Friday, November 28, 2008

South

I tried to pretend that Tuesday was fine. But after a conversation with Justin the headmaster (Headmaster Kennington. Get your giggles as you'd like) in the which he said I was looking kind of off and warned me against burning out and said that they'd love to have me next year please (could he tell I was staying up late exploring graduate programs?) and asked how he could help, I felt both weighed down with grief and weariness and restless, bothered.
I'm a runner. Yeah, in that sense, but also that I often feel cornered and need to leave. I decided to take a trip to Southern Utah. Parowan: the town where my grandfather was born and my dad grew up. I changed in the car, stopped by my house to pick up my camera, and set off.

I love travelling. Just going. One of the most peaceful and contemplative times I remember was on a train to and from Lake Como. Not having to worry about where or why, just moving, thinking, writing. After 4 months serving in the Yerevan, a 20 minute marshrutni ride from the mission office, I found myself entirely claustrophobic. I wanted to move without thinking, to be in the open.

This was a great trip. I decided about halfway down that I'd need to spend the night (it would be 5 by the time I got there, and not light enough to take pictures), and drove past the Days Inn to The Victorian Rose, a restored little inn on Center and Main. Gail, the proprietor knew my grandfather by name. I bought a lily from Bev's Gift and Floral (I'm as sentimental as I pretend to be cynical) and walked to the hills at the edge of town and let myself be sad for a minute. I stopped for a toothbrush at the Foodway, ate dinner at the Pizza Barn, bought a couple of 25 cent books at the library, stayed up late reading (The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay which was incredible and made me absolutely weep).

In the morning I wrote a little and showered and ate at the Parowan cafe and stumbled upon the cemetary where I found some cousins and some lovely graveyard kitsch. (Irreverent? Maybe. Kitschy? Absolutely.) And came home in time to walk the dogs I'm housesitting for.

Moral of the story: a) I love wandering, and if I'm going to stay in Utah, I've got to honor that. I think I'll have to make something work this summer so I don't get so tense. Travelling helps me put things in perspective--the world is wide and I am a very minor player in all of this.
b) My grandpa loved Parowan. I love him for that. He left for his family I think, and I can't imagine my dad there, even as a kid, (when I told him I'd gone he asked why, disgusted, which didn't surprise me a bit), but I know it was a sacrifice. A very sweet little town. c) Fun fact--PHS is across the street from the mortuary. I'm not sure why that delighted me so entirely, but it certainly did.

4 comments:

Amanda said...

I love travelling with you.

Except in damned Pisa, but that wasn't your fault, that was aaaall Pisa's fault.

I'm glad you got to wander a bit.

ego non said...

The Parowan cafe is delightful.

Mies said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
daine said...

I wish I would have blogged about my trips with Amanda to Teasdale, Utah. Even though the sentimentality was mostly vicarious, I absolutely fell in love with the whole area--surprising to me given how much I normally hate both rural and suburban areas. There really is something magical about Southern Utah.

Isn't Kavalier and Clay splendid? Might I recommend The Preservationist by David Maine here? Dai recommended both of those books to me and, even though they share almost nothing in common thematically, they are linked in my mind for that reason. They are also both fantastic, which is another similarity, now that I think of it.