I’m about to undertake another journey. But this time it’s an actual—as opposed to metaphorical—trip.
The time has come for us to bid farewell to Rochester and return to the Pacific Northwest. Or, as I usually refer to it, The Upper Left Coast. Seattle, Washington to be exact.
I was born in New York City, and I’ve lived on the East Coast for many years. But I’ve spent the majority of my life west of the Mississippi, and I’ve always considered myself a West Coast kinda girl.
Stacey and I have resolved most of the issues that brought us to Rochester in the first place. My daughters are in Seattle, as are our three grandchildren. It’s time to pack up what we’re taking with us, give notice to the landlord, and head home.
There are things I’m going to miss about Rochester. Volunteer work at Strong Memorial Hospital. Fun times at the Gay Alliance. Great coffee at Equal Grounds. Walks along the Genesee River, or through Mt. Hope Cemetery.
But then there’s Pike Place Market, or Snoqualmie Falls. Ferry rides to Bainbridge Island. Gaslight Park. Old friends I’ve known since the early ‘70s. Family.
Since the vehicle I’m driving is on its last legs (I don’t dare drive it outside of Rochester, or on the Interstate), I’m going to sell it to a junkyard and take the train.
The last time I took a train anywhere was from Lake Bennett, Yukon Territory to Skagway, Alaska. And since we had just come off 5 days hiking the Chilkoot Trail, we were relegated to the baggage car.
Before that, it was 1959 and we had just returned from Japan. We took the train from Oakland, California to Kenosha, Wisconsin where my dad took delivery of a 1960 Rambler station wagon from the factory.
Why the train? In a word: baggage.
Careful searching might find lower air fare, but the train lets me take 6 pieces of luggage in addition to my carry-on bags. And when you’re moving an entire household, that’s important. Stacey says we should sell or give away everything but the essentials and replace them when we get there, and I’m down with that.
Another benefit to the train: free Wi-Fi. 3 days is a long time without the Internet when you’ve nothing else to do. Besides, ground-level photographs are much more interesting than the same view from 30,000 feet.
And So It Begins
It makes more sense to start packing and cleaning now, doing a little each day, than it does to leave everything to the last minute, so that’s what I’m doing.
I’ll get back to you later.