Have Ticket~Will Travel

Sometimes I feel like a priest, albeit a Jewish female priest, because people share intimate experiences with me.  All I do is say hello, and they unburden.  I’m sure I’m a good listener, although, I’m equally sure my family would disagree.  I’ve finished their sentences and interrupted them for years.  But listening to a stranger is different.  I don’t know h/her story.  It’s all new-An aural adventure.

When I say Venice…what comes to mind?  I close my eyes on the airplane as people are boarding, contemplating gondolas, vaparetti, the pungent aroma of garlic and olive oil at cafés, listening to jazz in the evening in St. Mark's Square, Murano and Burano Island. Venice-The most romantic city in the world.

An overweight passenger jolts me and my fantasy as he nearly falls into my lap.

“Sorry,” he says embarrassed.  “My name is Tim, and I survived cancer.”

Geez, cancer!  I don’t even say the word aloud.  If it must be said at all, I say it in hushed, dulcet tones.  Frankly, I prefer to refer to it as the “BIG C”...to ward off the evil eye.  When I think of Venice and strolling over bridges, meandering around the ancient island…I certainly don’t think: Cancer.

Poof! My images of romance are evaporated with that one word.  What does one say? “Hi, I’m Heidi.  Congratulations on surviving cancer.  I’m going to Venice.”

I turn my iPod on, touch Andrea Bocelli’s name and with closed eyes, I am transformed by music and imagination.

Hopefully on the second leg of my trip from Dallas to New York, before flying to the city of love, the island of enchantment, my fellow passenger won’t be sharing anything more than a bag of peanuts with me.