Saturday, August 05, 2006

I Belong to the Rat Pack

About a month or so ago, my sisters and SIL decided to have a girly-sib reunion. Awesome. But then they decided they wanted to have it in Las Vegas.

I love Vegas. I mean to say, I LOVE Vegas. But we don't even have enough money to fully cover our bills each month, so there was no way I could go. I couldn't even afford BlogHer. It was out of the question.

Guess what; I'm going.

My mom loaned me the money and I can go. She forbade me to use it for bills and ordered me to go to Las Vegas with the rest of the sisters. Old as I am, I am in the habit of obeying my mother, so my bag is packed and I'm ready to go, and I'm leaving on a jet plane, as John Denver wrote and everyone else under the sun has sung.

We're staying right on the Strip, in New York New York. I'm so excited, my earlobes itch.


I love you, Mom. Oh, and Happy Birthday!!!!!!!!

This is my mom, at fifteen. I think she was beautiful.

I think she's still beautiful.

Thank you, Mom.

I won't be seeing any shows or gambling, but it's enough just to walk around and gawk at things like the country gee-haw that I am.

I don't like to admit that but it's true.

I don't care for country music and I do love the opera and ALMOST all classical music and I'm obsessed with the musical theatre and I read everything I can get my hands on, but honestly? I've really never been anywhere

That's not quite true. I've been devouring books since before I started kindergarten, so I've actually been all over this world, and lots of other worlds, in my head, and in my heart. My imagination overflows with fantasy and characters and plots and settings and points of view and irony and parody and metaphors and similes and analogies and comedy and tragedy and everything the Nine Muses represent. Thalia and Melpomene are my icons.

I guess I have been everywhere then. Johnny Cash and me. Or rather, Mike Ford and me, because I love Ford's version of that song the best.

Mmm, Mike Ford and me. Sigh.

Two of my favorite novels, "A Lantern in Her Hand," by Bess Streeter Aldrich, and its sequel "A White Bird Flying," talk about this, this ability to travel without really going far from one's home. I highly recommend both books, but be sure you read them in order.

In "A Lantern in Her Hand," Grace is upset with her mother, Abbie, because Abbie can't go to Europe with her. Grace tells her mother that a person who doesn't travel can't be very broad-minded. Conveniently forgetting that Abbie sacrified her youth for her children, just to keep body and soul together, Grace really lets Abbie have it, about travel being broadening and about people who don't travel being narrow.

Abbie tells Grace that she HAS traveled, in her books, and vicariously when her children traveled and wrote to her about it. She tells Grace that not everyone who travels is broad, and not everyone who stays home is narrow.

Oh, I can't tell you enough how very, very much I love these two books.

I am on my way to becoming less narrow this weekend, although when I look in the mirror, I think I'm already plenty broad enough.

The timing couldn't have been better. The slings and arrows are really getting to me.

Carry on.