If it isn't Written

AUSTIN, Texas, June 30, 2004 — Sometimes we hope that things can be forgotten. That we won't have to discuss them again, that the people around us will be none the wiser. We want to be mysterious, we don't want to tell all.

But the days, unrecorded, take on an emptyness. If we didn't journal, did we actually live. When we recreate a day after some time has passed, just hours or a week, we are really inventing and filtering. Extracting not experience but its memory. I keep writing to keep my days alive even as I'm embarrassed at their unproductiveness and sloth. Ashamed of my poor diet and inadequate exercise, my inability to keep a neat clean house or to keep up with friends and relatives.

I have journaled. I was here. And, of course, it's all still quite mysterious.

Why Do This?

AUSTIN, Texas, June 26, 2004 — Why am I typing here and not vacuuming the storage room? (Where, for some reason, there are dead doodle bug bodies?) Or, for that matter, doing anything else at all?

Trying to catch this thing up is always sure to call into question it's meaning, it's hold on me, it's raison d'être. (I've been in France, I like using those French phrases we've co-opted.)

Why does anyone do anything? Let's admit it: because they don't know what else to do, they think it's essential to survival, it's a habit or...they think it is art.

Art, my friend, is in the eye of the beholder. Many more of us think we are doing it than actually are. I'm sure of that after reviewing films submitted for AFF.

But I also know that sometimes the making of the thing that might be art is a habit so strong it can't be resisted.

Unintended Consequences

AUSTIN, Texas, June 6, 2004 — Hitler had a meglomania and a final solution. Things he did had consequences he intended.

But a lot of things that happen have unintended consequences. Collateral damage. Many civilians died in the Normandy assault. You don't hear much about them.

Today, when I sat there at the American cemetery, forbidden to leave because the president's helicopter refused to budge, I wondered if the president knew how he was inconveniencing the people he had so poorly honored with his insipid speech. Did he know? Did he care? Were his minions afraid to explain it to him? Did he think we might have weapons of mass destruction?

I could see his helicopter there. I never actually saw him. (Remember we couldn't see the ceremony.) Does he ever think about unintended consequences?

Logistics

AUSTIN, Texas, June 3, 2004 — Sixty years ago an unbelievable mobilization of an Allied army resulted in the invasion of Normandy and the turning of the tide in an unbelievable global conflict. Today and tomorrow, my friend LG has mobilized a small band of souls to come together at a truck stop on the highway between Bayeux and St. Lo.

Our part in the operation is to arrive at Roissy-CDG airport, rent a car and drive to the truck stop. We are to secure our room, meet up with another inteprid traveler and, before LG arrives, help locate some driving routes.

Tomorrow, eight other people will arrive. We will meet up with some other people and go to various events, ranging from ones we've invented (visits to beaches and momuments with our crew, meals) to ones organized by the U.S. and the French.

For our part, we make it to the truck stop. We meet our contact. He's already scoped a road to the beach near Colleville. We review it with him, eat a one star meal and plan finding a route to Isigny tomorrow while we do a little touring of our own.

Ike organized quite an operation. But ours isn't without its complexity.

Getting Away

AUSTIN, Texas, June 2, 2004 — Sometimes I think that I can only truly focus when I get away. At home too many things compete for my attention. TV, planning things, working out, preparing food, tidying things up.

But when you go on a trip you pick and choose some clothes, some gadgets, some books. And focus on those and where you are going and the visit to a different place.

Often in these situations, with my physical possessions pared down and my goals necessarily trimmed, I see things clearly for a change.

I find, though, that having a traveling companion muddles things a little. Especially one I feel responsible for like my husband. I pack for him and we help each other keep up with things in a way that is beyond what you'd do with another companion. It complicates things a little in a way. And takes away some of the clear focus of traveling.

Anticipation vs. Reality

AUSTIN, Texas, June 1, 2004 — I anticipate things about the trip. Not all positives either. Not by a long shot.

How, I wonder, will reality stack up? One can only wait. And see.