Grab Ass

29 Apr

I made the move today – off the cuff – saying to Meg, our managing editor, “I’m thinking of moving to California. How about my becoming the west coast editor?”

She was shocked at first, then saw how the move could benefit the magazine. They’ve been looking for a west coast editor, but haven’t found anyone who can fill the bill – in her words, “Everyone’s too flaky.”

I’d cover California and Las Vegas, Mexico and Latin America. We agreed to let the idea sit for a week or so, but I’m 99 percent sure the job is mine if I push for it.

This is not how I ever imagined it. In my imagination there was always a unified family effort – a triumphant journey, either alone or with my family piled into a rented truck with dogs and cats howling as we made a trip across the country.

Even when I imagined this family effort, there was always the tamped down truth, tamped down far enough that I could avoid looking directly at it – but not so far down that I couldn’t see it if I really tried: that the marriage is dead at its core and it’s been dead for years.



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