As the family traveled home from NYC, I was already looking forward trying to figure out what next. One of the things most people know about me is I love photography. All types, but I truly enjoy catching that photo that makes you just awestruck. Sometimes that may be a touchdown catch, a twinkle in a child's eye as they are in their element, (not posing), or just a sunset that shows how awesome God's creation is. Because of this and my just wanting to clear my head I made the comment on the way home that I was going to buy a motorcycle and hit the road when the kids started back to school and retrace some of the roads we had taken on our trip north with my camera. While I expected to hear something like, "you're gonna do what? you don't have a job," or "I don't think so!", nothing was even said.
After returning home I began to actually think I might have been serious. The more I talked about it, the more it became real and to beat it all, my wife was asking when I was going and became interested in what motorcycles I was looking at. Well, all that said, I didn't buy the motorcycle but did leave to take my trip driving my truck.
Crazy as it may sound, my mind was set on getting across the Maryland/Pennsylvania line and photographing a mountainside that had a train track running around it. Waiting for the train of course. That was the only goal in mind when I pulled out of my driveway. Knew where it was at, but hadn't really determined a specific route. Just going to get away with my camera.
T.S. Eliot wrote,
We shall not cease from our exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
As I got into Birmingham, it was time to decide which way I would be traveling and I naturally gravitated to I-59 toward Chattanooga. It wasn't long until my mind was taken back and the reflections began. I wasn't really expecting the replay of my life that was about to take place in my mind. But that wasn't my call.
Along I-59, just outside of Fort Payne, AL sits a gas station off the exit on the side of a mountain. The only one around. The memories of my elderly mother and father-in-law in the back seat of our yellow Olds Cutlass needing to stop to use the restroom and get boiled peanuts. You see, Ellen and I were taking her dad to see his twin brother whom he had not seen in forever. This was in the 80's. We would enjoy our weekend as they reminisced and shared stories of long ago, not knowing that they would not see each other again on this earth.
A little ways up the road, I am taken farther back to my travels across country with my family. At 18, my parents drove me from Phoenix, AZ to Cleveland, TN to attend college. This reflection was sparked by a song on the radio. It also played 24 years ago on that trip and made me think of that girl I was going to TN for. Peabo Bryson's "If ever you're in my arms again" was now blasting on this oldies station I was picking up out of Chattanooga. I pulled off an exit in the Northwest corner of Georgia and got me a Dr. Pepper at the same little station where we had made our last stop all those years ago. Gone was the pool table where Dad and I played a game before we all loaded back up in the car to head to TN but not much else had changed except time.
Now my mind was all about reflecting. As I drove through Chattanooga, I remembered Rock City as a kid. Working in Chattanooga and going to night school after Kayla was born to finish my Bachelor's degree and even shopping for Christmas because at the time Cleveland didn't have anyplace to shop but Wal-Mart and it wasn't a superstore. Once I got to Cleveland, I drove by our first home and remembered that feeling I had the day we brought our first child home from the hospital to the nursery we had worked so hard to prepare. I also traveled by the house where I laid in the back yard on the slide with my kids and looked at the stars as discussed in the previous blog.
As I left Cleveland, I decided not to get back on the Interstate, but to travel the backroads north. Just kinda figured this would give me some photo opportunities and this was true. However, I didn't think about what my next reflection may be. In between Loudon and Farragut, TN, I recognize a field and a curve in the road. This eerie feeling came over me as I realized this was the place where on our first motorcycle ride together back in 1986, my dad was hit by a drunk driver and this was the side of the road where I looked at his legs broken and shattered. I don't want to remember this!
On to Farragut, the High School where Ellen and I attended our first Carmen concert. He was the Toby Mac of our day. Christian music on the edge but not Stryper. Also in Farragut was the Putt-Putt of America where we competed in weekly putt-putt tournaments in our first year of marriage and the little stream where we went fishing and had a tree fall on the car before we could get away from the storm that day. Driving through Knoxville, I passed a car that said "Just Married" following a U-Haul towing a car. The drivers were both on their cell phones talking to each other I'm sure. This was Ellen and I over 20 years ago, but we had to use hand signals to each other since we didn't have cell phones back then.
I had now decided to stay in Gatlinburg for the night, drive through the Smokies and then head up the Blue Ridge Parkway. Gatlinburg has lots of memories dating back to our honeymoon and many anniversaries as well as taking our kids to enjoy the mountains. As a child we visited the Smokies and saw lots of things in this Western side of North Carolina. As I drove through Cherokee, I remembered outdoor dramas, watching the Indians dance as a kid and just driving these curvy roads and seeing all of the quilts and crafts everywhere when you were standing in the back seat riding. Now, there aren't many Indians out in headdress, and most everyone is in town to go to the casino.
I was redirected through Boone, NC because part of the Parkway was closed because of road conditions and wouldn't you know ended up driving right by Tweetsie Railroad. The memories of the train, the gun fights and the red eye drinks in the saloon. (Root Beer) Oh the joys of a little boy in the wild wild west. Somewhere in these mountains, lies the Wizard of Oz where I remember walking the yellow brick road and the crooked house from the tornado. The memories of this area are pretty strong and they are some of the oldest that I have.
From here, I was now back on the Blue Ridge Parkway headed north. No more big cities of hustle and bustle, theme parks of fun and frivolity or bad memories of wrecks and pain. Just a road through the land. Through the mountains. Overlooking valleys. Animals and nature all around. Why did I want this trip? Why has this become my destination? God, why have you brought me here?
To be continued....
