What’s the MATTER with me? I’m getting to be a terrible homebody.

Last month the trouble & strife went off to China for 2 weeks on family business, leaving me alone with the kids. I was seriously glum–wrote a maudlin piece for NRODT about it.

Now I’m away from home for 2 weeks (this is being typed in the Air France business lounge at Idlewild Airport) & I’m sunk in glumness again. The way the limo left town, it circled round past the other end of my street. I was looking out the window, thinking: “That’s my street! Where we live! Where I walk my dog–dear old Boris! I shan’t see it, or him, or my Derbs, for two whole weeks! Boo hoo…”

It felt like some kind of body tissues tearing.

It’s all much easier when you’re younger. I used to take off for foreign parts with keen anticipation & not a backward glance–not even as much attachment as the Irish lad setting out on the rocky road to

Dublin:

…Saluted father dear,
Kissed me darlin’ mother,
Drank a pint o’ beer,
Me grief an’ tears to smother… Etc.

All right, I’m going to sit here a while & meditate–see if I can summon up a bit of the old spirit of adventure. If that doesn’t work, I’ll drink a pint o’ beer.