Nothing New
Holidays, travel, and old comforts.
In a completely unsurprising twist for my life the past couple of weeks, I’ve been struck with a forgiving version of terrible news: Southwest canceled my flight home to Portland, along with thousands of other flights. I wasn’t able to reach anyone on the phone due to overloaded and overworked staff, but I was able to book a new flight home for free. Sure, it takes off four days later than I planned to go home, but I am able to stay in the open second bedroom of my brother and his partner and their lovely dog. Hundreds of others got this news at the airport, or in other places they don’t have free room and board. I got off luckily unlucky.
The other fortunate version of an unfortunate event was having my car totaled by a stranger in the middle of the night while my car was parked on the street. Thankfully, they left me all their info, and I was paid outright for the peak value of my (very old) car. Now I’ll be able to spend less of my own money than I normally would to get Something New (to me).
Cars are many things. They’re tools of most of our trades, they’re personal spaces that we can spend a lot of time in; they can be objects of affection and obsession, they can be incredible burdens. My car, specifically, was also a large part of my relationship to music, and to other works of audio. It was made in 2003, which means it came equipped with an AM/FM radio, and a Compact Disc player, the only two entertainment features we cared about back then.
As someone with few preferences and fewer zeros in my bank account, I never sought to change that situation. Instead, I leaned in, collecting a small handful of CD’s to have and to hold in that very specific space. I could curate my long drives to sports practices, or my short drives to run errands, or my late night jumps into social spaces. Michael Jackson’s ‘HIStory’, Bonobo’s ‘Late Night Tales’, a compilation of Bach pieces, old untitled mix cd’s from friends and relationships past, a CHVRCHES album that we listened to on repeat on a trip from Illinois to Myrtle Beach. There were plenty more.
And now, as everything does, they sit in a garage, hoping to be used or carefully kept, but unlikely to last in my possession. An entire format of physical media erased from my current capabilities. You can always resurrect the mediums of the past, but at the cost of time and space and money, I don’t think CD’s will break through.
Being home for the holidays is always a blast from the past, and a return to habits and relationships and belongings of yesteryear. I am presented with dozens of opportunities to remember and to reminisce, and I’m shocked by how many of those opportunities are written in languages I no longer understand. I hope those moments are signs of growth and expansion, rather than just pure loss. I hope I can redefine and recolor my relationship with everything behind me so that I can bring more with me as I move forward. Holidays are a time for hope (I hope).
I hope your holidays brought joy, and rest, and good memories of somethings old, and new chances for something new.
I enjoyed re-watching ‘Glass Onion’, a new murder mystery in the ‘Knives Out’ series that just got put up on Netflix. I enjoyed letting other people choose the Christmas music after a month of personal curating. I’m enjoying reading Casey Parks’ ‘Diary of a Misfit’, which will have to be returned late due to my travel issues. Sorry, Portland readers.
I hope to be back next week with something new to talk about, and maybe some sharing of 2023 writing plans.
As always, let me know what you discovered, or re-discovered, this past holiday week.
TTFN,
B