Resting Up

Two days and one college graduation later on the outskirts of St. Louis, it's a night in a Quality Inn--the room stinks, the walls look like they're being painted. But it's a room with 2 beds in case I want to sleep around. Some thunder & lightning & rain & hail last night that added up to a nice dose of natural Midwestern hospitality. Many thanks for that, weather-planners. California might not provide more than a thimble-full of clouds from now until November, so I shall remember the pleasant meteorologic event.

Also met a long-lost relative today. Well, not so much long-lost as hidden from the family 50 years ago when young women could be forced to "go away to school" and then surrender their baby to adoption. She, this relative, is genuinely glad to be meeting a wide array of new people, all of whom are connected through blood, story, and myth. "I am part of you" she might like to say to all of us, and I would like to say that I hope she got the good parts from all of us....

Addendum to "Laying Over."

I never got to spend my 4 shiny quarters. I sat down to tie my shoes and call my wife, but as I was fondling my laces 2 women--sisters--sat down next to me and immediately engaged me in conversation. For the hour we waited I learned many things: they had just returned from a cruise from Los Angeles to Ensenada, Mexico, and were on their way to St. Louis. One of the women, the one who talked the most and sat to my left, told me of her travels: born and raised in Connecticut; years living in North Carolina; now moving to Cape Girardeau, Missouri. In fact, just before the cruise, the sisters had driven from Asheville, North Carolina, to Cape Giradeau, where boxes had yet to be unpacked. The talkative one has been happily divorced for 16 years; her sister has lived in the same house in Dallas for 18 years, where her husband works in the oil business. They both tell me of their children, but I let the details slip by as I wonder if I can extricate myself from the conversation without appearing rude.

But I can't (or don't)--I am stuck with them until we board the plane. I disclose as little as I can about myself as they alternate talking to me, to each other, and to various sons and daughters they talk to on their cellphones. "Here's your mom" and "Here's your aunt" bounce between them and into the phones at various times. Then I hear about their recent road-trip from Texas and up the Midwest to the Dakotas, then around other places. The talkative one says, "I'm lucky that my sister's husband lets her travel with me whenever she wants to," and I think of Ann, the woman I once met on a beach and said something similar about her husband ("Beachcombing", March 11). I am thankful that I have to share only minor details about myself (the number of children I have fathered).

One good thing about letting people talk is that you don't have to.