Thursday, April 24, 2008


I have three giant boxes full to the brim with old National Geographic magazines. The most recent issue is over twenty years I relish in 1970’s advertisements. I often chuckle to myself when I spy an old car, a past king of luxury. Or ads for technology, in a world where computers were the size of an entire room and barely accessible to the normal joe. I actually should spend the cash and buy a year long subscription, now, in the present age. Yet, I am having so much fun peeking through these old journals. I have barely plumbed the depths of articles and pictures. The boxes were a gift from my grandmother, Peep (that is her grandmother name. I’m the oldest grandchild and somehow my toddler mind decided that “Peep” was the only name for her. It may have had something to do with the fact that she always poked my nose and said, “PEEP.”)
This sultry evening (thunder echoes in billowing waves...first closer) I’ve been reading from a 1980 edition of National Geographic. First, I read an article about water. Since I teach a class about Limnology (the study of fresh water) at Sky Ranch, I found the article very informative. I know I need to remember that it might be out of date...but I found the data about the Colorado River to be shockingly up to date with an episode of Planet Earth. The mighty river doesn’t manage to trickle into the Pacific Ocean some years. Too much of its water is pumped into our thirsty western lands. Even in 1980, the river was reduced to a trickle by the time it reached Mexico. I also read about Hans Christian Anderson, an ancient Mayan civilization, and the city of Milwaukee.
I was focused to such an extent that the contents of my tea cup, long forgotten, were frosty (or so it seemed). I could hear music echoing (along with the thunder) from my computer in the living room. The song: Ramblin Man’ by the Allman Brothers Band. As the lyrics wound their way into my room...”Lord I was born a ramblin’ man...” I heard in it a kindred realization. and felt this overwhelming hunger. A need to “ramble” somewhere. I am so tired of living a routine of work, even though I do enjoy my job, tons!
The first flash of lightning interrupted my typing. The thunder is now growing monumental. It adds excitement to my current small town life. I truly feel that I am a rambling woman. I haven’t been able to stay in one place for more that two years, since I graduated high school. I adore travel. I adore picking up and starting over. There is something so exciting about packing. I love choosing a favorite shirt to travel in. When I buy a piece of clothing I think in terms well does this pack in a suitcase. Could I wear it on a mountain?
I like to surround myself with items from different places. In Mexico, at a small town mercado. I bought a bright yellow “moomoo;” you know, those old lady bag-like dresses. The abuela that sold her wares, stroked the fabric with her weathered hands, and assured me, “Hecho de mano.” Made with her hands. I couldn’t leave it behind. The treasured moomoo hangs over my closet door. A bright hand-woven beacon of a distant place and a remarkable old lady. It hangs there, a decoration. Feeding my longing to go somewhere again.
I know that I don’t have long to wait. I leave for France in two months. Yet, tonight, those two months become two eons. The phrase “I can’t wait.” Literally, resonates throughout my being. I want to go....I want to go...I want to go

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