Getting AWAY!

It’s a longer than usual day when you wake up in Eastern Time Zone and go to sleep in Mountain Time. Haverhill, MA to Mesa, AZ

So we were all packed by Saturday afternoon, Ellie and I, whittling our stuff down to Papa-sized case and one Mama-size, and one Baby size to check in, with two carryon bags. I swelled with self-confidence as I checked-in with Continental and printed our boarding passes. We were ready to go at the next crack of dawn! It being early January, it would not be all that early. Our goal was to leave right from church for our adventure.

“I’ll skip up to Manchester to watch the New England Patriots play the Jacksonville Jaguars in the division playoff game.” says I. Rachel, Naomi, Leah, Ryan and I relax to watch it on High Def TV. But with the Patriots going for a no-loss season, having achieved 16-0 record in the regular season, “relax” is not the word. I left at half-time for home, hoping to hear the game on radio. But As I went to bed the game was not over. I was awake some time, nervous about the outcome, until I convinced myself they would win 31-24 and fell asleep. It turned out they did win, 31-20.

Up at 5:30. Down to church to warm up the organ for the three services. I would leave after the first hymn of the 11 o’clock service and head for New Hampshire. The plan went well. Except that I was walking out with Ellie when I noticed I still had my organ shoes on. A bit awkward to mosey to the front of the church as nonchalantly as possible, thankfully Pastor Brown is still making announcements, to slip into my street shoes and squeeze along the east aisle. I tap Jackie Chechowitz on the shoulder as I go by, wishing I could see this old friend after the service. But not today. 11:15 we drive by our house and on to Kuehne’s, arriving before noon. The day is bright, with a few horsetail clouds heralding a 10” snow storm promised tonight.

Manchester NH airport is so new it looks like we are the first to use it. The plane is small. I can barely stand tall in the aisle. We fly over the Tree Farm in VT within minutes of takeoff, it seems. An hour in Cleveland (where the rain is mixed with few snow flakes) I stand with a couple of football fans in the doorway of a pub watching the NY Giants score the opening touchdown against the Dallas Cowboys. They would go on to edge out the favored Cowboys and advance to the league championship game next week. Soon we are above the clouds again, chasing a red sky west to Phoenix.

No snow here! Our rental guy selects a cobalt blue PT Cruiser for us. Cool! Even dude!

Plug in the GPS we took along. We are so with it.

“What did you say, Ellie?”

“It says turn right in 50 feet onto Liberty Street!”

I guess this el cheapo unit we bought last summer won’t fire up as soon as you plug it in to the car outlet.

Thankfully we can call Jim Bruening on the cell phone and get directions the old fashioned way. In less than 30 minutes we are at their house in Mesa.

As we all know, you pick up with old friends where left off—even if it’s ten or 30 years since you last met. Jim and Laura had kids the same age as ours (3 and 1) when we were at Fuller Theological Seminary in the late fifties. Jim and I went off to work together every week for a couple of years doing building janitorial services in La Habra and Whittier, CA At midnight (eastern) we turned in for what we really came out here for—twenty nights of sound sleep away from all that floods our lives each day at home. Peace at last!

Buenos noches, amigos! (y amigas)