Into the woods
It’s time to go
I hate to leave
I have to, though
Into the woods
It’s time, and so
I must begin my journey
Hoping to crash a weekly writers’ night upon my Monday landing, I contacted the friends with whom, across the distance, I’ve been writing a script. As it happened, there was no meeting to crash that night, so as arrangements were hastily made for a Tuesday get-together, I found my father’s truck waiting near the airport and drove on to Tullahoma.
Into the woods
And down the dell,
The path is straight,
I know it well.
Into the woods,
And who can tell
What’s waiting on the journey?
After the last successful visit with my long trusted doctor, who is himself soon to move across state, my attention turned to the large, full storage units that hold the bulk of my belongings. In planning my trip, I had listed items I wished to retrieve: programs from old theatre productions; tapes from old radio shifts; and copies of old publications for which I’d either written or served as editor. Knowing that both units were well stuffed, I had high hopes but low expectations for finding everything I wanted.
Into the woods
It’s time to go
It may be all
In vain, you know
Into the woods
But even so
I have to take the journey
Unexpectedly, I found everything I’d wanted and more -- so much more, in fact, that I threw away three full bags of paper miscellany.
The visit was an amazingly productive one, tying many loose ends. For example, my printed driver’s license (though updated online) still had me living in a Manchester duplex I’d left behind in 2003; my voter’s registration had me linked to the Tullahoma address I’d abandoned in that move. I corrected both records, after nostalgically visiting those old addresses. Then, adding dental coverage to my health plan, I picked up a new insurance card, too.
Though much business was accomplished, my visit suffered no lack of good times with friends and family.
Into the woods to Grandmother’s house...
Into the woods to Grandmother’s house...
Not much was written during the writers’ reunion with Anne-Geri and Beth, but the path of the story was made clearer to all. No typical Blizzard-and-air-hockey rounds were made as Kenny and I met on the night of a World Series game, but dinner with my family gave us the time to catch up. In the madness, I unfortunately neglected to contact Chris at all (sorry!); but I did (1) see my second-oldest niece on her birthday and (2) take a tour of my brother’s mammoth garage-in-progress; (3) spend a few precious hours with my youngest niece; (4) collect a more than adequate sample of my aging grandmother’s attention-hungry antics; and (5) see a certain Sondheim production in a once-familiar theatre where many old friends were briefly met.
Into the woods
To get the thing
That makes it worth
The journeying
Into the woods...
By Saturday, I was readying for the next day’s early flight home
Into the woods!
A box of storage-found goodies was readied for shipping to San Diego, my bags were packed, and my goodbyes were said.
Into the woods!
On Sunday I returned my father’s truck to its near-the-airport location and began the return trip to San Diego. To Orrick. To rehearsals.
Into the woods!
Traveling west on the Sunday that the clocks changed, I gained three hours overall, landing at Lindbergh Field at 4 o’clock Pacific Standard Time, which only the night before would have been 7 o’clock Central Daylight Time. More power to those who travel oftener and farther than I, for I found this to be physically confusing, conking out rather early after a kindly-provided dinner of “spaghetti goop” my father had waiting for me on arrival.
Despite the bit of lag at its end, however, I wouldn’t change a thing about the journey. Many thanks to all the folks who made it possible, memorable, and productive.
Then out of the woods
And home before dark!
