Friday, Nov. 07, 2003 - 9:02 am
Um... I'm sorry.
This relationship just isn't working for me.
I'm at www.dailypreciousness.org now. So change that bookmark.
Raising Arizona. That’s the first thing that comes to mind when somebody mentions the state of Arizona.
Much of my knowledge of the region is informed by the scattered relevancies of movies, a few mystery novels and a picture postcard, circa 1950. The postcard is by far the most evocative medium. You may have seen this particular postcard, which spells out ARIZONA in block letters with various sun-dappled canyon scenes. It’s the archetypal. It’s kitch-tastic. And it’s basically the image of Arizona that stands at the forefront of my consciousness… that and the whole Grand Canyon thing. That’s really beautiful, too. Or so it seems…
I guess it’s fair to say that I don’t really know much about the state beyond its location. Hmm. Well, to put it bluntly, I am wholly ignorant of Arizona.
But I have defied all logic and librarian typecasting by doing no – I repeat, NO -- research whatsoever about my trip this evening to the… the Sunshine State? The Grand Canyon State? I don’t even know its nickname. And that’s okay. [self-satisfied sigh.]
I will live my life on the edge of the compass. Just like the huge four-point compass symbol that stares me in the face at this moment, I will face the earth’s four corners and travel fearlessly. I will venture forth in complete ignorance of the voyage ahead.
The bitter-smooth coffee that the students of George Mason University have given me at this cozy little Arlington coffee shop is now filtering through my stomach, leaching life-giving caffeine to my bloodstream.
As the energy drip-drops like into me like a reluctant rain shower, I think about how the rush:busy:busy pace of my new job has altered my sense of travel.
Consider this: In years past, I would hardly consider venturing outside my zip code without a little prelim research. (Perish the possibility!)
Contrast that to: today, when I have grown comfy enough to travel sans the requisite 50-page info packet I’ve duped on the office copier. (The packed contained no fewer than three guidebooks, from serious to sassy in tone, of selected ‘hoods, cities and daytrips that would be on or near my route.)
Today is different. I just tear off, hands emptily swinging by my side, wondering how//when//where I will end up. This delightful sense of unknowing beguiles me. Instead of filling me with dread, it honestly charms the heck out of me.
Of course, the root cause of this venture is Henry. So my typical journey, where I played the part of the wandering wannabe Jew, has morphed into a couplish, coupled-up, coupling vacation. And this fills me with a warm contentedness. Correction: Henry fills me with a warm contentedness. He is comforting and reassuring when I need that. And this comfort and companionship stabilizes me. It allows me to crank up my bravado, to turn it up as easily as turning up the bass on my new iMac ‘puter speakers. (And that’s easy!)
So thank you to Henry. Thank you, inner sense of “just letting go.” Thank you, 1950s postcard with block letters. And thank you, Grand Canyon… for just being there.
