Joan Didion reminds me of a hotel pool with no deep end.

Sponges, ziplock bags, good knives, magnifying glass, strong coffee beans and grinder, airtight containers, binoculars, first-aid kit, snake-bite kit, pharmacoepia for any possible disaster, down pillow, Swiss Army Knife, cotton bandanas, loads of tissues, hiking boots, boating shoes, flip-flops, sandals, electric converters & plugs, solar rechargers, embassy contacts, fanny pack, reading & sunglasses and spares, back brush, scissors, small tablecloth for civilized bush meals and silica gel for keeping cool.

Oddly, I do not travel with a cell phone – last holdout for privacy. Yet in remote areas buy one and access sat phone for security – know when to evacuate!

Like Didion, I have packing lists – but one for each type of trip- wilderness canoe camping list is in my back-pack (uniquely includes bear-spray) ; remote African sites list in the most indestructible dust and water proof suitcase, and pleasure trips (smaller) list in a seldom-used cosmetic bag!

I laugh at the quantity of cases and crates I carted to Africa for a ten-month stay with children in tow. Even a closed-circuit TV & video set-up packed in cold cereal boxes and toilet paper! But what a joy for the village kids to see themselves on TV!

Packing is not just an art – it is the pleasure of anticipation and preparation for what this next journey may bring – especially the unexpected.

When I first read the White Album at Brown, I believe it was for Catherine Imbriglio’s class but maybe not, Didion reminded me of the type of womanhood my mother introduced me to. I used to be quite obsessed with the way my parents groomed themselves- maybe all children are- but they each had these little stools in their closets, and I would go sit on them and watch them do their shtick. I watched my father shine his shoes. I distinctly remember watching my mother (maybe this sounds creepy) snap her leotards closed at the bottom. These were leotards like made for everyday wear, not dance ones- you know the ones I’m talking about? Turtleneck ones, sweater ones- anyways. I wear them too, and always have, but have never really found a female peer who does. I think what I remember thinking always about my parents- my mother less so now, her luggage has gotten too large for this, but still my dad- that people who came of age in the seventies just f-ing knew how to pack, and in one little Vuitton weekender my mother would have everything she’d need and it was all so elegant and simple and classy. Wearing the same outfit all weekend, which I think men can still pull off but I’ve never seen anyone my age (besides myself and my gutter punk pals) do that. Makes me think of that woman playing the piano in…what’s that Jack Nicholson movie where he shags his brother’s fiancee at their summer estate? Whatever.

I notice Joan didn’t bring anything to read in her carry on. What book to bring is a major obsession point for me.