Wherever you go, there you aren’t . . .

yahbay 020815

So: Once upon a time an unyoung man packed up a portion of his belongings and left the magical land of Verdantia, and shortly after found himself in Bottomofanashtray City. It was important and necessary that he do so, but one of the consequences of the move was a sense of dislocation, similar to that sung about by Tony Bennett in the lovely ballad “I Left My Heart in San Franscisco.”

This is only the first page of a long chapter. One does not experience loss of place in quite the way one experiences loss of a loved one.  The place, presumably, is still there. But just as “a river is never the same,” “you can’t go home again” becomes more and more true the longer the away-time is.

There is evidence that a subatomic particle can be two places at once. (Google “double-slit experiment” if you’d like to know more.) And we certainly feel another location when we send loving thoughts to a bereaved friend. “Somewhere over the Rainbow/Way up high” is where we may feel we belong. If you want to go there in a charming way, use keywords “over the rainbow” “Iz”–and tell Iz that Gary sent you.

Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are. You too, Mr. Durante.

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