From Ulysses
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
I think this is true. Make memories, have adventures. And as Tennyson wrote, always want to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. Not to yield—no matter our age—so that we’re certain to have way too many wonderful and joyful things to even begin to choose from as we think about our lives on our death beds.
What are some of the things I hope I’ll think about on my death bed?
I’ll think about childhood road trips and peach Nehi’s at the beach with my family. My dad loved peach-flavored Nehi, and he loved taking us on random adventures to simple places like the beach. Many times I can remember waking up to get ready for school and my dad would tell us to grab our bathing suit to go to the beach, or to get ready for some other kind of adventure. The beach was one of our favorite places to go. It was inexpensive and fun and full of learning possibilities (my dad would tell us about the sand, the fish in the water, the Gulf Stream, why jellyfish sting us…); my mom would pack us sandwiches and Frito’s and we’d get bottles of Nehi sodas for the cooler and be on our way. I can still hear my dad’s not-so-great singing voice trying to harmonize along with Jerry Jeff Walker or Cream or Creedence Clearwater Revival. He didn’t care that he couldn’t really carry a tune, and neither did we.
I’ll think about running to the airport with my cousin Dina to buy a last minute plane ticket from Austin to Houston to see a Chicago Cubs game. This was in 1990, and it never occurred to me that we might not be able to get a last-minute ticket to the game. We did get a ticket when we got to the Astrodome, but not sure what we would have done if they would have been sold out. Mike Bielecki pitched for the Cubs, the game went into extra innings and the Cubs lost. Due to the extra innings and the game ending late, we ended up spending the night at the airport because we missed the last flight back to Austin. I read every newspaper available at Hobby and watched the employees mop floors and clean bathrooms as they opened up the airport at dawn to get ready for another day. We eventually made it back home.
I’ll think about taking a solo trip when I was 23 from Chicago to Boston on a Greyhound bus with very little money in my pocket, but a great desire to see a Boston Bruins game in old Boston Garden before they tore it down. I stayed in a hostel and packed lots of cheap snacks for my bus trips to and fro, and for any small bouts of hunger I might have while I was there. It was my first solo adult vacation trip somewhere and it was amazing. Despite the fact that I had almost no spending money, I took mental notes of places I couldn’t afford to visit at that time, and made an extra special note of the fancy place with the best clam chowder for a future visit; I visited all of the historic sites that I had only read about in history books; and I saw a place through my own eyes by myself and through every step that I, alone, took. My thoughts were my own, my memories were my own, all of it, even being broke—the entire experience was all my own, and it was wonderful.
P.S. I did get that great bowl of clam chowder at the fancy restaurant on the next visit I made to Boston after that. By then, I could finally afford it and yes, it was worth the wait.
I’ll think about celebrating my 25th birthday in Iowa: seeing a charity baseball game at The Field of Dreams in Dyersville, visiting all of the covered bridges made famous in Robert James Waller’s novel, The Bridges of Madison County, and having a loose meat sandwich at a Maid-Rite Restaurant. My cousin Mari, her daughter Malaina and I packed our bags and listened to all of our planned road trip music as we drove through the beautiful green fields of Iowa in July. We stayed in cheap motels and talked to really nice people at every place we stopped. I had a very happy birthday.
I’ll think about the thousands of days and nights with Peter all over the world but especially that winter evening on the streets of Seville. We took our first overseas trip together to Spain in January 2001. We began and ended in Madrid but we were able to see so much of the country because we rented a car. By the time we got to Seville, we were already in love with the country, the people, the food, the wine, the culture—everything. But those cold winter hours of that night especially stay with me. We walked on the old cobblestone streets, poking our heads into small shops, asking how many pesetas this was or that, we took silly and not so silly photos in a photo booth and I remember being amazed at the man roasting chestnuts on a street lined with orange trees. I had never smelled or seen roasting chestnuts before. I had thought it was maybe just an old tradition mentioned in my favorite Christmas song, not really real or anything anyone did anymore. It was very real that night.
I’ll think about eating and drinking all over Texas and all over the entire world with my best friends. We went to high school together and now travel the world together. We have those things in common that all great friends should have in common: we love good food, good drink, good adventures and we like doing all of those things together. Some of our group took our first international trip together to Italy a few years ago, and boy, did we have a blast. There’s something about traveling the world with your best childhood/teenage friends who perhaps know you better than other friends could ever know you. When you look at something new and different, and you do it with similar life experiences, it adds a little extra something to the moment. My best friends inspire me and there’s something special about being inspired together while so far away from home.
I’ll think about taking a road trip to see the Grand Canyon with our dog, Liberty. This was another birthday trip, and it was great. Junk food in the car, fast food in hotel rooms and miles and miles of nothing but Peter, Liberty and me watching Texas, New Mexico and Arizona through the car windows. The Grand Canyon was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful and I can’t really explain why it was so much more special to see it with my dog. Liberty had no concept of where we were or why we were there. She just took it all in. She walked close to the edge and looked down into the canyon more times than I could count. She wasn’t afraid of the height or bothered by the many times we stopped to take pictures or just talk about how amazing it all was. She listened to me navigate off of the maps in the car and seemingly listened to me read aloud (as I do on road trips) from travel books, history books or any kind of book about where we’ve just been or where we’re going. She never complains. Although what’s to complain about when you’re on a good road trip!
I’ll think about hundreds of trips to small towns and big cities meeting all sorts of people, all over the country. One of my bucket list goals is to visit all 50 states and do something significant while there. Not all things I consider to be significant are about food, but many of them are. At least I’ll always have something to look forward to (and something to blog about, right?!) Like looking forward to weekend trips to anywhere or wherever to taste ice cream or pie or BBQ or just to see a different part of the planet—and of course, looking forward to the very next adventure wherever that may be, and all of the memories to be made.
I’ll think about being on the Mediterranean Sea with my parents, on a ship that saw their first trip to Spain, France and Italy, although my dad did not quite make it to Greece with us. The day before my dad died, we were in Rome, and he said over and over again that it was “the best day ever!” In so many ways it was a painful experience, losing him that way, unexpectedly, on a ship, floating along that evening on the darkness of that wine-colored water; but in other ways, it was as it should have been. My dad said just a few days before on that same ship, that he felt like Odysseus on an adventure. It would be his final adventure on this earth, and that’s exactly as my dad would have wanted to leave it. He raised me to believe—and always reminded me—that life was not about the destination, but about the journey, and the adventures along the way.
My dad is a big reason I love to live life the way I choose to live it. A few days before he died, we were in France, having a simple and amazing lunch. What a day this was! He and I had the same thing for lunch (except my dad had coffee, because he always had coffee), and he kept looking at me saying something like “I love this bread!”
My dad raised me with the sense of adventure I have always had, and continue to have—that desire to travel and experience all the beauty the earth and mankind have to offer. He told me stories, bought me books, showed me maps, read me poems and told me about the poets: where they were from, why they wrote, how they died, but even more important—how they lived. I’m grateful for many things I received from my dad, and one of those things is definitely that urge to explore, to enjoy life’s journey, to see, to read, to live every day, and yes, to find that perfect baguette.
He’ll always be with me, he is in that part of me that looks to make memories and have adventures, or as Tennyson wrote, be a part of that light before me as I continue my own life’s journey, as I ride. As I make more memories, and have even greater adventures.
“When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:
Then by some secret shrine I ride…”
~Alfred Lord Tennyson from Sir Galahad
XO
#eldaeats #memories #adventures #memories
Featured image at the top of this post was taken by me in Venice last year, at the end of a beautiful day that was full of all sorts of new adventures.
