From the Greenhouse #1: A Life of Travel

Greenhouse watering can (colored pencil & graphite)

We've lived in our home for 40 years, but it is only now, during this mellow August of 2019 that I find myself taking up a studio spot in our greenhouse, feeling reflective as I listen to the birds in the quiet hours of early summer mornings. Rick gave me a tablet for my birthday, and a friend gave me the idea to buy a little bluetooth keyboard for it. No longer having a laptop, I now have this nifty set-up on the circular glass table, my morning desk. Hence, as a seasonal writing project, From the Greenhouse begins with this post.

Two weeks ago I was here at the table writing to a friend when I lapsed into a reflection about my personal history as a transatlantic traveler. Recently, I have surprised some long-known friends when I've off-handedly told them bits about my early life. I assumed that my friends knew my basic life story. Here is what I wrote that day, inspired by the sounds of the morning, with a few pertinent facts and photos added for this first post:

 

The SS America built in 1939, depicted here in NYC harbor.

Good morning, K~

I am sitting in the greenhouse now, birds chirping outside but a jet is roaring overhead, too. There's a new flight path that takes more planes over our area. This is not great news for the neighborhood, but when I was a child living near SeaTac, planes overhead were common. So, in a way, the noise is not objectionable to me because it's one of those subliminal comforts associated with childhood and home. 

 

Here is my entire family on board the SS America in 1955. I am deep in strategic thought next to Mom. I recall feeling so grown up; I learned to play cards and shuffleboard on that voyage. And more thrilling to me yet, once familiar with the way to our staterooms, I was allowed to walk about the ship by myself. Independence was encouraged from early on.

When we first went to Europe I was 5 years old. We sailed from NYC to Southhampton, England on the SS America. The year was 1955, and Dad had taken a sabbatical leave. Nine months later, we sailed back to the U.S. and I remember seeing the Statue of Liberty from our ship. In 1961, we flew back to Europe from Seattle (via NYC) after Dad was hired by the Dept. of Defense. That time we made the voyage on a propellor plane. That was a looooong flight that groaned all the way across the Atlantic. Later, in the early 60's, the flights back and forth to visit family were via "turbo-props"--a little faster. Finally, in the mid 60's, the planes were sleek jets with designed interiors. What a treat to arrive in England or Germany or NYC without feeling vibrated to the bone and achingly sleep deprived.

 

When I started this letter to my friend I had no thought of relating this transatlantic travel synopsis to her. In fact, I'd never paused to look back at my own early traveling years as indicative of the rapid changes that swept global travel in the 50's and 60's. "The Greenhouse Affect" has taken on a new meaning for me. Surrounded by geraniums and morning light, it feels as though my mind can travel--without an aircraft.