I have written earlier about some of my previous travels. The fact that it seems second nature for me to be mobile. This personality quirk may be due in part to my parents, at least mom's, drive to take us to see the history and wonders of this country.
In 1995 I traveled Europe with my brother over Christmas break. As I meandered around Switzerland, Germany, Luxemborg, Belgium, Netherlands, and northern France I didn't have the same eagerness to explore. Maybe it was the disconnectedness to their culture and history? Don't get me wrong, it was beautiful, the people we met were wonderful and the sights were stunning. But, I cannot tell you with any clarity what I saw and where it was. There are highlights and things that standout like Canal Street in Holland, the Chunnel, the small streets through Bern.
Yet, even on my most insignificant travels through the USA, I have a very vivid memory of places and people. Like Dan. I met him in Oregon while on the TransAmerica bicycle trail, just outside of John Day. He was what many might think of as eccentric. A loner. Yet he shared with us his rock collection and gave each of us a special rock--which I still have today. June, the Cookie Lady, just outside of the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. The folks at Naropa, where I spent the summer at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics. The long hot road along the Mississippi River the summer of 1982 from Minneapolis to Madison.
There is a connection I have grown up with. A marvel at what this country really is. Not the economics, infrastructure, free enterprise capitalist system we have come to depend on--rather the free-will and spirit that this country was based on. The idea folks can relay on each other when times are bad, and hold each other when time are good. I guess it is the basic blue collar mentality that shapes my desire to be the captain of my own destiny.
Throughout my short but drawn out life, I have found this desire has led others to view me with suspicion and contempt. Like ordering a vegetarian pizza was a conspiracy to over throw the beef industry. I often heard "What if everyone wanted to do that?" from friends and family. Of course not everyone wants to load up their life possessions and travel the country, and those who do certainly are not advocating destruction of the Constitution. I would usually respond with something about not everyone will do it, and so what if they did? I was young then, and didn't fully appreciate my elders fear and concern.
It was a very different time then. People worked 40 hours a week, played on the weekends and vacationed in between. They retired with pensions and social security. Lived out their lives in a house they struggled to pay for so that their income in retirement would provide a comfortable existence. My comments were a threat to their stability. Their world wasn't going to be round anymore if I left their version of reality behind.
I tried the best I could to follow in those suburban footsteps. I fought for every success and staunchly defended every accomplishment. And it worked for almost 20 years. I am not sure how it worked the way it did, but I managed to construct an image of suburbia and convinced myself it was going to be doable. It probably would have been doable if bottoms hadn't fallen and bubbles started bursting.
Then again, maybe Mary recognized something. Possibly she acknowledged the light she had been carrying? Had it been my incessant commentary about how I had been there or seen that while watching the television? Whatever it is, I find myself again looking anxiously at the road. I know the super-slabs of concrete offer no satisfaction. Nor do I think it possible to re-create the TransAmerican Bicycle trip--at least not on a bike.
And yesterday's dinner along NC Hwy27 west, was the affirmation that answers the infamous question "Who shall I send?"
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