The Aerie
Day Five of the Big Trip.
The funny thing so far is that my spouse keeps bugging me to write in
her Trip Journal notebook, but she doesn't like it when I want to bust
out my laptop. Yes, I should scrawl indecipherably in a spiral bound
note book which will be stored in the basement forever, but heaven
forefend I type legibly on a laptop for all the world to see. Go
figure.
Lots to report, but I'm exhausted and should probably try to fill this
in later. It's 1:30 a.m. here and I've already crashed once from
exhaustion today. Well, yesterday. Tomorrow looks good for type on
the laptop, so let's cross our fingers...
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Day three of The Big Trip. Yesterday we drove for many hours, from
the Toledo Ohio KOA (Kampgrounds Of America) to Niagara Falls, through
Ontario, and on to the Rochester KOA in New York.
Niagara Falls was pretty cool. On the advice of friends we went
straight to the Canadian side, where the view was certainly the best.
I must say it was a bit, well, stupefying that something as majestic
as Niagara Falls could be contained, wrapped, and packaged as it was.
Surrounded my railed sidewalk on all sides, visited by raincoated
tourists on footpath and boat. A primal force, imprisoned and poked,
like a tiger in a steel cage. Nonetheless, quite amazing to view.
Along the way we've passed lots of dilapidated homes and barns. What
is it about Ohio and New York that promotes the ongoing neglect of
ancient structures? They look like mousetraps for kids, baited with
mystery and poisoned with rusty nails.
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We're finally on our way. Yes, The Big Trip has begun.
For a long time, well, probably six years, we've talked about taking a
driving tour of New York and Massachusetts. For reasons I can't
explain, many of my or our relatives, friends, and acquaintances are
located in Massachusetts (several members of my birthfamilies) or New
York (high school pal, college buddy, his parents, and our former
neighbors). In addition, this spring I contacted the sisters who used
to be my across-the-street neighbors when I moved from Queens in New
York City when I was eight years old.
So that's a lot of people to go see if we went to see them.
The last time we were out East was shortly after I contacted my
birthfamilies. We flew out to see them and even had a reunion with my
birthfather, birthmother, and I all in one picture. At that time my
wife was pregnant with (now) our youngest son, and it was then we
began talking about coming back some time to visit.
Well, unfortunately, I'm a doer and not a talker, so it as inevitable
that the trip would sometime occur. This year, I decided was the
year, and we started planning back in January.
Our itinerary is ambitious. First, to make it affordable, we're
camping when we're not staying with friends. Kampgrounds of America,
with its quaint 1950's name, offers $20/night motels where you bring
your own room: pool, showers, laundry, power, etc., are all
provided. At least in theory: we haven't gotten there yet. We're
about an hour or so away. Second, Sapphire has packed sufficient
foodstuffs that we hopefully won't buy meals on the road (clearly,
we'll have to restock at grocery stores, but you get the idea).
Finally, and operating under these constraints, we're visiting:
Sat Sun Mon Tues Wed Thurs Fri
12
Toledo KOA
13
Niagara Falls
Rochester KOA
14
In Rochester NY
15
Potsdam, NY
16
In Potsdam, NY
17
To Albany, NY
18
To NY City
19
In NYC
20
In NYC
21
To Albany, NY
22
In Albany, NY
23
To Boston
24
In Boston
25
To Home
Yes, I know what you're thinking, and you're right: we're insane.
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Hoist by my own petard, that's what I was. Taught the lesson of my
own lessons, incapable of embracing my own designs.
It began with the parties and the cell phone. I mentioned my precious
cell phone recently. Well, the other day, Saturday, I carried it with
me when I walked over to the garage to pick up the family car. I had
it when I put it in my pocket to walk into the garage office... and a
couple of hours later I realized I didn't know where it was.
Well, I was just sick. I haven't even gotten the bill for this thing
yet, never mind having paid it. But where could it be? I hadn't
gotten out of the car after leaving the garage, except to enter the
house. And it wasn't in the house. Granted I hadn't had enough
chance to search everywhere, but I hadn't had time to lose it that
thoroughly in the general mess of the home.
Then there was work. I've got about two million things to do for my
job, plus this trip to plan, a book to write, another book section to
complete, another book to work on, writing group reading to complete,
and research to conduct. (Hey, whatever happened to my not getting
over committed?) Amidst all this, I was facing two solid days of
work-related partying.
And it was fun, no doubt! I don't know if I'll ever see anything like
it again. Good weather, friendly people, fantastic music and
celebrities. And that was just Saturday! Sunday was brunch at the
Mall of America, followed by two hours of exclusive use of Camp
Snoopy, and as many hours thereafter while it was open to the public.
We were there for six hours.
And all the while, hanging over my head, was work, and the cell
phone. I couldn't enjoy myself (not that I ever knew how -- frankly,
I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have something with which to
sully my enjoyment). But meanwhile I'm telling myself, that I
shouldn't be anxious, because I shouldn't have fear. Anxiety is just
fear, and fear is needless, so anxiety is needless.
But I couldn't escape it. We came home, I did chores, I cleaned the
kitchen so as to determine that the cell phone wasn't there. Then I
was going to go upstairs, clean my office, and see if the cell phone
was in my mess of papers.
But I couldn't do it. I tried to hold off the anxiety, but I
couldn't. I was drudging through chores when I had other work to do.
I was busting my butt to catch up to where I should have been last
Friday, and Monday was staring me in the face. And I didn't know
where the damned cell phone was.
So I finally gave up. My wife's writing group came over and met in
the kitchen and I was alone with the kids and I just sat in front of
the TV with the kids and watched a repeat of the Tenth Kingdom. I was
just going to sit there and watch the TV and do nothing.
And I sat there in the Hateful Green Chair, watching television with
the kids. And I looked down, and there, jammed between the cushions,
was the cell phone.
So I didn't find what I was looking for until I stopped looking. And
I didn't overcome fear until I surrendered. All of which I actually
knew, but couldn't summon the courage to apply.
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Yep, that last one was written right after the Week from Hell, and I
was tired. Now, mind you, I love my kids, and I want to give them all
the best. But five days of party-party-party? I don't know if that
IS the best. Next year, we'll be doing this very differently.
And tired. Woah. I've been tired before; lack-of-sleep tired. I've
been exhausted before: too-much-exertion exhausted. But this was more
than both of those. This was the tired of two solid weekends without
actually getting any rest, but instead cleaning house and tending
kids. This was the exhausted of having one's home space invaded by
energetic visigoths hyped up on sugar and chocolate. This was the
bone-weary inability to even want to do anything. This was tired.
And, worse, we've got the Big Trip coming up: two solid weeks of
driving around upstate New York in a minivan full of kids. We'd be
planning for it this weekend except, of course, for the Big Party. My
company is throwing a 10th-anniversary bash which the most extravagant
thing I've heard of. Two solid days of party-party-party.
We went last night, and we're leaving shortly for today's doings.
Last night, in the backyard of the owner's home, was an enormous
concert stage. Dave Jenkis of Pablo Cruz was there, as well as Peter
Rivera of Rare Earth, Jo Lynn Turner of Deep Purple, and Glenn Frey.
Halfway through the proceedings the owner announced a special guest
had arrived: Governor Jesse Ventura. I thought, yeah, ha-ha, an
employee in a bald wig and a bad imitation. Nope. There was Governor
Jesse Ventura, with a proclamation for the company.
And that's not to mention the free activity booths, with radio race
cars, games, and stuff. Pony Rides, fishing, hair braiding and face
painting, fantastic food, and fireworks.
Yes, it was a tremendous example of corporate generosity.
At one point they handed around those colored glow-sticks, made of the
extracted essences of thousands of rare fireflies. My daughter, 9,
went nuts, collecting as many as she could get her hands on. My
youngest son, 5, got a couple, but no where near as many as his
sister.
So we were waiting to board the bus back to the car (they bussed
everyone to and from a nearby high school for parking), and my
youngest saw a little girl playing with a stick, eyeing my daughter's
glow-sticks enviously. How this little girl ended up without one in
all the profusion I don't know. But my youngest went over and handed
her one of his two glow-sticks.
Jack London said, "A bone to the dog is not charity. Charity is the
bone shared with the dog, when you are as hungry as the dog." I know
this because it was in my Franklin Planner.
My son could have held onto his toy, and when its light died it would
have been forgotten. My daughter had a dozen glow sticks, but tomorrow
they will be dark she will have none. But I get to keep forever my
pride in watching my little boy demonstrate charity with an open
heart, and the light in one little girl's eyes that will shine
forever.
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I have rarely been so tired.
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