, I love to listen in on other people's conversations. I listened to people talking about local hospitals closing, about Sarah Palin and politics, about job uncertainty. I didn't hear arguments; folks seemed to be among others who shared their concerns. There were odd moments of recognition, too; in a restaurant in the Alyeska, a beautiful, blonde young woman reminded me of Grace Vianney. Yet, Grace's conversation about old movies and her balletic stances at the English department party were full of intellect and life (charis); the girl I saw was merely a pale reflection of Grace. I also loved watching little children and dogs, both of which were plentiful.
Like the trips in literature (Maynard will groan), I was trying to run away to Alaska. Our cat, Colona, died at 20 years old in February. Puck died at 10 years old in May. It's hard to come home to a house without pets. Even more, I'm very sad about leaving my job. I'm too attuned to thinking about kids and connecting with them. Penelope's copy of the latest Suffield Academy Magazine came in the mail while I was gone, and, reading it, I realize that I've only been putting off the grief I feel.
That said, I've always wanted to go to Alaska, and this was an amazing trip. I love being with Maynard; I like feeling like a tough explorer in the car when I see all the folks cached away in tour buses; I like being there -- where the mountains are, where the wild animals are, where the history took place, where I feel that the sky and horizon go on forever.
Good times. Thanks for coming along.
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