The Mother Road 1

I have a strange fascination with the "Mother Road", the old Route 66, both as a monument to our human vitality and as a reminder of our human mortality. 

One of the blessings of moving to rural Oklahoma was the opportunity to travel this great stretch of highway many times, and while I have now made it to one end in Chicago, I fear I will never make it to the other end in Santa Monica. It is of no matter—Arizona will have to do! In any event, I somehow have a sneaking suspicion that California wouldn't really be my cup of tea. 

I make it a point to follow the oldest possible track wherever I can, and this involves much cursing over a map, as well as moments of profound joy when I see my country in its most gritty and noble form. It has been a privilege to have these years of exploration: I learn more about myself as I learn more about the hearts and minds of those who made their way along the path. 

As long as I can still drag myself into the Jeep, I will continue to make my rounds. . . . 

—2/2017