When I was a young girl, I had me a spaceman

There's a Bonnie Raitt song going thru my head- "Angel From Montgomery"- great song- go listen. I'm on the road again, between NY and New Mexico. Last year at this time I was packing up in Santa Fe to drive back. Anyway, when I was 19, I had me a spaceman. The first real love I had was with a man about a decade older than me- an artist. I was thinking about him a lot today. He was "a free ramblin' man" as the song says. We rambled around the country together that summer, in an old VW van of course- it was 1971. He was one of the early video artists, and was also a great observer and appreciator of rural America, its people and their peculiarities. Ace Space Company was the name of his artistic venture. He spent his too short life telling stories about his travels in a brilliant piece of audio/visual performance art called "Next Exit". He graduated from the VW camper to a Dodge van, and moved on to a series of larger and larger RVs that housed his recording and performance equipment, his guitars,and whichever of his friends were sharing the adventure with him just then. For awhile he did a Video Postcard segment for some national TV weekend show- where he'd do "postcards" on alligator wrestlers, people who built their house-castles out of bottle caps, or an old southern guy who was sure if he braided his beard just right...and pulled it up onto his head just soooo...that he could levitate. (He was still perfecting his technique). Ace could listen to these people, and draw their stories out of them with total seriousness and respect. As a result- he had the most wonderful, bizarre, unique friends all over the country.

Anyway, I was driving west today, and there in the sky above me were crossed jet streams- a big X. That'd be Ace saying "The road...how I love the road." and winking at me- relaxing me for the next 2000 miles of road ahead. Why the X? Back in 1971 a Canadian (I think) artist wanted to do a piece involving correspondence art- then a big thing. He wrote to many artist friends, and asked them to send in a B&W contact sheet (remember 35 mm film?). They would all go into a book he would publish. Whether we were supposed to use an X somewhere, or whether that was Ace's idea I don't remember. Ace had background in graphics and book design (MFA Yale) so he meticulously planned out every shot on the contact sheet ahead of time- who would be in it, where, order of shots, etc. We cut out a 3' tall X out of canvas....the birth of The Amazing X. It appeared in many subsequent pieces and conversations over the decades. We took it around the then tiny, sleepy town of Crested Butte, CO. where Ace owned an old house, and photographed the X nailed to the side of the great breakfast joint in town- with the cook next to it, and at the leatherworker's, and with this person and that. I climbed over barbed wire into a field so he could photograph it with the cows. I photographed him at the town highway dept.- sitting in a front end loader- payload up- with the X limp across a heap of gravel. The contact sheet was brilliant. Ace did just the right amount of careful prep- but was willing to totally wing it if a better opportunity presented itself. He had good instincts for turning down the road less traveled when the planned road wasn't too interesting.

Me? I decided to spend the first night on the road about 10 miles off the interstate, in a sleepy little town. I admit- I have the misguided tendency to think that west of the NY/NJ metro area is...well, Kansas. This turned out to be a tiny town, all lush with spring, and too many churches to count. It also has the largest high end Outlet center I've ever seen. So much for this road less traveled! But the day was full of wonderful memories and an old friend smiling in his rear view mirror in the sky.

"Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth" P.C.

There is a Pema Chodron story I love. Before she became a Buddhist monk, when she was married, her husband told her she was the bravest person he had ever met. "ME?" she said. "I'm afraid of EVERYTHING!" He replied "Yes- but you do it anyway."

Deirdre Blomfield-Brown (aka Pema Chodron) went to my boarding school. Being a Miss Porter's girl, I like to think her ability to reconcile fear with forward movement had to do with experiences at our alma mater. Maybe something in our shared training will come in handy during the next few months. I've been too caught up in cleaning up/re-painting the house inside for Christmas, and planning meals for masses to spend any time at all pondering my upcoming adventure. Good. Maybe I won't go through the fear and panic part.

Nah. Today my son Dave told me he's going back to college tomorrow. Tomorrow??!!! He wasn't supposed to leave til the 8th! I tell myself that the best thing a mother can hope for is that her children love their lives- and are eager to engage, and that for Dave to be itching to get "home" to his apartment a week or two before his classes start up is a great thing! I practice telling myself this as I phone my pal Laurie, wipe my nose and eyes, and try to stop gasping. For weeks I've had a house full of laughter, cooking smells, dirty dishes, overflowing recyclables (beer bottles and Xmas paper debris) and other signs of family life. This week it goes back to just me and the animals, and the list of things to do before I leave on the 21st.

I warned Laurie last week while we were making latkas for our kids (who grew up together) that a tidal wave of panic might set in after the holidays- and she'd better be ready to calm me down. She- whose darling son is home for a few weeks from a year-long stint in Indonesia - understands. What have I gotten myself into with this "adventure" out west??? What was I thinking- going to some town where I have 2 acquaintances,and a list of people to ring up- friends of friends. Cold calls. ARGH. Where I will be far from all 4 children, sisters, mother. I remind myself I have a list of yoga classes to sign up for, knitting circles, a dog park to visit, jazz venues, Sierra Club hikes with dogs, galleries to explore, and projects to do. I remind myself I am going for 3 months- not 3 years. There is an airport, telephones, e-mail. I love Santa Fe. I think. That's what I'm going to find out.

What's so scary? Loneliness? No. Been there, done that. Being far from the familiar? From my reliable resources? Getting closer. I remind myself that 'familiar' doesn't necessarily mean 'good'. Been there, too. I play the "name the monster" game: What is the WORST thing that could happen? Most of what I come up with is not that terrible or unresolvable. The few doozies I come up with could happen whether or not I'm here- and I just refuse to live in an incapacitating state of fear. Pema's talking to me.

Ok, I'm breathing again. I'm chuckling at myself and shaking my head. I go online and look at the pictures of the casita I'm renting. There are walking trails right out the back door, and it looks like the kitchen windows face East- nice. I wonder if that door in the larger bedroom leads out into the garden?