Archive

Tag Archives: moving

A few weeks ago superstar Valley poet Bill Campana, knowing that I was leaving Phoenix at the end of June, gave me three sizable U-Haul boxes that he had used during his own recent move. And on Memorial Day he and I had breakfast at the Ranch House Grille. I had this strawberry crepe there.

Then some days later my friends the Plaskos and I had a delicious meal at Dos Los Molinos. I wrote about that at some length in my post “Phoenix Memories.” Here’s a member of the delightful trio of ectoplasmic scamps known as The Deeminz–a Plasko creation.

On the first Friday in June, at the open-mic poetry event at Changing Hands bookstore in Tempe, I began my performance by announcing my imminent move to Toledo, Ohio and made a light-hearted reference to my appearance at CHB as being part of my “Farewell Tour.”

My friend of many years, former Arizona State Poetry Society president Christy White, saw the reference to my Farewell Tour and, to my delight, let me know that she wanted to get in on the Farewell Tour too. At her suggestion we went to the Phoenix Art Museum, mainly to see an exhibition of ceramic works by avant-garde female clay artists, and afterwards we had an exotic meal (Thai Shrimp Curry for me, a brie&apple “handheld” for her) at the museum’s café. We also goofed around with pics at a quasi-installational Florentine Baroque gilded frame/stand.

Moving Day is June 30, a mere 17 days from this writing. There is at least one more Farewell Tour event scheduled, the last Esso Coffeehouse Open Mic on June 21st. I hope there will be one or two more.

January is finally in the rear-view mirror. Here’s hoping February is better. However . . .

sw last day 013115

Here’s a sketch I did during the final hour of my employment at Sedona Winds. I look dispirited. However, here’s how my Facebook update read:

“Last day of work for Sedona Winds included a lot of hugs from residents and staff, some incredulity that I was leaving, and a kajillion wish-me-wells. An award-winning photographer gave me a beautiful signed photo of a segment of our red-rock surrounds, and a sweet lady from upstairs gave me a couple of homemade gluten-free cookies and a couple of storebought gluten-saturated confections. I learned a lot about latter life from these folks and I will miss them mightily.”

Then I went home and to bed, and behold, my left leg started acting as if it had burst a cyst on the side of the knee. Stiffness/worsening pain. By morning I could hardly walk. However, it felt better when I walked around some. Things were looking up. However . . .

I finished packing and my now former Sweetheart, Denise, drove me to Phoenix. The move is emotional as well as physical. Denise and I are parting ways. However, we hold good thoughts for a better future. However . . .

The leg is getting worse. I walked a lot, but it loosened only a little, and stiffened again as soon as I sat down. However . . .

I now have a Limp joke.

How can you not limp and yet walk with a pronounced Limp [O Zen Master]?
Walk briskly and say the word “Limp” every other step. You are now walking with a pronounced Limp.

[WAAAA waaaah . . .]

Image

On the first of June I sat looking for the last time out the garage door of a place I and my girlfriend had lived for the better part of a year (she for the better part of two). I started this page there. I finished it just now, June 13th, 2013–so under my signature I effaced the “1” of “1 June 2013” so that it is now “June 2013.”

There is a poignance to moving away from a nice place. It is gently heartbreaking.

Here’s the words:

Wise folk: always packing, says the guru who says Om
Evangelics: benedictively will pray-to-go
Sometimes: matters clarify with change of P.O.V
Optimist: Excelsior! The Realist: we’ll see

Image

Our days of living in Sedona are numbered, and, the last day being May 31st, the number is 47. Near-ironically, we are going to see a movie whose title is the number 42. It’s playing at the Harkins Sedona 6. It is about Jackie Robinson, who broke the color barrier in major league baseball, and whose number, 42, has been universally retired, to honor the game-changing event and the sterling character of the man who made it possible, meanwhile enduring slings, arrows, epithets and death threats with his head held high.

Moving from one dwelling place to another is a different kind of tribulation. In the early 21st Century it involves Internet shopping, real estate agent finding, location scouting, offer making, lender finding, contract writing, termite inspection, everything-else inspection, appraisal, contract rewriting, electronic signature filing, and a myriad of other devilish details, including a ton of hurry-up-and-wait. Finally it is all transferred/payment-booked, and key-conferred–and then the REAL work begins: the conversion of the diamond in the rough to the fulfillment of the owner’s dream. (Well, some percentage of the dream, anyway.)

Here are the words to the triple acrostic:

Modern ways to migrate may dismay
An agony of details over escrow’s imbroglio
Keybox removal brings vast relief & you
Enjoy ower/owner’s onus with expanse of sweat-equity’s labor

There’s also a hidden word-acrostic in the middle: Migrate Over Vast Expanse.

Moving right along…