Well, not really, there was something oddly familiar about this drive. Up, down, around, 55mph, 30 mph, small town cop on the side of the road.... yes. I know all about this. About ten years ago this city girl from Chicago was dropped into southern West Virginia for five years. Chicago is one thing. It's a logical grid. The streets steadily increase in number from the center of the city in three directions, north, south and west. East simply lands you in Lake Michigan. You can't really get lost in Chicago, you simply go to the nearest corner and look up and read the street sign 1400 North is 14 blocks north of the loop. Easy.
West Virginia brought with it a learning curve of sorts though. First, I had to augment my practice of medicine with adding a good understanding of the role topical vegetables and black salve played in the treatment of infection. I would later become proficient at administering antivenom on the occasional Sunday when the snake handling church goer was bitten by the copperhead also present at said service. Mostly though, I had to learn to understand local sayings, my drive through central New York this week reminded me of one such saying,"as the crow flies." When you live in hill country this is indicative of how far away a place is from an aerial perspective, rather than a road perspective.
Living on the top of a hill there, just about everything was located on some other hill. To get anywhere it took trekking down the mile long hill from my subdivision that looped around once to get down. It was steep and slick in the winter and, if I was really lucky, I would have to wait for the gaggle of wild turkeys to clear to even hit the bottom to begin to take off to someplace else. The bottom may hold some piece of farm equipment like I encountered this week on my New York drive slowing me to 15 miles an hour in a 55 mph zone, and then at some point I would have to cross the river that ran through the town at the bottom of my hill, and begin to ascend someplace else depending on where I was going. Some of those hills had gravel and mud, others difficult to pass with two vehicles, causing me to have to pull off on a narrow shoulder to allow someone to pass, where I only hoped the guard rail, inches from the passenger door, would hold if disaster struck. Yes, my New York drive was exactly like West Virginia driving. Through my frustration of the drive, the Bo Deans attempted to distract me from the annoyance of it all.
Everbody wants to live, like they want to live
And everybody wants to love, like they want to love
And everybody wants to be closer to free
Yeah, I wanted to be free. Free of the freaking tractor in front of me. It's 55, he's going 10 without a care in the world. I needed to get to work. Why am I winding around seemingly in circles through an endless sea of country roads that seem to lead to noplace?
And everybody needs a chance once in a while
Everybody wants to be, closer to free
Yeah, I would have loved to have had the chance to be free on that drive. You know, like the crow. I would simply take off flying, avoid the spaghetti bowl of country roads and be earlier to work. I was becoming extremely impatient until I suddenly found myself emerging in Cooperstown. The Baseball Hall of Fame on my right. Being a catcher for 12 years of my childhood coupled by my love of the Cubs, suddenly the bright green of the fields and the building itself began to lift the frustration I was feeling at the time.
And everybody wants a good, good friend
Everybody wants to be, closer to free
I found myself excitedly using voice text to share where I was in a group chat with my business partner and finance guy, both huge baseball fans, albeit for the wrong teams....(go Cubs). I may have enjoyed their jealousy a little too much in that moment. Nonetheless, in those moments I began to wonder how often we look at what exists on the next mountain and dream about the day we can just be the crow and fly over with ease. I maintain this is what keeps us wanting to be free but never quite getting there. Perhaps the better thing to do is to start the trek down the slippery hill finding new ways to gain traction. Try to learn the lesson from the ballsy gaggle of turkeys that proudly occupies the road and stands between us and forward progress. Even the beloved farmer in his excruciatingly slow farm equipment at the bottom of the hill, can help us to learn that moving slow is still forward, and there is something to be said for patience. As we cross the river, leave the hill behind and begin to ascend to what exists on the next hill, we should take the time on the single lane road to pull aside for someone else and trust our supporters to fully embrace our location in the climb and to serve as our proverbial firmly grounded guardrail, not allowing us to fall off the mountain.
Everybody one, everybody two, everybody free
So, maybe in thinking about it, it really isn't the crow who is free. He will never learn the lessons along the way that go with the fight in getting from hill to hill. He will never know the satisfaction of getting what he always dreamed of and knowing it was because he dared to brave a difficult journey. Maybe the trick to being truly free is to select the hill, take off down the mountain, and not be afraid to press on no matter what may stand in our way. As for me? I seem to be settling into travel life and learning to see not so subtle reminders on my journeys, like this rainbow from my commute Sunday morning, that the best is yet to come.
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