Hey, Sailor!: Raleigh, NC to Norfolk, VA

Sunday January 28

Instead of spinning my wheels in North Carolina for another day, I was back on the road spinning the wheels of trusty steed Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, making the three and a half hour drive to Norfolk, Virginia.

I haven’t made mention yet of the way I have pimped my ride, as it were, with the various symbols of love and good wishes from friends and family.

When driving anywhere, Homer, of course, rests in the space in front of the passenger seat, leaning diagonally back to be supported by the headrest. In the seat itself is my Christmas present from Kim & Drew, a production still from the movie NEVER ON SUNDAY, autographed by the star, Greek actress Melina Mercouri, and set by Drew in a gorgeous wooden frame. Kim introduced me to that movie and the two of us continue to draw inspiration from our beloved Melina and her sublime performance therein. Melina sits in the passenger seat on this Salty Audyssey, providing inspiration and support as necessary.


Incidentally, it is partially from that movie that Homer the Cello gets his name. Melina’s character’s love interest in NEVER ON SUNDAY (who is also pictured in the autographed still, blowing up an inflatable globe – he’s got the whole world in his hands!) was named Homer. Throughout the movie, Melina would speak his name with her thick accent, making it sound absolutely luscious – “Oh, Homaaaaaair!” Kim and I began to say “Oh, Homaaaaaair!” to each other whenever anything in life was particularly delicious. When I first met Homer the Cello, I was wooed by what I felt was a particularly delicious sound. So was my Dad, who heard me play on Homer the day I first began renting the instrument, which was also the last day I saw my father. He stood there beaming when he heard me play, and got all excited about how good the cello sounded. Playing the cello is an endeavor that is so close to my soul and to my heart that there were an awful lot of demons to battle in association with the undertaking. It meant a lot to me to see my father so excited by my playing. This is the other source of Homer the Cello’s name: my Dad and I used to call each other Bart and Homer, making reference to The Simpsons, a show we both enjoyed. So Homer the Cello is so named in tribute to my Dad.

But back to Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’s many fabulous adornments. Wrapped around the passenger seat is the hallowed Triplet Scarf. My friends Alison and Susan and I have named ourselves the Triplets, after the movie TRIPLETS OF BELLEVILLE (except we decided we were the Triplets of Bellview). When my Dad died, the Triplets sent me a care package that included a warm cozy scarf, which was meant to be a hug from the two of them. The scarf quickly gained security blanket status: I wear it not only for protection from the cold, but anytime I am feeling slightly fragile, and the love and support of my dear friends is palpable.

Me in the Triplet Scarf with Lola at Kim & Drew's the night before the Audyssey began (Photo courtesy Drew)

On the bottom part of the dashboard, near the gear shift, on the opposite side from the iPod adapter dock (Best. Investment. Ever.) a small green stained-glass frog is suction-cupped, smiling up at me as I drive. The frog holds a daisy and a sign that says “If friends were flowers, I’d pick you.” This cheesy yet heartfelt curio comes courtesy Carol Provonsha. Carol’s tales battling the frogs when it rains in her little sanctuary in the swamp tickled me tremendously, and we gifted each other with frogs at our meeting earlier this month in Fort Myers.

In the cup holder, among some mundane things like sunglasses, tissue paper, cell phone charger, pen and scratch paper, there lies a small piece of charcoal, within my grasp at all times while driving. This was another gift from Kim Crow, who handed it to me as I left her the last night before the trip began. It is meant to absorb negativity from the surrounding environment and clarify the energy. I sometimes grab it, sometimes hold it to my forehead, and it invariably helps dissipate the nasties. It has proven to be a powerful and incredibly effective magical talisman.

And finally, wrapped around the driver’s seat is the most sacred adornment of all. The night before I left for the trip, I was looking for something in the closet in my parents’ bedroom in our Sarasota home when I came across an iconic piece from my Dad’s wardrobe: his Tilley hat. A distinctive Australian chapeau, the Tilley hat tradition began, I believe, with my Grandmother’s husband, beloved imp Eli Abramson, who passed away in February 2006. My father used to call Eli the Wicked Stepfather in jest – there was not a wicked bone in Eli’s body. At some point that I can’t really remember, my Dad began to wear a Tilley hat as part of his golfing ensemble, one side of the brim snapped upright in rakish fashion. The hat can be seen in many pictures of my Dad around the house in Florida, and when I came across it by accident I knew I was meant to take it with me.


Back to the road: the trip to Norfolk was uneventful except I watched the outdoor temperature on Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’s dashboard gauge drop with every passing mile.

Norfolk has a strange energy to it. I can’t quite pin it down to describe it, but it doesn’t set me at ease in the least. It is somehow eerie. Perhaps it was the nearby presence of large Naval bases and shipyards, whose giant skeletal paraphernalia leered menacingly to greet me as I made my way through the downtown area in search of the theatre, and, having found it, in search of a place to stay for the next two nights.

I ended up in downtown Portsmouth, a short drive from Norfolk proper through the brief underwater stint of roadway that they call the Midtown Tunnel (my inner Manhattanite had a good giggle at that one). As the rain that had dogged me since beginning the trip eastward off of I-95 began a flirting dance with the freezing mark, taking it from liquid to ice to snow and back again, I finally found lodgings that were within my meagre price range and settled in to shelter from the icky night and the somehow spooky town.

I ordered in an accidentally ridiculous amount of pizza, and scanned the TV listlessly while I ate before trying to get some sleep.