unsettling

Feb. 1

I'm sitting in the Houston airport in the early morning darkness, en route to Mount Vernon, Iowa, by way of Cedar Rapids. I'll teach for a month at tiny Cornell College in tiny Mount Vernon, a one-stoplight town I'm told with a population of four-thousand. I won't have a car and will walk everywhere I go for four weeks - a big change from big Texas where your car becomes as familiar to you as your feet.

It's my first trip to Iowa. Ever. Two days ago the high temperature in Cedar Rapids was 7 degrees and the low was 3.

I love unsettling. Already, at 6:30 a.m., the day looms uncertain. Flight to Dallas delayed. Connection will likely be missed. But I am untethered, disconnected, free to disappear into airport-world with few consequences.

Yesterday in Galveston the weather was stormy and gray. Huge gusts of wind blew down palm branches and a sudden downpour flooded the curbs. As I crested the hill onto Seawall Blvd., the sky parted above the wild sea and a flood of sunlight poured through the crack in the clouds. My heart cracked open at the same moment and I cried the whole way home - free-floating anxiety over all the unsettling of the last six months; grief for both Teddys who, had they still been alive and free, would have jumped in a truck and headed for the beach to surf as the north wind blew in, smoothing out the surf; and as always, inexplicable joy.

Unsettling reminds me that life is always in flux, always hazardous, always filled with possibility.

Comments

[Steve Murphy]

Kathryn, I've been to Iowa in the winter and I can think of a lot of places I'd rather be than there. My wife is from Cedar Rapids, not far from where you are teaching. In fact, after one winter visit in December 1989, I told her that I would never, ever leave Texas again during the winter. Of course, that same month and year, it got down to 13 degrees in Galveston, causing almost every PVC water pipe in town to burst. So, it just goes to show, things could be worse, I suppose. Hurry back to Galveston!

[Wayne Heilman]

Kathryn,

You might want to look up my son, Chris, while you are at Cornell. He is my adopted Korean son that we have spoken of in the past. He is a senior and ranked second in NCAA Division III at 125 pounds in wrestling. Hope this finds you well.

[Naomi Zeveloff]

Hi Kathryn,
I've enjoyed reading your blog, and hope that you are doing well. I'm also moving to Texas, to take a staff writer position at the Dallas Observer. I'd love to take the trip to Galveston sometime. I'm at nzeveloff(AT)comcast.net.

[Karen Johnson]

Miss Easburn:
I just read your book Simon Says which was well done. I have read a lot of Ann Rule books but this book scared me most of all. Justice was done for these evil people. (I cant even say children and thats what they were when this crime was committed)
I live in Colorado Springs so I remember when this murder happened and I thought in such a small town who would do such a thing. If I had to feel sorry for maybe one of the boys, it would be Issac Grimes Simon Sue is just plain evil. Thats all there is to it. He did more damage to those kids and killed those people even though he was not there the night of the murder. It took me a while to read it. I have a busy life, so when I could every extra minute I read this book. A job well done!

[Anna Nussbaum Keating]

Dear Kathryn,

I grew up in the North End reading your columns in the Independent, so I feel like I know you. Of course, I don't, not really, but I just wanted to say how sorry I am about Teddy's passing.

I also wanted to thank you for writing Simon Says. Your writing took me back to that time and taught me a lot of things about truth telling. You did an amazing job telling this story. Thank you. I look forward to reading your next book and maybe even talking to you about writing at some point in the future.

Thanks again, Anna Nussbaum Keating