And I thought my two-mile commute in Columbus made life easier ... apparently I picked the route owning the smoothest morning-evening pattern in the Nashville Metro area.
Two right turns, five miles of highway, a left and two more rights - traffic isn't light, but the office complex and its surrounding roads are designed to move cars fluidly.
I have never understood why people will trek an hour or more to work everyday. Some so-called supercommuters who spend 2-3 hours on a bus, train or car just to get to work ... congrats on living in the country, but burning a tank of gas just getting to and from work every day should not be lauded. There's nothing super about any of it. That's time I'd rather spend ... at home, riding the bike or doing anything other than waiting for deep vein thrombosis to set in.
I've done a 40-minute commute before. Luckily, the first and second shift schedules put workers on the road at off-times. But the driving soon felt excessive; I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to make sure I was fed and clean in enough time for the ride to Twinsburg.
If I'm driving an hour or more, it better be part of vacation, even if it only lasts one night.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Until yesterday, it felt like a thousand years ago
Talking Europe on the patio at Marshall's.
Clamoring for more clothing on the fabled West Como porch.
Talking Columbus politics while a grillmaster juggled vegetable skewers and four species of fish on a perfect Sunday evening.
Multiple trips to the Sharon Square Carryout for liquor cases to carry my wares southward.
To the man of 1,000 Goodbyes, the two weeks of partying now seems so distant, not as though it all went down two weeks ago. When the mind is racing with new information about Texas, the replica Parthenon, and driving through the brash, blinding neon of Broadway, it shunts those wonderful times quickly to the archive.
Not fair, I say.
The only advantage is I've not really felt any hard-hitting homesickness, though I long for familiarity and know the Memorial Day itinerary would have been a fleshed out a lot more.
I've now had two raw, vivid dreams about the move, with a truck ready to roll and boxes still to pack (not too far from reality, actually). It's a familiar pattern -- my worst dreams abnout stressful, life-changing events always come after the fact. Months after I finally earned my driver's license, the dreams of failure continued. How my mind concocted so many "well that test was only the beginning" scenarios, I'll never know. In any time of drastic upheaval, I rework the moment of stress time after time.
I know there's a gut-punch of homesickness still to come at some point.
But the blow will be lessened if I keep those memories from gently drifting further toward the past.
Clamoring for more clothing on the fabled West Como porch.
Talking Columbus politics while a grillmaster juggled vegetable skewers and four species of fish on a perfect Sunday evening.
Multiple trips to the Sharon Square Carryout for liquor cases to carry my wares southward.
To the man of 1,000 Goodbyes, the two weeks of partying now seems so distant, not as though it all went down two weeks ago. When the mind is racing with new information about Texas, the replica Parthenon, and driving through the brash, blinding neon of Broadway, it shunts those wonderful times quickly to the archive.
Not fair, I say.
The only advantage is I've not really felt any hard-hitting homesickness, though I long for familiarity and know the Memorial Day itinerary would have been a fleshed out a lot more.
I've now had two raw, vivid dreams about the move, with a truck ready to roll and boxes still to pack (not too far from reality, actually). It's a familiar pattern -- my worst dreams abnout stressful, life-changing events always come after the fact. Months after I finally earned my driver's license, the dreams of failure continued. How my mind concocted so many "well that test was only the beginning" scenarios, I'll never know. In any time of drastic upheaval, I rework the moment of stress time after time.
I know there's a gut-punch of homesickness still to come at some point.
But the blow will be lessened if I keep those memories from gently drifting further toward the past.
Friday, May 25, 2007
The night they drove old Reggie down
Actually, it happened in the afternoon, because old Reggie crawled out of Lake Machado to sun himself as the wildlife police were talking strategy for catching him.
Reggie is, of course, a six foot alligator who became a Los Angeles legend, after his owner tossed the illegal pet into the lake when he became too big to handle. How someone buys a tiny alligator without ever seeing a wildlife documentary showing exactly how big gators grow is beyond me.
But after 18 months of no sightings, Reggie returned, and now, he's off to the zoo. He spawned a cult following in those two years and was only done in by warming his cold-blooded body on a treacherous shore.
Reggie is, of course, a six foot alligator who became a Los Angeles legend, after his owner tossed the illegal pet into the lake when he became too big to handle. How someone buys a tiny alligator without ever seeing a wildlife documentary showing exactly how big gators grow is beyond me.
But after 18 months of no sightings, Reggie returned, and now, he's off to the zoo. He spawned a cult following in those two years and was only done in by warming his cold-blooded body on a treacherous shore.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Why is everything bigger there? What are they compensating for?
Texas by way of Tennessee ... it has been my life since 7 a.m. yesterday.
The new employer gets a pass, but all I've done since I got here is learn about Texas.
The only piece of Texas merchandise I own is a state flag handkerchief; I try to save it for when my allergies act their worst.
Fun fact about Texas: It had its own embassy in London prior to joining the U.S.
Texas presidents? The gunslinger state gave us LBJ and W (I don't count Bush 41 because his roots are in New England even if his money came from far beneath the Texas soil).
I don't need to add up those letters for you, but I will anyway: Vietnam, and Iraq.
Food for thought: What's up with those huge belt buckles? And the gun obsession? That math I leave to you ... really.
The new employer gets a pass, but all I've done since I got here is learn about Texas.
The only piece of Texas merchandise I own is a state flag handkerchief; I try to save it for when my allergies act their worst.
Fun fact about Texas: It had its own embassy in London prior to joining the U.S.
Texas presidents? The gunslinger state gave us LBJ and W (I don't count Bush 41 because his roots are in New England even if his money came from far beneath the Texas soil).
I don't need to add up those letters for you, but I will anyway: Vietnam, and Iraq.
Food for thought: What's up with those huge belt buckles? And the gun obsession? That math I leave to you ... really.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Petrified, but so comfortable
First day of work is wrapping up ... as is the party on the veranda. I'm scared about my first health analysis plan, covering the state of Texas (everything is bigger in Texas ... except one, IMHO). But the four beers with my new co-workers on the patio will serve as a good salve until tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Your favorite new Vol checks in
Things I learned along the way:
1. Territorial animals do not weather well on 7-hour drives, though they will still use the litter box.
2. Cincinnati should be paved over. Has anyone ever driven through the Queen City without slamming on the brakes or sitting through congestion? Aside from a highway sign so poorly lit it appeated ODOT used Lite Brite pieces instead of bulbs, there was no indication of a hellacious weekend project that shoved the 71.75 bridge traffic into a single lane.
3. I can drive with a cat standing on my shoulders, sitting in my lap, playing with the gear shift or trying to crawl to the pedals. I cannot talk on the cell phone at the same time.
4. My father is the world's most impatient man, as demonstrated by his insistence on pulling out our rental truck's ramp before we unlatched the door, jamming them both and costing us an hour while we waited for the repairman to arrive. We traded the three seconds it would have taken to open the door for an hour of loitering on my new front porch.
5. I am just a simple suburban lad at heart, because the repairman eyed the jammed ramp, reared up and with a swift kick knocked it back into place. His work boots were the only tool he needed.
6. The Parthenon really is that cool, and it's only 25 blocks from my house (a stone's throw on the bicycle).
7. Living next to a major interstate isn't bad so long as you focus on all those lives throttling by and not on the constant noise (it's like Niagara Falls, faithful readers).
When I move, I'm sure the silence will be deafening.
8. Having an old country boy with corncob pipe maintaining the grounds will keep any would-be assailants away.
9. I still walk everywhere I need to go.
10. I'm more relaxed than at any point thus far in May, and tomorrow I start the new job.
Now it's back to the boxes....
1. Territorial animals do not weather well on 7-hour drives, though they will still use the litter box.
2. Cincinnati should be paved over. Has anyone ever driven through the Queen City without slamming on the brakes or sitting through congestion? Aside from a highway sign so poorly lit it appeated ODOT used Lite Brite pieces instead of bulbs, there was no indication of a hellacious weekend project that shoved the 71.75 bridge traffic into a single lane.
3. I can drive with a cat standing on my shoulders, sitting in my lap, playing with the gear shift or trying to crawl to the pedals. I cannot talk on the cell phone at the same time.
4. My father is the world's most impatient man, as demonstrated by his insistence on pulling out our rental truck's ramp before we unlatched the door, jamming them both and costing us an hour while we waited for the repairman to arrive. We traded the three seconds it would have taken to open the door for an hour of loitering on my new front porch.
5. I am just a simple suburban lad at heart, because the repairman eyed the jammed ramp, reared up and with a swift kick knocked it back into place. His work boots were the only tool he needed.
6. The Parthenon really is that cool, and it's only 25 blocks from my house (a stone's throw on the bicycle).
7. Living next to a major interstate isn't bad so long as you focus on all those lives throttling by and not on the constant noise (it's like Niagara Falls, faithful readers).
When I move, I'm sure the silence will be deafening.
8. Having an old country boy with corncob pipe maintaining the grounds will keep any would-be assailants away.
9. I still walk everywhere I need to go.
10. I'm more relaxed than at any point thus far in May, and tomorrow I start the new job.
Now it's back to the boxes....
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Man of 1,000 Goodbyes (Nah, nahnahnahna ...)
Yesterday was rough. By the time I hit the lobby for the last time as an employee, I was almost jogging, mostly in hopes that I could outrun my emotions, which were boiling out of the kettle by that point.
I said goodbye to almost everyone I had to, but missed a few because of that. Luckily, those I missed got into contact, and we traded a few kind words. At times, it felt like I had a receiving line for the departing co-workers. Our longtime receptionist was first, since she only works a half-day on Wednesday. Instead of getting easier, it only got tougher from there. Almost eight years of working with most people, yet even one of the newest stopped to wish me luck in finding some good running trails in Nashville.
One of the editors told me he/she wished they had to courage to leave the comfort zone like I was doing ... that was pretty much the end of my composure, because I'm all too cognizant of tearing down the comfort zone in 3 weeks or less.
... although the SLRG notably walked right past my desk three times before she left, staring straight ahead and not uttering a word. So be it. She'll reap what she sews someday. We all do eventually.
I said goodbye to almost everyone I had to, but missed a few because of that. Luckily, those I missed got into contact, and we traded a few kind words. At times, it felt like I had a receiving line for the departing co-workers. Our longtime receptionist was first, since she only works a half-day on Wednesday. Instead of getting easier, it only got tougher from there. Almost eight years of working with most people, yet even one of the newest stopped to wish me luck in finding some good running trails in Nashville.
One of the editors told me he/she wished they had to courage to leave the comfort zone like I was doing ... that was pretty much the end of my composure, because I'm all too cognizant of tearing down the comfort zone in 3 weeks or less.
... although the SLRG notably walked right past my desk three times before she left, staring straight ahead and not uttering a word. So be it. She'll reap what she sews someday. We all do eventually.
One man .... with impeccable timing
My little caravan to Nashville will depart Columbus with gas prices at all-time highs. If we leave with full tanks, we only need to stop once, when Music City lies waiting over a few more gentle hills. Still, I'm dreading that 40-gallon tank on the Uhaul ... easy math foresees a $120-plus fill-up.
But it looks as if every weekend this summer might surge to a new record.
For an industry rolling through years of ridiculous profits, you'd think they might invest a little of that extra green in improving their refineries.
However, they wouldn't be able to blame the equipment when they set records.
But it looks as if every weekend this summer might surge to a new record.
For an industry rolling through years of ridiculous profits, you'd think they might invest a little of that extra green in improving their refineries.
However, they wouldn't be able to blame the equipment when they set records.
Friday, May 11, 2007
5 minutes alone
This morning I had to go sit in the car and collect myself for a few minutes. I am nearly consumed by the enormous change about to hit, and I needed to step away from the office where I've worked for all these years.
Last night was the time-honored, booze-soaked goodbye party.
The turnout was really nice --- faces past and present under one roof. That's a humbling thing, to know they showed up because I'm leaving.
I'm left with the memory of two guys who usually don't come out for these farewell parties shooting pool. That's what kind of night it was.
With that done, I feel like a lame duck ... albeit, one who will finish 3 columns over the weekend because it will be a while before I write like that again.
I feel the time I have left evaporating quickly.
Last night was the time-honored, booze-soaked goodbye party.
The turnout was really nice --- faces past and present under one roof. That's a humbling thing, to know they showed up because I'm leaving.
I'm left with the memory of two guys who usually don't come out for these farewell parties shooting pool. That's what kind of night it was.
With that done, I feel like a lame duck ... albeit, one who will finish 3 columns over the weekend because it will be a while before I write like that again.
I feel the time I have left evaporating quickly.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Why it still matters
Companies are strange entities. Spend enough time at the right one, and it becomes like a surrogate family.
I would have hit eight years at the paper in August, a week after I turn 30. I've spent almost a quarter of my life with my paychecks signed by one man. I'll get two paychecks stamped by another before they close the book on me.
But the most important thing among all the columns, deadlines, endorsement schedules and letters from crazies - are the people. The only soul I knew in Columbus packed up two months after I arrived, so I had a lot of lonely nights during my first year here.
Across the years, work became my primary source of friendships, with a few frienemies and people I purposely kept at arm's length. On the whole, there were a lot more friends than anything else.
But even the people you can't stand form a part of this odd family. You fight. You party. You go to birthdays, weddings, wakes and funerals. You drink. You live. You know when someone's suffering inside and when they're euphoric. People hear voices over the cubicle walls, and when someone is in the small conference room on their cell phone, the need for privacy is apparent.
You view others with suspicion, concerned that as soon as you turned away, they'll stop smiling and start sharpening their daggers. It's been a long time since I looked around with paranoia, but if I stayed, I might resurrect that view, given the new ownership, what it might mean for my friends across the company and who might be deemed redundant.
After all, as someone wiser than me once said, you need only be proven right once to make all that paranoia worthwhile.
(End of digression).
But I feel for those still here. The sale of the company and changes in employee paychecks might jeopardize one friend's purchase of a condo. Everyone took a hit on the 401K match. Who's to say that within six months, my superiors might be told to take a hike because the new owners want their own management team.
Community newspapers are a bottom line business - the comfortable, well-paying newsrooms of daily papers are shrinking and dying, but the community paper model works because it pays it workers much less.
Our model succeeded because of the flexibility - people can run out for an errand, can configure their hours to take off early on a Friday, or linger a little later during lunch.
There are too many people I care about in this building to forget about them the moment I fire up the rental truck. I've been a part of this family too long for that.
I would have hit eight years at the paper in August, a week after I turn 30. I've spent almost a quarter of my life with my paychecks signed by one man. I'll get two paychecks stamped by another before they close the book on me.
But the most important thing among all the columns, deadlines, endorsement schedules and letters from crazies - are the people. The only soul I knew in Columbus packed up two months after I arrived, so I had a lot of lonely nights during my first year here.
Across the years, work became my primary source of friendships, with a few frienemies and people I purposely kept at arm's length. On the whole, there were a lot more friends than anything else.
But even the people you can't stand form a part of this odd family. You fight. You party. You go to birthdays, weddings, wakes and funerals. You drink. You live. You know when someone's suffering inside and when they're euphoric. People hear voices over the cubicle walls, and when someone is in the small conference room on their cell phone, the need for privacy is apparent.
You view others with suspicion, concerned that as soon as you turned away, they'll stop smiling and start sharpening their daggers. It's been a long time since I looked around with paranoia, but if I stayed, I might resurrect that view, given the new ownership, what it might mean for my friends across the company and who might be deemed redundant.
After all, as someone wiser than me once said, you need only be proven right once to make all that paranoia worthwhile.
(End of digression).
But I feel for those still here. The sale of the company and changes in employee paychecks might jeopardize one friend's purchase of a condo. Everyone took a hit on the 401K match. Who's to say that within six months, my superiors might be told to take a hike because the new owners want their own management team.
Community newspapers are a bottom line business - the comfortable, well-paying newsrooms of daily papers are shrinking and dying, but the community paper model works because it pays it workers much less.
Our model succeeded because of the flexibility - people can run out for an errand, can configure their hours to take off early on a Friday, or linger a little later during lunch.
There are too many people I care about in this building to forget about them the moment I fire up the rental truck. I've been a part of this family too long for that.
14 hours in Nashville, five tires in four days
Nothing turns lugnuts on a destroyed tire faster than a primal grunt and a spike in adrenaline.
The rain and road spray, which theoretically should have slowed me down, didn't.
Anger at buying four new tires on Wednesday, only to pull over to find one of them smoking and tattered drove me forward.
Driving from Louisville to Nashville on a stormy night with miniature spare holding me to 50 mph did slow me down quite a bit.
Nor did I plan to smoke on this lightning trip through tobacco country, but one exit later, I bought a pack to focus me on the last 150 miles.
Hazardous they might be, they were appropriate, as I was the biggest hazard on the highway, plugging along without approaching the speed limit and with the big rigs scrambling to switch lanes when my emergency flashers came into view.
I even took it easy on the road back, barely cresting above 65 on most stretches, and straggled back into Columbus without having stopped moving for about 36-plus hours. I never stopped moving, even when passing back through Louisville at 6:20, when the nation's lonely eyes turned to Churchill Downs and a visiting queen.
After my previous pass through Louisville, I had no intention of slowing down, not even for a royal motorcade.
The rain and road spray, which theoretically should have slowed me down, didn't.
Anger at buying four new tires on Wednesday, only to pull over to find one of them smoking and tattered drove me forward.
Driving from Louisville to Nashville on a stormy night with miniature spare holding me to 50 mph did slow me down quite a bit.
Nor did I plan to smoke on this lightning trip through tobacco country, but one exit later, I bought a pack to focus me on the last 150 miles.
Hazardous they might be, they were appropriate, as I was the biggest hazard on the highway, plugging along without approaching the speed limit and with the big rigs scrambling to switch lanes when my emergency flashers came into view.
I even took it easy on the road back, barely cresting above 65 on most stretches, and straggled back into Columbus without having stopped moving for about 36-plus hours. I never stopped moving, even when passing back through Louisville at 6:20, when the nation's lonely eyes turned to Churchill Downs and a visiting queen.
After my previous pass through Louisville, I had no intention of slowing down, not even for a royal motorcade.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Curtain comes back up
Answers now follow my biggest questions.
Tomorrow, you will be back in the know.
Percy has his kitty valium for the drive, I have a truck reservation and a place to live.
And lest we forget, I have plenty of elaboration on a weekend I'd just as well forget.
Tomorrow, you will be back in the know.
Percy has his kitty valium for the drive, I have a truck reservation and a place to live.
And lest we forget, I have plenty of elaboration on a weekend I'd just as well forget.
Monday, May 07, 2007
"the Pearly Gates has some eloquent graffiti"
Sam Beam, you've done it again with the beauty of a single line.
At least Iron & Wine's new long-player is only a few months off.
At least Iron & Wine's new long-player is only a few months off.
Friday, May 04, 2007
The marathon begins
By the time you read this, my car will be full of overpriced gas and rumbling down the interstate counting off the signs of life .... Cinci, Louisville and its Derby crowds, Bowling Green (not that one) and finally my new home near the Cumberland River.
Boxing up books last night, I foresaw two weeks of racing to ready my earthly wares for the new start. Percy knows something is brewing, but not the enormity of change. Hopefully his adaptation curve in Tennessee will be short.
The stereo will get packed later, but for now, some songs cannot be spun --"The Urge for Going" by Joni Mitchell is out, along with Neil Young's "Walk On" and Zeppelin's "Going to California", to name three of many.
Anyway, updates will become more frequent once I land a home in Music City.
Boxing up books last night, I foresaw two weeks of racing to ready my earthly wares for the new start. Percy knows something is brewing, but not the enormity of change. Hopefully his adaptation curve in Tennessee will be short.
The stereo will get packed later, but for now, some songs cannot be spun --"The Urge for Going" by Joni Mitchell is out, along with Neil Young's "Walk On" and Zeppelin's "Going to California", to name three of many.
Anyway, updates will become more frequent once I land a home in Music City.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Unfunded mandates
I should have known a bleaker horizons awaited when soon-to-be former employer when the old management and new management chuckled in unison like a gaggle of long-long cousins.
The new chairman introduced himself, dressed in an outfit that would need a long date with an iron to rank as "business casual" and with the haircut of Don Imus' kid brother. Next to him, the new group publisher offered the best example why ties should be optional - his neck and chins bulged above
When he croaked, it was all about Ohio.
I half-expected one of them to drop an "O-H" into the meeting, just to show how "well" they know Ohio. To my eyes, no one was too concerned about Ohio connections; they're the new regime, and that is all.
And I got the evil eye from Little Imus for snickering as he said "customers, not people" are the most important part of the business.
People are pretty unhappy on the whole. Luckily, I've got a sunnier destination dead ahead.
The new chairman introduced himself, dressed in an outfit that would need a long date with an iron to rank as "business casual" and with the haircut of Don Imus' kid brother. Next to him, the new group publisher offered the best example why ties should be optional - his neck and chins bulged above
When he croaked, it was all about Ohio.
I half-expected one of them to drop an "O-H" into the meeting, just to show how "well" they know Ohio. To my eyes, no one was too concerned about Ohio connections; they're the new regime, and that is all.
And I got the evil eye from Little Imus for snickering as he said "customers, not people" are the most important part of the business.
People are pretty unhappy on the whole. Luckily, I've got a sunnier destination dead ahead.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
I ain't gonna work on Max's Farm no mo'
When he handles you a nickel,
he hands you a dime,
He asks you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time
Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
I cribbed this from Bob Dylan's "Maggie's Farm" obviously, but the farm fits it new-former owner. Our company is sold and our less-than-magnanimous owner, who would not look uncomfortable wearing a brown uniform with knee-high black boots, is off to extend his golf course empire.
And I really think "his bedroom window is made out of bricks."
But he's gone, and my own exit is speeding up rapidly. In fact, I could be the first casualty of the new regime. After all my year of griping, wouldn't that be ironic?
he hands you a dime,
He asks you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time
Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
I cribbed this from Bob Dylan's "Maggie's Farm" obviously, but the farm fits it new-former owner. Our company is sold and our less-than-magnanimous owner, who would not look uncomfortable wearing a brown uniform with knee-high black boots, is off to extend his golf course empire.
And I really think "his bedroom window is made out of bricks."
But he's gone, and my own exit is speeding up rapidly. In fact, I could be the first casualty of the new regime. After all my year of griping, wouldn't that be ironic?
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