Sketching a Twisty Path on the Globe

I just completed my final trip from St. Louis to Joplin, part of the usual migration of 18 wheelers and antique cars on the 270 miles along Highway 44.  I realized that at a loss for deeper things to think about, I’ve spent a lot of time on these drives staring at, analyzing, and even photographing, billboards.  They read like a running comic strip about American life.    

The most recurring theme of these billboards is the battle between porn and preachers.  Every 10-20 miles is an ad for an Adult theater, arcade, or bookstore.  Nearly always there’s a perfectly placed counter:  “U Got Jesus?”  Well, “Pornography Destroys” so “Visit the church of your choice this week.”  Similarly you have to weigh your morals whether you are going to pet “exotic animals” at the Animal Paradise or go shoot them at the Stone Creek Hunting Ranch, go shopping at “Ruby’s Guns” or the “Precious Moments warehouse.”    You also have your choice of services from vasectomy reversals; experts at the “Bra, swimsuit and Masectomy Center”; or one-day dentures (something I’ve discovered is used by an alarming number of people who haven’t gone gray yet).  There’s also a giant shopping area with an alluring sign–“Stop Shop and Save”—that you might think is for used cars.  Instead you can browse the aisles of “value homes—single or doublewide” and hopefully sign up for your tornado insurance at the same time.  I’ve also discovered that while I thought fireworks were primarily shot on July 4th and New Year’s, apparently there is enough year-round need to have GIANT Fireworks Supermarkets at least every 25 miles.  Is this how all those folks have lost their teeth?!

There also seems to be a strong message that tradition means don’t throw anything away and resist that fresh coat of paint.  “Ma and Paw’s Stuff n Things” has learned to capitalize on this by sporting unique yard art of rusting everythings and “Hill Billy Hot Rods” has taken it to the level of cars and trucks that haven’t hummed for years.  But, there’s something almost reassuring in all this.  That much of the US really isn’t changing and exploding with highrises and road rage, that there are still quite a few country-fried corners that change about as quickly as a cow chews.   My time here moved just a hair more rapidly.  At the end of this week I head to search for my lost social life in New Orleans, Florida, and finally New Zealand.  Look forward to seeing some of you along the way!!

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.