April 13th:
To begin telling the story of how I got here, you may want to know what prompted me to quit a full-time job teaching, a career that I simultaneously loved and hated, but it at least provided me with a stable income and health insurance. To tell you that I would have to go back to the moment I first left home, the summer I decided to take a job near Boston, MA, a far reach from my hometown of Blairsville, GA. There is and always has been a constant itch in my bones to move, to explore, to see whatever is behind the door that is closed. Merle (Haggard that is, do you know another Merle?) calls it “ramblin’ fever”, and it’s something he describes as always having, having it since long, long ago. In my teenage and young adult years I attempted to satiate the tingling with, well, chaos. I’ll leave the specifics to your imagination for now, but I was chasing adrenaline in all the wrong places. But as some of us learn, we were born with feet that wanted to do what feet do, and poisoning my body would not allow for my agile feetsies to move the rest of me in the chasing a wave kind of way.
So I began to chase the wave of whatever it is in a different way. Legs move you, we are mobile beings, so what is the point of staying still, of settling down? When I was younger and someone would ask me what I was afraid of, I would always say that I was afraid of getting stuck in a place. And I continued to say this until a dear friend pointed out that I was wasting my fear emotion because being “stuck” or “settling” is something only I can control.
The Hag says that there “ain’t a cure for ramblin’ disease” except maybe to do just that: Keep on ramblin’. There are more songs about ramblin’ than I care to quote, but it seems everyone is chasing something, we just aren’t sure what. A professor of mine used to ask me what I was running f the first time I took off to teach in Ecuador, and I took great offense to this. “I am running TO something,” I thought, but I didn’t answer him, I just shook my head and let my eyes glaze over.
Three weeks ago I turned 27 years-old and I pondered what a perfectly normal day it had been, and that it was so beautiful, I had friends around me, had a great meal for dinner, and I walked my dog twice. Three days later my best friend and college roommate died, and a sudden urgency to live every moment with intention took hold. I am presently experiencing life, still, I want more. I visualize this dream, this place that seems within grasp, but just beyond my reaches.
But why do I feel it is beyond my reaches?
When I told my father about my idea to take off across the country in a van for the summer & see where the journey takes me, here is how he responded:
Lauren,
I don’t want to argue with you, nor do I want to discourage what you want to do. You are a grown adult, and you should know the consequences of the decisions you make. I have a lot of concerns about what you want to do, and my ability to help you in this adventure...There are a lot of reasons you could need my help, or somebody’s help. You mention a nice, cheap van…is this van really going to get you across the country? What happens if you break-down? If you’re alone, no phone service in the middle of nowhere, you could have a real life-threatening problem...
You say your car is not congruent to this trip. So if you sell your car, possibly make a little extra money on it to buy this cheap van, spend all the money on the trip, and when the trip is over is the van congruent for your life going forward? Will you then have to ditch the van and go into debt for another car that you can depend on to get you to work? We all live in the moment, and none of us are guaranteed tomorrow, but at the same time if you don’t plan for tomorrow then tomorrow comes and you will find yourself unable to get through the day. I by no means am saying I am successful, but I am saying I am where I am at today and have been able to provide for my family due to my planning for the future, years in advance.
I am not going to destroy your dream, but I want you to be fully aware of all the consequences. Just as your trip to Italy a few years that I was against, I can’t totally support this, especially if it means you going alone. No parent would ever promote their daughter to travel alone across the country in a vehicle that you have no idea is safe or not. I will always be here to help you financially if the decision is one that helps you make progress in life...I can’t support you to do something that I see provides no benefit to you being able to sustain a career. How long does this “road trip” last? What do you do when you get back? Where do you live when you get back? What is your source of income while you are on this “road trip” or when you get back? All questions I think you need an answer to before you just walk away from it all.
I will always love you and always love your ability to have a full imagination.”
While he says he does not want to “destroy” my dream, it is clear that he is not for it, that his main goal for me is to have a thriving, successful career with a family that I can provide for. But I quit my job, took a part time job, and the closest thing I have to a family to support is my dog.
So here I sit, posting my bed, banjo, and books to craigslist in the hopes of being wild and free. I will drive to California this summer with my dog and climb mountains, sleep under the stars, and bathe in cold rivers.
And then what? I don’t know. That is scary, and that is freeing. I do not have obligations, a family or a partner, though I love a boy who travels as he wishes, He inspires me. Many years ago we fell apart because I thought that stability and contentment meant sleeping in a house together in a place where I went to work everyday for 12 or more hours. But I do not want to work my young life away in order to go on a vacation once or twice a year. I want my life to be pure adventure and that means struggling, moving, being flexible, grateful, living simply, happily.
I still feel a wee bit lost, but the wild west is calling, the granite stone and snow-fed rivers from my memories during a summer in Northern California beckon me, & I must go.
