Maybe it would help if my desk wasn’t my bed? I dunno.

Jean Sax­ton is my 95 year old grand­mother who I just saw for the first time in nearly fif­teen years.  The last I saw her was on a fam­ily trip to Cape Cod, where she lives – a trip I remem­ber vividly.  I remem­ber see­ing my first fire­flies, ice cream and calamine lotion melt­ing all over my skin, a whale watch­ing trip that gar­nered no whale sight­ings.  Jean was con­cerned with being proper, drove a Cape Cod edi­tion red oldsmo­bile, wore a wig on the last day of our visit because her hair looked dirty.

Since then, our con­tact has been lim­ited to a few short phone calls on hol­i­days.  She knows much about me because of my mother’s dot­ing words, but she has always been the prim New Eng­lan­der I once met in my youth.

But now we live only three hours apart.  And recently my moti­va­tions to recon­nect have strength­ened.  And so I took the drive through Mass­a­chu­setts trees nearly empty of leaves and sat in her retire­ment com­mu­nity condo to lis­tened to her sto­ries.  For 95, she is extra­or­di­nar­ily lucid.  Her pos­ture is still per­fect and she is apolo­getic for her thoughts when they trail off to dis­tant mem­o­ries.  the pains of aging are stacked upon her fin­gers, shoul­ders, and feet.  But she does not men­tion the aches with­out men­tion­ing the joys of life behind her.  Grow­ing old, it seems, pro­vides her with no rea­son to fade.

How long do you sup­pose I can keep this on for? Also, my pre­vail­ing DOS pride (lower-left).

5 – 09 Livre Du Saint Sacre­ment — II. La Source De La Vie “La Source De La Vie,” Livre Du Saint Sacre­ment, Olivier Mes­si­aen. (Per­formed by Olivier Latry.)

I feel like I’ve been wear­ing these ani­mals for the past two days. (Mar­got, pic­tured above, in cheap invis­i­bil­ity cloak.)

Hoods, indeed.

Dear Reader,

     When I fin­ished col­lege I moved away from home and found myself in a sim­i­lar sit­u­a­tion.  I was in a some­what dif­fer­ent envi­ron­ment than the one you cur­rently find your­self in, but I remem­ber hav­ing a lot of the same prob­lems.  I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to meet new friends or develop any sense of belong­ing where I was.

     I brought up my trou­bles to the peo­ple around me who had also relo­cated from some­where else, and they all gave the same advice:  “Give it 3 months, if you still don’t like it, then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”  I decided to test this the­ory out and 3 months in — I did in fact feel a new attach­ment to where I was.  I ended up stay­ing for over 2 years and I look back on that time in my life very fondly.  I bring this up just to high­light the fact that first impres­sions of new sur­round­ings can be some­what deceiv­ing.  You should give things a lit­tle bit more time and try to make the best of your sit­u­a­tion.  Who knows, it may get bet­ter, it may get worse.  But giv­ing it a fair shot is important.  

     As far as dif­fer­ent ways to meet new peo­ple where you live, I really can’t pro­vide you with any­thing past the obvi­ous.  Con­certs, lec­tures, book stores, vol­un­teer­ing, there are a mil­lion chances out there.  But you could also try to see this time you spend there as an oppor­tu­nity to become more com­fort­able with being alone.  There’s noth­ing wrong with miss­ing the com­pany of your loved ones, but learn­ing how to deal with their absence and devel­op­ing a strong sense of self will help you for the rest of your life.

     Stick it out. 

Signed,

Chivalry

Don’t rub off so easy.

What a day. I have passed the fish bur­rito mark.

Day one.