Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Over The River And Through The Woods

My father says that being a minister often causes him to step on people's toes. Things he'll say from the pulpit will inadvertently (or sometimes, a wee bit purposefully) have direct correlation to a parishoner's life, and he'll inevitably get a phone call about it. Occupational hazard.

Blogging hazard, too, apparently. Since this is my diary, it's the place I unleash. I, too, get followup conversations and emails about things I've written, which are nearly always directed at people no one who reads this blog even knows. Still, I try to be careful. I don't want to chronicle every nuance of life in such a public forum if it means I'll alienate someone I care about.

Which is why I hope the rest of this blog will be taken for the tripping the light fantastic, grinning and laughing way I intend it.

It's not new news that we are moving. However, as I've always lived in or around large cities (New York/New Jersey, Syracuse, Atlanta, Baltimore, Washington, DC) I am a bit... unprepared? For the discussions and concern over the distance I am moving away.

We are moving a forty five minute drive east from the house we live in now. We'll be closer to the center of the city than 50% of the people we hang out with now. Yet we're continually hearing about how far away we're moving, and we're no longer sure how to go about reassuring folks that the road is easily traveled.

They don't issue plane tickets for five minute flights. In fact, we're moving to Annapolis, Maryland, the only state capitol which has no transportation hub: no airport, no train station, no Greyhound station. There are little rickety buses which will take you the distance of approximately five blocks, and the state of Maryland had to contract with motor coach operators to shuttle commuters into DC. It is a significantly car dependant town, unless you plan to never leave it.

My husband grew up in central London, and had an hour's commute to school from the time he was ten. I grew up in suburbia, which meant visiting anyone, including all our downtown churches, was a commitment of a half hour or, usually, more. That's probably why the thought of driving thirty miles to meet friends for dinner isn't something we've weighed either positively or negatively, it just is. Yet we do feel like we've disappointed some by not taking up residence in their mailboxes.

Our ultimate goal is to move to California. I can't envision the weeping and gnashing of teeth which will follow that, based on the reaction we're getting by moving less of a drive away than the average daily commute in DC. We'll be shunned like pregnant Quakers. I'll be forced to do all my drinking in my in law's house, and eventually die, alone, in a massive earthquake as Los Angeles makes its final descent into the Pacific Ocean.

Oh well. At least when that happens, someone on the East Coast will pick up the newspaper, read the story of our horrific deaths, and think to themselves, "Hey. Didn't I use to know that person?"

Before they moved so far away. :)

1 comment:

Ekota (kgiff) said...

We get the same thing living all the way out in Leesburg. It's so far out there. Yet we think very little of coming into the city to meet people. We having a running joke with a friend that his girl friend needs to get a passport before she can come out and visit us.