or,
Life is Who you make of it.
So, Two days have past this far on The Great Adventure, and so far, I am still in Texas. I spent Tuesday with my father, who’s health is still failing. Dad , of course, will never let you know this. He can barely walk, he’s on oxygen 24 hours a day, and I am pretty sure he is in much more pain from the cancer than he is letting on. Still, when you ask him how he’s feeling, he says, “I’m fine. I’m good.” Of which, I believe not a word, but it wouldn’t be Dad if he didn’t say them. I love him very much, I often wish I were closer to him, and I worry about him. It was nice to spend a day catching up with him, and with my Grandmother, who came down from Missouri to see me off. I hadn’t seen her in many years, due largely to the fact that I am a terrible grandson and a generally lazy, selfish, rotten SOB. However, this trip, and this new stage in my life, are the beginnings of my trying to change all that. Thankfully, Grandmothers are forgiving and loving unconditionally, and it was wonderful to see her. Also, they don’t have a holiday like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and I really think that ought to change. Somebody oughtta right a letter or somethin‘.
Wednesday morning I packed up the car and hit the road. There is something about the solitary Texas Road Trip that makes me sublimely happy. I cranked up bad country music I would never listen to otherwise, I drove with the sunroof open, I sang in my awful twangy accent, I hollered at cows as I passed. Really, I yelled at the cows. I t was friendly yelling, to be sure, but guess what. Cows DO NOT care what you are doing out on the highway. Cows have no imagination, no sense of hopefulness that comes from the road. Might be because they are fenced in, might just be because they are steaks waiting to happen.
I arrived in Lubbock, Texas in early afternoon. Lubbock was my place of hiding for the heroes training that must come, as the old stories tell it, and will always hold a warm place in my heart. I spent time with three of the best friends a guy could ever want, and saw many more. We talked about old times and new times, about football and baseball and baby boys, about parenting and life and, as always, good beer. We had a grand old time, though I kept the lid on reasonably well, and I will never forget it. And now I am packing up to hit the longest day on the road of the trip, 641 miles to Flagstaff, Arizona. I’m told there is little to see on the way, but if it;s out there, I’ll find it. My fingers are itching to get behind the wheel and drive, one thing I truly love to do, and I have a good book at the ready as well, so I am looking forward to a long good day (it’s an audiobook people, Don’t Read and Drive.)
And the best thing about all of it is that I am that much closer to thee lovely blond ladies, the coast, and a new beginning. Time to hit the road …