Widow's Walk

 The title of this blog has three inspirations:

1. The play my class did in 8th grade at Fisher Junior High School, Widow's Walk, a melodrama the plot of which has long fled from my mind.  I just remember, as a valley dweller, how interesting it was to learn about the architectural feature called the "widow's walk."
2. My new path which needs to be made by walking it.
   
3. My new identity as "The Wida Huck".  That pronunciation, which exists in my mind in the voice of Marjorie Main, may actually become a formal performance identity in the future.  Fuck.  I'm always performing my identity.  Of course, everyone is! So once again, I ain't so special.
   

   

   Caption from a 1965 photo, Times-Observer
   

I started planning this blog four years ago when I thought my old sweetheart's death was closer that it turned out to be..  I thought it would begin with me looking out of the crystal clear window of the Simplon Orient Express, a veil over my reddened eyes, looking as glamorous as Lauren Bacall or Dame Wendy Hiller on the movie named after the train.  But the movie had a murder in it which I hope my ongoing* story does not, at least none off the stage or screen.

I am a widow due to dementia, not violence, though there was some violence at the end of my spouse's dementia.  If you want to know more about that, please see my other blog, Una Selva Oscura.

My original plan had a much easier death and a much safer world in its projections.  Humans plan, the Divine laughs. Bwahahahahaha.  Cough.  Spit.

This blog is still focused on travel, though it will be some time before I leave the United States.  But as I said, over and over and over again my friends, ai, you don't believe, we're on the eve of ...

Oh wait.  Yes, that's going to be one aspect of this blog.  I will on occasion actually tell you what my head is doing in the moment and sometimes that means the lyrics to songs and jingles will just pop out.

This self-absorbed blog is going to provide a partial history of my entering the scary world of personal freedom.  I've been here before, when I was in graduate school at the University of Utah and my first two years at COCC.  But he was always there in the background in both a joyful and irritating way.  And now I am released back into the world as Dr. without Mr. Huck.  

Who is Kake?  What is she? or rather, What is they?  Oh, how I dislike using a plural for a pronoun.  But onward and upward.

* There is, of course, that family murder in the past.