Cow and farmhouse on Bunker Hill Road

September 27, 2009 – When your home is up for sale, and you don’t know where the next one is, it is a bit disorienting. I feel a good chunk of my life is in the hands of others, something that makes me queasy, and is also exciting. How interesting to see how it turns out.
  Somebody asked me what my definition of home was, and I think home is wherever love is, where one’s heart is. I’ve lived in more than 30 different homes in my life – houses, apartments, a farm. When I was a journalist, I moved a dozen times in 15 years. The longest I have lived anywhere was Montclair, N.J., so I guess that was an important home for me, but I never felt at home there. I think suburbs are inherently conformist – witness the soccer and lacrosse ethic – and oddballs need to get to some cities or the country.
  Odd that the most at home I’ve ever felt was on a farm in upstate New York in middle age. I can’t really explain it, and at this point, I hope I never write another memoir to figure it out.
 I cannot fathom trying to write about the past two years, when the hero on his journey saw his mask ripped off, and fell into a dark and strange place, fortunate to get some help and begin the rebirth of life, still much underway, and doubtless, never ending.
  Moving is regenerating for me, an opportunity to clear one’s head and life of clutter, detritus and confusion. An opportunity for rebirth.
  I keep thinking I will one day get it all right. Silly.
  I had a strong hand in designing and fixing up this farm, the first “home” I’ve ever had much of an impact on. I love this old farmhouse, with its big floor to ceiling living room windows and cavernous, atmospheric and open spaces. I love its sense of history. I have a lot of blood, sweat and love in it.
  In my next home, I am imagining – along with Maria – something newer, more open, something simpler. I expect to rid myself of many things. Even before moving, we are getting rid of clutter, old books, unnecessary clothes. I used to order a lot of stuff, and I don’t anymore. I want space to think and write.
 Maria knows how to live simply, and she is helping to teach and inspire me. I hope to chronicle the process of moving in the Farm Journal, with words and photos.
  I feel strong now about the move, about selling the farm, and giving myself more space and time for work that I hope is creative and that brings me to another level. All I really know about it is that the dogs are all coming, and I expect the barn cats. The only reason they would stay is if the new owners really want them, and they can continue to live their lives.
  Next year is already shaping up as a unique year for me, different and exciting. I expect my novel, “Rose In A Storm” to be published next September or October. My first children’s book for Holt, “Lenore Finds A Friend,” is tentatively scheduled for the beginning of 2011. My first photo exhibit, “The Last Days of a Dairy Farm” will be shown at the Lower Adirondack Regional Arts Council next August. My story-telling workshop will be held twice at LARAC in Glens Falls, in March and then again in July. The  Redux Art Gallery is mulling a show of my photos in January or February.
  I hope I’ll be on a book tour next Fall. I’m eager to read from and talk about the novel.
  I’d love to return to the Pacific Northwest, Seattle, Portland, OR and Bellingham, Wash.,  and also go back to Skokie, Illinois. I loved Sandusky, Ohio, and I would dearly love to photograph the Cedar Point Amusement Park there and its world famous roller coasters. I would much enjoy returning to the Sandusky State Theater and look up at that awesome chandelier.
  Maria is bristling with her own creative plans – quilts, potholders, belts, shows and other artistic endeavors that she can explain for herself – or not. We have a creative connection, among others. We are hopeful, and we expect that all of this will take place in a new home, somewhere, somehow. Can’t wait to see. I will share the process.
 I know where home is now, and I won’t forget it again.

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 P.S. A number of people have asked what I am reading now. Reading is my form of meditation, I think, and on book tours, I spend a lot of time on planes, so I read a lot. I didn’t read much at all during the last year, so I am happy to be reading again.
   I am reading “Michelangelo, A Tormented Life,” by Antonio Forcellino, “The Water’s Edge” by Karin Fossum, “Border Songs,” by Jim Lynch, “Unaccustomed Earth” by Jhumpa Lahiri,  “Strength In What Remains” by Tracy Kidder. I read the new John Krakauer bookk on Pat Tillman, “Where Men Win Glory,” and this morning finished the Ted Kennedy memoir, “True Compass.” I rarely read political books, but a friend said it was a candid and revealing slice of history, which is true, I think.