My Anniversary

"I ended up with forty acres, I ended up with a broken fiddle - and a broken laugh and a thousand memories and not a single regret." 

-Edgar Lee Masters

For my anniversary I'm going to let you in on a secret.

I was talking to a graduate instructor the other day about my upcoming move to New Orleans. The girl was about my age, maybe a little older, and she said that she couldn't imagine moving that far away from her friends and family and everything she knew. She asked me wasn't I nervous about being in a new city with complete strangers? She's not the first person to ask that. Over the years when I've spoken to people about my next move they all have similar reactions: "That sounds like so much fun! (but I would never do it)". There are too many maybes, too little certainty, not enough support system. What if I hate it? What if I can't make money? What if no one likes me? What if I don't like them? What if I fail?

Well, here's the secret: I hate these transitions because each one of these questions and doubts goes through my head too. Maybe it's that old "devil you know versus the devil you don't" sort of thing, but my anxiety is never higher than during one of these moves. The whole thing feels like a game of Boggle. You have those letters nice and in a row, but they're used up; you can't do any more with them. So you shake them up. Sometimes you get better, sometimes you don't; but you always get something different then what you had.

I read Edgar Lee Masters during my first year of college over a decade ago. The poem at the top is from his Spoon River Anthology about a farmer named Jones who plays the fiddles and spends more time at local dances then tending his fields. When he dies he looks back at his life and realizes he doesn't mind that he didn't work harder or make more money. It was the memories that mattered in the end.

Since finding this poem it's been my mantra, the thing I repeat in my head when I begin to freak out about the changes ahead. Recently a list by a former hospice nurse was picked up by some major newspapers. She wrote down the five regrets that people voice on their deathbeds.

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me
2. I wish I didn't work so hard
3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings
4. I wish I'd stayed in touch with my friends
5. I wish I'd let myself be happier

I guess what I'm getting at here is that it's ok to have doubts and it's ok to be nervous. There is nothing about me or my upbringing that allows me to nonchalantly uproot and take on a new challenge. Each time I change jobs or states I have those same doubts and those same butterflies, but in the end I know that I'll regret the chances I didn't take more then the ones I took. It goes by fast, just look at the past year, so don't worry so much about falling. We're like cats, we naturally land on our feet even if there are a few panicked moments when we're trying to get our bearings.

So, happy anniversary to the Jetta,
who hung in there despite my neglect of her.

Happy anniversary to all of you,
who keep sending me good ideas and questions.

And happy anniversary of my car dwelling adventure,
which has taught me a lot.

Good Friday

Nope, I didn't drop of the face of the earth. I'm still here, still plugging along, still counting down to the end of college, Massachusetts, and the east coast in general. The end of things always leads to some nostalgia looking back on the past few years it's easy to winder if I could have made a go of it here in the bay state. I keep thinking that somewhere along the line I'll find a place that just feels right and be able to settle a bit. Honestly I'm beginning to think that settling down will happen only when I'm too old and arthritic to physically move forward. My low tolerance for boredom coupled with a general curiosity about the next bend in the road isn't really conducive to sedentary life.

Speaking of: tomorrow, April 7th, is the one year anniversary of the Tuckerbag and my full time vehicle dwelling. I got some bungee cords yesterday and used them to give myself some more leg room. Other than that I've reached a happy medium where everything I have works fine and I can stop "improving" my home for now. When I leave for New Orleans in May the Go Go Gadget Red car will temporarily retire to my parents driveway for some much needed R&R while I set myself up in Louisiana. I had considered taking her but each day seems to be a new noise. The brakes are still grinding like a crow bar is stuck between the pad and the drum. The check engine light, which indicated a catalytic converter problem, is staying off, but I have a suspicion it may have something to do with the relatively new coolant leak (speaking of, I need to pick up more coolant this evening). As much as I would love to bring her along for the adventure, I would rather she remain safely in New Hampshire then be abandoned on the side of I-81.

So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. It's Friday so I'll be out of work in about thirty minutes and then off to get some wine, salami, french bread, and olive oil. I'm going to hunker down on one of the campus couches and watch Rosemary & Thyme mysteries into the wee hours of the morning and then sleep as late as the Saturday shoppers will let me.

One quick announcement before I go. Wolf, one of my favorite car dwelling dudes, has just started a new Yahoo group for mobile dwellers which I encourage everyone to visit. Click Here to check it out.