Janis

Janis Joplin made me want to move to another country.

I was raised in a very small town in South Texas where it was hot, humid, and (for me anyway), with a heavy, turbid boredom to match.  I remember watching the Mary Tyler Moore show back in the 70s and thinking that living in Minneapolis would be just about the most exciting thing ever. It was the exact opposite of my home town. Mary Richards would be seen prancing down the snowy streets each week, so happy that her glee couldn't be contained. Her beret just had to be flung high above the crowded, downtown sidewalk. 

I wanted that. 

Religious life brought me to New York, graduate school in Toronto, and ultimately to Chicago. While I didn't prance through the snowy streets of Chicago throwing a beret in the air, I really was awfully happy. Life wasn't just good; it was great. 

So, why am I thinking of changing that?

It's because of Janis. 

She grew up in a town not far from mine and in very similar circumstances. I remember reading one of the first biographies about her while in high school (Buried Alive by Myra Friedman) and it had a huge impact on me. Her gutsy philosophy of "life-is-short, get-it-while-you can" resonated with my teenage mind on an incredibly profound level. Of course, it didn't work out too well for her, but perhaps given a gentler time, she might have been with us more years than she was. 

I've continually sought new experiences during this existence we call life. I've been incredibly fortunate. In some ways, I'm still that kid watching Mary and Rhoda living it up in Minneapolis. In other ways, I'm still making up for lost time.

The thing is, I not only wanted to live in a big city up north where it snowed, but I've always wanted to live in another country. Canada was interesting, but let's face it, the only strange thing to get used to there was an obsession with hockey and Alanis Morissette.

Janis seized life with complete abandon. Her vocals reflect that, almost on a supernatural level. True, she overdid it with the Southern Comfort and heroin. I did it by giving up a career in banking and moving into a monastery 25 years ago. Both were radical moves if you ask me. Mine was just a little bit quieter. 

I thought that a semi-early semi-retirement would bring a sense of repose; of settling down. I never thought I'd have an address in Mexico. Never in a million years. I'm so glad I do. 

Thank you, Janis.