Change is Good
Change is desired…and dreaded. With almost equal anticipation. A new house/city/job/partner is exciting and enlightening; a new house/city/job/partner, at best, a difficult and, at times, uncomfortable adjustment.
A great deal of change is going on right now in life, for me personally, for family and friends. I love it all…and it’s giving me a stomach ache. Really. Actually the stomach ache is caused by the fact that I’m dreaming road and horror movies. I drove so many miles, much of it on prairie highways and as usual I’m reading Scandinavian murder mysteries. Which is probably why my dreams, at night and even if I take a nap, are of bloody killings in small towns, of Nazi soldiers (where’d that come from?) throwing a bludgeoned body into a freeway ditch, of me being hunted by a dangerous and mentally unstable fiend in a grove of cottonwoods near a western ranch house—the cattle close by, chewing away, completely ignoring my plight. I, however, am not attributing this sleep disturbance to too many Swedish murderers or too much driving but rather to the silly tension I experience when there’s change in the air.
For starters I have been in the process of changing my job for the past few months—I’ll still administer a small agency but the part of that which was my passion for many years is over. I have been increasingly impatient with and tired of the machinations of presenting artists so my decision to leave it is beyond right, it’s brilliant and there are no regrets. Finally I can use what time and energy is available after job, people and general life responsibilities for writing—to finally becoming a real writer. Still, it is a big change. Makes my stomach hurt even without deadly killers lurking behind every Montana Dairy Queen.
Then there are my brother and sister-in-law…and my oldest son. Moving to new houses, even state in my brother’s case. Robert and Marsha change locations a lot. Minnesota to Florida to Alaska to Florida to Minnesota, etc. They have even looked here in Albuquerque frequently—closer to family and all that. Now, one night about two weeks ago, in the Minnesota motel where we were all staying on our visit back home, they bought a house on line—in the foothills of the Sandias! My youngest son lives on that side of town…so there they’ll be, a big chunk of my family…so close. I am quite excited by the prospect but nevertheless it is another big change.
My California son sold his home at the foot of Black Mountain which I climbed a couple of times a year to prove I wasn’t really old yet and moved to downtown San Diego. While I am very excited about the prospect of roaming around beach and city on visits just what is supposed to prove that my dwindling stamina has not all dwindled? Walking the beach and strolling about among the cafés and coffeehouses of downtown just won’t do it. Okay, an exciting change I agree, still my stomach hurts.
My young son turned 50 and jumped out of an airplane to prove he could; my granddaughter starts a new important job in one field after getting a UCLA degree in another; another granddaughter goes off to college in Texas. My friend got a divorce after 25 years of marriage because it was way past time, another friend is closing his lovely little gift and souvenir shop after many years… and another friend died. So Many Changes.
Meanwhile a new heroine, Annika, has just entered my life. She works for a newspaper in Stockholm and was at the scene of a shooting during Nobel ceremonies. The killer is a woman named Kitten but we know nothing else about her. Tonight I imagine Annika will be staying at the slightly creepy Cheyenne hotel where Teresa and I spent the night and when the screams from the room just down the hall wake us all, who will be beating at the door, yelling open up open up but Annika. Although somehow my imagination can’t stretch so far as a beautiful Swedish journalist in the Cheyenne Wyoming Super 8. But when my stomach hurts pretty much anything can happen.