Last year we were packed and ready to go to China when the phone rang. It was an automated call from the airline that essentially said, “you’re not going anywhere.”

Cleveland was fine, Beijing was fine, but the flight from Cleveland to Beijing passed through Newark. Newark and most of the east coast was closed down by a huge snow storm.

It was as if the guy from Maine from the old television commercial was in front of us rubbing the back of his neck and saying “China? You can’t get there from here.”

We called everyone who needed to be called to reschedule the flight and take care of the arrangements at the other end. We ended up leaving the next day and had an outstanding time in China.

Tomorrow we’re supposed to fly to London.

We’re all clear here in Cleveland and Newark looks good as well. Somewhere between here and London, at least as the jet flies, there’s a cloud of smoke and ash from a volcano.

It reminds me of the Sidney Harris cartoon where scientists stand before a board filled with equations on the left and right separated by the step that reads Then a miracle occurs.

That in between stuff matters a lot. You can’t get there from here without going through the stuff in the middle.