Tuesday, Jun 21, 2022
Today I flew 3000 miles. From Oakland to Phoenix. From Phoenix to Nashville. From Nashville to Boston.
But before I allow myself to rest, I must capture the first few fleeting moments of thought upon arrival.
Thoughts tumbling through my brain, cascading, one on top of the other, racing through my brain cells faster than I can grasp onto them…
I’m now on (as they say) “the Naath Shaah” (i.e., the North Shore – north of Boston). In Newburyport.
The air is different here.
It almost feels wet to me, as though I were a goldfish swimming in a bowl. After living for 30 years in California, I’d forgotten what moist air feels like….caressing your skin, enveloping you, filling your thirsty pores with MOISTURE.
And it’s salty! The tang of the salt air adds a soupçon of flavour, almost as adding a few strands of saffron to a soup…
The old, old buildings are still here. Built centuries ago, built to last, built by farmers and merchants and sea captains. They are weathered and aged and strong, strong as the earth, graceful in their proportions, with widow’s walks surmounting many…a chilling reminder of the many men who went to sea and never returned.
Newburyport was once a thriving center of shipping, sending its fleets from the mouth of the Merrimack River to the Georges Banks. Clipper ships were built here. Whaling ships departed...some returned, and some did not. Privateers sailing from Newburyport harrassed the British during both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812, which many say were instrumental in America winning the wars.
Now to rest, more later...