Quite a bit, actually. I haven’t yet sampled all the possible frustrations of modern air travel, but the ones I have experienced will do. Like switching planes in Zurich for Oslo following an all-nighter, and discovering that the connecting plane is broken; standing in line to switch airlines; landing in Copenhagen, I don’t know why (after a dozen or so wakeful night hours, you begin to cease to care); and finally arriving in Oslo, too tired to enjoy the bus tour of the city designed to kill time till you can check into your hotel.

Then there was that lovely overnight stay in Denver three months ago on the way home from Billings. Chicago was weathered in, so nobody going through there was going anywhere. I spent a good chunk of that night cursing the person who decreed that airport terminal chairs would have immovable steel arms, so that nobody could lie down. Whoever he is, he needs a visit from Marley’s ghost. The only good thing about that night, besides surviving, was the little acrylic throw Customer Service gave me to help me keep warm. Kiki prefers eating it to mangling anything more expensive – at least till it’s gone.

Still, I approach this trip with optimism fully restored. The joys at the various destinations will be worth any flies in the ointment. Burlington’s a pleasant mid-morning departure, with a three-hour layover in Philadephia and lots of time for a leisurely lunch. A little after dark we’ll land in the home of the University of Arkansas and Walmart – Bentonville/Fayetteville – and I’ll be back in the arms of my mid-America family for Christmas: son, daughter-in-law, and two beautiful granddaughters and their beaus.

Since Mother’s departure, our annual white bulb-lighted Christmas tree at home is no more, and her beloved bisque crèche set lies packed away in tissue. The place doesn’t seem to languish without them, as if only an old man and his dog lived here; but it no longer smells of balsam, roast duck, and gravy; and my Christmas nowadays happens in the homes of the next generation. Kiki will spend the holiday week with her Aunt Martha and her cousin Maui – and Alley Cat, the Ruler of the Roost.

The day after Christmas, life gets interesting: I fly to Waco (with a change in Dallas/Fort Worth, which collects all the Texas intrastate traffic like a church usher and doles it out as needed. Once again I’ve got a nice leisurely layover, which, if you know that airport, is a blessing. Changing terminals involves catching the inter-terminal trolley, and if I’ve got to rush, I’d prefer it to be my decision.

Once in Waco, I’ll spend a couple of days with my very first sweetheart, my light-o’-love from 1951 till 1955. We’ve kept in touch at reunions because we went to the same prep school and college. She was widowed way back in 1993, and I in 2018. So each of has lived a life – spouses, children, houses – in the almost 65 years since we went our separate ways. We seem to enjoy and respect each other, and write weekly where once we wrote daily; so I’m looking forward to spending a couple of days with her.

On the 28th it’s off to Tyler, Texas, for a wedding shower for my older granddaughter. She and her fiancé, who’s working on a doctorate in law, are currently roughing it (!) in Greenwich Village. The shower is where my light packing mania will pinch a bit; but if I’m totally outdressed, I’ll go to the bathroom or something, and stay there. Wedding will be May 30, when it’ll be back to Bentonville for Grampa Will.

Bentonville’s a pretty interesting place: a company town with obvious benefits deriving from the company. The Crystal Bridges American Art Museum is the most conspicuous. A young businessman from Missouri, Sam Walton, bought a downtown store in 1950 and reopened it as Walton’s 5&10. In 1962 he opened a discount department store in nearby Rogers, and called it Walmart. There are now more than 11,000 Walmart stores in 28 countries. The campus of its corporate headquarters sprawls across several acres there. But in memory of old Sam, who died in 1992, the original Walton’s 5&10 has been preserved, and out front is parked his beloved 1979 Ford F-150.

So here we go, papers in hand and fingers crossed. I just checked the weather in Springdale, Arkansas, where the kids live. It’s 58º and sunny. That’s going to be pretty tough sledding for poor old Santa Claus, but with a big smile on my face, I’ll be leaving my creepers at home in Vermont.