Monday, October 18, 2010

Thoughts On a Trip to Boise

1.  I got to the airport Thursday morning around 5:15 for a 6:30 flight out of San Antonio.  I didn't expect a big crowd so early on a random weekday morning, but as it happened all three lanes of traffic in front of Terminal 1 were jam-packed.  Once I'd gotten out of the car and Froggered my way to the terminal, I saw the security screening line was already backed up into the ticketing area and wrapped around a corner.  The friendly Airport Amigo that was managing the line assured us it would move quickly, and it did.

When I arrived in Boise, I called my mom to tell her my plane had landed.  Then I waited with about six other people for our luggage to make its rounds on the baggage carousel.  Then I walked out of the terminal, where I found four other people waiting for their rides.  Maybe ten cars drove by while we stood there.  Three of those cars picked up the people waiting with me on the curb.  One, of course, was my mom.

2.  Thursday afternoon, my brother stopped by our parents' house.  He doesn't do this very often; we're still not sure why he happened to drop by that day.  My sister has been staying with our parents several nights a week since my dad's health started to decline, and she came home from work early that day.  So we all ended up sitting around the dining room table, eating Costco pumpkin pie together.  I really can't remember the last time just the five of us sat at that table.

Later, my mom reported that my dad--who doesn't always know who I am, or where he is, or even how old he is these days--said to her, "It sure has been a long time since we had all our kids around the table, hasn't it?"

3. Early Friday morning, I went for a run while it was still pretty cold outside.  I got so excited by the sight of my own breath that I felt a little ridiculous.  My parents live next door to a city park, so I started out with a lap around the walking path that runs along the outside edge.  About halfway through my lap, I ran up on a small bevy of quail.

I'd forgotten all about quail.  They probably exist in some part of the bird sanctuary that is Texas, but not in my suburban neighborhood.  When we lived in Boise, my husband and I rented a small house on a huge lot that was a favorite gathering place of the neighborhood quail--at minimum, there were ten quail in our yard at any given time.  So I was really glad to see these guys.

Quail are skittish, so I expected them to fly off as soon as I came near them.  They didn't, though--not right away.  They took off at a run, first, their top-knots bobbing, and for awhile they just ran along beside me.

4.  I didn't realize how much I love the sound of Canada Geese honking their way south for the winter until I heard a wedge of them overhead later in my run.  I got all teary and stopped running so I could watch them fly off toward the mountains.

5.  After my run, I headed for the grocery store and found myself caught in a time warp as I drove away from my parents' house, listening to "You Shook Me All Night Long" on the oldies radio station.

6.  At the grocery store, I bought a few things to make marinara sauce--my mom had grown one enormous tomato that must have weighed two pounds on its own, and it was getting a little squishy from having been handled and shown off.  So I offered to make a batch of sauce while she went out to get her hair done.  I used the monster tomato (and six smaller ones), plus some olive oil, onions, garlic, and fresh basil.  When the home health aide came to check up on my dad, she said "Whatever you're making in there smells pretty amazing." I felt more like myself in that moment than I think I ever have in my parents' house.
 
7.  Friday afternoon, I met my friend Steph for coffee.  She asked if it was too cold for me to sit outside while we talked.  It was 70 degrees that afternoon.  "I'm not that much of a wimp," I said. "Well, you never know," she said.  "Last time you were here, it was 65 degrees and you were shivering the whole time."

8.  A chai latte from Lucy's is so, so, so much better than a chai latte from Starbucks.

9.  Saturday morning we went to the open air market downtown.  The artist who creates and sells key chains made from Scrabble tiles didn't have an X tile with a map on the back, to replace the one my son lost since our last trip to Boise, so that was a disappointment.  I wound up buying my kids U. of Idaho t-shirts instead.  They already have Boise State shirts, but only because I was desperate for souvenirs the last time I made a solo trip and the airport gift shops, predictably, sell only the spirit gear for the hometown team.  I cheer for Boise State, but I do it around a lump in my throat.  When people see my kids' shirts and ask if I went to BSU, I always clarify that I'm from Boise, but I went to U of I and later taught at BSU.  Idaho is too small a place for serious rivalries, but I'll never be able to cheer for BSU with a clear conscience.

10.  BSU beat San Jose State in a Saturday evening game. I had to quit watching when the score hit 28-0.  The final score was something like 45-0.

11.  Sunday morning, I woke up before the alarm went off at 5:00--my brain was still on Texas time, as it had been the whole time I was visiting.  My sister drove me to the airport on completely empty roads, and I walked right up to the ticket counter when I got to the airport.  No line, no waiting.  There are bonuses to living in a small town.  I hope I never forget that.

12.  A vanilla latte from Moxie Java is so, so, so much better than a vanilla latte from Starbucks.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

I'll Fly Away

I'm heading for Boise tomorrow morning, bright and early.  I wish I enjoyed traveling more than I do, but the fact of the matter is that it makes me very nervous.  I'm not exactly sure why.  I'm not afraid of accidents--I know they can't be predicted or avoided (which is why they're called accidents), so I don't live in fear of them.  I'm not afraid of anything, really, except getting sick in-flight, and that's controllable with medication.

Perhaps what makes me nervous is that travel involves functioning on someone else's schedule.  I'm neurotically punctual, so I can't stand being on a plane that's late.  I really, really hate missing a connecting flight.  When I have a schedule, I want to stick to it.  The logical part of my brains knows it's really no big deal--there's always another flight, or a hotel room with my name on it--but I still can't seem to resist getting stressed out before I talk myself down.  This is the price of being a control freak.  

It's more than just the travel, though.  When we were younger and first married, my husband and I traveled a lot.  We visited lots of big cities, we went to Europe, we took road trips just for the sake of getting out of town--staying home was the last thing on our minds.  These days, though, that's what makes us both happier than anything else.  A nice long afternoon at home, baking bread and reading a book--that's my idea of a perfect day.  My friend Denise told me once that her sons often worry about her spending so much time at home; "Don't you get lonely?  Don't you want to get out of the house and be around people?"  And Denise has to explain, once again, that she did plenty of getting out in another chapter of her life.  It's just not an interesting prospect anymore.

I'm only visiting family, not a foreign country, so I'll have plenty of time for hanging out at home.  My mom's home.  The house where I grew up.  But it always feels like home again after I've been there for awhile.    
 

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Homeward Bound

We're having Fall Break at my university next week (for friends in the north, it's like a miniature Spring Break--we get next Thursday and Friday off.)  I'm heading to Boise for the 4-day weekend.  I love the fall in Idaho, so I'm looking forward to having some time among the turning leaves.  Fall is the one thing I really miss here in Texas.  I thought I'd miss winter when we moved here, but not so much.  Turns out you can live a long and happy life without snow.

I'm a little nervous about my trip home, though--partly because my dad's health has been declining pretty steadily for the last few years, and I haven't seen him since this time last year, when we flew to Boise for my niece's wedding.  I'm expecting to be shocked by how much he's aged, and I know that caring for him is taking a toll on my mother as well.  I doubt either of them will look like the people I remember.  Beyond having to face these rather difficult realities, though, I'm always a little nervous about going to Boise.

I know that sounds silly.  How can you be nervous about visiting your home town?  But these are the facts:  I never felt like Boise was where I belonged.  After I left Idaho, I fell in love with the idea of it; while I was living there, I couldn't wait to leave.  I love mountains, and I always feel at home when I'm within visual distance of them.  The smell of pine trees makes me deeply happy in a way few things do.  But being in Boise makes me remember how it felt to be a powerless teenager in a place I just didn't belong, which is a feeling I'd just as soon forget.

It's not that I don't like the place.  On the contrary, I really love my little hometown.  It's just that I don't know how to be there as a grown-up, I guess. 
      

Monday, October 4, 2010

30 Days of Blogging, Day 30: A letter to yourself at 20

We're at the finish line!  Thank you everyone who has read this past month's worth of blogs and told me about it.  I've appreciated knowing that I wasn't just talking to myself for the last 30 days.

Dear 20-year-old Pam,

You've spent most of your life being told that you're smart.  But here's something you need to know:  you really don't know much.  Remember that the next time someone tries to give you some advice--it's possible they know what they're talking about and you, smart one, do not.  Here are the words of advice I hope you'll accept from me.  


1.  Keep a low overhead.  It will be many years before a famous writer says this to you, and by that time it will be way too late to heed this very sensible advice.  So let me just tell you right now:  there are many, many things you can do without.  (That peach silk dress, for example--don't buy it.  You'll never wear it, and you'll feel sick to your stomach every time you see it hanging in your closet.)  Keep in mind that money is freedom.  The more of it you have, the more control you have over your time.       

2.  You don't have to be a prodigy.  It really doesn't matter how quickly you do things; doing them is the point.  Give yourself a break.  It takes time to figure out what you're doing, especially with something like writing, which gets better the longer you do it(And seriously, does anyone even remember those writers who were the prodigies of your generation?  Either they're still writing or they're not.  No one remembers when they started.)    

3.  You're fine on your own.  Perhaps it's because you grew up with parents who were joined at the hip; I don' know.  For some reason, you're pretty much convinced that you can't live a long and happy life without a romantic partner.  But here's the thing:  you're going to drive across the country to go to graduate school all by yourself.  Then you're going to figure out how to do graduate-level research and write award-winning papers and short stories. You will do all of this without a partner.  (He'll be along presently.  And trust me, he's more than worth the wait.)  So believe me when I say that you're fineIn fact, you will come to the conclusion that you're not interested in marriage at all.  And this is when you'll meet the guy who will convince you that, actually, you are.       

4.  Don't be so afraid.  People make mistakes, and most of them don't end in disaster.  They're not always the result of carelessness.  You'll learn, you'll move on--it's part of life.  But being afraid of making mistakes will keep you from doing a lot of things, and being afraid to ask questions will also keep you from learning. You're not supposed to know everything.  Smart people know enough to recognize what they don't know.  In fact, smart people know there's always more to learn.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

30 Days of Blogging, Day 29: Something you hope to accomplish

I'd really like to be able to making a living from my writing, at some point in my life.  It doesn't have to be limited to fiction writing; I'd be very happy to get paid for writing my food blog, or any other kind of blog, for that matter.  It would make me very happy not to leave the house when I go to work in the morning.  (That's my borderline agoraphobia showing itself again.)  I love teaching, but that's something I could certainly do part-time if writing were my primary gig. 

Everything I've read suggests that establishing a money-making blog takes at least three years, so this is a long-term goal.  And, of course, I have two children who will need to go to college in the next ten years--so it's very unlikely that I will give up working a full-time job anytime soon.  But if I were able to retire a little early because of my writing income, that would be good enough for me.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

30 Days of Blogging, Day 28: Something you have to forgive someone else for

Like the "someone who disappointed you" post, this is stuff I'd rather not think about.  I like to believe that I forgive and forget the past, and generally I think that's true.  I'm not a grudge-holder; that takes way too much energy away from much more important things.  Holding on to anger punishes you, not the person you're angry at.

With that said, I'll admit that there are people I find it difficult to forgive.  One of those is a former professor toward whom I still harbor some hard feelings.  She's very famous, and having her name on my resume has always been an enormous benefit to me--my usual reply, when someone mentions her, is "I was very lucky to have the chance to work with her."  That's true, so I don't mind saying it.  And I know that saying anything negative about her just makes me look bad, because she's accomplished a lot and I can't say the same.  So I just don't say anything about her, most of the time.     

But I still believe that she didn't need to be as unkind and dismissive as she was.  Once you've had some measure of success, I think you can afford to be a little more gracious to people who are struggling and just getting started.  She said things that honestly made me question whether I should even bother to continue writing.  If she didn't think I was good enough to get published, she might have just let me find that out when I didn't get published.  Instead, she seemed intent on letting me know that my work wasn't even worthy of her attention.

I don't know if I hold a grudge against her, exactly.  I don't think I do.  I don't feel angry when I think about her; I don't feel like she's undeserving of the success she's had.  But I do feel like I'll have to forgive her, eventually, for offering so little of what I expected when I signed up for her workshop, and for having a heart so much less generous than her work suggests.
   

Friday, October 1, 2010

30 Days of Blogging, Day 27: Something you have to forgive yourself for

A couple of weeks ago in Sunday school, I was talking to the Confirmation class about baptism.  We were discussing how you have to live your baptism every day by believing you start with a clean slate, as far as God is concerned.  I pointed out that, once you get to be my age, you have lots of things you need to be forgiven for, but the hardest thing is to forgive yourself. 

I don't think I could single out one thing for which I need to forgive myself.  Generally speaking, I'm still working on offering forgiveness to my 18-to-22-year-old self, who made a lot of dumb decisions that I can hardly bear to think about as an older person.  There are any number of explanations for why this happened, but the bottom line is, I made those choices.  Plenty of people around me were making smarter decisions--I was just too lazy and selfish and generally immature to do the right thing, much of the time.
 
Fortunately, after I'd moved across the country to go to graduate school, I outgrew those traits very quickly.  When you're completely on your own, you learn that being a person others respect is pretty important--you can't expect much from them if they aren't able to expect much from you in return.