People used to ask, "Where are you from?" I would hesitate, unsure how to respond. I was a vagabond of sorts, never staying too long in any one place, no place to call home. I tried to put down roots a few times but was never successful. Sooner or later I would be struck by the urge to move on.
Today I find myself firmly planted in Moscow, Idaho. For the first time in my life I truly have a place to call home. There are many things I love about my newly adopted hometown. The life I am building here is more satisfying than any I could have imagined.
As I look back over just the last few days I can see the strata that make up the rich, satisfying life we are creating here. On Thursday, Bill and I went to a Teaparty Rally. We were there as observers, as I suspect were many other more "progressive" members of the community. The group met in Friendship Square where the Farmers' Market is held on Saturday mornings. The number of teapartiers did not compare to the number who attend the market on any given Saturday. I guess I prefer a place where the Farmers' Market is a bigger draw than the Teaparty.
After the rally I drove across the stateline to Pullman and met my son on campus. We went to a performance by Anne Waldman, an accomplished performance poet who worked with Allen Ginsberg at Naropa. At one point in her performance she shouted out, "I want to strangle Sarah Palin." I relished in the irony of having just come from the Teaparty Rally. After her performance she responded to a question about the political nature of her work. She said that she sees her "poetry practice as antithetical" to the political rhetoric. I found myself enjoying the contrast and the intersections.
The next day, I went to a board meeting for a nonprofit I volunteer for. From there I went to a friend's house. We sat on her deck and ate lunch, surrounded by pine trees with the sound of her homemade waterfall in the background. We talked about our respective lives. I got excited when she talked about possibly going back to school to become a play therapist, imagining her living her dream and contributing her talents to the world. On my way home I stopped at the store where I ran into a friend. She had just come back from a vacation and looked glowing and rested. We stood in the frozen foods basking in the warmth of our mutual affection and exchanging the details of our lives.
I got home and was putting my groceries away when the phone rang. It was a friend I have been playing phone tag with for weeks. We talked a little and decided to meet at the Coop on Sunday morning for tea. Tea seems to be a central feature of my life in Moscow. I spend a lot of time sipping tea in coffee houses.
On Saturday mornings I often attend a Buddhist group that meets at Sister's Brew, a coffee house on Main Street. I was there this morning, simply enjoying the presence of these people who commit themselves to Zen practice. I found myself enjoying the view out the window of pedestrians, a ragtag parade of characters. The young man in a rasta hat and dreadlocks, the teenaged harmonic player and dogs of all sizes and breeds. Moscow is a town that loves its dogs.
This afternoon Bill and I have plans to go to the Hemp Fair in Eastside park and then to the Silos, another coffee house. More tea, this time in the garden that surrounds this shop, our favorite. Maybe if we are lucky, the owner will have peach scones that she prepared this morning. She serves them with fresh whipped cream...in the garden...with tea. Life doesn't get much better than that.
Life is good here in Idaho.
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