Crossing the Mississippi

Just for the record, I am sitting in a parking lot of a semi-sketchy Amarillo Texas roadhouse using their free wi-fi. It is good I found internet, because I was beginning to think they didn't have internet out here...

Anyways, here are some thoughts from our first couple of days...

After the first of many long trips in the car we arrived in the great city of Memphis Tennessee. Driving through the city, the most obvious landmark was of the course the Mississippi River. This river is so much more than just a river. Aside from being a major vein of American trade and commerce for centuries, this natural landmark is a symbol of westward expansion. In those days of heightened travel and desire for cheap land, thousands of pioneers braved the mysterious and dangerous path westward. This river was a “point of no return” of sorts. For these men and women, to cross this river was to forsake all comfort and to embrace the unknown. The West is an incredibly important idea in American culture. As an east-coast dweller, I have only experienced the magnitude and wonder of the west through history books and personal accounts. This desire for adventure, gold, and more land has fueled this nation to her present- day development and decadence. Driving on this incredibly flat road in Oklahoma, I just cannot help but think that some of my American forefathers who blazed this path were indeed running from something. Now of course there has to be something said for the economic benefits of such an excursion, but I would imagine that like their modern day equivalents, many of the pioneers were running either from or to something. Every generation needs an opportunity to run away from everything they know. Everyone needs an opportunity to discover life on their own. Everyone needs an opportunity to truly discover themselves in new places. In some cultures this type of discovery is encouraged and almost mandated. I once shared a bunkbed with an Australian author in a New York City hostel, and he shared with me how most young people there will take a year-long sojourn. Usually alone, this trip is understood to be vital to the development of the youth. It is indeed tragic when the young are not encouraged to leave, live, and learn long away from their loved ones. I have had many opportunities for such an educational journey, dating back to my first trip to Guatemala at fourteen years old. For me, however, I have grown accustomed to such travels. Perhaps like my pioneer predecessors, the idea of the open road and new places have become quite intoxicating. This intoxicating freedom is rampant here—on I-44. We are driving towards a destination I’ve never been, on roads I’ve never seen, and I have no idea where I’m sleeping tonight. This land, however, is familiar with such journeys. Ours will not be the first nor the last story in a long chain of Americans running westward.

“I’m leaving today, because for me to leave is to stay.”