Finding the (Almost) Perfect Words for Why I Travel
Melrose, MA
One evening last week, I decided to walk to a poetry reading. I don’t often haul myself off the couch after dinner, unless it’s to refill a beverage glass, so the fact that I ventured out after dark is an event in itself.
But my family was scattered around the globe, the felines had been fed, and the oddly warm evening air beckoned (thank you, I guess, climate change). So, with Anne of Green Gables’ words “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers” dancing in my ears, I set off en pied for my .9-mile journey.
Don’t laugh: I walked home too, so the roundtrip was a more respectable 1.8 miles.
My destination that evening was Follow Your Art Community Studios, the artistic hub of Melrose, Massachusetts.
When the house went up for sale several years ago, I toured it with the visionary behind FYACS. While not grasping the entirety of her “community art studios” concept, I salivated over the stained glass, spindled stairways, and sunny, south-facing rooms. I imagined what a certain bay-windowed, second-floor space would look like with books filling its built-in shelves, with tables and chairs arranged for writers, perhaps even with a fire in its fireplace.
Now that the envisioned community studios have become a reality, I get it. The place is humming with creativity, and it’s vibrant with colors, words, and people of all ages, backgrounds, and interests. The writers’ room that’s come to fruition boasts book-stuffed shelves. From a safety standpoint, I suppose it’s for the best that the fireplace doesn’t work.
When I arrived, I threw my arms around a couple of good friends, poured myself a black cherry seltzer, and started yakking away. Then I remembered that I was the event photographer and had better start photographing. After dispensing with my official duties in such a way that neither the poet nor my friend who was interviewing her would be cross with me for capturing them with closed eyes or cartoonishly distorted mouths in mid-talk, I sat back in my second-row seat and listened.
The poems that Alix Klingenberg read onstage so piqued my interest that I started reading more from her new collection Bread Sex Trees* as soon as I returned home that evening.
“I Break Things:” yes, I can certainly relate to that one;
“Nostalgia:” I’ve always wondered why camera companies can’t invent devices that allow you to “photograph/the way a place smells;”
“Again and Again I Choose Autumn:” I sincerely hope that I too am “drifting closer and closer/to the truth/with each passing year.”
And then, this!
Just give me a train ticket,
an open window,
a cup of tea,
and an unknown landscape.
The rest will take
care of itself.
This poem, “A New Landscape,” perfectly captures the thrill I feel when planning a trip and stepping onto a train, starting my car’s engine, or boarding an airplane as I set off to see the world, often with no particular agenda other than discovering what’s out there.
And there’s always something out there worth discovering.
With Alix’s permission, I would name my Substack: “Justgivemeatrainticketanopenwindowacupofteaandanunknownlandscapetherestwilltakecareofitself” if that title wasn’t just a wee bit too long.
And I would have to substitute “a cup of tea” for “a cup of black coffee.”
*I am sending you to Amazon to purchase Bread Sex Trees because bookshop.org was out of stock as of Oct. 20 and I don’t want you to be disappointed. But, by all means, find out whether Bread Sex Trees by Alix Klingenberg is available on bookshop.org or at your local bookstore!
I love that mantra adapted with wone instead of coffee or tea. Lovely!
Thank you for being our official photographer for the night! You did a great job!