Moments

I wrote this after attending my friends' wedding, back in 2006.

It was Tuesday, otherwise known as my Monday, and I dragged myself out of bed and began the morning routine. Shower, shave, dress. But the routine came to a sudden halt when I put my right foot into my shoe. There it was: the fine powder of California dirt lightly coating the black leather, and a small greasy spot on the bottom of the sole - probably some oil or pitch from a railroad tie. I was suddenly overcome with nostalgia for a weekend from which I'd barely emerged, or survived: Cocktails (the white wine, please) & dinner in the Pullman cars, more wine, a night to rest, return to the railway museum for soundcheck, a ride on the train, lemonade in the Niles car, an unexpected stop at the end of the line, windfarm, poetry, Desolation, Kerouac, the legend of Phil & Amy (recounted – brilliantly - NOT in chronological order), bright sun & brutal heat on the tracks, a momentary interruption and cause for concern with a count-your-blessings outcome, cocktails in the great hall, more wine, music, serenades, “Chris Ryan,” first dance, more wine, dinner under a canopy of lights surrounded by a canopy of trees under a canopy of stars, wine, tributes & testimony of friendship and love and accomplishment, root beer floats (no wedding cake!), more wine, jam session, kicked out of the museum, back to the hotel, another jam session, lots more wine, some sorta honey liqueur that certainly must have been produced by Beelzebub himself, late-night conversations with old & new friends, too much wine, a retreat to the hotel room - far too late - the damage was already done. So much for knowing when to say when on the night before a 4-hour flight back to Chicago. Sleeping hard, waking nauseous, wishing I'd remembered the advice I gave myself with Nicole as my witness - "ya never wanna be hungover on a plane." Got on the plane drunk (still) & sick, got off the plane sober & hungry, missing my son so much my heart ached, and reflecting on this amazing weekend and the friends I said goodbye to far too soon.

As we stood before Phil & Amy and "the Comet," Wellesley asked us to look around at this gathering and capture the moment. We did. But it was a moment I now find too big to call up lightly or briefly, because the moment was not only that gathering of friends and family on the tracks, nor was it the recitation of the most personal wedding vows we've ever heard, nor was it the recounting of the events that began and ended - or I should say, began and began anew - on Desolation. No, this was a gigantic moment to capture, because the moment represented not only the union of Phil & Amy, but also their history, their accomplishments, their trials & burdens, the impact they've had on their communities, and the love that they have spread to friends all over the country. All those things culminated in that very moment Wellesley asked us to capture, because those things are not simply what Phil and Amy have done or where they've been - those things are very much who they are.

So it was Tuesday morning, and I looked at my dusty shoes with the mixed emotions that nostalgia conjures so wonderfully and cruelly. Had I not been so hungover on Sunday (did I mention the wine?), I probably would have processed the sadness of departing California, or more accurately, of departing my old friends, on the plane bound for Chicago. But I was far more concerned with keeping a tiny crumb of dignity by getting thru the flight without using the little bag that taunted me from the magazine pouch in front of me. I succeeded, in that regard. But on Tuesday morning I stared at my shoes, a horsehair brush in my reluctant hand, hesitating, hovering, while I reflected on a captured moment much bigger than the day or even the week ahead of me. I almost left that dust on my shoes, just to physically hold on to a bit of the weekend, but then I remembered that *moments*, no matter how grand and full, are fleeting. They pass right on by to make room for the next moment. So I brushed that dirt off my shoes. There's another moment ahead that Nicole & I will share with Phil & Amy. And we will capture & relish it with them. For now, this moment will stay rooted in my heart. And there might be a little dust hiding under my laces.

- September 27, 2006