2002-06-14 - 8:47 a.m.
I originally wrote this entry with paper and pen (Yes, I know how to use a pen) last Wednesday while sitting in Mauston. I meant to post it on Thursday but I had something I needed to say more yesterday. When I take road trips, I think of Dad. When I was small, Dad frequently traveled from Detroit to Kalamazoo for the day or from Detroit to Sault Ste. Marie for a two-day stint. We�d driven past Kalamazoo and, as a child, I thought the drive to Kalamazoo a long one. Yet today I�ve gone a similar distance and it doesn�t seem so far. I don�t consider myself the best driver I know and there was road construction. (After all, this is summer in Wisconsin.) Still, I made it here to Mauston and I�ll make it back. How odd to remember that many in the New York City area or in other cities consider this 2 � hour drive, if not this distance, a normal commute. All of which suggests that how you think about such trips matters. Is this trip the long trip of my childhood, my Dad�s occasional road trip, or just an ordinary commute? Should it be measured by distance, by time, or by state of mind? Is it the deviation from every day life that counts or the bigger picture, the grander scheme of travelers? It is nice to step away for a day. At home the skies were overcast, mist surrounded me, and I felt cold and damp. Here in Mauston, the sun is shining and it�s warm. I�m early for my appointment and I sit by a lake with only myself to think about and only myself to amuse for the next fifteen minutes or so. Yet I will pay for this trip. Because I am a part-time worker and this trip is so far, I will work past my normal quitting time. I hate to drive and I�ll return tired and cranky. My back will ache and, unless I�m very careful, I�ll be short with my kids. I used to wonder if Dad relished getting away from us or whether he regretted the time lost. Sitting here today, I suspect I know the answer: both. It�s all in the perspective�and in the moment. |
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