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".

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.

today is from yesterday

waiting on brunch ©2011 gary garbett.com

Today was spent with my past. After receiving a phone call earlier this week about a hurried attempt for a family reunion, we made the hour and a half drive to be outdoors, sit in lawn chairs under big shade trees, and spend time with people that I haven't seen for decades, some since I was a child. I'm unsure what was more satisfying, the wonderful and genuine conversations or the numerous tables lined with dishes upon dishes of home cooked foods. So many of these people seemed exactly the same as when I'd last seen them. Both the food and the people were comforting, real, and a gathering of numerous yesterdays. 

I listened to stories of hardships and illnesses, each of which all closed with faith, hope, recovery, and a smile. There was talk of joys, proud graduations, new marriages, and others of decades long. I met the children of the children of the children that I use to play with each summer at the river and shared meals and laughter with at all of those winter holiday family gatherings during my youth. 

The pace of our society and our hurried lives make it awfully easy to put off attending an event like today. It was one of those personal moments of reflection and I am so happy to have taken the time and initiative to spend the day with my family from my yesterday. Although I rarely see these kinfolk, they've all contributed to my life, and good or bad, each can take a smidgen of credit for me being me.

Gathering with all of the grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, and children of the children made me feel like I was a kid again…just forty years older. 

a promised reprise

lights on in apt 317 ©2011 gary garbett.com

The next few days promise me a reprise from my regular routine. What I’ll be doing with the freedom of a clockwork schedule isn’t quite sure. There’s been an interest recently to obtain a few things in my life, some of which certainly seem a bit out of the norm. Whether they’re a flashback to days past, curiosities, or another stab at defining the make-up that makes me original is unclear. Nor are these quests a prerequisite to follow my path. Then again, maybe they are. Whatever the case, my potential future may very well involve a mood ring, an acoustic guitar, and a sock monkey.

Looking at the list, it makes me lean much more to the original theory than anything else. Beyond these goals, plenty of coffee, faded blue jeans, a bag of cameras, an occasional pair of shoes, and mess of damn fine music will make up the bulk of a week.

Every day I thank God for a lot of things. I think I’ll add relaxation to the list.

ticking clocks of passion

©2011 gary garbett.com

Juliet's Romeo, Martin Luther King, my brother, Charlie Chaplin's Tramp, a scarecrow, Neil Young, the soldier.

Men of passion leave pages behind in history books, diaries, and liner notes; hold the hand of those in need; think differently but creatively; offer yes ma'am and sir without hesitation; are caregivers; believe in today; make mistakes but understand the importance of an apology. They dance; are quiet; prosper by thinking; understand the drawn out bugle call of Taps; make a difference in someone's life; have written a love note or two, maybe even three… and have hopefully delivered at least one. They welcome opinions; have plenty to share; cry; create an event from the average; and whisper quietly.

My life has been fully engaged by them, though most I've never even met. Those who happen to cross my path however, I hope will know differently.