The Weight of Words

        

        Lately, I have been editing my collection of books, thinning the shelves, lightening the load of reading material I’ve accumulated over the last decade or so.

Each day I take an empty shopping bag, the sturdy fabric kind with strong handles, down to the storeroom in my basement and I bring it back up full of books. I take the heavy bag to the “used book” counter at the bookstore downtown. They take what they want, give me store credit and I donate the rest to a favorite charity. This has been going on for a couple of weeks now. Over and over again I descend to the storeroom and return with as much as I can carry away. 

I have never been one to resist a good book. It’s not in my DNA. I pick them up at garage sales, at bookstores--new and used-- at airports and library sales. I’m swayed by an illustration, a subject, a cover, an author. I hold the book in my hands and in my mind’s eye I can actually see myself reading it, swathed in afghans, sipping tea, reclining on the chaise lounge in my room. Each book holds the promise of a few moments to myself, the chance that it will improve me, educate me, enthrall me. So I am sold. Then, the book comes home to sit beside my chair, gather dust beside my bed until it is read and, finally, rest on the shelves in my basement. Sometimes I buy a book because someone I know might like it but I either forget to give it to them or realize it wasn’t the right gift after all, and on the shelf it goes.

Every once in a while, when the weight of books becomes too much for the shelves ------and my conscience--to support, I hold myself accountable for the clutter and decide what I will keep for a bit longer and what I will let go.

Some of the books on those shelves are old friends. They are my family. Those books will stay there until I’m the one carried out of the house. Others were impossible to resist at the time, but they’ve lost their appeal.  Some were fun to read but not something I want to keep forever. Others--the travel guides and how-to books, for instance--are obsolete and others are no longer up-to-date. Into the bag they all go. Carrying one bag at a time up the stairs, I feel like I’m secretly tunneling my way out a fortress of words.

Of course, there is that store credit. And I have already brought home one or two new books from my book-selling trips. But that’s something to worry about in a few years. When the shelves fill up again.

Cheryl-Anne Millsap’s weekly column is published by Spokesman.com. Her audio essays can be heard on Spokane Public Radio and on public radio stations across the U.S. She is the author of “Home Planet: A Life in Four Seasons” (available at Auntie’s Bookstore in Spokane) and can be reached at catmillsap@gmail.com

Baby Steps: Another 'Third Life' Lesson

"Years ago, I threw myself headlong into into mothering. It was the most frighteningly wonderful thing I have ever done or will ever do. And the reward? Four unique adults who made their way confidently out of my nest just as this little one stepped in." Read the rest

In this week's Home Planet column for the Spokesman-Review, I wrote about watching my granddaughter learn to walk. I raised four children so watching babies crawl and learn to put one foot in front of another is nothing new. But this time, perhaps it's because as the grandmother I have the freedom to step back and observe while her parents do the hard work, I noticed that as she began to take her first steps she never once looked at her feet. She was completely focused on where she wanted to go.

There's a lesson for all of us in that, I think. It's so easy to keep our eyes on our feet and never once look up to see where we are, where we've been and where we're headed.

Now, in my third life, I’m taking baby steps again. I’ve packed everything I have learned from growing up, navigating a marriage, raising a family, building a career and living an ordinary life in an extraordinarily complicated world. I've got a lot of experience and a little wisdom and I still have the curiosity of a child.

I’m ready to step back out into the world and see a few things.

Rediscovering the Pleasures of Solo Travel

When I was younger I thought nothing of getting on a plane or train or hopping in my car and heading off to somewhere I'd never been before. And I never minded going alone. But after I married, and then started a family, those solo trips were few and far between. Oh, I got away occasionally, but for the most part, we traveled as a family.

It wasn't until my children grew up and started leaving the nest, and my time was once again my own, that I felt comfortable taking off on my solitary adventures again. And I've discovered I'm in good company.

Maybe it was the influence of Eat, Pray, Love or simply a reflection of some other social marker, but it seems  the number of women who are choosing to travel alone is increasing. And I don't mean college students or gap-year wanderers.

I keep meeting and hearing from women who, like me, have worked hard and raised a family and are now enjoying the freedom of an empty nest.

Travel is a gift we can give ourselves, and solo travel is especially rewarding. It gives me time to think and time to write. In fact, I've written about the unique guilt and rewards of being a  traveling mother.

I like to think by not being afraid to strike out and go somewhere on my own, I'm an example of independence to my daughters. In this week's Home Planet column at The Spokesman-Review, I wrote about being a woman who sometimes goes it alone and I shared a list of a few of the things I've learned along the way.

Read Tips for Women Who Travel Alone and tell me what you would add to the list.

Oh, The Places She Will Go!

(Photo by Jenna Millsap)

For almost 10 years I've been writing about my life--and my family--in my Spokesman-Review Home Planet column and blog. Over the years that family has changed and gone through many transitions. Now, there is a new addition.

Looking at this first grandchild, imagining the life ahead of her, I daydream about things she will do and the places she will go. I know that whatever I can teach her will be matched by what she will teach me and I'm filled with optimism and delight at the idea of watching her grow.

If I have my way, we will have many adventures together and these tiny feet will travel the world.

Read Home Planet: "To See The World Through the Eyes of a Child"

Street Santas in Strasbourg: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)



I was walking down one of the narrow streets of beautiful Strasbourg, France in December 2010. The town was decorated for the annual Christmas market and I stumbled onto these three Pere Noel impersonators making holiday music as shoppers hurried past with their purchases.

It's a pair of Pere and a spare.

Frankfurt Christmas Market: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)

Strolling through the Frankfurt Christmas Market, we stopped by the M. Eiserloh stall for Susse Mandelbar (sugared almonds.) The Eiserloh family covers almonds in everything from the classic hard-candy shell to hot chili to Bailey's Irish Cream to 24-carat gold. My favorite souvenir so far? A big bag of classic almonds. The extra weight in my luggage will be worth it when I put them on the table this Christmas Day.

Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)


Standing on the shore of Glacier National Park's Lake McDonald in the middle of winter quiets you. You whisper if you speak at all. The air is cold and clear and the sky, mountains and lake blend into one beautiful scene.

You can read more in my Spokesman-Review column, Winter in Glacier National Park.

Solitary Travel and the Golden Circle

(photo of Iceland's Pinviller National Park by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)

Iceland is a good destination for a woman traveling alone. The people are friendly. Reykjavik is a safe city. The food is delicous - fermented shark and charred sheep's head aside - and the excursions are inexpensive and well-organized.

Reykjavik Excursions is one of the largest tour organizers. You can book excursions online, by phone or - in the case of the Hilton Nordica - at the concierge desk in the lobby. Buses pick you up at the hotel and deliver you (almost) to the door at the end of the day.

I opted to first add the Golden Circle tour which took us up to the Geysir geothermal field, the Gullfoss Waterfall and the awe-inspiring Pingviller National Park (pronounced Thing-viller) and then, the next day, the South Shore Adventure. The South Shore loop carried us as far as the village of Vik past the Seljalandsfoss waterfall, Skogaafoss waterfall and the Myrdalsjokull Glacier. The glacier was still covered in ash from the 2010 eruption of Eyjafjallajökull.

Sea legs

(photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)


When the TravelZoo fare alert landed in my inbox, I was working. I had deadlines to meet. I didn't have time to do any wishful thinking. But the Icelandair sale was so good I stopped what I was doing and within minutes had booked the trip.
So I would have to write another story to pay for it. So what? It was just too good to pass up.

The package included a three-hour whale-watching tour. Whale-watching excursions don't guarantee a sighting but the chances are excellent that in spring or fall that the weather - and the sea - will be unsettled.

On the morning of my trip we started out on glassy seas under partly cloudy skies. But an hour into the loop, the winds rose suddenly and the seas began to roll. What followed was epic. People all over the boat turned green and threw up. Entire families were huddled on the decks or below, clutching sick-bags and retching. The boat was tossing so hard I had to wrap my arm around a pipe and hold on tight. I zipped my coat around me and made sure I could keep my eyes on the place where the overcast sky fell into the icy ocean.

By the time the trip ended its three-hour run, I was one of the few left standing.
This was a total surprise. I've never spent much time on rough water and I always harbored a secret suspicion that I would be the first to fall when the boat started rocking. Who knew?

Of course, there were no whales. They were safe below the surface. Only silly humans would come out to play on such a day.

But, now I know. I know something we all learn sooner or later: when things get rough sometimes all you can do is keep your eye on the horizon. Sometimes, all you can do is hold on, focus on the place where the sky meets the edge of the world and ride it out.

Sea Baron lobster soup. Perfect.

Tonight, after a tip from another tourist who'd read about it in the New York Times, I made my way down to the Sea Baron. The little shack on the harbor is the place for authentic Iceland lobster soup.

The place is tiny, with seating for no more than 20, if everyone gets very friendly. The choices are slim. Lobster soup or whale and fish kebabs.

I ordered the soup, pulled one of the small barrels with cushioned tops that serve as stools, and sat down at one of the three long single-plank tables.

In a minute my food was delivered. One bowl of soup. One basket of bread and butter. One ubiquitous Egil's Gull beer.

It will go down on my list as one of my favorite meals. Nothing fancy. Just delicious food served simply.

Solo Flight

There is a certain grace to growing older. It brings opportunities that were lost in the day-to-day commitment to parenting and work. After years of staying home with small children, and the boundaries of my work, I am free to fly again. Within reason, of course.
So I do. Whenever I can.
Tomorrow I'm off for a week alone in Reykjavik, Iceland.
I can't wait.
CAM