June 29th Revisited

Have you ever thought about goodbyes? Ever been disappointed by how one went? Ever wished you could do one over, make it really special, really one for the books?

This is a story of a goodbye.

I went back to teaching fifth grade a couple of years ago, and the class was filled with strong personalities, as we say in the profession. The less polite way is to say that it was filled with a few jerky kids.

Not that I wouldn't be the first one to stand up for each and every one of them, when it counted. But they were a rough group at times.

There was a student that was a bit different. She was quiet and funny and nervous and had a hard time getting her homework done. But she was Austin, and she had Maddie by her side (thanks to my artful seating arrangements), and she got through the year.

She was scheduled to move to Texas at the end of the summer. At the last minute, at my prodding, she showed up at summer auditions and wound up with the lead in Harriet the Spy. (Just so you know, I didn't cast it, but was overjoyed when Mal made her decision.)

Austin was a great Harriet, and perfectly captured that fragile thing that you need in a good Harriet M. Welsch. I was exceptionally proud of her.

Last day came, and she was leaving for Texas the next day. The kids had a pizza party while we tore down sets. Everyone left, and Austin and I said a brief goodbye over the sound of the drills and hammers.

Got busy taking apart something, a bit sad that we weren't able to have that proper farewell that should come with someone that you're close to. I know some people aren't good at goodbyes, and maybe she was one of them. I probably try and make them too monumental, too orchestrated.

Mal suddenly says, "Hey Austin!" and I turn and she's coming back in, with this awkward shuffling walk, arms out, tears streaming down her face.

This is the hard part to write about. It was very emotional, but it played out in front of everyone, like it was a story that needed to be told. A big hug, declarations like "you were the best teacher I ever had," "I don't want to go, " stuff like that. Like I said, it's hard to write about, and it's taken me over a year to put it in words. The last thing I want to do is make myself out to be this awesome teacher dude who inspires the masses, blah blah blah. That's not why I'm writing this.

If you know me fairly well, or if you read this thing a while back, then you're familiar with my father-abandonment-anger issues, etc. etc. etc. No need to dredge that business up, but needless to say, it left me with an unwillingless to get married and start a family.

That moment with Austin changed me, a lot. She was one of the first students I had where the parents were around my age. A strange enough thing to realize for a guy who still feels like he's in his early 20s. Holy shit, I could have a kid around this age!

Anyway, I guess I came to some sort of conclusion that I didn't need to be afraid of that whole being-a-father business anymore. I guess I realized that it might be something I might be okay at. Later that fall, I talked about this with my sister one night at a bar in Indianapolis, but I think this is the first time I've written about it.

I think about Austin a lot, and I miss her a ton, and one day maybe I'll track her down and thank her for deciding to come back into the stage that day, to say a proper goodbye. It wrecked me, but it was one of the most important days of my life.

Forest Lodgings

Wales is a great place to go for some quiet, some trees, and some hiking.

For the first leg of the trip, I wanted all of these things. I had worked without a day off for over two months, and I was ready for somewhere familiar and relaxing. I remembered Betwys-y-coed as a place that would fulfill all of these desires.

I also remembered it as the place where Annie grew up, and since our paths seem to be oddly intertwined, it seemed the perfect choice.

“You have to stop by and see my parents! They’d love to meet you,” Annie declared over an online conversation we had shortly before I left. She even promised lodging for the visit, but I had just booked a (nonrefundable) bed and breakfast in Betwys, so that part was left up in the air.

“Dad likes red wine.”

What does your mom drink?

“Whiskey. Irish whiskey.”

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After that long day/night/day mashup of airports and ferries and trains, Neuwirth and I arrived in Betws as the sun faded away behind the mountains. Had a quick meal, suffered through a glass of Welsh whiskey, and slept as best as we could. Despite being up for 30 hours straight, it’s still hard to get a full night’s sleep when you’re suddenly on the other side of the Atlantic.

Ate the best Full Breakfast I’ve ever had in my eight-odd years of traveling over there, and spent the day hiking in the hills. As afternoon wore on, we packed a small bag and grabbed a train south to a small town a couple of stops down the line.

Annie had created a map for us, indicating the bridge, the pub, and the local shop for locals. We strolled through the tiny village, enjoying the quiet and the lack of tourists. The road took us out of town, until we arrived at a long lane which led to the home of Bruce and Mary, our hosts for the evening.

Mary was already waiting in the lane, along with a huge black and white dog that promptly reminded us that we were strangers here. It only took a few words and a welcoming hug from Mary to change its mind. Hello, Pablo.

Suddenly Bruce appears from behind the house, and he is exactly how I imagined him, and that is to say that he (and Mary as well) are unlike anything I could have imagined, complete unto themselves. Wild white hair and flowing shirts and wide grins and an uncanny ability to make you feel completely at home.

Wine and whiskey are presented and glasses are quickly filled, and never left empty, for the rest of the night. Talk of travel, of work and home, of Annie’s adventures spreads itself out. Pablo becomes my new best friend, while Cat One and Cat Two wander around the fringes.

Mary is from the west of Ireland while Bruce grew up in London, but Dolwyddelan has been their home and studio for a long time. They are both artists. Watercolors and photography and forest park diagrams and many other projects. Their home butts up against a wood that I ached to explore, but as the whiskey took hold I was content to just sit in a comfortable chair and listen to the talk.

It was a place that filled your head with endless possibilities. I could do this with my life, or this, or this, I thought as I looked through Bruce’s self-published books of photography. At one point I was quoting verse in the sun room with Mary. It was that kind of night.

Slept long and deep in Annie’s room, and then morning arrived, me up before anyone else, woken by the sound of a farmer cutting silage. I sat for a while in the quiet living room, scribbled a few thoughts down, Pablo next to me, the cat curled in a corner.

I could do this, and this, and this.

A Rainy Night in Dublin

Neuwirth's sleeping one off after too much fun last night. We blew into Dublin in the late afternoon and checked in to our hotel. The gentleman at the desk said "two twin beds, yes?" although when we got to the room there was only one double bed. Um, no, seriously, we need two beds. Please.

Hazards of two men traveling together, I suppose.

Hurried over to The Stag's Head, where I met a former student of mine (and founding Limelight member) Jaclyn, who's been doing an internship in Dublin all summer. Unless I'm mistaken, this will be the first time I've ever bought a beer for a former student.

She left after a short catch-up to go enjoy her final night in Ireland before flying home, back to school. We sat and drank in the corner for a bit before Elimare and The Gurrier strolled in, followed later by Linus and Issy. More drinks were consumed, with dinner being something to laugh at, something maybe to accomplish before the night was over. More drinks.

9:00 pm approached, and Annie heralded her arrival via text message. Shortly thereafter two hands were slapped on my shoulders and there she was, and this strange Irish-Welsh-American blog universe was almost complete. Almost.

Caught up with Annie for a bit, then finally decided to get some food. Conor, her boyfriend, appeared briefly, but then headed home to recover from some L.A.-induced jet lag. Wound up back at a Japanese restaurant I had been to before and ordered seafood Ramen and a Tiger beer. Tiger? Sure.

The Dublin pubs were overflowing, although I was told that this was light compared to what it's usually like. Recession, you know.

More drinks.

Seafood ramen doesn't absorb much, just so you know.

At some point I think Linus decided to sove the recession difficulties by deciding to be my fake-gay-husband so that he could get a U.S. green card. I may have accepted this proposal.

Annie disappeared, then Linus, then the rest of us called it a night. Neuwirth and I wandered back to our hotel on Merrion Square and collapsed on two twin beds.

I'ts now almost two in the afternoon and he's still under the covers.

Rookie.


Lots of stories from the trip that are still to be told. Just thought I'd check in. Newwirth's up and moving around after a much-needed rest, so it's time to check out Dublin.

A Few Photos

The Story So Far (in brief)

I am in Antwerp, which is in Belgium. I have been in several other cities before this.

I am in Antwerp, because we woke up this morning and decided that this is where we should go. A man named Bicyclemark suggested it, and so Antwerp won out over other Belgian cities like Bruges, Ghent, or Brussels.

I am in Antwerp, and it is awesome.

I am not going to bother describing Antwerp, at least not for now. I have other things to write about, since I've been traveling for almost a week now, and this is the first time I've sat down to write anything proper online.

This is the short version, written in a swanky hotel room in Antwerp, on a Sunday night, drinking foreign beer out of cans, after a long dinner at a French bistro near the hotel. We would have been at a bar, but they're closing up, on a Sunday night.

Bobby Neuwirth and I spent a few days hiking in a small town in Wales. I was once there before, seven years ago. Betwys-y-coed. We also visited Annie's parents a few miles down the road, but that's a tale that deserves its own telling.

We wandered north by northeast after that, winding up in Liverpool to catch a quick flight to Amsterdam. Even with catching the early train out of Betws, we didn't have enough time to explore Liverpool and investigate any Beatle business.

Amsterdam was a strange mix, of highlights and disappointments. Chose the Rijksmuseum over the Van Gogh museum. Fail. Took a cruise through the canals with Bicyclemark and JaG, which was one of the high points of the trip. Again, this will get its own story.

When you travel solo, you have a lot of time to think and write, but when you travel with someone, you spend more time involved with everything around you. This is a good thing.

There are a million stories I want tell, and they'll be told, but there's just been too much travelin' to be done.

To be continued...