There's a NPR piece on Thomas Jefferson's personal library and its sale to the Untied States. A number of his original books were lost in a fire and the Library of Congress has spent a significant amount of time trying to buy original copies to replace those that were lost. The story is about how there are books that they were unable to find. It's the books that they were unable to find that starts me crying.
A quick look back at my journal during my visit to D.C. in September confirms that I did, in fact, start crying while visiting the exhibit they talk about in the NPR piece, and for the same reason.
Actually, a quick look back at my journal entries from my visit to D.C. confirms that, in fact, I spent very little time there without crying.
Yeesh.
Anyway, the second the reporter starts talking about the exhibit I close my eyes and think about the Library of Congress and how I can remember, distinctly, what it felt like to stand in front of Jefferson's books and Lincoln's speeches.
More than any of the other trips I've taken, that one sticks out in my mind. I don't know if I was drugged out on history and jazz, woozy over actual public transit, or just sleep-deprived and a little loopy, but I never thought I would enjoy traveling alone as much as I did. I was relaxed and happy in a way that I had not anticipated.
I liked the person I was while I was there.
***
I'm spending a lot of time looking at plane tickets.
I didn't take my normal winter/early spring trip this year and I'm starting to get a little nutty. By a little nutty, I mean that I can't stop thinking about going on a trip. It's a case of working too hard, being too busy, not making enough time for myself. Also of spending most of my vacation days visiting family.
At this point I don't really care where I end up, as long as its somewhere I haven't been before, and that I get there before September. I love the feeling of waking up in one city and falling asleep in another. It's a little piece of magic that has never gotten old for me. More than that, I love the feeling of exploring a new city, of sitting in its bars listening to music, wandering through its museums, eavesdropping on its public transit. I love imagining my life there and deciding whether or not it's a place I would love to live (Seattle, San Francisco, Boston) or where I would punch someone in the nose two and a half minutes after unpacking my boxes (Portland).
It's part of the vacation fantasy, isn't it? The idea that you could start over somewhere else and be a better, different version of yourself.
***
Over the weekend I end up in a discussion about whether or not the Twin Cities are a destination. I'm strongly on the side of "Yeah, maybe for the Midwest" and I'm quickly met by resistance. Of course it's a destination. We have great museums, a fantastic park system, ridiculously good food and beer. Our Cities rival anywhere!
I won't quibble with any of that, but I still don't think of the Twin Cities as a destination. I've never heard anyone who lives outside of the Midwest say "Hey, let's fly to Minneapolis for the weekend! I hear The Butcher & The Boar is phenomenal!" (Although, seriously, that place might be worth the flight alone.) I love living here and will defend my choice until I'm blue, but the fact is that the things that make me love living here (94% of us live less than six blocks from a park, one of the country's highest literacy rates, one of the healthiest and happiest states in the union) aren't really things that would make you want to visit here. When I think about things and places to visit, I think about mountains and the ocean, the Freedom Trail and Jackson Square. I don't think about the birthplace of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Prince.
Perhaps the coasts just have better marketing.
***
About three months ago, I was invited (encouraged) to apply for a job in D.C..
You could have knocked me over with a feather when I got the phone call. A friend of a graduate school acquaintance was looking for help getting his nonprofit off the ground and apparently my relentless self-promotion paid off (albeit, a year late), as the grad school acquaintance gave him my contact information.
I got off the phone giddy. It had just snowed twelve inches only to dip into Polar Vortex #2 and the roads froze so badly that I couldn't leave my house. My skin looked like an alligator wallet. New York and Boston would be just a short flight away! I could go to the Library of Congress whenever I wanted! I could volunteer for my favorite national nonprofit! I could finally cross hiking Shenandoah off my bucket list and ohmygod think of how much closer I'd be to Civil War sites!
If there's one thing that could make me consider leaving Minnesota, it would be proximity to historical sites.
The giddiness lasted approximately two and a half minutes, or until Michelle texted to say that she has pulled up and it's time to go to brunch.
"Oh shit," I realized. "My whole life is here."
My friends, my family, my professional connections are all in the Midwest. I'm more comfortable in a boat in a pair of paint stained jeans fishing for panfish with my dad than I am at an expensive nonprofit event. I make a pilgrimage to the Mississippi Headwaters every three years to recharge. I love to swim but am petrified of the ocean, and I worship at the altars of Garrison Keillor and F. Scott Fitzgerald. How could I give all that up?
At the same time, there's the part of me that wonders about Parallel Universe Kelly. The Kelly who lives in a bigger city, who bolted from fly-over country as soon as possible. The Kelly who gets to hear string quartets in the Smithsonian and spend her weekends tramping around historical sites. Surely there's still time for that kind of an adventure, and why not now, while I'm still unattached and my life is still flexible?
It's the Air and Space Museum vs. The Northern Lights.
In the end, I called the Executive Director back and said that I was flattered, but this wasn't the right time. It was, I suspect, the right decision, but during the intervening months I haven't been able to stop wondering if I made a mistake. And it's now it's not just the Air and Space Museum vs. The Northern Lights, but the JFK Library, Lower Queen Anne, Shedd Aquarium, and half a dozen other cities I've traveled to and adored. It's all of the places where I've loved the person I was while I was there jostling for their turn to pair off against the Twin Cities. And I don't know how much longer the Twin Cities is going to reign supreme or even if that should worry me.
I do know that next year I won't skip my winter trip.
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