Day 17: Monday, October 16th 2017.

Planning for a road trip involves a bit of guesswork. You can never really know how long you’ll want to stay at any particular place, the map of the US can be deceptive in its scale, and living on a relatively small, fairly crowded island gives you a different sense of distance and the time needed to cover it. Although the scale of America is vast, driving through it is much more relaxing than in England; cruise control and wide open spaces have the edge on never-ending traffic hold-ups, pot holes and tractors; and that’s just trying to get out of our village. We planned for a couple of ‘just drive days’ with no stop-overs and today is one of those so it’s goodbye to our Roanoke hosts, hello Canton, Ohio, 400 miles north of here. Amish country. (That sounds darker than intended)

The sky was heavy with brooding rain clouds as we began the journey through West Virginia and once again Aaron Copland provided the perfect soundtrack. The wide, empty, cinematic sounds of his music are so evocative and, like the US, are full of space. Many composers have commented on the importance of silence in music – an incongrous-sounding concept – but so true nevertheless. As a writer and performer of music I’ve often tried to desperately fill in all the gaps in my compositions over the years, fearful of leaving any ‘dead air’ that might get filled with…..? Don’t know? Uncomfortable silence?

As a counsellor I learned to ‘sit’ with silences in the counselling room and often heard clients disclose far more than would be possible using words alone. This silent communication is a magical and wondrous thing that gives the client time and space to process their thoughts and emotions whilst sharing them, albeit wordlessly, with you. The client would really be speaking to themselves all this time; voicing thoughts and feelings sometimes too painful to say out loud. The silences in music have a similar quality, increasing the power and weight of the music itself. For references here try ‘feeling the gaps’ in Rodrigo’s Concerto de Arunjuez, anything by Arvo Part or the power of the ‘drop’ in pretty much every rave music track of the nineties. So, where were we? Oh yes, Interstate 77 bound for Canton, Ohio.

As we leave Virginia the landscape changes; the mountains drop down to flatter plains and the forests of Virginia give way to a more industrial vibe. Train tracks run alongside the highway and at one point we hear the mournful, evocative and cinematic hoot of a coal train pulling so many wagons it takes around five minutes to trundle by.

I don’t know if blues music inspired the train horn sounds or vice versa but the musical intervals (the gaps between the notes) are pure genius and strike a chord which surely cannot fail to move even the hardest of hearts. (For the musos, it’s a diminished 7th I think?)

Gaps and intervals seem to be creating a theme here? It’s interesting (to me anyway) that I approached this blog post with, I think diffidence is the word? There was nothing particularly to write about, we didn’t experience any ‘big stuff’. But you can’t eat cake every day; the bread and butter days just serve to cleanse the palate and highlight the ‘cake’ days. Like the silences in music. Today is one of those slightly non-descript movements you often get in the middle of some symphonies; an album filler. It’s all getting very Zen.

We leave West Virginia and cross the banks of the Ohio river, and yes, Olivia Newton-John comes to mind, singing that deceptively sweet-sounding murder ballad with the irritatingly wrong emphasis on the syllables of ‘Ohio’. (Maybe that’s just a songwriter’s thing?)

Continued on Interstate 77 passing Cambridge and Dover on the way. The east coast is chock-full of familiar-sounding place names; memories of home, security blankets and the colonial attitude of those first settlers I guess? Not so much on the west coast where I guess the pioneers had left their roots farther away and the influence of Latin-America had already staked a claim. The Native American influence is sadly more conspicous by its absence.

As we pull up on the drive of our Canton AirBnB we’re met by our host Rebecca and her dog Maisie, a big, brown poodle. Rebecca comes right up to me and tells me she’ll have to give me a hug if I don’t mind. I’m all for a bit of hugging but it seems a tad premature; we’ve driven a long way and probably not too fresh either? But the hug, Rebecca tells us,  is merely a sign to Maisie that we’re ‘ok’ and not a threat to her. She was a rescue dog who had obviously suffered at the hand of a previous owner and now always needs that sign from her owner before accepting new-comers. She is lucky to have ended up in the arms of Rebecca and her affable husband Jim who live in the most immaculate and well tended house – certainly for AirBnB – that I think I’ve ever stayed in. Now we’ve passed the audition we go inside and get settled in. Without hopefully sounding too much like a salesman the house is immaculately appointed. When it comes to home furnishings and building specs I’m not the most observant or enthusiastic but I couldn’t help but be impressed by Rebecca and Jim’s home. There is no way our 150 yr old English cottage, which is a little worn around the edges (but in a good, ‘lived-in’ way) would ever aspire to be a show-home, and we would never want it to be, but this place is almost too good to be true. Slightly obsessive hands appear to be at work here.

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We all stand together around the kitchen island and share brief summaries of each others lives over a cup of tea – as is the AirBnB way. Jim runs a Jaguar dealership, Rebecca works at a school, their daughter is trying to break into the music business and has moved to LA, and their son is a Marine and lives not too far away. Their wall, like ours at home, is full of family photos. Rebecca and Jim are clearly both ‘doers’; Jim always leaves the house early, can’t seem to give up work and Rebecca is clearly incredibly house-proud. Busy, busy people and we’re not totally sure why they ‘do’ AirBnB. Not that we’ve ever experienced any horror stories but this house does contain a lot of high-value, high-maintenance stuff (including a baby grand piano which we’re invited to play). They tell us they will be out for most of the day tomorrow and that we should help ourselves to the provisions artfully presented on the immaculately laid-out table. Maisie will be around but just to ignore her, she’ll be fine. I wonder how good her short-term memory is, would it be best to get another hug just as a top up?

Dinner at Jasmine, a lovely Asian restaurant, before an early night.