No Vision Safari
S: I am here in College Station for the Texas A&M graduation ceremony; I just watched my cousin walk across the stage. I feel like I was here before, in a previous vision when I realized I needed to move from Montana to Texas shortly after I graduated from UM myself. At that time, the vision was so dim and dark, and I wanted to feel secure for the future to come. I feared not being ready, of all rational fears.
A: Why would I want to move from the most beautiful place on Earth to the least? What could possibly be in Texas for me? Houston, of all godforsaken places? These are the thoughts I had while I was building the new library for the Montana Natural History Center, my first job out of college, and a book from Stephen Leatherwood arrived in the donation pile. In Montana. A book on dolphins, of all things.
F: For those of you who don’t know Stephen, like my cousin who just earned her degree, you need only know that he was my near-father, he was a marine biologist, and he was hilarious. He also got his Masters here in marine biology. In College Station, of all places.
A: I would remain happily in Montana for several years, but always with the feeling that maybe this would be the way I should go. I just couldn’t see it, but I knew I had to be ready. Here steeps the new traditions I have made since I’ve moved. Here, College Station, Houston, Texas, is where I learned to be ready. To hold these moments sacred, of all traditions new and old.
R: What my cousin and I do have in common, other than a fascination with pens and journaling, is our dear late grandmother, who also adored Stephen. The very day she passed is the day Rice University contacted me. I couldn’t have dreamt, in a million years, that these opportunities would come to me by moving to Texas. To be a consultant, of all things.
I: Perhaps my hindsight is more clear than my vision today, and that’s the reason I’m here now.