Richmond Folk Festival

Lost the link to this one...but we still think the Richmond Folk Festival rocks--or folks. Whatever it does, we go every year!

The World of Art

When it comes to artistic ability, I’m no Michelangelo…or even Mr. Ed. Drawing, painting, even sculpting with Play-Doh have never been among my gifts. I remember working with clay in elementary school, crafting what may have been the highlight of the artistic efforts of my early years. It was a duck. It wasn’t obviously a duck or even a painstakingly crafted duck—instead it was a glob of clay that sloped at a reasonably steep angle from a vaguely shaped head to a flat tail. On the front was a face that, regardless of my initial intentions, turned out to look something like that of a duck. So I made some curved lines on the sides for wings and some lines on the tail to simulate feathers and voila...I called it a duck and home it went. I remember seeing that duck around the house for years afterwards on one shelf or another. It was really the only art project of mine I remember seeing around the house. No wait—there were some simple Sunday School Christmas ornaments I made that for pity’s sake hung around for a while. Just the same, it’s clear my art career peaked early.

I mention this for two reasons: First, Nan and I went out to eat last night and stopped at a bookstore on the way home to look at maps and travel books; and second, a half hour ago Joelle used the "Dad—do you want to draw with me?" ploy to stay up a little later. Being a sucker for such tactics, I said, "Sure, I’d love to." So we sat down in the kids’ school room and I looked around for something to try and draw. There on the wall facing me was a large map of the world, so I took a shot at sketching it. Keeping things in proportion was the toughest challenge as I clutched one of Joelle’s spiral notebooks and tried to capture the world. How big is South America compared to Africa? What’s in line with Australia and how do I squeeze in all those islands? Do I have the slope right on eastern Canada? How many countries am I leaving out, and would their many peoples be offended by my carelessly erasing them from existence, even on my own flattened little version of the planet?

Maps, of course, "aren’t the territory" (a point I studied in school that was made, if I remember correctly, by Alfred “Bat Cave” Korzybski, and that always reminds me of comedian Steven Wright's joke, "I bought a map of the United States. It's actual size. I spent all summer folding it"), but they’re (maps, if you've forgotten) amazing just the same. I have no idea how they used to create maps before people could go up in space and, looking down while clutching one of Joelle’s spiral notebooks, draw what they saw. Speaking of wonders, I remember one year an international student was going to do a presentation in one of my classes. Before she started, she got up and quickly sketched the world on the chalkboard to serve as her backdrop. She didn’t get the proportions exactly right either, but it was freehand with chalk and from memory so who can blame her? As she worked the class got quieter and quieter until, when she finished and turned around, there was an audible "Wow!" of awe followed by spontaneous applause. We Americans aren’t so hot at world geography, so I think it surprises us when we see such clear evidence that others actually know in their heads what we just let maps remember.

Anyway, while I was doing my own drawing I found the world feeling like a big place, and as I considered the scale of things I wondered how small a dot I’d be if I was going to be included in my drawing. Microscopic? At least... And honestly, that gets to me sometimes. As we plan for the Big Trip, I’m fine with everything until I do something like sit with Nan in a bookstore looking at highway maps of this surprisingly big country. I’m a guy, so asking for directions goes deeply against my nature, and that means lots of reliance on maps as we move from place to place. Even with "Condescending Connie," our GPS guide, I wonder how many places we’ll get lost as we try and follow the maps and the many roads they sometimes vaguely represent. How many times will I have to fight the urge to keep driving and actually stop to ask someone for directions? Maybe I’ll work out a deal with Nan and agree to stop if she’ll agree to ask. That way I can roll my eyes and act like a bozo in the background while we still get directions. Or maybe I’ll grow up enough between now and then to quit worrying about the whole guy thing and do the asking myself. (No need to post a comment on the likelihood of the latter.)

Either way, over the years I’ve lived in four states and holed up in a wide range of houses, apartments, dorms, and neighborhoods, and after awhile every one of them started to feel, if not like "home," at least homey. The roads became familiar, I knew where the cereal was at the grocery store, I figured out which Pizza Hut would deliver to my place... And it’s comforting to know that everywhere we’ll be going we’ll find people for whom that place is home (or at least homey). In towns big and small we’ll find people who know where the roads go and the cereal is and the Pizza Huts deliver. The map isn’t the territory, and that’s a good thing. "The territory" is full of people, most of whom are kind enough and willing enough to help point some lost tourists on their way to wherever it is they’re going. Or at least we hope so. Otherwise Condescending Connie's going to wind up horse from all the "rerouting" she'll be doing...


Ok—if you want to make fun of my art skills, here’s the world according to Scott’s impulsively uncoordinated pencil...

Alien Landings

I'll admit it--I figured this whole thing was in the same category with alien landings and pipe dreams. Preposterous things you argue with at first, then you give up arguing because it's just not worth it. People will eventually see that aliens aren't coming and pipe dreams don't, by definition, come true, so why argue? Here's the thing:

I have a sabbatical coming up. (Sabbatical is a Latin word meaning "Long time away from work professors get that their friends both resent and envy.") When I brought this up at home my wife, Nan, immediately said, "Let's take a cross-country trip, camping our way from here to California and back over a few months." I chuckled at the thought--aliens, pipe dreams--and came up with a dozen reasons such a plan would never work. Truth be told, the primary reason it wouldn't work is that I'm a home-body. I enjoy being home, and the idea of months on the road sounded...uncomfortable. Plus, my lovely wife is a one woman economic recovery program. Adding the costs of a multi-month trip to our usual barely-managed expenses was hard to imagine.

We battled back and forth on the trip idea for a month, then two months, then more. She kept pressing, and I thwarted her best efforts with that old classic, "We can't afford it." But but but... "We can't afford it." But but... "We can't afford it." But...it was during one of these exchanges I surrendered without knowing it. Secure in the knowledge that it would never happen, I said, "If you can make it financially feasible, then fine--we'll go." (Cue the alien spacecraft...) Suddenly my wife shifted into a financial gear I didn't know she had. For months she carried around little envelopes full of cash designated for specific expenses, and she stuck to an actual budget. She scrimped and saved and pinched pennies like never before. One Thursday she said, "I put the minivan on craigslist this morning"--and it sold by Sunday afternoon. A few weeks later we found an SUV strong enough to pull a camper. Then she said, "Look! I've saved enough for us to buy a camper." And we found one that has a few stories to tell, but it's still in great shape, has a biffy, and is ready to roll. And we started looking at all the expenses we won't have while we travel, how if we camp most nights, avoid eating out, mooch off scattered friends and family where possible, and keep things under control, we could actually make this work without my having to sell a kidney to pay for it.

So the impossible became possible, the aliens have landed, the pipe dream has touched reality, and I'm well on board. Her best argument was always that the kids are the perfect age for this kind of thing. They're old enough to be useful but still young enough to be seen in public with their parents. And there's so much of this country I haven't seen, so much for the kids to see and learn, so many things for our family to experience. Endless memories to be made a mile at a time. So in a few months, if all goes as planned, we're going...

And that's how this blog was born. Nan is keeping a blog of her own that I suspect will be a bit more normal than mine (http://www.trippndowntheroad.blogspot.com). She wondered at the start why I thought I'd need one as well, but now that she's gotten hers going I think she understands that these are personal things...plus I don't think she wants me messing around with hers. So we'll each reflect as we get the chance over the months ahead, using the time now to prepare for our big trip and warm up our blogs. I'll try a few posts to see how this all works, post some pictures on occasion, and hopefully share a few of the moments that are shaping our lives and carrying us forward to and beyond our big trip. Welcome--I'm glad to have you, and I hope you enjoy being had. (Oh--and for the benefit of readers who happen to be my boss, I'm definitely bringing my writing projects with us on the road.)