To commemorate my passage into adulthood, I celebrated my twenty-first birthday with friends by coming to Las Vegas to experience what all the hoopla was about. On Friday night there were neon lights and nightclubs. Saturday there was a trip to the Stratosphere for a view of the city, shopping, then dinner and a show. By Sunday morning, over breakfast the smell of mildew carpet mixed with cigarettes and the noise was driving me crazy, I heard keno numbers being called out, and I couldn’t wait to get back on the bus and go home. I had no interest in returning.
Decades later, Steven and I are driven here by a realtor and I don't see anyone outside. My husband Steven says, “you won't like the architecture” referring to the tract style homes. Knowing I could turn an ordinary house into a palace of beauty, I said I'd give it five years.
I never thought I would live in Las Vegas. I find casinos repulsive. They look like morgues for the half dead. I don’t like the light or the décor, or the pallor of the people, the look of absolute desperation and the lifeblood just draining out of them as they sit at these machines.
Next month, I will have fulfilled my promise. Hallelujah! I can hear the choir sing! As creative types, Steven and I have been two fish out of water. The good that has come from this adventure remains; it's kept me writing and working. And although it sounds schmaltzy there hasn't been a student that I've not tried to reach in some way. It's easy to fall in love with their enthusiasm and take an interest in them. They, along with the administrative support at CSN that I've received have been my salvation. And when the time comes, I will leave this desert having found comraderie.
I love teaching; my heart is in it. I enjoy the immediacy of it and I have the opportunity to be a listener, a facilitator, a connector to people. And to me, the art of dissolving boundaries is what living is all about.
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