The Slow Road

If I had my druthers, I’d rather walk than ride.

I’d rather rake leaves than chop them up with a riding mower.

I’d rather pull weeds than poison them.

I’d rather catch salamanders in the creek than spend the day at a water park.

When we were children, we used to go to Emory Park and our mom would let us go down to the creek and catch salamanders–all by ourselves.

Water parks weren’t invented yet.

Since then, I’ve been to a water park. I’d rather go to the creek.

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There was something so satisfying about dialing a phone that touching a name on a screen will never match.

Schuck-dadadadadadat. Schuck-dadadadadat. Schuck-dadat. Schuck-dadadadadadadadadadat. Schuck-dadadadat. Schuck-dadadadadadadadat. Schuck-dadadadadadadat.

That was my home phone number.

I purposely take the slow road as often as I can. I enjoy seeing the things that many people miss.

I see wildflowers along the roadsides.

Turtles basking on a log in a pond.

The texture of tree bark from different trees.

The myriad of different colors and textures of spring leaves.

When I was a child, summers used to last forever. The days were long and lazy.

We kids would shuck a couple dozen ears of corn out on the back steps to go with supper.

This was after a long day of riding bikes, going to the community pool, going to Chet’s for a hot dog, and playing kickball in the back yard with the neighborhood kids.

We ate outside on the picnic table in the back yard.

We often had watermelon after supper and a seed-spitting contest to go along with it.

After supper there was still enough light left to play some more.

Sometimes we stayed out past dark and chased fireflies.

By the time September rolled around, I was more than ready to go back to school.

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I think it’s something about enjoying the journey instead of just trying to get to the destination.

I’ve never been one to forfeit the journey just to meet my objective.

You wouldn’t want to go to college only to have them hand you a diploma when you got there, would you?

Without the journey, what would you miss out on?

The knowledge, the conversations, the people you meet–classmates and teachers alike.

You’d miss out on sharing a room with a total stranger and the possibility of becoming best friends.

You’d miss out on getting to know people from different backgrounds and learning to appreciate your own beginnings.

You’d also miss out on learning about yourself and your place in the world.

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My grandkids have reminisced about the time we made spaghetti sauce with things from the garden and then used it in a lasagna. I’ve yet to hear them reminisce about the time we bought a frozen lasagna and cooked it for supper.

The journey is what creates the memories, holds the meaning, inspires awe.

It’s what brings us together, helps us to appreciate what we have, teaches us patience, and brings us joy.

We all have the same final destination in this life. How sad it would be to arrive there never having enjoyed the journey.

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Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy

Simon and Garfunkel

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