Listen to the audio version of today’s Substack:
Last week, I went on a pretty epic road trip with two close friends. In the few days since we’ve been back, not only did I catch my first cold in three years, but (in better news) I started to think of our trip as a series of life lessons. (Though I suppose it could also be the Sudafed talking.)
Here was our itinerary:
The Adirondacks, NY. We stayed with my wonderful friends, Gretchen and Gus, whose property includes an otherworldly lake—and to get there, we hiked through stunning woods for about ten minutes. When we got back to the house, we cooked a delightful dinner, which included foraged Hen of the Woods!
Salem, MA. This was more Halloweeny and crowded than I could have possibly imagined. But you couldn’t not feel festive walking around this historic, vibrant town (where, by the way, both Hocus Pocus and Hocus Pocus 2 were filmed). One of the highlights of Salem was Flying Saucer Pizza Company, which boasts an extensive vegan menu, some eclectic cocktails, and an unforgettable monster vibe.
NH. I recently reconnected with an old friend. When I knew them last, they had a cute little kid. That cute little kid is now a cute college student, and I was so beyond excited to connect with her in NH, driving between Salem and our next stop. We both e njoyed a London Fog at Village Bean—soy milk for me, almond milk for my fabulous friend. You have no idea how much I enjoy a quaint and cozy coffee shop. We had some catching up to do!
Portland, ME. Holy crap! I hadn’t been to “the right Portland” in over a decade, and I absolutely fell in love with this coastal town. You know how when you visit a city, you immediately either get it or you don’t? Or maybe it’s the opposite—it gets you, or maybe it doesn’t. Portland is full of stunning views (my highlight was taking a moonlight walk with my agent, who I was able to meet in person), adorable shops, and, in my case, some pretty life-changing food. And, as you probably know, I don’t say that lightly! My friends and I got the vegan tasting menu at Evo, and we all were practically crying because of how expertly the complex tastes were paired with one another. The table next to ours also got the vegan menu, and we overheard them telling the (also vegan!) waiter that the meal “transformed” them. I’ll second that, and I think my friends will third and fourth it.
Burlington, VT. Spontaneity is something I wish I had more of. Or, should I say, it’s something I wish I incorporated into my life more often. So I was super excited when a vague idea to change course and visit my mom in VT quickly became a reality. Though I was devastated to see that the place I love to go to watch the sunset now had farmed sheep (WTF?!), it thrilled me to discover an even better alternative, Shelburne Town Beach—which had a total of no animal exploitation in front of the gorgeous sky. There really is nothing like VT in October, and we all basked in the beauty all around us, even when we weren’t specifically seeking it out. Leaving town, we stopped at Pingala, a fully vegan cafe that I always enjoy.
When I lived in LA, what I missed the most were the seasons (these days, I frequently miss LA’s sunny skies—I guess the grass is always greener). For me, the seasons changing gives my body and mind the cue they need to make other shifts, too—whether we’re talking about shifts in clothes, food, decor, plans, projects, or intentions. Being ankle-deep in crunchy yellow and burgundy leaves feels like both a letting go and a letting in, perhaps even in a melancholy way.
So with my mind in that pensive place, I have been looking back on my trip and noodling on the many lessons learned. Maybe it’s all the ginger shots I’ve been gulping down in these past couple of days, but I do feel a sense of clarity around the big takeaways from my trip. Here goes:
Everyone needs to take time off. This is very hard for me to wrap my head around sometimes, but this trip removed a weight from my shoulders that I didn’t even know I was carrying.
Not everything will line up exactly. For instance, I thought I’d be done writing this book proposal before my trip, but it didn’t work out that way. So instead, I put it aside for five days, forgot about it as best I could, and then finished it (!) when I returned.
Chosen family is just as important as (in some cases, more important than) bio family. I cannot explain how much I love my friends. I would jump in front of a truck for them if I had to, though I certainly hope I never have to.
I am very grateful for the little bio family I do have, including my gorgeous mother, who didn’t hesitate for a moment when I called her and invited myself and two of my friends over. With that in mind, another lesson: spontaneity is rad. I want to do more of it. (I also left Mom’s with really cool eyeshadow and fancy dishes that she was getting rid of. Huzzah!)
Embrace flexibility. Visiting Mom wasn’t the only part of our trip that changed, and my friends and I found a nice rhythm in approaching the shifts from a “yes and” place. It was so fun not to be rigid. I should find that flow more often!
Sometimes, space needs to happen before you can reconnect. And that’s completely OK. Case in point: the old friend I recently connected with after five years of not speaking (not for any dramatic reason). The world brought us back into each other’s lives, and as an extension of that, I got to see their fantastic kid on my travels. But for that to happen, I first needed to let go of trying to manage the situation of where or when we’d reconnect.
Everyone has luggage. Sometimes literally. I definitely brought too much of mine on my trip—including a folding mattress, because I knew I had one night of cot sleeping on the itinerary. The lesson here is that it’s possible we don’t need to bring quite as much of our luggage with us everywhere we go. Note to self.
It’s nice to be missed. It’s also nice to miss. I can be a bit agoraphobic sometimes. Not, like, really … but Covid has made me a bit of a homebody. Something tells me I’m not alone in that. But when I was away from home, I genuinely missed my wife and three animals, and they missed me, too. I feel so lucky to have been missed and to have people to miss.
Just bring the comfy shoes, not the fancy ones. Life’s too short, and bunions hurt. No further explanation needed.
Don’t drink cocktails past a certain hour (even if they have a cute name like “Catwoman”). It won’t go well. Again, no further explanation needed.
AND HERE’S A BONUS LESSON FOR YOU …
Everything is temporary. The leaves, the anxiety, and, apparently, even Portland.
And thus concludes lessons learned from my great big 2022 road trip. It really was a memorable, exciting few days—and was even worth getting this cold. My wife and I are planning a road trip for next summer—driving from Rochester to a Bat Mitzvah in NJ and then on to another Bat Mitzvah in Kansas (that of my niece!).
Baruch Ata Adonai; I simply can’t wait!
xo,
jazz
P.S. Last week, I told you that feedback is a gift. Welp, I also want to remind you (and me) that sometimes we must edit that feedback and that sometimes it’s not a gift.
I’m going to change a few words from the letter below, but I received this email from a reader of my VegNews column, who was unhappy with my use of the word “bullshit.” She sought me out, found a way to email me, and sent me this gem:
Love all you are doing except for the foul mouth, you lose some of us still. I have been vegan for no doubt longer than you have been alive and never resorted to vulgarity to describe my efforts to save animals and my own health. We need to lure others, not alienate them. Just a thought.
OK, so … I think it’s unlikely that she was vegan 43 years ago, but if she was, more power to her. And I have definitely received feedback in the past—from Our Hen House listeners, not VegNews readers—that they are put off by my occasional cursing.
It’s not as though I don’t take this to heart. I really, truly get that my style, perspective, and language are not for everyone—but there are people who fucking like it. There are people who find it authentic and relatable.
I’m not sure why this particular letter got under my skin. Maybe it was the passive-aggressiveness of “just a thought.” Or the fact that she did the hard work of seeking out my contact information because she just had to tell me not to bloody swear.
Anyway, consider this my disclaimer: not all feedback is a gift. Though I guess I could find the gift in this feedback if I squint for long enough. I also strongly believe that we should be authentic to ourselves—including showing up as we are, wearing what we wear, speaking as we speak. It will not resonate with everyone, but that’s the beauty of individuality.
OK, I’m done with this particular rant. Let me know if you think I’m off-base.
Yeah, road trips are awesome. The east coast is one of the few places I feel like I fit in without a struggle and now I want to go back to Salem! Congrats on finishing the book proposal!
Oh and, imo, that lady was talking some bullshit.
i think you are ON base here, and that you get to decide how you do what you do and say what you say.
also, i do think that any feedback CAN be seen as a gift, depending how we want to see it. (also, sometimes people get us gifts we don't want, you know?)
we can always ask "do i agree with this critique?" and if the answer is yes, we can be grateful for it. and if the answer is no, then we can keep doing whatever the fuck we want.
i fucking love you!