Monday, September 05, 2005

Incommunicado

I have been in the new house now since last Thursday, but haven't been able to communicate with the outside world. It seems that there has been no telephone service there for so long that major work needs to be done. Verizon is not very quick to do major work, so I am on their "to do" list. They hope to have me in contact before September 15. Meanwhile, I am as isolated as a person can be in this modern world in the United States of America. Even my post office address has not been changed yet, simply because I keep forgetting to do it.

I am using David's computer to do this post. I didn't realize that I could get to my blog from another computer, but David, expert that he is, assured me that it would be possible. So I sit here in his studio, looking out at the bay, watching the water turn pink and pastel blue. There is the temptation to ignore everything else when a view like this presents itself. A person could get lost in it. But I am anxious to write about my moving in experience, albeit in a reduced form.. The day by day activity was stressfull and full of unease. Doug was mad at Will, Will was mad at Doug, and I was caught in the middle. Doug was the one being unreasonable, at least from my point of view, since Will was doing just what he had promised to do. Doug somehow expected more of him, and less of me. My moving was more than he had bargained for, I think. He is not experienced in moving people, and underestimated what was involved.

I am in the house, though, and happy to be there. Each day I have unpacked and orgainized so that now almost everything is done except my studio. Today I set up my bed, which was a terrible job. Actually most things are terrible jobs, such as installing blinds at the windows. I hope I will not have to do all of this again. I am getting too old for all of the pyhsical labor involved, and go to be exhausted every night. I wake up early, anxious to go on. My mental energy has not slowed down with my physical abilities. I push myself out of the necessity to have things return to normal. I am less driven this time, though, and all in all, things are going smoothly.

David and I went to the performance of Noye's Flood Saturday. I was glad to be in the audience instead of being part of the show as I had planned. I simply couldn't get up the energy to keep up with the rehearsals and performances along with moving. I have rarely enjoyed a performance as much as this one. It is beyond belief what the talent in this small town can produce. I was almost in tears when it was over, so impressed was I at the incredible accomplishment of our little community theater. There was a cast of sixty people, giving everything they had and making a fantastic spectacle. The play was an opera, so all the performers sang. The orchestra was made up of our local children's orchestra along with adults and professional musicians. Kids in the community played the animals brought aboard the arc. It is impossible to decribe the sense of pride and awe I felt, the sense of overwhelming joy at being part of this cmmunity. I am so fortunate to have found this place on the edge of the continent, where I can find such pleasure in the things that should matter in a person's life. Almost daily my faith in human beings is strengthened here, and I can , because I am coming to the end of my lfe, believe that all can be wonderful.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Cheri:

I've read your blog from it's conception to the present and am overwhemed at the beauty of your writing. You'd said that if I read it I'd probably find out more than I ever wanted to know. NOT SO!

Being so far removed from your life in Eastport and only meeting perhaps monthly to swap stories and catch up has left me unaware of the reality of your wonderful world. This will certainly keep me present in your life.

I LOVE IT. Thank you!

Love, Sherillee

Anonymous said...

Go for it. And thanks for the comment.