go and see the ocean…
I took my first solo road trip about a month after my divorce proceedings began. I drove from Virginia to North Carolina to visit friends. It was crisp and January. I’d been snowed in for five days before by a bad ice storm. I got on the highway. Then all of a sudden, there was Shenandoah, clean and resplendent. I pulled the car over on the empty shoulder of the road. For twenty solid minutes, I sat stunned by what I saw and for the first time, I knew in my bones that I never had to be where I’d been again. I never had to sit in an empty apartment waiting for a husband that would not come home. I didn’t have to attempt to mend anyone or attempt to believe unbelievable excuses. There was simply Shenandoah. And all that silence. And me…



I first saw him in 1977 at an outdoor concert in Toronto, and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen him since then. Mind you, he does come fairly frequently to the Edmonton Folk Music Festival, so maybe I’m cheating.
Maggi, if this were the last night of the world, I’d tell you that I always enjoy your blog. So I will!