THE TRAVELIN' KIND
I wish that I was the Travelin' Kind..
the thing with Roy is that he'll travel and travel and travel away from his house, which he rents-out, in his ample-sized RV, to anywhere the action is: the karaoke, the fishing, the boating, the conversations...the other nomads...with their social security, their pensions, their RVs, their weather-tanned faces, the rough, clean clothes...the winds, the rains, the snows, sleets...hookups to keep you warm...waters to cool you...desert. mountains. oceans. cards. books. laptops. TVs. sharing foods. dogs. cats. some horses. bikes - motor and otherwise - jeeps. quiet. loud parties. friendly sex. no sex at all. some violence. but the travelers are all vigilantes deep in their unconscious, so what the police don't meddle with, the old men in the RVs look all innocent about the next morning. and the violent ones are gone. they don't come back... the old gypsies and their young friends move with the cold - away from it mainly. except at times to get a dose of the powder across their faces above the slush line. mainly it's all about the sun...following the sun...twirling on the seasons... not getting close enough to any one. so you can leave. getting close to some, so that you can meet again. still, no expectations. except that one expectation...that there will be no...or at least few...expectations... for many of these gypsies of our new and newly destitute America, the animals are more important than any before...for Ray, it's Suz...the dog he loves. who loves him back. who makes him friends all on her own. who keeps her own counsel. who doesn't disappoint. the best of traveling companions ever...then there's the singing. tie instruments - some amped, some not - all happy with each other's voices and sounds...working on them together...or just doing the karaoke...entertaining each other...like pioneers from some bygone days...wagons all circled for warmth. for defense. for comfort. for being human. they all have the American Flag somewhere aboard. all speak to how The US of A has let them down. a lot. or a little. doesn't matter much which...
these folk converse. they talk and talk together. they keep each other's council. they take each other's advice. they speak a kind of poetry. they love a bit of fantasy. some of the video games. some of the people 'games'. they have the ones they respect. mainly older guys. who are cool. who have a great deal to say. who are 'wise' in certain ways...they share about health and illness. bitrths and deaths. travels. the best places to hook-up. the places to avoid for the season. the places that are new and hot. the places that are old and welcoming. where they are. where they might meet again. where they will hold a spot for you. and for how long...some of them stay a long, long time at any one place. some of them move around all restless. some hit states helter skelter. others have a fixed route year and year. some just drop out of the scene. and know one hears where they have gone...or why...
they keep in touch through the Net. agree with each other most often. about how Nature and the Real Americans have all been screwed up badly...by 'them' - the elites. the Democrats. some Republicans too. the Liberals. the Do-Gooders. the Bleeding Hearts. the Others. the Americans who are not them. who went to Universities in the East. New Yorkers. Foreigners. Europeans. Communists. Dictators. Socialists. Blacks who get into power anywhere. Bosses. Corporations. Supervisors. the Shirts. the White Collars. the Police. except for some. never the Firemen. they're OK... the CEOs. Administration. Congressmen. Lawyers. Judges... the Nazis. the Fascists. the Japs. the Germans who are Huns. the Hispanics. the Latins. the Chicanos. The Cubans. the Porto Ricans. the migrants. the wet-backs. the Illegals. the kids born in the US to the Illegals. who are legal, but shouldn't be. the Welfare moms. their kids. especially when they aren't cute anymore. Dead Beat Dads. The Gays. The Lesbians. their so-called Families... all teachers. even the good ones. some religions. especially Catholics. Jews, of course. Muslims: especially. all Muslims being terrorists. with a capital T. Terrorists. all Terrorists. they are everywhere. and are all from any Muslim country. and all over America too...
But, I digress. tho, maybe not: They have to feel 'other' to join in their RV camps from coast to coast...especially in the West...which still has some 'Wild' to it...to be 'other'...you have to see that there are 'others' - the people who still wake up thinking there's a life in the American Way...the 'others'...all around the camps...not in the 'in' group...not with the ones who understand. who know...not being ironic or satiric or cynical here. just really stating the facts as I see them... they would mostly be 'Tea Party' people of these times...except they're generally not 'joiners' either. a lot of them don't vote, besides....
I mean. I've thought about it. about just selling it all...what little bit I have left...buying an RV...getting a capable german shepherd. learning how to use a pistol. for protection, of course. hitting the road. making friends. probably Roy would help me to do all that. he's show me the ropes. we'd have some sex. maybe we'd even 'go with' each other for awhile. until one of us wanted more. or wanted less. until the expectations of every culture that ever was would intrude somehow...then one of us would have to split. the other would move...where?....where do the gypsies everywhere go, when they have to be 'relocated', like some person lost off an Indian Reservation...when some one doesn't want to be part of that scene any more...where do they go? do they ever fit in any where else again? what happens to them?...and, I do wonder...what if all the electricity in the country were suddenly gone? these folk aren't really like the pioneers of old. not many older people live well without electrical stuff now-a-days. there weren't that many old people who made it back in the olden days, anyway...the desert and the hard life got them. older folks are like babies that way. they need more to make it. doctors, for one. they need doctors at times. times to be in the hospital. times to get their teeth and eyes and ears fixed, for examples....need to get their meds refilled - that's another...where do people like Roy go, when they get too old to travel about...do they settle down - settle 'for' - something...anything? because they can't do the road any more? because the road left them behind? because all roads led to 'stop', and so they stopped? what happens at the end of the Wonderful Magic Road Trip?...the Mobile Park? the little trailer. the tiny artificial fire place? the cabin in the foothills? alone? with an old friend? with a woman? a man? in the mother-in-law apartment in your kid's house? where do they all go? I really want to know...every story must not end the same...right?...
no, I don't think I could be that sort of Travelin' Kind....
how about like Adam?...
now, Adam is another guy I've not actually met - just like I actually never met Roy - but still, he's sort-of - in his own unique way, naturally - like my friend Lucy, who died of cancer two summers ago...she was a traveler. She had traveled, and very wonderfully, her entire adult life. had been in eighty countries...or was it fifty? anyway, she was wonderful. her stories and her pictures were wonderful. she was capable of managing heat and sweat and cold and snows and snakes and foods that I can never eat now, and never did! every one loved her ways with other people. people in all these nations loved her. she was always just the right kind of American. not intrusive or judgemental. leaving no footprints. turning over no stones. buying the right things. saying the right things. keeping the right itinerary. flexible and even serendipitous. she learned from the people with the right curiosity. with the right questions. the right understanding of who they were. she studied the world. even when she wasn't on the road. and so we all loved her. for her courage to travel so intrepidly! so often. and so well...
well, Adam is her sort of Travelin' Kind..
he's been everywhere too. from what I can tell about, from his writing on south-east Asia that he's sent me: he travels the same way Lucy did. he's amazing in the same ways. capable in the same ways. knowledgeable in the same ways. gets-along with the people in other countries in the same ways - an enviable history of travel...enviable style and class...and. just like Lucy. he's actually doing these travels. he's not just thinking about them. that takes some stuff I just don't seem to have:
first off, money. he has money from his work. Lucy had money from living very, very simply when she wasn't traveling. they both seem to put all their money energy into the travel...for me, money has no stick-um...I could have traveled a hundred places with the money I've had. but that's not where my money went. it went into dinners with people a coupl of nights a week...my kids and their families...too many moves from too many leaving-people-situations, sometimes divorces...my life has not been conducive to saving funds for travel...even if travel had been the big a priority to me.
secondly...it wasn't...there were places I vaguely wanted 'to go'...but, there were the kids, my jobs, just life...I studied the world's geography. I understand it. I delight in it. all through my imagination, tho. it's odd. Lucy used to get mad at me: she said there was no way I was understanding the world through my imagination. that one learned completely differently about the world when one traveled...but when I traveled to Europe for eight weeks...even when I went to Hawaii and to Canada, and to Mexico...even to other states: the world was very much like I imagined it would be. as were the people. even the directions. through all nine countries I've been through - tho, I admit, not actually "in" for long - every bit has been exactly ways I imagined...entirely. I know that doesn't seem possible...but that is my experience of my travels so far.
thirdly, I wasn't into traveling alone. I'm a good traveler. but I'm not good alone, even when I'm home. my overactive - some might say, neurotic - imagination goes way, way too far when I'm alone. I get manic. or blue. unhappy. or tragic. or artificial. or dramatic. I simply am not meant to be alone. not a bone in my body. not a neuron in my head. goes for being alone. i have to have touch. feedback. the noises of life. the signs of love. this is my weakness. it is also the source of any strengths I have... I'm older now. this is probably as I'll always be. so I have to travel with a good companion. some one I can travel with. some one who, besides, has more of a sense where they want to go. what they want to do. because
fourth: I have no idea. I have no wants. no needs. no ideas of how. where. why. what I want to do. to see. to hear. to experience...when I travel. not a one. I'm somewhat sure that's not even natural. the other person has to come up with all the ideas. naturally. it has to be part of who he or she is. that they want this control of the agenda. the itinerary. the situation. because I don't. if really don't. I wish I could say that I did. but. I don't. if a plane dropped me off in the middle of some where. I would just sit there and wait. until some one came and told me where to go. what to do. asked me questions...once I get going, then I can manage. in fact. I am a great manager. but I can't be the initiator. the idea-person. the leader. I simple can not. it's not even a matter of will. I have plentry of will. what I don't have is the first step of that fabled thousand miles. I cannot take that first step. I have no idea where the stepping stone called Number One even is. if I step out, I assume it will be into chaos. into nothing. I think I am right here. I can't explain this. it simply is...
fortunately, those times I've traveled, I have been called The Perfect Traveling Companion. I don't complain ever. I plan everything, once I know where the other/others want to be headed. keep everyone clean. well fed. arrange the weather apparantly (have always had the best of travel weathers). deal with the so-called problems. which always seem pretty easy to me. handled the money well. enjoy and am entertained easily. am not fussy. travel light. carry little in. little out. write everybody religiously. make friends easily. without an understanding of languages...which leads rapidly into
fifthly: I only speak English. I've tried Spanish, and can get a bit done that way. French, no. nothing else, either. I have not one shred of velcro in my brain to attach to any other lanquage. I try. for some reason, I pronounce well, often. but I don't know what I'm saying. or hearing. yet, for some other reason, completely unknown to me, ever: people always talk with me. not just at me. with me. as if I understood. they sit by me and discuss things. tell me things. god knows what. they show me pictures. we body-language back and forth. they take my address and phone numbers and email. they take me and whoever I am with into their homes. feed us. give us shelter and beds. I nod and smile and comb their kid's hair. change the diapers. wash the dishes. make the beds. I never learn to speak the language. they hug me and tell me they love me. I love them right back. I don't know how this happens. one of them, in Madrid, Spain, has become as close to me as a sister would be. we spent only two days of our lives together. one in Sarlot, France. the other in Madrid, on the Prado... where did this love come from? I cannot make up an answer. but communication is fully there. I suspect I will never know why....
sixthly...I cannot live with moist heat. it's not possible for me. I become a different animal: a slug. I fill with fluid. cannot move. cannot breathe. cannot live. get close to dying. this is completely true. so, of course, there is no chance of me going to about half of the world. I would die in these countries. in these places. not quite the intent of travel, as far as I know. I love to look at the pictures. see the people who have been there. who have lived in these parts of the world. but they are closed to me. I'm not, at best, and entirely well person all of the time. so then. half the world is 'out' - all because of moist heat...
then there are elevations: over six thousand feet, I'm really drawing breath with difficulty. at nine thousand feet, I develop pulmonary edema. slowly. at ten thousand feet, I develop pulmonary elema. fast. it takes me forever to get down a mountain, until all that fluid is readsorbed. don't even ask me how I know that...well, OK, it happened on Mount Lassen in California. that's all I'm sayin'!
so, damn. there must be a lot more reasons why I'm such a good traveler who never travels...well, who doesn't travel much....just can't think of them right now...what I do know, is that the ways I don't travel make it hard for me to convince any one, like Adam, that I'd be a great travel companion. I think I am. but there's no way I can say it would be really Easy to have me be a travel compainion. no way at all....
So then, I guess I'm not their Travelin' Kind either...
I think I'm Denny's Travelin' Kind...
Den is my Man. he's mine. no one else has held him the way I do in life. no one else has held me the way he has in life. that's all there is to that.
We will be traveling. We will travel often and we will travel Well...
for one: we'll be going down the Mississippi. all the way from the lake headwaters the thousands of miles to the Gulf of Mexico. we're going to take our time. months. just being with the river. we will be in a canoe. maybe it will be one with a sail and an outrigger. we will be strong enough to do this. we are very sure of this. we will have a lot to do. we'll prepare for this. then we will go. there is no stopping us...
we will be putting up with her good days and with her bad days. her weathers and her calms. her beauty and her pollutions. her people and her outlaws. her wild animals and her birds and her snakes, too. her campgrounds and her marsh grounds. her swift flows and her doldrums. her winds and her bugs. her heat and her cold. her floods and her low places. her towns and her country side and her cities. her fellow-travelers and her fishermen and her firemen and bargemen. her power lines and her wildernesses. and, we are going simply because we want to . we want to do her. to see America her way. to be of the River. to canoe this River. To fish this river. to be children of the Big Muddy. Den is going to be the Captain. I'm going to do what ever he says to do. I'll read the water for us. I'll write of the adventure. I'll paddle when he says to paddle. I am his Mate. his First Mate. we will be of this River. we are on our way, in our hearts, already....
I think every way we travel will be like this. this is natural to us. maybe we will go to Spain to see my Maria. maybe we will see his Ireland again. maybe we will canoe rivers for the rest of our days. maybe we will fish the ocean. maybe we'll scuba dive again. this time in the kelp forests. which I love. maybe we'll fish every little lake and stream we can find. we will travel. it will be our way. no one else's way. we were made for these things: to do things our way. no one else's ways...
and we will sing of these things. we will sing together. about being the Travelin' Kind. Children of the same lost tribe. just we two. the whole wide world to see together. we will pick our places of our hearts. we will go to those places. as we can. because we can...
maybe it's more important that the journey be right. that it be true. there may be only one or two ways for any person to be true to the adventures of their own hearts. to find a companion for those journies is a blessing. not a right...
It is our blessing:
that we are each other's Travelin' Kind...
through and through
til river's end....
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