And So It Begins

Every joy, every heartbreak, loss and triumph has led me to where I am at this very moment: sitting at a desk in a downtown San Francisco hotel room, foggy morning being burned away by the sun’s urging, buses and car horns five floors below.

I’ve accepted a three-year scholarship to pursue a PhD in Film Studies at Victoria University in Wellington, and will be flying out of San Francisco tonight, Wednesday, June 9th, 9 p.m., arriving in New Zealand at 5 a.m., Friday. After a 13-hour flight, I change planes in Auckland, and fly one hour south to Wellington. My supervisor, Sean Redmond, has said he will pick me up at the airport and take me to my new studio apartment at The Education House, a residence hall for post-grad students located on edge of the VUW campus.

I left Tampa a week ago, sad and relieved to finally pack up my things and go. Having resigned my teaching position at the University of South Florida, I sold my furniture, car, cds, most of my books and movies, packed the rest of my possessions into 8 boxes and two suitcases and took them and my cat, Jody, to live with my dear friend, Steve Powell. During my last days in Florida, friends who I hadn’t seen in years invited me out to dinner, movies, and beach strolls. I kayaked along spring-fed rivers and through moonlit mangrove tunnels, and swam with my brother in the lake where we grew up. The early summer days helped soothe my fears. I began to wonder why I was leaving and had to constantly remind myself that it was due mostly to a deal I’d made with myself so many years ago: that if a door opened, I would enter it bravely, having faith that all would be well. My students gave me a beautiful send off; my friends and family made me feel loved and cared for. They reminded me I had a home always waiting.

First stop was New York City. Not wanting to crowd friends’ apartments with 100 pounds of luggage, I stayed in a small hotel in Long Island City on the outskirts of Queens. And though it was a scrappy little neighborhood, it was two subway stops from Manhattan, and my room was large and cool. Lynn Marie Ruse threw a farewell party on her roof, and some of my very best transplanted friends from Tampa showed up to wish me a bon voyage. Lee Warren was visiting from San Francisco and had a cake made for me, and we sat around a large table, most of us having known one another for at least 20 years, surrounded by the New York skyline - laughing, loving and grateful.

Flying over lonely Nebraska, I once again begin to experience fears and doubts. What-if scenarios overwhelmed me, and I felt lonely and lost. However, all of that changed upon landing in San Francisco. The days here have been stunning: cool and blue, an endless sky. I’ve spent time with two of my favorite people in the world, Marcy Shaarda and Lee Warren, walked the city, eaten in diners, and watched fog roll in beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. I rented a car and drove up the Sonoma valley to Jack London State Park, then soaked in hot mud baths in Calistoga.

A new door has opened. My friends say they admire my courage, and I am overwhelmed by their caring and support. I cannot know what tomorrow will bring, but have faith that all will be well. I will cherish the past and give thanks for this present. I plan to update this blog often, and post photos and observations and news. I invite you join me in this journey, and I hope your days are filled with wonder and adventure.