Some people find security in a certain sameness. Visitors to our home in St. Simons always commented on the natural beauty and timeless grace of the island.
The golden marshes and lapping ocean have inspired dozens of major writers over the years.
But not this minor one.
I did my best writing on the road or following a road trip. I wound up taking a lot of trips.
Our next door neighbor on St. Simons was a Brownie troop leader, our next door neighbor here is a huge, business class Hyatt.
You have to walk through their atrium to get to our building from Main Street. Springsteen stayed there a couple weeks ago and complained on stage about the quiet.
Springsteen didn't spend six years on a resort island.
I love the buzz and constantly changing parade of people.
It's the place most entertainers stay when they come to town and in the midst of the summer concert season, I frequently navigate my way between tour buses to get to my parking space. Coming home from work last night, it was a maze of discreet monsters with small tinted windows (the ZZ Top show at the fair last night?) and showy coaches with six-foot faces of rap artists in caravan. Extra vans, extra fans, lots of extra security on the midst of the crowds streaming in for the free all-Celtic rock program going on just up the street.
There was a show in the theater district too, so I ran the gauntlet of parking attendants trying to flag me into the best deal for the evening just before I hit the tour buses.
My apartment may be a little expensive, but dammit, I don't pay for parking like the flocking suburbanites. I have my own space and a birdseye view on the daily parade.
It used to make me crazy when oblivious stroller moms would chat two and three wide on the street blocking access, now I love the larger obstacles.
That's probably not normal.
But normal, like peace and quiet, is overrated.

Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs