Passenger preoccupations

Somewhere in Kansas along I-70

When Jenny is at the wheel, I am at leisure in the passenger seat, a confining space surprisingly full of possibility. My mind is free to wander at will, and each day on the road I have been amazed at the variety of tasks I can accomplish while strapped into a moving vehicle. While I had anticipated snapping photos, surfing radio frequencies, and munching compulsively, I did not anticipate the following preoccupations.

Preoccupation #1: Geography lesson. At the start of every drive, our all-knowing Garmin GPS (fondly referred to as “Suzy”) plots out our course. As the passenger, it is my responsibility to double check the route as we chug along, monitoring its soundness. Not once have I contested Suzy’s directives, but in the process I have learned a great deal about our country’s geometry while consulting our 2010 Michelin Road Atlas. For example, who knew that the intersection of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona formed four ninety-degree angles? Not I ... until today.

Preoccupation #2: Sunblocking measures. One of the very few negative effects of this cross-country drive has been uneven tanning of the face, arms, and upper legs. Hours of intense sun exposure, especially between the hours of 11 am and 4 pm, require constant application of sunblock (Neutrogena SPF 70 is preferred) and repositioning of the overhead visor. The changing trajectory of the car combined with the Earth’s rotation constantly shifts the focus of the sun’s heat, keeping me busy, as if over a stove, trying to make sure that both sides (of me) cook evenly.

Preoccupation #3: Correspondence. Any romantic notions I had about this journey being a break from our world of instant communication quickly disappeared when I realized my national calling and data plan really does work nationally. During stretches of Colorado green on I-70, with not a soul or housing structure in sight, I could depend upon hearing my Blackberry’s signature Facebook “riiiing,” indicating I had a message or a wall post from a friend. And so, friends are answered, e-mails are written, and I feel that in some sense, this ride is just like any other.

I can’t decide if I like this or not. Something else to ponder while in the passenger seat.

To keep or not to keep

To keep or not too keep ... that is the question I've been asking myself constantly these last few days. How many times have I said to myself in the past, "Let me hold on to this. It may come in handy some day"? And yes it may, but it also may not. And given the number of times I choose to hold on to something, probability says that I will not use most of what I save. Except when it comes to letters from friends or other sentimental objects. These items represent memories of bygone times, perhaps of a dear friend, or even a different self. As I was sifting through one of my letter boxes today, I found comics drawn by a friend of mine who passed away a couple of years ago from leukemia. All of a sudden, I was in fourth grade, sitting next to Ann Metz in our social studies class, covertly folding a note to slip in her desk. We had pseudonyms when addressing our missives--she was the "Ark," and I was the "Dove." Would I have had that precious moment of remembrance, had I not saved her letters? Life goes by too fast as it is--one barely has time to process the events of any given day, let alone periods of one's life in retrospect.

A little life pruning has its benefits. Discard the clothes, shoes, bags, and humidifier. (I can get a fondue pot again in California if I really need it.) Hold on to and revisit the memories. They will remind you where you have come from. Without remembering the joys, trials, and tribulations on a journey, how can one learn or take pleasure from the experience?