Uncle Walt

Last week, I knew it was time for a vacation.

I hadn't updated my blog in over a month, I was less than enthusiastic about work, and even being home, with the tedium of chores and routine, was more exhausting than exhilerating.

This is not my usual frame of mind. It was time to go away and come back refreshed.

A vacation in New York City with my matron of honor, Bethany, was just what the doctor ordered. Just three days long, but we managed to pack in shopping, museums, wine tasting, a Broadway show and lots of girl time.

I left Saturday night, got home Wednesday night and am already preparing to leave again tomorrow morning. On Sunday, I'll be running the Nike Women's Half Marathon in San Francisco.

Yesterday, as I fought jet lag in the shower, I had a stray thought of my high school English teacher, Mrs. Timmons. She introduced us to "Uncle Walt": Walt Whitman. I couldn't get enough--that point in class was like my own personal "Dead Poets Society." I read as much poetry as I could get my hands on, wrote some terribly angst-ridden poems of my own, and memoried just one: "Oh me! Oh life!"

Oh me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless traines of the faithless, of cities fill’d with thefoolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolishthan I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest meintertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring–
What good amid these,O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here–that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

For me, that's what it's all about. In my most optimistic moments, in my most angst-ridden, I am an attention whore for life.

That the powerful play goes on, and I may contribute a verse.

Thanks, Uncle Walt. I'll try to remember that.