I am a Road Trip Junkie. My family and friends think that’s crazy since I did not obtain my drivers license until I was 33 years old. A little less than 20 years later I have logged more miles driving than some of them who started driving 10 -15 years before me. Something about traveling to places unknown excites, inspires and rejuvenates me. Learning about others, seeing life with a different lens, being in a place that others traveled are all appealing. So is being on the road and seeing different terrain. Maybe I am addicted to culture shock. Maybe it is my love of history. It could be the Sociologist in me trying to connect with time and space on a personal level. Whatever it is I always look towards my next trip with vigor even if I have to take off by myself.
At the beginning, I would travel to visit family and friends and once I arrived, they would become chauffeurs. As I became familiar with various cities, I took on the role of chauffer to the point where I did all the driving. Now I find myself taking road trips while I am on the road trip. For example when my family road tripped to Hershey, PA, we took a day trip to the National Mall. When we went to Orlando, we spent a day at Cocoa Beach on the Atlantic Coast. When a friend and I drove down to New Orleans last year to celebrate my Fat Tuesday birthday I insisted we day trip to the Gulf Coast. When my family flew to Arizona over the past winter holiday I made the Grand Canyon (by way of Sedona) part of the itinerary. I have other examples but I think you get the drift – there is in me a wanderlust to explore, learn and experience. Sometime for no other reason than to say, “I was there”.
Two weeks ago, my partner surprised me with an impromptu long weekend trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota. He knew that seeing Mount Rushmore has always been a bucket list item of mine and he made it happen. My desire to go was so strong that I was able to forgo the MLK Day of Service events I hoped to participate in with no regret. I am glad I did. Why? While standing on the plaza in front of Mount Rushmore I had an “aha” moment. I have had other experiences prior to this one where I knew something profound was happening but I could not put a name to it. The last time I had this feeling was at the Grand Canyon. I realized that the foreign languages I was hearing were not the usual Hmong, Spanish or Somali that are common in Minnesota. Instead, I heard French, Dutch and German and the Asians were speaking Japanese or Mandarin Chinese. I even overheard a father with a British accent chastising his daughter the same way I would mine with the admonishment that ”If you don’t behave, next time we go on holiday you can stay at home”. I smiled at that one but understood that he used the word holiday in the same way Americans would use the word vacation.
One group of people on the Mount Rushmore plaza were young men from Minnesota. Being the loquacious person I am, I struck up a conversation and in that moment, any differences between us faded away. My being a black middle-aged mum and they being young white farm boys did not matter. We were tourists awestruck in the presence of a national monument and memorial. Having a common purpose was what united us. Now I know that sounds elementary but theory is not the same as practice. More than once, I have been part of work groups, in meetings and on conference calls where I realized that the participants were not operating from the same agenda. Our objective was purported to be identical but the outcome was not the result of a consensus. An example would include the type of meeting that ends early because no one seems to have anything to say but there is a “meeting after the meeting” among a handful of the participants.
The “aha” moment I had occurred when I realized as tourists we were living in the moment. We had no agenda or ulterior motive to further our own cause or ideals. Being in the same place at the same time created a bond. Where we came from, how we got there, where we were going when we left was insignificant. A lot of us have had moments like that, where the past, present and future crash together. Because of this, there was an aurora of harmony among us, total strangers. The harmony was almost palatable in a way that you never forget. Like that spinach enchilada I had years ago in Arizona that was so good the taste is still lingering in my mouth.
While there, up in the Black Hills of South Dakota, I had an epiphany. Moving forward I would try to recreate that feeling everyday where just being in the moment was enough. I would accept people not how I wanted them or expected to be, but as they are. I would enjoy life, as it is, not how I wanted it to be. I would solicit feedback and be sincere. Not catalogue it for use later. This sounds simple but is a lot harder to do. Remember that theory and practice are not the same and in essence it came down to bias – my own. Wanting to set aside my bias was easy actually doing it was not.
Returning home amidst the Inaugural preparations did not spoil the moment. Where cohorts of mine planned on boycotting the festivities by tuning out I chose to turn up the volume. While others were lamenting the results of our democratic process, I was elated that I lived in a democracy. Month end is the most hectic period for me at my workplace but instead of wanting to plug my nose and close my eyes before I jumped in I was ready to do a belly flop. I also pledged to do my best to help others find peace and serenity in the little things. How? Smile at a stranger. Thank those who provide any type of service on my behalf no matter how trivial. Leave a bigger tip. Allow others to voice their opinion – even if it is contentious. Call people and give a personal thank you – not send an instant message. I think that if more people adopted this type of attitude we would find more harmony among ourselves in both our personal and professional lives.
