Visiting My Belongings

Yesterday was about travel and rest. I was up at 5am Eastern time and by 5:55am had checked out of the hotel in Greenville, filled the rental car up with gas and turned it in and was down at the gate waiting for my 6:55am flight to Houston. My flight was one of those Express Jets with two rows of seats on one side, a single row on the other and a ceiling so low any of us over 6 feet tall had to duck or bean ourselves.

The flight arrived about 10 minutes late, as did my Dad, so I walked right out from baggage and put my suitcases into the truck. On the way home, a 74-mile drive, I filled dad’s truck up with gas and treated him to breakfast at Denny’s. (Dad’s diabetic and had taken off to pick me up well before his usual breakfast and meds time.) During breakfast, Tim (gotmoof) called and I spent part of the day trying to help him out with a family situation. The remainder of the day, I napped on and off, paid a couple of bills, and unpacked. It was nice to hear my folks chatting in other areas of the house...to just enjoy having people around, without having to make an effort to join in or explain what I was doing.... to be solitary, but still have company.

Since I’ve gotten home, I’ve done three loads of laundry (ah, the exciting life of an actor:), reorganized my closet ( physically, not emotionally:) and readied a couple of container boxes to put in my storage units. It’s an odd emotional tug for me when I come home, knowing so many of the things I cherish are packed up and put away.

I admit I spend a few minutes every day dreaming of my next home or living space, decorating it in my head with the pictures, books, linens and furniture that together give me a sense of belonging to a space and time. Often my emotional life feels packed up too... though I joke at the theater that I’ve taken care to leave my matching set of emotional baggage at home, unpacked and put away.

So many of my favorite things can be connected to a specific show or moment in time and I have one of those minds that makes those connections for life:) The connections can also be to people, like Tim or David, who were with me on a vacation, by my side at a certain point in time when I bought something or who knew me when I was building my house in Texas or visited me in Seattle. Some of the items have traveled with me from childhood or school. In fact, I just packed my high school band blanket for storage today. (I figured I'd outgrow a letter jacket, but not a blanket:) There are also very special pieces that tie me to my family history; I received them from grandparents, parents or my beloved brother and sister and they are priceless to me, even if the material value is negligable.

Certain artwork that hangs in my parents’ house was painted by my best friend Dora who died seven years ago; scattered around the house are bronzes and Asian pieces she gifted me with during our 20 years of friendship. I gain comfort from seeing these special items; the remembering brings me joy... and sadness that she’s no longer here to share the journey with me; but Dora's alive in the stories I get to tell when someone asks me about one of the objects that came into my life through knowing her and also through my friendship with her former daughter-in-law, Casey, who remains one of my closest friends. Casey and her friend Ann love me unconditionally and act as beacons of light in my life.

It’s been a sad day here. Today was my uncle’s funeral in Erie and I’ve tried to negotiate the ups and downs of Mom’s grieving, to just be supportive ... lending an ear or shoulder whichever is most needed. My sister has offered the same via phone. We’ve told stories of Dale, remembering him fondly as the little brother that loved his big sister and brother. (My dad was as close as a brother to Dale, as he came into Dale’s life when Dale was 12; since Dale’s two older brothers were nearly 20 years older than him and Dad was 8 years older, Dad taught Dale a lot about life - so brother is the correct label for my Dad). I bought Mom flowers today; we spent some moments of silence during the time we knew the service was happening up North; and Mom baked Dale’s favorite cake, a Crow’s Nest (apple upside-down cake). Just like my grandmother did in times of tragedy, Mom baked. So, today's memories even included scent.

Tomorrow I’m going to visit my belongings in storage and allow myself to take a little bit of a journey down memory lane. I’m going to remember people, places and times as I look through boxes, sorting out things that could be of charitable use or that should be put up for sale, reorganizing them so that when “Evita” ends, they’ll be all ready and waiting for a new home. In the meantime, they’ll have to be content with infrequent, but congenial visits and put up with one sighing, bear of an actor:)

Visiting My Belongings

Yesterday was about travel and rest. I was up at 5am Eastern time and by 5:55am had checked out of the hotel in Greenville, filled the rental car up with gas and turned it in and was down at the gate waiting for my 6:55am flight to Houston. My flight was one of those Express Jets with two rows of seats on one side, a single row on the other and a ceiling so low any of us over 6 feet tall had to duck or bean ourselves.

The flight arrived about 10 minutes late, as did my Dad, so I walked right out from baggage and put my suitcases into the truck. On the way home, a 74-mile drive, I filled dad’s truck up with gas and treated him to breakfast at Denny’s. (Dad’s diabetic and had taken off to pick me up well before his usual breakfast and meds time.) During breakfast, Tim (gotmoof) called and I spent part of the day trying to help him out with a family situation. The remainder of the day, I napped on and off, paid a couple of bills, and unpacked. It was nice to hear my folks chatting in other areas of the house...to just enjoy having people around, without having to make an effort to join in or explain what I was doing.... to be solitary, but still have company.

Since I’ve gotten home, I’ve done three loads of laundry (ah, the exciting life of an actor:), reorganized my closet ( physically, not emotionally:) and readied a couple of container boxes to put in my storage units. It’s an odd emotional tug for me when I come home, knowing so many of the things I cherish are packed up and put away.

I admit I spend a few minutes every day dreaming of my next home or living space, decorating it in my head with the pictures, books, linens and furniture that together give me a sense of belonging to a space and time. Often my emotional life feels packed up too... though I joke at the theater that I’ve taken care to leave my matching set of emotional baggage at home, unpacked and put away.

So many of my favorite things can be connected to a specific show or moment in time and I have one of those minds that makes those connections for life:) The connections can also be to people, like Tim or David, who were with me on a vacation, by my side at a certain point in time when I bought something or who knew me when I was building my house in Texas or visited me in Seattle. Some of the items have traveled with me from childhood or school. In fact, I just packed my high school band blanket for storage today. (I figured I'd outgrow a letter jacket, but not a blanket:) There are also very special pieces that tie me to my family history; I received them from grandparents, parents or my beloved brother and sister and they are priceless to me, even if the material value is negligable.

Certain artwork that hangs in my parents’ house was painted by my best friend Dora who died seven years ago; scattered around the house are bronzes and Asian pieces she gifted me with during our 20 years of friendship. I gain comfort from seeing these special items; the remembering brings me joy... and sadness that she’s no longer here to share the journey with me; but Dora's alive in the stories I get to tell when someone asks me about one of the objects that came into my life through knowing her and also through my friendship with her former daughter-in-law, Casey, who remains one of my closest friends. Casey and her friend Ann love me unconditionally and act as beacons of light in my life.

It’s been a sad day here. Today was my uncle’s funeral in Erie and I’ve tried to negotiate the ups and downs of Mom’s grieving, to just be supportive ... lending an ear or shoulder whichever is most needed. My sister has offered the same via phone. We’ve told stories of Dale, remembering him fondly as the little brother that loved his big sister and brother. (My dad was as close as a brother to Dale, as he came into Dale’s life when Dale was 12; since Dale’s two older brothers were nearly 20 years older than him and Dad was 8 years older, Dad taught Dale a lot about life - so brother is the correct label for my Dad). I bought Mom flowers today; we spent some moments of silence during the time we knew the service was happening up North; and Mom baked Dale’s favorite cake, a Crow’s Nest (apple upside-down cake). Just like my grandmother did in times of tragedy, Mom baked. So, today's memories even included scent.

Tomorrow I’m going to visit my belongings in storage and allow myself to take a little bit of a journey down memory lane. I’m going to remember people, places and times as I look through boxes, sorting out things that could be of charitable use or that should be put up for sale, reorganizing them so that when “Evita” ends, they’ll be all ready and waiting for a new home. In the meantime, they’ll have to be content with infrequent, but congenial visits and put up with one sighing, bear of an actor:)