Road Trip

Most of us spend a lot of time traveling from one place to another. Most of us do so in our own car. From day to day and week to week, we often travel from the same places to the same places. It becomes routine to dodge the same potholes and rough patches on the road. It seems as if the scenery along the way seldom changes. Maybe this same-old, same-old is enough reason now and then for a road trip.

That said I am not a world traveler. I most likely won't ever wear that title. I prefer being closer to a base I can call home. I have gone up and down many of the same roads through the years. That level of familiarity is a nice place to visit occasionally. It has also given me enough memories to recall and share.

The road trips I recall started long before I ever sat behind the wheel of a vehicle, adjusted my mirrors and put the pedal to the metal. They begin in my childhood fast forward through my teen and early adult years and slow down enough for this place where I now find myself.

Recently, we took a short trip away. We left early on a Saturday morning on a surprise trip to the mountains. Two-and-a-half hours later and we are just beginning a memorable weekend. Hannah got to spend some time with cousins while Jennifer and I spent some time with other family members all within the confines of a gigantic theme park. By mid-day the next day we were on our way home.

I drove us home that afternoon. It was rainy and overcast. The traffic through Knoxville was steady but never came to a complete stop. Soon enough, we were halfway home. I often travel the back roads. We passed through a few small towns replete with a handful of red lights. I found us on a four-lane road sticking to the speed limit. I looked over at Jennifer only to find her as curled up as the passenger seat would allow. The movie "Zootopia" played over the audio system. I looked in the rear view mirror and noticed Hannah had also gone to sleep.

I thought a bit how many road trips I had been on in my life. Trips with my parents and other family. Trips with friends. And now, trips with my wife and daughter. A slow and steady pace would find us pulling into our driveway soon enough. Until then, the steady hum of the tires on asphalt mixed with the memories of trips from the long ago and the not-so long ago leading me to a place I find warm and cozy.

Playlist for "Road Trip"

Johnny Cash "I've Been Everywhere"

Boston "Hitch a Ride"

Todd Rundgren "Bang On The Drum"

Ray Charles "Hit The Road, Jack"

The Allman Brothers Band "Ramblin' Man"

Blackfoot "Highway Song"

Old Crow Medicine Show "Wagon Wheel"

Roger Miller "King of the Road" 

Chuck Berry "Route 66"

The Pretenders "Middle of the Road"

Shakira "Try Everything"

Tom Cochrane "Life Is A Highway"

The Smell Test

Nearly every morning sees the same routine for me. I reach into a kitchen cabinet then pull out a plastic purple bowl. I open a drawer fumbling for a spoon. I set these two items on a counter beside the refrigerator. Then I locate a box of cereal, usually Cheerios of the honey-nut variety, although I go crazy some days and reach for the plain variety or even Rice Krispies or one of the Chex cereal family members. I open the box top, unravel the interior protection then fill the bowl with the cereal. Of course, the next step is to add milk to the bowl.

This is where this whole process slows down. I open the refrigerator door, scrounge around to find the jug of milk then bring it out into the kitchen. I slowly remove the cap to the milk then instead of pouring it onto my cereal I pull the whole jug up to my nose to give it a sniff. It could be a new, never-opened-before-that-very-moment container or one that has spent a week taking up time in the chilled repository known as the refrigerator; I am not partial to applying the smell test to milk every time I get near it.

Jennifer finds this amusing. In time, I am sure Hannah will as well. Some days, I think the cat even gives me the stink eye when I do this. But, folks, I’m just not going to take a chance. After all, I have filled my cereal bowl in past times then poured in milk only to discover the milk has turned sour. It is an awful way to ruin a pile of processed breakfast food. If I had only taken a precious few seconds to hold my nose over the milk jug opening, I could have saved myself from having to alter my morning meal plans.

I have a good life. I am blessed beyond what I ever wished for and definitely more than I deserve. Still, I have made poor choices during my lifetime. I also know I will most likely add to that list as time moves forward. Looking back, I wonder if some of those bad choices though could have been avoided if I had only taken the time to give the impending decision a smell test. You know, assess the situation a bit longer, remove the cap to hold my nose over the situation and given it a sniff. That sure would have been a better solution than to cry over spilled milk.

SantaCam

Leave it to the eight-year-old. The wheels inside her head seem to always be turning.

As this posts initially appears, Christmas Eve 2019 is here. The tree is in the corner. The ornaments were placed with care, mostly, and presents slowly filled in the space on the floor. To pull off this holiday successfully requires a lot of thought and effort. I am grateful for Jennifer who manages this with her usual grace and patience. Still, about six weeks ago, Jennifer confided in me how our daughter, Hannah, was busy making plans for Christmas Eve, plans that didn’t necessarily involve more than just leaving cookies for Santa and hanging stockings on the mantle.

This year, Hannah wanted to proceed with our usual Christmas Eve rituals. Hannah and Jennifer mix up reindeer food. Hannah then takes it into our front yard so she can spread it over the walkway and yard. Once that is over, she prepares a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for Santa, leaving it in a strategic place near the fireplace. She though had given thought to something else she wanted to do this year.

For some reason, this year Hannah wanted to take my phone and Jennifer’s phone and use them to capture video of Santa and his reindeer as they visited our home. She had given a good amount of thought into how all this could be arranged. Jennifer’s phone could be taped to the wall beside our stairs in the living room. This apparently provides a clear shot of the fireplace and Christmas tree. Outside, she pointed out to me the exact spot on the door, above the doorbell, where my phone could be taped. It would record the front steps and yard while the reindeer ate the food she left for them.

Being a parent is challenging because sometimes providing the right thing to say at the right moment isn’t always crystal clear. Jennifer and I both tried reasoning with her through a series of questions. Why do we need to record Santa? What if Santa is like a vampire or a ghost and can’t be photographed? What if Santa sees the phones recording him and decides to get back on his sleigh without leaving the gifts he has brought? What if the tape we use to secure the phones to the wall doesn't hold as long as we need? And, closer to truth, what if the phone batteries die before he gets to our house? None of our questions seemed to rattle the curious girl leaving us with our own questions about how to get through this without messing up the magic the season brings to children with pure hearts.

This post will publish on Christmas Eve, hours before the traditions in our house appear once more. So, there is no answer for me to give to you on how we will work through Hannah’s request to videotape the jolly guy in red and his tireless work crew. We will somehow figure out something. The important takeaway for me is the bigger-than-the-world heart of a little girl who embraces this time of year for the good things it represents.

I hope each of us can and will, even in some small way, do the same this year. Now, excuse me, my phone needs charged.