zen of an american road trip

©2011 gary garbett.com

Taking a road trip is one of my favorite things in the world. I'm sure it harkens back to the days of my childhood when my family would pack up the station wagon and journey through America. With my father's career as a Navel Officer, we did our share of long distance road travels every couple of years, in addition to our countless summer vacations of camping. I have vivid memories of viewing the country from the backseat of Dad's authentic Detroit made automobiles, especially his 1968 turquoise Gran Torino. With the windows rolled down and the wind whipping in a little faster than the posted highway speed, it was spectacular.

We made the 4000 mile plus drive across the entire United States from coast to coast at least four times, including a 1300 mile jaunt along the Alaska Highway, back when it was just a two-lane gravel and dirt road and long before there was ever a thought of paving it. We reached our destination late that summer in Anchorage searching for the ferry departure to Kodiak and for a carwash to remove the heavy coating of red clay covering Dad's Ford.

Seeing America from the road has always been a Zen like experience for me. I find a centering peace in the miles of memory, beauty, and the numerous hand painted signs for Mom and Pop type stores that read "just ahead".

a thankful reflection

Full Moon Claytor ©2011 gary garbett.com

There was solemnness and a revival upon departing from my vacation yesterday morning. My time away was beyond healthy and a well needed refueling for my soul. It wasn't something I jotted down on my to-do list while I was away. It just happened. Seemed almost ironic with the decade commemoration of 9/11 being played out around our country and the world.

Perhaps my deciding to take the long way home was an attempt to extend my vacation a bit, but traveling along the Blue Ridge Parkway with the windows down and the roof open was more about reflection rather than delaying my return to the real world. It was a time of emotion and celebration as I thought of the day that changed so many lives ten years earlier and on a day that looked so similar to the one I was experiencing. The air was fresh. The sky blue, and the sun warmed my skin with its touch. I drove through the beautiful panoramas, stopping from time to time just to live in the moment, knowing I have a lot to be thankful for.

The end of my vacation drive found me in the parking lot of our church. I was thirty minutes late for the 5PM dedication memorial service for 9/11. I walked in with my hair a mess, wearing shorts, and my skin still warm from the hours of sunshine. Those things were trivial and just didn't matter. I listened and was touched by the stories I heard of those retelling their personal accounts from a morning ten years earlier.

I'm not sure I could have scripted this past week any better. It renewed me, gave me hope, and opened my eyes. I believe in a lot of things ...some of which even more today than I did seven days ago.

9.11.11 a good morning and a goodbye

©2011 gary garbett.com

On a day that marks the ten year anniversary of such horrific memories of hatred and loss, I found myself waking to this remarkable view. No radio, television, telephones, or headlines were able to interfere with the beauty of another morning. I was surrounded by peace.

After spending the week with my cameras and my thoughts during most of the days, I'll spend this morning packing my suitcase with dirty laundry and the enormous amount of sincere life that surrounded me for seven days. This place is mind healthy and always reconnects me. Im not sure that I could honor this date in any better place, either on earth or in spirit.

Good morning and goodbye mean the same thing today. Hatred does not exist here.

kissing a painted sky and paint bank

©2011 gary garbett.com

Following an early morning lead, yesterday sent me on a road trip to Paint Bank,Virginia located in the southwestern region of Virginia on Potts Mountain, just five miles from the WestVirginia border. The day was beautiful and my roadtrip equaled that along the stunning scenic two lane Virginia route 311. I can't recall ever having driven more S turns than I did through theJefferson National Forest. The vistas were gorgeous and I seemed close enoughat times to reach out and kiss the few clouds that painted the sky.

The day was a path of basics - core places, people, and moments of real lifeof real America. I received a genuine hello with sincere waves as I drove past two young mothers at a rural bus stop, waiting for their children to arrive homefrom school. I passed a field lit up from the sun. Sitting behind the harvestwas a pale yellow barn in the distance with an American flag covering theentire façade. The aromas of freshly cut grass filled the air along severalmiles, and the few General Stores I did pass were tidy, welcoming, andunlittered from excessive commercialism.

Nearly an hour after exiting I-81, I found myself approaching a 35 MPHzone. The square green sign with white letters read PAINT BANK. Less than halfa mile ahead, just past the Volunteer Fire Department, was the crossroads at route 608 were the Paint Bank General Store and the Depot Lodge share theintersection and all of downtown Paint Bank. I was greeted by hospitality in person, listened to authentic local music, snapped more than a few pictures, and made a new friend named Jeremy.

There are days when life is just beyond rich. I'm thankful for those kind of days.

truths of a late night

©2011 gary garbett.com

Being truthful demands persistence. It sits rightthere next to credibility. Honesty. It’s a willingness to act on what you meanby also relaying the information as factual. Truth. My second grade historybook told me of George Washington becoming president because of his truthfulnature. Makes me wonder if he'd lied about that cherry tree gig if we'd have adifferent face on our one-dollar bill.

Confessions are rewarding and like Mr. Washington, I too cannot tell a lie.Late, late last night I spent just a few minutes standing all by myself at thekitchen counter with a spoon in one hand and a pint of Ben and Jerry's in theother. No chair. No television playing in the background, just the florescentlight and myself as the rain made its presence on the kitchen window. The clockread 2:11 while I slowly and carefully guided the spoon along the edge if the containerfor another pass. As a man on a regimented diet and Zocor, I wasn't really being unfaithful. Iwas simply being truthful to Ben and Jerry's Late Night Snack packaging. I also happened to be on vacation. The clock ticked. I held my ground and the container before going in for onefinal pass before heading to a pillow and a nap.

I like telling the truth. It helps to tell my story rather than telling someone else's.

casting days

©2011 gary garbett.com

Fishing holes and calendar days are incredibly similar. Despite having a plan for either, the events of the experience are never really certain. There have been days where I exceeded my daily limit before 9AM. Others weren't as rewarding and I've even lost my bobber on some. The splendor of days is that I can always cast my line again tomorrow.