When I went searching for the new career position, there was only one thing on the next sixteen months of my calendar…the Woodworking In America Conference in Berea, Kentucky that begins next Friday.
Living in Michigan I knew if I landed a position up there it would be no problem to get off work on Friday the 14th of November because the entire state will be shutting down that weekend for the beginning of firearm deer season.
When I moved from Indiana to Michigan in 1996 I thought I understood passion. I thought we Hoosiers had a passion for basketball. I thought Brazilians had a passion for soccer. I thought John Gacy had a passion for young boys. However, nothing prepared me for the way Michiganders love to sit at deer camp drinking beer and shooting at stuff. Still, that is not what today’s entry is about.
During my first week on the job here in Indianapolis, my Director came to me and told me I would be in Paris next week. It would have been nice if he had meant Paris, Kentucky given its proximity to I-75. A week in Paris, Kentucky would have worked out well to get me headed toward Berea. It can’t be that easy.
Gail and I were scheduled to be at the welcoming reception in Berea next Thursday night, so I called and switched us over to the Friday night reception. It doesn’t matter…when that reception starts on Friday, my jet will just be putting its wheels on the ground in Indianapolis. (And that is assuming no other delays catch me.)
Earlier in the day, when my Woodworking in America schedule says I should be in a class with Roy Underhill and Frank Klausz discussing whether dovetails should be cut pins first or tails first, I will be over the Atlantic, likely listening to some guy named Sal tell me about his son's high school baseball coach who won’t let Sal, Jr. be the future 20+ game winner he is destined to be. In the afternoon, when I am supposed to be listening to Roy Underhill and Adam Cherubini talk about Vintage tools, I will be boarding the flight from Newark to Indianapolis.
Then, when I get home to Indianapolis, Gail will get me at the airport and we’ll scoot down to Berea with my jet lag telling me it’s 5 or 6 hours later than it really is. Nevertheless, on Saturday morning, I will arise in Berea and jump into the Saturday session.
I don’t want to sound whiny, though. Given the offer we put on a new house on Saturday, I have to come back to the words I told my Director when I explained the conflict of this trip with my personal schedule…. “As long as the direct deposit keeps getting made, you’ll ALWAYS know where my loyalties lie.”
On the upside, after my week in France, perhaps the fine folks running the conference will let me do an impromptu lecture on Marquetry or French Polish?