The Butches of Madison County - Softcover

A thermos of instant cappuccino and a cooler filled with feta cheese and sun-dried tomato sandwiches were already loaded onto the passenger seat. In the back was a 1974 acoustic guitar, a 1995 PowerBook, a tent, a velvet string bag containing the Mother Peace tarot deck and a small collection of sex toys. There was also, of course, her emergency bad weather kit which included tire chains, a snow shovel, a wool blanket and a box of soggy Saltines. Sure it was the middle of summer and 93, but you really couldnt be too careful.

Billie got behind the wheel and shut the door. In another lifetime, she would have lit a Lucky Strike but she hadnt lit a cigarette, hadnt inhaled its pungency, encircled herself in the wafting smoke, eyed the puff of smoke from the match as it surrendered to the breath from her lipsanyway, she hadnt smoked in years.

Before backing out the driveway, she mentally inventoried her supply of clothes: one pair of sweat pants, two pairs of jeans, and a pair of multicolored Guatemalan pants that made her feel globally aware. In additional to three new Oxford shirts, shed packed seven T-shirts, each commemorating a different socially-responsible eventalthough at present she wore a faded black T-shirt which commemorated nothing.

On her head, she wore her third lovers army cap; on her waist, her fourth lovers leather belt; on her butt, well-worn blue jeans which had belonged to her fifth lovers son. She glanced again at the back of the Explorer. That was ither whole life. Except, of course, for what was in the four oversized storage units on the east side of town. Here, though, was the essence, the essentials.

"My rice bowl and sleeping pad," she thought, remembering stories from her week-long retreat at the Duluth Zen Center.

Billie Bold took a final look at the empty house. Shed lived here in Northampton for fifteen years. Here shed had four lovers, eight roommates, three children (none hers), seven dogs, twelve cats and one iguana. Although not all at the same time. Although, it often felt that way.

Billie looked at her Casio Pathfinder Triple Sensor watch, which also served as a digital compass, thermometer and altimeter. It was 8:03 am. It was August 5, 1995. She was fifty years old and it was time to leave.

At the end of the driveway, she clicked her left blinker. There wasnt a car in sight, but she didnt want to get into bad habits. "Visualize Using Your Turn Signal" was her favorite bumper sticker.

Billie pushed "PLAY" on the CD player. Strains of Yanni filled the Explorer. Normally, she would have chosen something upbeat, but today she was in an introspective mood. This was not just another car trip; this was a journey. A journey, although she didnt know it at the time, that would change her life.