What I DO have is an assortment of friendships around the country, sometimes extending into other countries as well. A road trip, for me, is not just to see the sights; a road trip is a chance to visit these dear friends whom I only see very occasionally. I have enjoyed wine with friends in the Napa Valley, gone to the markets with a friend in Costa Rica, spent time with a friend on a front porch in Montana, and gazed in awe at the Giant Sequoias while staying with a friend who actually lived in Yosemite National Park. These long-distance friendships are, indeed, a blessing.
And so this week, my travel itch put me on the road again for a brief visit into New England. Responsibilities at home limited me to only two destinations, each home to people who make me feel so welcome and comfortable, I could happily stay for weeks. But that, fortunately, is not my style. I am a firm believer in Ben Franklin's famous quote: "Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days."
My first stop was Old Lyme, Connecticut, where I visited a woman I have known since childhood. Angie and I were only together when she and her sister visited their Aunt Margaret, my next door neighbor. We were probably six or seven years old when we met. Although we share the same memories of that time, memories which involve Ginny dolls and ghosts in the basement, we both know that our sentimentality about those early years has evolved into an adult friendship that we both cherish. And it almost seems that her husband, John, was with us in that childhood, as the three of us can chatter on for hours about anything and nothing, just comfortable in one another's company.
My "entertainment" on the drive up was listening to the Senate Judiciary Committee hearings regarding Dr. Ford and Judge Kavanaugh. I am a political junkie (in case you hadn't noticed), so the radio broadcast made for a riveting drive through New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut. My arrival in Old Lyme occurred after Dr. Ford's testimony, but before Judge Kavanaugh's. I was conflicted by my anticipation at seeing my friends on one hand and my having to give up listening to the hearings on the other. Perhaps Angie and John were having the same thoughts. It took us a nano-second after our welcoming hugs to agree to watch the proceedings together. And so, our afternoon progressed with attention paid to the TV, made even more interesting by our shared commentary.
But perhaps the highlight of the visit was the surprise of another visitor . . . a hungry young black bear at the bird feeder outside the kitchen window! Now, I'd been bemoaning the fact that I had not seen a black bear at home all summer, an unusual nonoccurrence. And Angie and John claim to have NEVER seen a black bear in the seventeen years they have lived in their home! But there he was, a foot away from us, on the other side of the glass. While Angie panicked (sort of), I grabbed my cellphone and quickly and quietly went outside, eager to catch a picture. John, admiring my bravery, followed. We got a view shots of the bruin before he sauntered off into the woods. Our joy at this event replaced our anger and despair over the hearings, if only briefly. I'm pretty sure that, over time, our memory of this visit will be of the bear, not the political angst.
Yesterday, I continued my mini-roadtrip through Massachusetts and New Hampshire and into Maine. Again, my entertainment was made up of the summary comments by the Senate Judiciary Committee and the surprise move, initiated by Senator Flake, to agree to a request to reopen the FBI investigation. It helped make the rainy-day drive seem to move more quickly, and my arrival in Kittery Point coincided with the surprise move.
My hosts for this visit were George and Ruth, whom I have known since my early teaching career. George was my department chair, a brilliant and forward-thinking educator who encouraged his staff to be creative, innovative, and humanistic. The twelve years I spent under his tutelage are reminders to me of what education can and should be, perhaps a far cry from the focus on standardized testing that takes up so much time in today's classrooms. Ruth, who joined our staff several years after I did (and years later became George's wife), has also become a cherished friend, inspirational for her many talents and her calm and patient demeanor.
After fish and chips at an Irish pub in Portsmouth, we went to a small community event at Pepperrell Cove, back in Kittery Point. A fundraiser for the arts, the event featured a concert by Scott Kirby and Gabriel Donahue and Friends. The music was wonderful, the presentation warm and homey and totally enjoyed by the small crowd of Mainers (and me). But here's the surprise: a guest performer was Tom Rush, the iconic folksinger whom I have loved since I found his album in a record store in my college town back in 1970. (I'd never heard his music, but I liked the picture of him on the album cover. This is the same way that I discovered Tim Buckley. Don't tell me appearances don't count for anything.)
Although Tom only performed two songs, that voice and that presentation were the same as the Tom Rush I'd seen so many times before. How sweet to see him, by chance, at a tiny venue on the southern coast of Maine. I considered how my road trip had been delayed by a couple of days due to rain, and that, if it hadn't rained, I would not have been at this place on this night to be so joyously surprised.
I still have another day and night to spend in Maine before I head back home. I wonder what further surprises await me? Watch this space.
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