My Side of the Mountain

I recently stumbled across mention of one of my all-time favorite childhood books: My Side of the Mountain. I was captivated, literally, by 12-year-old Sam Gribley's year-long escape as a pre-teen to the Catskill Mountains. I devoured his descriptions of his hollowed-out tree home, picking berries, eating nuts and getting up close and personal with wildlife. My neighborhood friends, Vickie and Sharon, my sister, Cordelia, and I built (with help from older brother, Jon) what we called a fort in a canyon just behind our house. I loved the idea of living off the land. I must have been about 12 when I first read it. Every child daydreams about spending time on his or her own, and this was my dream, traveling to the mountains through Sam's mountain escape. I read the novel over and over when I should have instead been doing homework. I now have my own cabin in the mountains -- not the New York state Catskills, but in the Cuyamaca Mountains in southern California -- and will be living there eventually. It won't be quite like Sam's huge hollowed-out tree, but I do plan to be as green as I can -- including going off the grid and using solar energy. There are lots of oak trees, wonderful boulders and tons of birds on my property on my own side of a mountain. Now that I've been reminded of my escape into the pages of author Jean Craighead George's novel, I plan to re-read it. Just need to find a break between writing so I can read! EPILOGUE: Coudal Partners recently published my review of My Side of the Mountain. Also, childhood friend Vickie Pynchon reminded me in the summer that she was probably the one who loaned me a copy when we were kids. She was always ahead of the curve when it came to reading (still is).

Barbara Walters in Las Vegas

I was at Barnes and Noble on the westside of the Las Vegas valley this week when Barbara Walters stepped out of a limo for a one-hour book signing for her new book, Audition: A Memoir. It was held in the children's section of the store, and a line of people wrapped around the inside parameter about a quarter of the way. Around 200 people bought books and then stood in line for their turns to have their copies autographed by the author. Some interesting behind-the-scenes goings-on: Barbara had requested in advance that customers hand her their books from her right side, not her left. The talk-show host of ABC's "The View" also requested two other things: that fresh-sliced almonds and sliced apple ("No brown spots, please") be waiting for her in the store's employee lounge -- her makeshift personal green room -- where Barbara waited before venturing out onto the floor to sign books. One customer brought with her Barbara's first book, How to Talk with Practically Anybody About Practically Anything, which was first released in 1971. As the customer, who was with her granddaughter, approached the front of the line, a Walter's handler stopped her and said she couldn't hand any books to Barbara other than her new one. The woman said, "Okay," that she wouldn't do it. But when she got to the table, she presented both books to Barbara. She told Barbara that her daughter had bought the hard-cover book when she was 16 and asked if her mother could get it autographed for her. Barbara obliged and didn't say much, other than she ought to have it put back in print. I haven't yet attempted to tackle the latest book. If I do, I'll review it here.

Hurricane Katrina book in the news

Pawprints of Katrina is generating some news. Yesterday, Yahoo! ran the publisher's press release on its business news page. Here's the link. And here's an excerpt: Pawprints of Katrina will leave pawprints on your heart. You probably vividly remember the animal rescues you saw on television in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Veteran reporter and lifelong animal lover Cathy Scott covered the stories straight from the muck, the rubble, and a makeshift shelter. She witnessed dramatic rescues and joyful reunions firsthand. This book shares Cathy's stories and insight, poignant photographs from Clay Meyers, and follow up information about the animals today.

Remembering RFK

My lifelong friend Victoria Pynchon recently reminded me in her blog of a short but poignant phone conversation we had in the early morning hours of June 5, 1968, when we were both teenagers. It was the day Bobby Kennedy was shot. Vickie, like so many other Americans, could not believe that yet another Kennedy brother had been gunned down. In 2002, before The Ambassador Hotel was razed so a public school could be built in its place, the Greater Los Angeles chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists sponsored a "Crime in the City" media tour of famous crime scenes. The site of the Kennedy shooting was on the route. So, on the morning of Saturday, November 9, I boarded a tour bus in Hollywood with fellow SPJ members. Linda Deutsch, longtime special correspondent for The Associated Press, led the tour to some of Los Angeles's more notorious crime scenes. We stopped outside the site where Las Vegas mobster Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel was murdered in a drive-by shooting in the palatial Beverly Hills home of his mistress, Virginia Hill. We also went to the spot where the Hillside Strangler dumped the body of his first victim and to the Brentwood home of Nicole Brown Simpson, who was stabbed to death along with Ron Goldman in her townhouse courtyard. One of the last stops along the route -- and the reason I took the tour -- was the landmark Ambassador Hotel, located on 20 acres on Wilshire Boulevard. The hotel had long been shuttered and was in disrepair, but we were allowed inside to tour the premises. We walked through the large canopied entrance, and then climbed the stairs to the Embassy Room ballroom where RFK had given his victory speech to supporters just after midnight and immediately following his Democratic presidential primary win. We stood in front of the podium where RFK had stood. It was a somber moment. We then walked through the main kitchen to the pantry and the scene of the crime -- the same route Kennedy had walked just before he was hit by an assassin's bullets. Back in 1968, in the early morning hours following the shooting, as I sat with my mother and twin sister Cordelia in front of our black-and-white TV and watched the shooting scene play over and over, a nation mourned. Remembering that day 40 years ago was best said in the lyrics, in part, by singer Dion about more-than significant American leaders murdered in their prime -- Abraham, Martin and John: Has anybody here seen my old friend Bobby, Can you tell me where he's gone? I thought I saw him walkin' up over the hill With Abraham, Martin and John Didn't you love the things they stood for? Didn't they try to find some good for you and me?

Buddy Blue and the Beat Farmers

By Cathy Scott

In journalism, we're fortunate enough to meet and work in newsrooms with extraordinary people from all walks of life. Such was the case at the La Jolla Light newspaper, where I worked with Buddy "Blue" Seigal for a year and a half, beginning in 1989. He was a features writer, and I was the business editor. He'd show up for work in upscale La Jolla, California, wearing a leather or black-denim vest over a black or faded T-shirt (revealing his tattoos), black jeans, chains hanging from his belt loop and pocket, black leather studded boots, and his trademark goatee and long sideburns. Occasionally he'd wear a hat. His writing gig, he'd regularly tell us all, was just temporary until his musical career took off.

While at the Light, he cut an album with the indie record label Rhino. A bunch of us -- reporters, editors and ad staff -- went to downtown San Diego's Gaslamp Quarter to watch him play at a club there. Buddy wasn't fond of one of our editors, and he wasn't shy either about vocalizing his displeasure, often during our weekly editorial meetings. He had such a dry sense of humor, plus he was direct, and during the meetings we'd sometimes look at him with surprise. He'd look back at us and ask, "What?" Then, a few seconds later he'd start laughing.

The last time I saw Buddy was about 10 years ago at a Society of Professional Journalists conference in Ontario, California. I was a speaker at a writer's workshop, and Buddy was receiving a writing award. We ran into each other the first day, at a luncheon. He looked the same and said he had a regular writing stint for the alternative newspaper the Orange County Weekly.

I was searching for something online today and ran across an obit in the San Diego Union-Tribune. It was Buddy's. The headline read, "'Buddy' Seigal, 48; performer a mainstay of S.D. music scene." He died two years ago, in 2006. I didn't know about it until today. His early band, the Beat Farmers, made its mark in Southern California, and Buddy Blue left his mark on those of us who were lucky enough to have spent time with him.

Publicity for Pawprints

Publishers Weekly has included Pawprints of Katrina at the top of its pet care new-release titles. It's exciting, watching publicity grow as the book is about to be released. It should be available around mid July. Just click here -- PW -- and you can read the write up. It's a nice description of the book. (Pictured is Mia, my little 8-pounder who was rescued from 4-feet of water after Hurricane Katrina. Her story is featured in the book). --Cathy

Pawprints of Katrina short video

A video is now viewable about my latest book, Pawprints of Katrina. Photographer Clay Myers put it together, and he did a great job. Here's the link: Pawprints video Pictured is Red, a paralyzed American Staffordshire terrier whose rescue, rehabilitation and adoption story make up a chapter in the book. Photo by Clay Myers.

Faces of Iraq

My friend Russell Klika, whom I once worked with at a daily newspaper in San Diego County, just won honorable mention in an international photo contest. It's a compelling pic he titled "Faces of Iraq." He shot it while serving in Baghdad as a combat photographer. The contest winners, including Russell's photo, are on display through May 23 at The Art of Photography Show at the Lyceum Theatre Gallery in San Diego's downtown Gaslamp Quarter.

Saying goodbye

My dog Molly had an emergency on Wednesday of last week. I lost her Thursday afternoon. After a sonogram, Dr. Roger Knighton called with the bad news: She had an 8-inch diameter tumor in her heart and large tumors in her abdomen and below her lumbar. They were "leaking," as he called it, which was causing her to bleed out and filling her eyes with blood (thus her sudden blindness). The cancer was systemic and too far advanced to treat. Her breathing was becoming increasingly labored with each hour that passed. She was always stoic, which made it difficult to tell when she didn't feel well, but I am looking back and agonizing over signs I may have missed. Since then, though, I've learned that with hemangiosarcoma -- an aggressive, malignant tumor of blood vessel cells -- early detection is difficult. I'm thankful that I opted to take her home with me from the clinic Wednesday evening for what turned out to be her last night, then returning her for more tests and a sonogram the next morning. When the vet called to tell me that her breathing was becoming even more laborious, I jumped in my Jeep with Rosy, Molly's look-a-like pal and constant companion for seven years, and headed to the clinic. Once there, Molly buried her head in the crook of my elbow and I talked quietly to her. She couldn't see me, but she knew it was me. To read rest of story, go to: Saying Goodbye

First book review of Pawprints...

Here's the first review of Pawprints of Katrina (short but sweet). It's a wire story, published in the Orlando Sentinal and five other newspapers. --Cathy Spring into new pets books 3/5/2008 By STEVE DALE Tribune Media Services  Spring brings a pack of fresh stories of how dogs can improve people's lives - even when things seem pretty hopeless. Several new books also look at how we value these 4-legged friends, from heroic rescue stories of Hurricane Katrina to tales of divorcing couples who fight like cats and dogs over who gets the family pooch. Here's a roundup for your spring reading: "Pawprints of Katrina: Pets Save and Lessons Learned," by Cathy Scott, photography by Clay Myers (Wiley Publishing Inc, New York, NY, 2008; $19.99). Actress Ali MacGraw writes in the foreword: "This is an unforgettable account of the courage and boundless energy of people who realize that we human beings have an absolute obligation to help the other creatures of this planet. In seeing these images and reading the accounts in this book, we are reminded of the very best behavior of which the human heart is capable." Scott covered the hurricane for Best Friends Animal Society. She handles the description of what happened as a journalist with the sensitivity of an animal lover. These stories are so riveting that simple, straight-forward narrative works fine. Hopefully, lots of lessons were learned as a result of Katrina, and reminding us of these lessons is good. Warning: Tissue is required for this reading, though the book abounds in happy endings. To read about the rest of the books in this article, go to: http://www.gadzoo.com/orlandosentinel/PetsLinkView.aspx?LinkId=2118&GroupId=201

There goes the neighborhood...

I guess it’s time to move when the police, after detectives staked out my neighborhood yesterday in unmarked cars for four hours, took a neighbor at gunpoint into custody when he tried to return home in his truck. He apparently had spotted the unmarked cars circling the wagons as he made a turn onto the street, because he threw his pickup into reverse and tried to flee. Within seconds, he was dragged from his truck and laid flat on the pavement, surrounded by cops pointing guns at him. For five more hours, Las Vegas Metro Police personnel, wearing yellow jackets marked “CSI” on the back in bold, black letters, searched the pickup and raided the two-story home. A few weeks ago, I thought it looked a bit odd when the same neighbor had installed a camera pointing at his driveway and street. I mean, who was he hoping to nab on surveillance video in a typically quiet neighborhood? A stray cat? The cops are keeping mum about the details of what exactly went down and the purpose of the search warrant, but it has something to do with the suspect’s recent three-month incarceration in county jail for impersonating Las Vegas police and allegedly stopping street prostitutes, then, once they were in the car, robbing them. Today, he’s back in jail. If that wasn’t enough for this once-quiet neighborhood, two weeks earlier and just two blocks away, a 24-year-old woman’s murdered body was discovered. The cause of death was strangulation. Her body was found inside a car in a garage by her mother-in-law. No suspects have been arrested. It’s been an otherwise safe neighborhood for the last 14 years, aside from a distraught man seven years ago who chose to kill himself, with a single bullet, while he was housesitting in the neighborhood. Lots of subdivisions in Las Vegas used to be similarly safe neighborhoods. But as the city has grown, so too has crime, bleeding into the ‘burbs and becoming increasingly violent. Yes, it’s time to move.

Cathy's latest book

Just wanted to let everyone know that my latest book, Pawprints of Katrina: Pets Saved and Lessons Learned, will be released July 21. I was in New Orleans for nearly four months as a first responder and writer, covering Best Friends Animal Society's rescue efforts. I followed the steps of the pets, the volunteers and the people who lost their pets. Pawprints of Katrina tells their stories. A kickoff event is scheduled for July 26 at the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah. More about that later, but I can tell you that Ali MacGraw, actor and animal activist who wrote the foreword, will be signing books with me. Thanks for tuning in. --Cathy

A Soldier's Dogs Come Home

‘The animals Peter loved are safe’ By CATHY SCOTT Best Friends Staff Writer Two homeless Iraqi dogs – Mama and Boris – are now safely on American soil thanks to the efforts of a soldier’s family, a U.S. senator, and the Best Friends rapid response team. Sgt. Peter Neesley, on his second tour of duty with the U.S. Army, began feeding a mama dog and her two puppies when he patrolled a Baghdad neighborhood. After one of the puppies was hit by a car and killed, Peter built them a red-and-white doghouse – equipped with blankets, a mattress and an Army insignia above the door. He lured the mama dog and her remaining puppy to the doghouse, which he placed just outside the military base wall. And then he e-mailed his family, sending them photos of the black Lab mix and her white-and-brown spotted puppy, and said he’d decided to fly the dogs home when he returned to the states in six months. “Our family has always had dogs or cats and other little critters,” says his sister, Carey Neesley. “Peter was always bringing strays home.” But on Christmas Day, Peter, just 28, died in his sleep in his barracks (no cause of death has been released) before he could send the dogs home. His soldier friends continued to feed Mama and Boris and watch out for them. From his phone conversations and e-mails, Peter’s family knew how much Mama and Boris meant to him. So, with the help of a network of people on the ground in Iraq and at home in America, Peter’s wish to take the dogs to his Michigan home came true. His dogs left Iraq late on February 6 and landed on U.S. soil the next morning. To read the rest of the story about honoring a soldier's wish, go to the first story at: http://news.bestfriends.org/index.cfm?page=news&fps=1&mode=entry&entry=FA3D3099-19B9-B9D5-9DC0160C0FBA533A And to read the follow-up about how the dogs are doing at home: http://news.bestfriends.org/index.cfm?page=news&fps=1&mode=entry&entry=0AB5737F-19B9-B9D5-9D8F9873110C75F4

Storytelling

Just finished reading Telling True Stories: A nonfiction writers' guide. It's a compilation of essays from tried and true authors, screenwriters, and magazine journalists. One good example of the stellar advice the book offers comes from contributor Gay Talese. "The fiction writer, playwright, and novelist," he writes, "deal with private life. ... The nonfiction writer has traditionally dealt with people in public life, names that are known to us. The private lives that I wanted to delve into as a young writer at The New York Times would not often be considered worthy of news coverage." Talese's quest, he says, is to learn something about people who tend to be ignored, and bring those people alive for the reader. Telling Tue Stories emphasizes that the book is the idea, but turning it into a compelling story is the key. Sticking to the story line -- the original premise -- is also key. DeNeen L. Brown, a feature writer for the Washington Post, says in the book that beginning to read a story should feel like one is embarking on a journey, starting toward a destination. It's the writer's job to "decide what larger meaning the story represents and lead the reader to that." Sounds easy enough. It's not, which is why I'm passing along these tidbits and suggesting those wanting to become better nonfiction narrative writers read Telling True Stories. It's definitely worth the read.

Beneath the Neon

A friend and sometime-editor of mine (when I freelance for Las Vegas CityLife) has written one of the most unique books to come out of Las Vegas in decades. When Matt O’Brien first told me a few years ago that he was writing about life in the storm drains of Las Vegas, I thought, What? When it rains and water rushes through the drains, nothing can survive in there. Still, he pursued the story. It turned out to be a sound decision. The result is Matt’s five-year, hands-on study of a different kind of Las Vegas underworld -- this one not connected to the Mob. His book, set to be released June 1 (but available now on Amazon.com), is titled Beneath the Neon: Life and Death in the Tunnels of Las Vegas. Matt’s interest in the network of storm drains and channels in the Las Vegas valley was piqued after Timmy “T.J.” Weber raped his girlfriend’s daughter and killed his girlfriend and one of her sons, then fled, literally, underground. Weber was caught a few weeks later. He was eventually convicted and now lives in a Nevada state prison. The Weber case was the impetus for Matt’s book. Here's what Publisher's Weekly wrote about Beneath the Neon (Matt's first book and, no doubt, not his last): “Continually contrasting the sparkling casinos above with the dank, cobwebbed catacombs below, the observant O'Brien writes with a noirish flair, but his compassion is also evident as he illuminates the lives of these shadowy subterranean dwellers.” If you're looking for an inside look at a different kind of Vegas story with a narrative style that's a departure from the usual true-crime fare, this book is for you. To read an excerpt, go to Matt’s Web site at www.beneaththeneon.com. You will not be disappointed.

Images Old and New

Winning photo of Iraqi girl, mother and brother. Russell Klika, a photographer I worked with in the early ‘90s, has won First Place in the coveted Military Photographer of the Year contest for a portrait of an Iraqi girl. The award was not a surprise. He'd won his share in San Diego when we worked together at the Vista Press, a daily (and now-closed) newspaper in north San Diego County. In 1992, Russell and I traveled to Los Angeles to cover the L.A. riots. It was an adrenalin-packed, no-sleep assignment in the days following the acquittal of the officers involved in the Rodney King police beating. Klika is one of the best photogs I've ever worked with. He’s up there with Clay Myers, a Best Friends’ magazine and website photographer I worked with on the streets of New Orleans as volunteers rescued pets left behind in the wake of Hurricane Katrina (also a sleepless, nonstop assignment). Watching veterans work in the field like these two is a sight to see. My job is to simply step out of their way as they do their work. It's equally amazing to see the photos afterward. Combat Photographer and Army Staff Sergeant Russell Klika (left) Russell and I once went on assignment about 250 miles off the San Diego shore. It was in 1992 and it was just after the USS Kitty Hawk had come out of mothballs a new and refurbished ship and returned to her homeport of San Diego. We flew out of Coronado’s North Island in a P-3 radar plane and landed on the Kitty Hawk, missing the first wire and catching the second. The force -- of going from who knows how fast to zero -- threw us forward, because the seats were fixed backward, in a 14-seater with nothing but servicemen aboard, and Russell and me. After we landed, my face must have been ashen, because one of the airmen looked at me, then asked Russell, "Is she OK?" Russell peered at me from his seat, then said, "No." I barely remember deplaning and walking across the tarmac and into the ship, and then to the bridge (basically from where the ship is steered). When we made it onto the bridge, the fleet commander was waiting to give us a tour and brief us on training exercises at sea. As soon as he saw me, the admiral barked at one of his men, “Get her down to sickbay!” (whereupon a medic put a Dramamine patch behind my ear and in no time I was fine). Russell laughs when he says, "I still tell that story." Seeing Russell’s photos again takes me back 15 years to those assignments at Camp Pendleton when Marines returned from deployment in Operation Desert Storm, and, as a pool reporter and Russell as a pool photographer, following then-Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher around the base for eight hours. Or of the man with a pipe during the L.A. riots threatening a SWAT officer and Russell was the only photographer there to catch the moment. And when we were surrounded in Russell's pickup by angry residents armed with sticks and baseball bats and Russell hit the pedal to run through them and escape. We also went into makeshift migrant camps in the back country of San Diego's North County to interview workers, both of us only able to speak broken Spanish. Russell's images and my stories always seemed to pull together and compliment the other for a decent news package. It’s nice to know he’s back at work capturing those moments, this time as a combat photographer. To see more of Russell's photos, go to: Russell's Homepage

Book by Courtroom Artist About Rebel Lawyer

My good friend Paulette Frankl, a courtroom artist, has penned a quintessential biography titled LUST FOR JUSTICE about J. Tony Serra, a civil rights attorney who has been named one of the greatest trial lawyers in the country.

I met Paulette during the first Ted Binion murder trial when she sat, day after day, sketching in court, and again during the retrial in the case against Sandy Murphy and Rick Tabish, when Serra represented Tabish and essentially was responsible for their ultimate acquittals.

It was something to see Serra in action and, about as simplistic as a trial lawyer can be, tear down the prosecution's case. Paulette, who has an artist's studio in Santa Fe, N.M., has captured, in her words and sketchings, Serra both in and out of the courtroom. LUST FOR JUSTICE: J. Tony Serra, A Radical Lawyer in Perilous Times is expected to be published by sometime in 2009. I'll keep you posted.

Other links: Cover Story PauletteFrankl Homepage

Mark Twain revisited

While in Reno last week for a training class, I ventured out one evening to Virginia City, the former home of Mark Twain, who, beginning in 1862, worked as a reporter and editor at the Nevada Territorial Enterprise newspaper. It was a step back in time. I walked into the first floor of the brick building, then made my way down the worn stairs to the basement that a century and a half ago housed the dark and dank pressroom. It also once served as a newsroom where Mark Twain worked. His desk is still there, in a corner of the office (see above photo I took while there). Twain spent 28 months as a newsman in Virginia City, once a bustling silver-mining town. That's where Twain -- whose real name was Samuel Clemens -- first began using the pen name "Mark Twain." When he had a slow news day, he and his colleagues would invent stories, then run them in the paper. Twain openly admitted it. "The seemingly tranquil Enterprise office was a ghastly factory of slaughter, mutilation and general destruction in those days," he once wrote. He had a wit that translated well onto paper. He sent a cable from London to the American media stating that "reports of my death are greatly exaggerated" after his obituary was erroneously published in a newspaper. Then, in an 1863 edition of the Territorial Enterprise, after a day that brought only minor scuffles, Twain wrote, "We pine for murder -- these fistfights are of no consequence to anybody." Still, he was a well-respected journalist, author, American humorist, writer, and lecturer. Fellow author William Faulkner was quoted as saying that his friend Twain was "the first truly American writer, and all of us since are his heirs." And Ernest Hemingway wrote, "All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn. ... All American writing comes from that. There was nothing before. There has been nothing as good since." Twain was born in Missouri, as was my father, James M. Scott. He had every book Twain ever wrote. He loved talking about the Mississippi and riverboats and quoting passages from Twain's books. My dad too spent time as a child on the river. Twain died in 1910, a year before my father was born. While in the office of the Enterprise, I stood in front of Twain's desk and looked at the journals with the newspaper's name etched onto the leather-bound covers. I stood in front of the lawyers bookcase that had a sign on it that said "Enterprise Morgue," a common newspaper term for newspaper archives. The bookcase was stuffed with yellowed papers. I tried to imagine what Twain's newspapering days must have been like. He didn't have the benefit of a computer. The paper was set in lynotype, painstakingly, letter by letter. Even so, the Enterprise managed to publish the paper on a regular basis. I drove to the cemetery at the end of town, then walked the grounds. Rest in peace, Mark Twain, I thought to myself, even though he's not buried there. I noticed the headstone of James F. Brown, who was originally from Ireland and died in Virginia City in 1882. Brown's epitaph reads, "After a fitful fever, he sleeps well." As does Samuel Clemens, a k a Mark Twain. Novelty shops, candy stores, and restaurants now occupy the storefronts along the wooden sidewalks of Virginia City. But to me, the best place is the historical office of the Territorial Enterprise and the walk down the same steps Twain took to the basement newsroom. Rest in peace, indeed. Story and photo by Cathy Scott

Return from New Orleans

I've just returned from a two-month stint as an embedded reporter covering the rescue efforts of Best Friends Animal Society. The rescues and the reunions of people with their pets are compelling stories. They're included at Best Friends news site and at Las Vegas CityLife. An agent is working on a book deal. I'm still coming down from being gone for so long. More later. ... Cathy

Volunteers deploy to flooded area

Best Friends Animal Sanctuary (www.bestfriends.org) has sent its first team of volunteers to St. Francis Animal Sanctuary in Tylertown, Mississippi, about 100 miles from New Orleans, to help rescue and care for the pets of victims of Hurricane Katrina. I've volunteered to go -- but don't yet know when I'll be leaving -- and will keep a journal while I'm there.