Monthly Archives: August 2010


So, after 34 years in one house, and a lifetime on greater Long Island, Frank and I suddenly decide to up stakes and move to the Berkshires.

It’s kind of an impulsive Joseph Campbell “Follow your bliss” decision, made in response to the glory of the Berkshires even in bleakest November. It’s the promise of a different way of life, maybe even a different way of being. Or maybe it’s just an adventure, something not so readily come by after 65. Who knows?

And what’s it like, the slow living out of a sudden decision?

Well, life in the country so far has a lot in common with the first sentence of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past, which rambles for pages, in and out of time and space and grammatical construction, to the point where a lot of potential readers give up in mid-sentence.


Here in the woods, whatever we do doesn’t just go ahead smoothly from needing to doing. It meanders by digressions —–

Where is that Whatever I need? in a box? in what box? in a box in the garage under three other boxes? or maybe I already unpacked it and put it somewhere else which had an internal logic at the time, but whatever that internal logic was, it’s vanished, and a new internal logic is ticking over, which still doesn’t locate the Whatever until, in the fullness of time, it turns up of its own accord, you cannot begin to imagine the time this process takes! and it seems to be repeated with every new Whatever that we need…


Frank and I are irritable and snappish with each other more often and more intensely than I remember, and I’m only consoled when friends keep calling to ask, Are you still married? And then I know objectively that moving really is a strain, it isn’t us, it’s the situation. Sometimes we’ll open a bottle of wine, and have a glass. Or maybe ice cream, with that new chocolate shell coating. We may end up fat and bibulous, but will save our marriage.
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