Across Time and Space

Another school year approaches. Another fall. I’m starting to wrap my head around it. Brace for it. Think about it. Prepare for it.

There’s travel ahead of me this fall. A couple of conferences in Atlanta. A retreat in D.C. Another conference in Denver. That’s lots of flying. Lots of traveling. At least it seems that way to me. I know others jet set here and there without a second thought. They fly to and fro. I’m no jet setter. And yet here I am thinking about jet setting. Jet setting is a funny phrase.

There’s no reason to be anxious about travel. To be anxious about jet setting. To be anxious about anything, really. And yet here we are. Well, here I am.

***

My very first trip to a conference came a few months after I took my first academic job at The Pennsylvania State University – Altoooooooona campus. I’m elongating the word Altoona because it is funny to me to elongate that word. To imagine howling it across time and space. Altoona is a funny word to me. I have no way of knowing if it is funny for you.

I flew back to Minneapolis for the annual meeting of the National Council of Teachers of English a few months after I moved from the Twin Cities to State College, Pennsylvania. This was in 2015. Almost 10 years ago now. That trip was a lot. My mother died a week before my return home. Flying out of University Park airport was a nightmare. My flights were delayed, the planes had propellors, and I was out of breath from running through the Detroit airport to catch my connections. Worse, Solomon had a Febrile seizure while I was waiting in O’Hare for my last connecting flight home. I texted Katie in the airport as she raced to the emergency room with our toddler. I had something of a panic attack in O’Hare as I waited for news, feeling helpless and overwhelmed that I wasn’t there.

I had a strange feeling of peace during that last flight. The sense that Solomon would be okay. That things would be okay. And Solomon was okay and things were okay. I went upstairs the minute I got home. Stood in the doorway and watched Solomon sleep. Katie came upstairs and held me. We wept together.

And that memory that I’ve just shared with you is the one I most associate with traveling to conferences. Likely the feeling too. Again, that’s a lot.

***

I never imagined I’d move away from Minnesota. And I never imagined I’d feel obligated to jet set here and there. To and fro. Have I mentioned that the conference in Atlanta is the weekend after the retreat in D.C.? And don’t get me started on all my obligations I juggle to make this travel work. Work and family. Responsibilities that just don’t quit. I don’t know how the rest of you adults do it. Especially you jet setting ones. Again, just feels like a lot to me.

A lot of what? A lot of something.

If the overriding memory I have of traveling is the story of Solomon’s seizure, I suppose I should pay more attention to the profound sense of peace I had during the flight back to State College. I do believe there is a peace that surpasses human understanding available to me. And to you. Despite our circumstances. Whether our circumstances are a lot or a little. Whether I travel 4 times this coming year or 58. Whether I’m teaching classes, managing programs, raising two children, or balancing a bowling ball on my head. Incidentally, I’ve never balanced a bowling ball on my head. I hope you never have either. I can’t say that it sounds like a good idea.

So another year approaches and, if I’ve learned anything, I suppose I should’ve learned that things will be okay whether they feel like a lot or not. I guess I keep learning that lesson. Lifelong learning how to be in face of a life that feels like a lot. That seems to be a little of what human beings are up to here. At least what I’m up to.

You know what college was a huge part of the lifelong learning I’ve been up to? The Pennsylvania State University – Altoooooooona campus. Forgive me. That last sentence was just an excuse to howl the word Altoona across time and space again. Go back and count the “O’s.” They’re the precise grammatical equation to represent the appropriate pronunciation of that beautiful city in Pennsylvania.