I woke up a little later than I wanted but decided not to panic. Instead I took my time gathering up my things and getting out. After driving Jim to the airport, Jared would spend an extra day cleaning and making sure the house was in good order. He’d be leaving Wednesday. Jim left me in charge of driving his guitar back to NJ. Caroline and Stephen drove back to Myrtle Beach to catch their flight. The Funeral Crashers were making there way to Princeton to drop off their car and then catch a train to NYC. D. Michael was asleep and would be leaving later in the day.
I began to choke up as I loaded my car when I heard a stranger’s voice ask, “Where in NJ are you from?” It was one of the guys renovating a nearby house. I told him I was from Hoboken. He was from Sparta and had moved down here in March. “Quite a culture shock, eh?” I asked. He agreed but said that being in construction, this was the place to be right now.
I took a few final pictures of the house and the beach. Leaving here is always the worst part of W.E. Fest. After some usual moments of thought regarding my relocation to Wilmington, I realized that no, I don’t think I could ever really live here. It’s too beach resort meets deep south for me. Yes I will miss my friends and the way coming here refuels my spirit, but Hoboken is my home.
I left the house around a quarter to noon. I was all set with my box of new CDs from W.E. Fest bands. Many of which were only five or six songs. Thanks a lot guys! Do you know how annoying it is to have to keep changing CDs, especially when it gets dark and you have a soda in one hand, a cigarette in another and you’re steering with your knee! But I digress…
I learned my lesson on the way down to avoid the rural routes and stick to the bypass routes. I also remembered that 17 and 13 intersected way further south than I realized on my way down. This made a difference in my drive as well since getting on 13 earlier seemed to be a faster way to go.
Aside from a brief moment of drowsiness about four hours into the trip, I was fine for most of the way home. I stopped a few times to eat. This time actually sitting down and taking my time rather than inhaling snacks along the way. This made my stomach happy.
As new trivial details eased into my brain such as New Bern, NC being the birthplace of Pepsi in 1898, I continued to think of how my life has changed in these six days. The song ‘Solsbury Hill’ by Peter Gabriel came on the radio and I got a chill. I’ve always wanted the sentiment of his words to ring true to me. Each time I made a change in my life, I hoped they would. Ultimately however, they never did.
Now I was again at a crossroads because lately life for me has been a mess. Since deciding to bail out of the corporate world and make a go of the freelance design life, I’ve hit a series of pitfalls. The first three design gigs I had lined up—which I was depending on to pay my bills—all fell thru at once. So I was in the process of depleting my bank account in order to live.
My personal life has been just as crumby as I kept going on what I thought were dates only to be asked by the girl to, “Help find cute guys,” or “Hold my bag while I go talk to that cute guy,” or “I wish by boyfriend was a nice as you,” and so on. So I had been feeling down, angry and confused. I needed to get away to think and the W.E. Fest spirit has a way of inspiring my heart.
During my time spent here and the long drives, I was able to relax and better accept my place in life. I’ve decided to help my dear friend Lisa expand her music school and performing arts center back in New Jersey. And while I know nothing about such business ventures, I certainly have the time and the desire to do something more important than just picking pretty colors for a website or finding the best way to deliver a diet pill’s banner ad.
This time, when Solsbury Hill came on the radio, the words made more sense to me than ever. I have a new degree of confidence that comes from knowing that, no matter what I decide to do, I cannot be a slave under the corporate fist ever again. I have to make my own decisions and control my own destiny. Fate is a myth. A lump formed in my throat and a tear welled in my eye as I turned up the radio to sing along. If you’re not familiar with the lyrics, here they are:
Climbing up on Solsbury Hill
I could see the city light
Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night
He was something to observe
Came in close, I heard a voice
Standing stretching every nerve
Had to listen had no choice
I did not believe the information
[I] just had to trust imagination
My heart going boom boom boom
“Son,” he said “Grab your things,
I’ve come to take you home.”To keep in silence I resigned
My friends would think I was a nut
Turning water into wine
Open doors would soon be shut
So I went from day to day
Tho’ my life was in a rut
‘Til I thought of what I’d say
Which connection I should cut
I was feeling part of the scenery
I walked right out of the machinery
My heart going boom boom boom
“Hey” he said “Grab your things
I’ve come to take you home.”When illusion spin her net
I’m never where I want to be
And liberty she pirouette
When I think that I am free
Watched by empty silhouettes
Who close their eyes but still can see
No one taught them etiquette
I will show another me
Today I don’t need a replacement
I’ll tell them what the smile on my face meant
My heart going boom boom boom
“Hey” I said “You can keep my things,
They’ve come to take me home.”
© 1977 Peter Gabriel and published by Ear Pieces/Hit and Run Music
Back to matters of the road, it amazes me the way the way folks drive in North Carolina and Virginia. Young, old, male, female; it makes no difference. They get right on your tail at full speed and just hang there for God knows how long regardless of the openings they have to pass. Then, without warning the shoot around you like a slingshot.
I blame it on NASCAR. I think they watch too much of it down here and they all think that they’re Dale Earnhardt getting into someone’s draft and aggressively trying to win some pointless race. Remember folks, that is exactly what got him killed.
Twelve hours into the drive and just across the NJ border, the drive finally caught up to me. I was falling asleep. I had to pull over and take a power nap. I had planed to be home by 1:30 AM but figured I could spare fifteen extra minutes for safety. But that first stop was not enough and found myself pulling over again at the next rest stop. This time I slept for almost an hour.
It was now just after 2:00 and I just wanted to get home. I went inside, bought a horrible snack of Burger King Chicken Tenders and a bottle of water and was back on the road. Soon I could smell the stench of Elizabeth and knew I was getting closer. I felt the stirrings of wanting to be home.
By 3:00 I was walking into my apartment with Jim Testa’s guitar in hand. I was just too tired to carry my suitcase and multitudes of CDs and such. I left that for the next day. My cat was very vocal in welcoming me back and I drifted to sleep on bed listening to his tales of the week and the hum of the air conditioner. It was good to be home, but I do miss the ocean.
