For the ON DISPLAY web ring, we're supposed to tackle the subject of moving.

I hate moving.

Every few years when I was a kid we would move, for very little benefit that I could see, so I learned to hold my ground. Which may explain why I'm the only member of my immediate family to stay where I grew up.

I was born in Nashville, and will probably die here, also.

I got so sick, so awfully sick, of packing up my toys, my books, my comics, and having to choose between which ones I would keep, and which ones would go.

I hate to think of the fortunes I threw away because I got rid of some old Marvels from the sixties. My father "helped" me with that decision, but it was mine also...

Every few years, taking new bearings, still going to the same school, oddly enough---never moving enough to get a really fresh start---but enough where I had to find new friends in the neighborhood---

---Or, more often than not, retreat more into my introverted shell as a pre-adolescent. It was easy enough to do.

That was my reaction, no one else's. My siblings did fine, in fact seemed to thrive on the moves. I, on the other hand, would feel more uprooted each time...

As an adult, I tend to stay in one place too long, perhaps, a reaction to the constant moving---within the same school system, not even to another city---of my youth. I only move when I have to, when I am forced to by circumstances or the growth of my family.

It's a weakness.

Barb's much the same way, for entirely different reasons. She lived in the same house from a small child till she was grown. It's not natural for her to move every few years.

Yet I have visited many places, and visited many more. It would be nice to be able to take my home with me, not as a camper or a trailer---but rather, a houseboat floating around to where I choose. To travel the world, bringing my home with me...

The best of both worlds. To constantly change, and yet have the same home to return to. I grew somewhat envious of the idea when reading the Travis McGee books, and reading of his houseboat/place of operations, the BUSTED FLUSH. To move yet never have to pack. To constantly sail to new ports, yet have the same bookcase to return to...

'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.

Not that I would ever really do it, of course. A boat, even more than a house, needs constant maintenance, and is prone to disasters.

Yet if I had a few million dollars---to hire people to take care of a large houseboat for me---

I want the fantasy, but not the grimy reality, you see---

The South of France, or the Greek Islands, or Hawaii, or Tahiti, would all become ports of call---

---And yet I'd return at night to the same bed I'm accustomed to, the same bookshelves that are so familiar.

The best of both worlds---and a pipe dream of the first order.