Actually, a couple of days. Let’s go back, back to…Tuesday. I stayed up late on Monday night, watching movies On Demand. Tuesday morning I woke up and decided that it was the perfect moment to begin shaving again. Since it’s been about a year since I last shaved, and I haven’t shaved regularly since high school, this is an undertaking for me. I got prepared and then took my shower, which was at least half an hour of bending over in the hot water, focusing on my lower legs. They’re lovely, let me tell you. Well, upon exiting the shower I felt faint, and stumbled over to my bed, where I collapsed. I worked hard not to fall asleep, and managed to get myself upright once again, angling for downstairs and a glass of O.J. to get my blood sugar back up. Well, I didn’t make it. I fainted right outside of my bathroom, collapsing in a heap on the floor. I was lucky enough to not hit anything and to come to almost instantly, as my stepmother yelled to ask if I was o.k. I yelled back that no, everything was not o.k., and she ran up to help me back up. We made it down half of the stairs before she set me down, telling me that I was actually gray, and went to get me that glass of O.J. Almost the instant that I started to drink it, I felt better again, but it was really quite a scare that the combination of staying up late, being quite dehydrated from the previous day, and taking a long hot shower could cause me to faint.
After my fainting spell I ate breakfast, read for a while, and then accompanied my dad to Winnie Palmer Hospital, where he works, to see the new building. He worked closely with the architect, Jonathan Bailey, during the design of the building, and as an architecture student I wanted to check out the building. It’s a beautiful building, not what you’d think of if you imagined “Hospital.” It looks more like a hotel, with a lovely open waiting area and café seating on the first floor, and semi-private rooms throughout. It’s truly state of the art, and I think they did an excellent job of balancing the requirements of the building for privacy and maneuverability. The concept of the panopticon, that dreadfully unpleasant 19th century (?) prison scheme, is transformed and reapplied here, so that the centralized nurses stations in the various pods of the building have sightlines, which means that doctors and nurses can quickly see where their attention should be focused. The greatest drawback of the building that I noticed was that wayfinding would be difficult for an inexperienced user: the building is made up of clusters of circular pods, and looks uniform throughout. There are few obvious landmarks and the color scheme is a constant black, beige, and white. There are subtle indications of location and there is signage to direct you, but the building isn’t inherently clear. Still, it’s a lovely building, and I think that as the staff gets used to it, they’ll really begin to value its many great features.
We returned home after the visit to the hospital, and shortly before we headed out for dinner, my mom called to tell me that our dog, Max, had died the previous night. Max was 13 years old, and was sort of an old curmudgeon, but despite his character flaws, he was so loveable. He’d bark at anything and wouldn’t quiet down when you asked him to, he’d freak out when a storm came, or when a tall male would approach him, and he’d dig in the backyard, and I spent most of my time being upset with and annoyed at him. But I’m so sad he’s gone. He was my quintessential pet, the pet for me against whom all other pets will be measured. I had other pets before him and have already had other pets since, but he’s Max, my archetypical pet.
Anyways, I tried (and succeeded for the most part) not to cry at the news, since it could have really set me off, considering that it happened to be a year, to the day, since my stepgrandfather had died. Thankfully, we were heading out to dinner with my stepaunt and stepgrandmother, so I put Max’s death out of mind and just enjoyed the dinner, despite the fact that conversation somehow came around to the various dogs in the family. I made it through dinner, went home, and got down to packing.
Throughout the day on Tuesday, we watched as Hurricane Ernesto traveled across Cuba and made landfall in Florida, trying to determine whether my plane would be able to leave the next morning. I was lucky to find that the signs posted at the Southwest terminals on Wednesday morning stated that planes leaving at 8:50 and later would be delayed; my flight departed at 8:10. I’m not sure that they did actually delay the other planes, since the reports of the day that I received said that it was mostly dry and that the storm was no worse than any other storm, but I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.
I spent pretty much the whole of Wednesday traveling. My flight was uneventful, the way I like it, and then I waited an hour at the
Albany airport for the bus to the bus station. There, I waited three and a half hours for the bus to Great Barrington. That wait was less than pleasant, but the bus ride itself was actually rather nice. I decided to stop reading, since I was going through my book much too quickly, and instead, I just looked at the passing landscape and thought about life a bit. I pondered how Oberlin orientation was going and made a note to check in with Caitlin and Anna before they began trying to co-captain the Preying Manti. I thought a bit about the previous day’s adventures, and about the four feature films that I’ve watched so far this break (Match Point, The Lord of War, Supersize Me, and My Summer of Love). I got excited about visiting my Grandparents.
But, the sort of revelation that I had pertained to the upcoming
Vermont visit. It struck me that with the going away party for the
South Main gang, and just the fact that I’ll be there towards the end of summer, I imagine the visit will feel like the end of summer camp. You know that time when you’re staying up late at night, going through these rituals of trying to get the most out of being with another human that you are particularly enamored of? When you’re trying to get the last drop of a place, trying to suck that last little bit of marrow out of that particular part of your life? Except that while I imagine that will be the emotional setting of the situation, I can also see the distinct possibility that I will in fact be on the outside of the rituals. In my mind’s eye I can see this plate glass wall dividing me from those moments of deep experience; after all, I’ve been away for the past three months, and since it’s summer in Vermont, that counts for a lot, since everyone has come out of hibernation. I’ll do my best to make sure that those mental pictures don’t play out that way in reality, in part by making this trip full of new things, not just replays of old times, but at least I’m prepared for the possibility of that lonesome feeling of being the outsider.
As a counterpoint to all those thoughts, however, I just want to say that I really do like being in this part of the world. The mountains are about the right size for me, about the right distance apart, and there are lots and lots of trees. There are lovely old houses, and the sky is blue. Particularly in Brattleboro, people are comfortable with one another, and there’s a lot going on at the small scale. I know why it was hard to leave here, and why I thought I might end up returning. I think that this trip is confirming for me that it’s a real possibility that I would move back to Vermont at some point in my life. The similarity between Wales and Vermont also still pleases me (Back story: I wanted to visit Wales, inexplicably, for many years while I was growing up, and finally went in 2003 when I was studying abroad in London. It was my first real adventure totally alone in the world for just over a week, and I walked around the countryside just absorbing it and pondering life. It was a fantastic and formative experience).
Of course, as always, there’s more to tell – of today’s stroll around Great Barrington, where I ran into Emily and arranged to tentatively get together with her on Saturday, and where I tried on a fabulous and fabulously expensive sweater by “Amiee G;” of last night’s conversation with Grandpa about the merits of thinking and the wonder of life; of how I can’t get enough of the Diamond Age – there’s always more. But for now I’ll get going and spare you from this grandiloquent mood I’m in. Hooray for making it through such interesting times with such grace and flair.