Sketching a Twisty Path on the Globe

As soon as I think “Oh, maybe I won’t write in the blog anymore,” something else sucks me in, someone asks about it, or, maybe I just get bored.  This time though I feel inspired by a recent email from a good friend about traveling and travelers—more specifically how a lot of them make his eyes roll.  And so, since this was supposed to be a traveling blog anyway (until I became more sedentary by doing “traveling therapy”–how ironic) I guess it’s a topic worth typing.  

My friend has reminded me that just because you smugly call yourself “a traveler,” you haven’t necessarily collected ace attributes like patches for your backpack.   You are not necessarily more open-minded about people and the world if you are judgmental about those people who don’t have the means or desire to spend their freetime in the same way.  And you may not be primed to appreciate the simple things in life and the world, if you can’t see them in your own neighborhood. 

It’s an easy trap to fall into.  You take a few trips.  You buy some fast food in another country with terribly pronounced numbers and pointing.  You flinch when seeing someone pee on the street, you sigh in sympathy when you see someone sleeping on the street.  Everything seems strange, and wonderful, and unique and, and….cultured….just because you are in another country.  And it IS strange, and wonderful and unique…because you are the outsider.  But, those people, those customs, that architecture is as commonplace to the locals as what you say when someone sneezes.   

The more I travel the more certain I am about one conspicuous fact:  take away clothes and food, language, customs, and shape of your nose or eyes, and people are indeed people the world over.  Some junkies, like me, crave traveling to note the similarities and differences while gorging on the world’s sensory smorgasbord.  Other people don’t need to.  They intuitively realize this fact, get their sensory kicks at home, and learn about the world in other ways.  They also are good at recognizing the value of what is immediately around them. My friend is one of these.   

I actually have a lot of respect for these folks that DON’T travel.  That DON’T thumb through guidebooks and obsess about which website gets the better airfares.  Those that have never even left their small town for the next small town, and yet, STILL have so much love for everyone around them.  Have discovered how to live with peace and joy.  Have discovered how to decipher what’s important, what’s not.   Those are my goals.  I hope to learn more of that through traveling, but I shouldn’t have to travel in order to.  It’s all right here.  It’s there in the person on the elevator with me at the hospital.  It’s in bed 404-A as much as it is in Guatemala, Guilin, Interlaken, or the ashram. 

A couple weekends ago I went home.  My sister had been housing a stack of my boxes in her basement for years but now had hopes of replacing them with a basketball hoop and air hockey for the boys.  I needed to sort and hopefully condense in hopes of fitting a new crowd into my already-full storage unit.  In the end I decided that incinerating Barbis and fortune-tellers after this long would be a crime against childhood and kept it all.  In going through boxes though I found a surprising, yet completely clear message:

DON’T EVER MAKE ANOTHER NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION. 

Seriously, it is now evident to me that essentially I have never really changed that much.  I found report cards from the 2^nd grade on hinting that “listening and following directions,” and “making good use of my time,” were things that I didn’t exactly excel at.  And I think I’m going to change that now?!?  I also found this letter, a rough draft for the one sent to my upcoming English teacher.  In it I discovered that I am much more like I was at 16 than I would ever have admitted before (hopefully at least with a little more common sense and a lot less hairspray).

August 20, 1990

Dear Mrs. Rodgers,

Hello from yet another student who in just a couple weeks will be sitting in, learning from, and possibly struggling through your AP English class.  You will probably be one of the few teachers to correctly pronounce my last name from the start as you have already taught my brother and sister.  Both also informed me that, although scarcely their easiest, your class prepared them for college more than any other.  And, being the Senior that I finally am, college is something that I’m trying to think about, although which college and what major are far from decided.

            You asked that we describe our interests and hobbies, and I had to think about this.  If interests are how you spend most of your time, between working at Shoney’s and babysitting, that would mean that counting back change and changing diapers are things that appeal to me.  So I reconsidered.  Instead I decided that playing tennis, taking trips, and trying new things are what I actually enjoy.  I hope to someday visit everywhere and try everything at least once.  A bit unrealistic and a little ridiculous, trips to Australia, Alaska, and China along with attempts at skiing, sky-diving, and hang-gliding are all things I want to do.  College, family, job—I’m clueless to these, but at least I have my future recreation planned!

            When it comes to school, my interests are a bit different.  Some of my favorite classes have been typing, art, and the Special Education class in which I was an assistant and will be again this year.  I am a basically good student although by habit I don’t study enough and procrastinate everything.  English has usually been one of my better classes although I consistently frustrate myself by putting off writing assignments until the latest possible time—a habit probably apparent by the borderline arrival of this letter.  I don’t really have any specific likes or dislikes about teaching practices except that an open-minded teacher rather than one moved by rules usually keeps my attention and motivation much longer.

Now that you know some about me, I am looking forward to meeting you….

Well, luckily I didn’t discard those things I thought of as “unrealistic” and “ridiculous,” although I’ve definitely procrastinated hang-gliding too long.  And truthfully, many would argue that I still am doing a better job planning my recreation than “job and family.”  : )  It also makes it interesting when I look at some of my 90+ year old patients and realize that they are just wrinkled versions of  a clumsy kid at 8, a good speller at 10, an insecure or beauty-buffed 12 year old, or a teen who loves to tell raunchy jokes….