2018: Cow Town Summer

“I could never in a hundred summers get tired of this.”

Susan Branch

Tanzania 2018

June 2018: I wrote most of the below and forgot to publish it as anyone who has visited East Africa the network is a mercurial and not always reliable thing. So here you are…. a month later – the thoughts all still stand, my readers. I just didn’t officially state it live time. I know life isn’t a fairy tale, but it’s nice to be looking around the next bend at a happy what’s next – I don’t live to think of endings or ever after, life certainly isn’t so tidy, at least mine isn’t. It’s a happy right now for me. It’s a building of the house where there was once just me and is now an us. Here’s to us and all of you. It’s also pre-summer in the Berkshires, in Massachusetts where I live and the greener than green came with me back from Tanzania… I don’t mind it, I don’t mind it at all.

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April 2018: I have been in Tanzania during the dry season or just at the start of the short rains, never at the end of the rainy season when the land is so gloriously green everywhere – greener than the greenest green.

It’s also dangerous and muddy, with floods and broken roads but let’s set that aside for a moment and focus on the endless emerald fields and hillsides. I have to say I have learned to love this confusing country in all conditions.

This is my first time traveling free – not quite a local, a mzungu never is going to be that.  I have replaced the blur from a 4 x 4 vehicle window, a more than curated experience., with street food, Masai nightclubs, the Dar “lux” express bus (it’s not so lux but it’s also not so not lux – that’s a puzzle 12 hours on that bus will solve for you). I may have even drunk the water (ok, you all know, I did but I swear my gut appreciates it now).

When does the tourist become the traveler? When is it just visiting your guy where he lives and going to the village where he was born? Does it matter that the village where I was born was Chicago? I don’t know.  Somehow by accident of fate, my global citizenship has changed and I have to carve out a spot here as well as there – there will always be a bit different when I am here and it’s a weird and unsettling mix of complicated and simple.

When I get on my plane back to the USA this time, I am not just taking memories with me. I am leaving someone behind. What was once a one way, becomes a new life plan and roundtrips. My heart couldn’t be more full,

As my father told me long ago, shoot for the stars, just remember to find the potatoes on the ground too. So with stars in my eyes and potatoes in my pockets, let the next chapter begin.

2015: Cows, California, Cafes and Chalupas

“We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise, we harden.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Even if I didn’t write about them, I did have some lovely adventures and I love a sunset all over the world. Here’s 2015’s collection.

California for some calm and a birthday, Mexico for some chalupas and time with my cub, Michigan for a coney hot dog and some love, Cape Cod as a constant, rounding out the year with cafes in France, Costa Rican coffee and life in my cow town too.

Happy happy new year to all my loves.

Berkshires 2013: Tanglewood in the rain

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It is what we’ve done every summer to honor my father, rain or shine. He loved classical music and yet was cursed with what he thought were two girls who loved men in tight pants and arena rock. He was wrong. All ninety nine versions of the melancholic but gorgeous Mahler symphonies he owned and the countless hours on family road trips with only NPR on the radio, his music has become the main soundtrack of our lives. It is what I turn to when I am feeling what I now like to refer to as complicated.

How lucky I am that my cow town is a short drive from the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra in Lenox, MA and Tanglewood. Times have changed and bands like Wilco  come play here too but the focus remains classical with a few nights every summer devoted to film music. I am sure my father would allow a little John Williams and the triumphant theme to Superman.

The lawn is your best bet, unless you need to see Joshua Bell‘s forehead sweating (playing my nerd card there – people, he’s like a rock star to a certain slice of the world). The people watching is bar none one of the great experiences, almost as good as an airport.

Today it is West Side Story – I know, dicey because while brilliant it is not really fitting the Dad’s bill. No worries, last weekend we brought the cub to hear good old Gus (aka Mahler). Keeping the tradition alive in the next generation of lion cows.

Dad, hope you’re smiling and cursing us at the same time for being such dark horses. Your girls came through for you. There is a way to love men in tight pants with screaming guitars and alternatively be entranced by the violin.

Cape Cod 2013: a reboot and at last some sunshine

All the lion time in my life has to have a price. This spring’s return from Africa = a cold, job changes and adjustment – nothing horrible or life altering, just unsettling and time consuming.

In the meantime, on the eastern seaboard, the sun is finally out and summer, in all her glory, rolled in yesterday under the almost full super moon of 2013 (it was really quite HUGE last night).

Summer means one thing to my family – it’s time to head to the water, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, specifically. My family has a shared place, a magical house, we’ve managed to hold on to since 1927. My mother, her siblings, my cousins, their children, my sister, my nephew and countless visitors over the years have been able to time travel to a place where time actually has stopped. For me it is a place, the past, the present and the future all cross – I am five, I am 24, I am my age, I’ll be 55, 85… you name it. My father, my grandmother, my uncles and aunt, well, not to go too ghost hunter on you all, they’re all here too or at least a trace of their energy anyway. An old friend said once that when you walk, it’s like the house gives you a hug.

And so, when the world seems a bit upside down and I need to exhale, sleep late, hear the chirp of an Osprey training her young to fish, the roar of a motorboat, the rustle of a sailboat, I head here and really, it doesn’t take much time for it all to seem okay again.

And so with the sunshine …

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. ~F. Scott Fitzgerald