Monday, September 25, 2006
DAY TWENTY: Travel from Lewistown to Providence, RI
Randi delivers two babies during the early morning hours, and returns to give me coffee and bring me back to the hospital. She's cheery and bright with all the staff, introducing me around, including a bad-joke telling OBGYN doctor. He foists a near-delivery patient on her while I use her crash-prone computer. We eat at a popular pizza restaurant that serves breakfast and chat about people from college. Randi talks to anyone. It sort of amazes me.
Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York slide by. I've become inured to driving much like one does to a day job. Connecticut traffic gets to me, though, and I swing by Gold's Deli in Westport for a knish and rugelach. Rhode Island arrives in a dream as the evening looms.
Jen's planned a meeting of her Book Klub tonight, a ladies only affair. Scott goes to his studio to listen to music and draw. We put out food, I shower, and the ladies arrive, armed with "Catcher In the Rye." The food and drinks are supposed to mimic the book's theme, but Holden Caulfield's cheese sandwiches don't cut it, especially with two vegans in the group. Martinis and wine satisfy the Klub members.
The rules of the Klub do not require everyone to have read the book, or for there to be much discussion of it. Cristina arrives late, having witnessed her husband's arrest at a Quaker demonstration outside Senator Jack Reed's office. A sincere political discussion erupts with sporadic interjections by those who favor Holden's interpretation of the adult world (Bush is a phony).
We do get around to discussing the book. J.D. Salinger's other books are brought up as comparisons for style and themes. Prepared with the unauthorized biography and the Wikipedia article, the Klub members weave the writing with the author's reclusive life and questionable decisions as a lover and parent. It's a remarkably female analysis. There is no setting the text a part as a hermetic piece; the man and his work are one and the same.
After this, it's hopeless to make any cohesive points and the discussion explodes in laughter and thematic jokes. Jen later acknowledges that these women are not ones to join a women's group, so the Book Klub is a fine excuse to make their own. Jen and I eat, talk, and laugh more until I can barely keep my eyes open. I think I am here for nearly a week and that feels great.
Randi delivers two babies during the early morning hours, and returns to give me coffee and bring me back to the hospital. She's cheery and bright with all the staff, introducing me around, including a bad-joke telling OBGYN doctor. He foists a near-delivery patient on her while I use her crash-prone computer. We eat at a popular pizza restaurant that serves breakfast and chat about people from college. Randi talks to anyone. It sort of amazes me.
Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York slide by. I've become inured to driving much like one does to a day job. Connecticut traffic gets to me, though, and I swing by Gold's Deli in Westport for a knish and rugelach. Rhode Island arrives in a dream as the evening looms.
Jen's planned a meeting of her Book Klub tonight, a ladies only affair. Scott goes to his studio to listen to music and draw. We put out food, I shower, and the ladies arrive, armed with "Catcher In the Rye." The food and drinks are supposed to mimic the book's theme, but Holden Caulfield's cheese sandwiches don't cut it, especially with two vegans in the group. Martinis and wine satisfy the Klub members.
The rules of the Klub do not require everyone to have read the book, or for there to be much discussion of it. Cristina arrives late, having witnessed her husband's arrest at a Quaker demonstration outside Senator Jack Reed's office. A sincere political discussion erupts with sporadic interjections by those who favor Holden's interpretation of the adult world (Bush is a phony).
We do get around to discussing the book. J.D. Salinger's other books are brought up as comparisons for style and themes. Prepared with the unauthorized biography and the Wikipedia article, the Klub members weave the writing with the author's reclusive life and questionable decisions as a lover and parent. It's a remarkably female analysis. There is no setting the text a part as a hermetic piece; the man and his work are one and the same.
After this, it's hopeless to make any cohesive points and the discussion explodes in laughter and thematic jokes. Jen later acknowledges that these women are not ones to join a women's group, so the Book Klub is a fine excuse to make their own. Jen and I eat, talk, and laugh more until I can barely keep my eyes open. I think I am here for nearly a week and that feels great.
