"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball."
So says Ishmael in Moby-Dick. In the Greene family we believe in a similar mode of deliverance from our "hypos" (whatever those are)--the road. After this past week I accounted it high time to get to the road. Convenient, since Carter had a mountain-bike race in St. George this morning. We drove down last night, throwing away responsibility, transferring all the gravity and friction of our lives to the humming tires-on-highway under us, revelling in the dying art-form that is the family road-trip.
We talked, laughed, quizzed each other with random trivia, ate too much, lost our troubles in strange places uncluttered by the usual details of our lives. And today we all basked in Carter's glory. He won for his division! Granted he was the only racer in his division--nonetheless, he worked hard doing something he loves and being there to watch him was like watching someone open a present you know they'll love.
We took our time coming home, and, although four hours (one way) is a short road-trip by our usual standards, I now feel quite cured.
So says Ishmael in Moby-Dick. In the Greene family we believe in a similar mode of deliverance from our "hypos" (whatever those are)--the road. After this past week I accounted it high time to get to the road. Convenient, since Carter had a mountain-bike race in St. George this morning. We drove down last night, throwing away responsibility, transferring all the gravity and friction of our lives to the humming tires-on-highway under us, revelling in the dying art-form that is the family road-trip.
We talked, laughed, quizzed each other with random trivia, ate too much, lost our troubles in strange places uncluttered by the usual details of our lives. And today we all basked in Carter's glory. He won for his division! Granted he was the only racer in his division--nonetheless, he worked hard doing something he loves and being there to watch him was like watching someone open a present you know they'll love.
We took our time coming home, and, although four hours (one way) is a short road-trip by our usual standards, I now feel quite cured.
Yes – watching someone you care for experience success is “like watching someone open a present you know they’ll love.” That’s a keeper of an image!
ReplyDeleteglad to hear it!! Wish 'i could've come, but I'll just enjoy the summer road trip doubly
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