Charlie and I toured parts of Oregon last week.  If you follow my Facebook posts you saw the pictures.

This was his first trip to the state.  The first time he’d heard the Pacific Ocean roar as it threw its waves on sandy shore.  First time he’d seen a sea lion. First time he’d seen a tree taller than 40 feet.  First time I’ve seen him happy five consecutive days.

He’s moving to Oregon.

Since I’m in New York with Mark and am pursuing connections here, I can’t justify keeping the little Texas homestead.  Charlie doesn’t want to live there anymore, and it’s a waste to let a house sit empty.  So Angora Ranch, the house, is up for sale.

I cried over it on the flight back to New York, mostly because I’m closing the door on 20 years of my life.  Living there enabled me to work for an airline, three railroads, a bus company, run a farm, teach school, run a theater company, and make five feature films.

Three men I love deeply lived with me in that house (not at the same time).

I husbanded rabbits, chickens, ducks and a goat.  I spoiled many cats and a dog, some of whom rest in the garden under granite footstones carved with their names. And yes, I built a model railroad that ran through all the rooms.  I used the house for my needs and dreams.  It served me well.

Though my homebase shifts to Eastern Standard Time, my movies will stay in America’s heartland.  New York is fun, but I don’t think we need more movies about New Yorkers. I look forward to continuing to work with my Texas cast and crew on future shoots, regardless of where we film.

As I close the door on the Angora Ranch farmhouse, I know doors will open for me somewhere else.

Onward I go.  Full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes.   The next movie films late summer in Canada.