Moving Time
Human beings have been moving around the globe since the beginning of time. If you believe in the Biblical account of creation, the divine command to Adam and Eve was to procreate and "populate the earth." And if you know the story of the Tower of Babel, you are aware that there was one common language spoken at that time. The ambitious residents of Babel decided on building a towering structure to reach into Heaven itself. God said something like, Oh no you don't. Absolutely not. He thwarted this monumental effort by confusing their language, consequently causing folk with like tongue to scatter across different parts of the earth. The Almighty God was also responsible for the scattering of the 12 Tribes of Israel due to their unrighteous and ungodly behavior. We've done a fine job of populating the globe. In modern society, God doesn't move people around. But re-locating is a customary part of life for lots of people, and for a variety of reasons. Whether it be a new job or promotion, or to enjoy a more comfortable climate, or simply for economic survival---people do move around a lot, don't they? Personally, I loathe the idea of moving. Sure, I'd love to have 12 months of warm weather, but not at the expense of leaving my son and grandchildren. Two of my grandsons live in Brooklyn, New York. It's a two hour drive, door to door. That's the most distance apart that I'd tolerate. I liken my family to the 12 Tribes of Israel---we are scattered all over the country. It's bad enough that life moves (pardon the pun) at such a fast pace, so when I have vacation time and money to spend, I don't want Italian guilt creeping in---the guilt of not visiting those who have moved away from me. (Yes, Italian guilt is huge!) I'd rather be on an exotic beachfront sipping margaritas. All kidding aside, my book, Just Another Sunday: A Novel is a fictional account of the move that my immediate family made out of Brooklyn, New York when I was 15 years old and a tenth grade high school student. I've moved so many times as a kid, and making new friends was excruciatingly painful as a teenager. My last move, to my current Toms River, N.J. home, was in 1987, when my son was in 5th grade. I had to do it then. Any later would have been too late. I didn't want him changing schools and friends during his junior high school years or, God forbid, during high school like I did. Talk about traumatic.... If you have ever moved whilst in high school, you know what I'm talking about. If you read Just Another Sunday, you will never find the name of the town that we moved to back in 1968. I referred to it as "Nowheresland" and called it a "bogus town" more than once. All the surrounding towns that I've mentioned in my book are located in Monmouth County, New Jersey, and do indeed exist on the map. But the one we settled in remains fictitious as far my book is concerned. I still maintain a love/hate romantic attachment to this particular town because so many fateful things happened there, shaping the rest of my life; and the effects of that move reverberate to this day. I take a ride every now and again since it is only a 45 minute drive up the Garden State Parkway. I pass the old house, the cemetery, and think what could have been---what should have been. And then I go home to Toms River. I like it this way. I wouldn't move again if you paid me. All the best, Liz Good
