TRAVELING MAN RIDES TIME MACHINE TO SWEET HOME

A traveling man sees new things, and a few old things, too.

It doesn’t have to be something spectacular, one of a kind, or priceless.

Just different.

Need something to break up the sameness of normal life before you melt down?

Take a trip.

I’ve been on two trips that felt like time travel.

The first was up north to the Columbia Gorge Amphitheater in Washington State.

I’d heard about it, even been there once, but never experienced the show effect of a band lighting up the clear night in the Palouse.

It started with a phone call from a friend.

“Do you want to see Foo Fighters at The Gorge?”

“When are they playing?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“I’ve got tickets and I’m half an hour away from your place.”

“You’re going alone?”

“Not if you go.”

I went. I knew the caller since Junior High. He makes plans. Sometimes they fall through at the last minute.

We had a nice time of it.

Traveling Man Takes The Wheel

The second time I got a phone call for an event happening the next day I ended up in Sweet Home, Oregon.

What was happening? Just some household helping out for a lady’s sister.

“I’m thinking of moving to Sweet Home to be closer to my sister.”

“It looks like the town I grew up in, except without the bay.”

“A logging town?”

“And a mill town.”

“Those towns have had some serious downturns.”

“We had Coos Bay to move things around, they had the Santiam Wagon Road.”

“I wonder who would choose to live here now?”

“People with family in the area, like you. My wife knew someone who wanted small town life instead of big city. They moved from Portland to Brownsville.”

“Brownsville? I like the sound of Sweet Home better.”

“Me, too. I think her friend saw Stand By Me too many times.”

“And she likes it?”

“She found what she was looking for.”

Small Town Travel vs International Travel

In Bruges, Belgium I met two couples from London, which was my next stop.

From Bruges to South Kensington, my wife and I met them for dinner in their neighborhood.

One of the men had roots in eastern Europe, the other was a NYC transplant. Both of them settled in London for the work they did after the the communist rule was replaced by a market economy.

They may have been gangsters.

Like many Europeans, the man from the east was keen on family lineage. He had a prince hanging from his family tree.

When it was my turn for family history I stuck to the truth. No kings, princes, or knights at my round table, just regular folks working their way through life.

My pride at being an American mutt doesn’t include an opinion from some wannabe royal, but he gave it anyway.

Apparently anyone who doesn’t have a prince no one has heard of in their background is a waste of time.

A traveling man can go from Sweet Home to London and find similarities. Some people think they’re better than others and pump themselves up with their special status in both places.

It’s awkward for people with no special status, or aren’t aware of their special status.

If you’re special and you know it, that’s enough

I look for special characteristics in everyone I meet, and I’m never disappointed.

I first met the woman I drove to Sweet Home with in 1980.

The woman I married came around about the same time. We all knew each other in our NW Portland neighborhood.

During the drive to her sister’s house we talked about events that changed our lives. Would we do anything different looking back?

Maybe I could have skipped the time I lived in Philadelphia and Brooklyn, but then I’d never have moved to Portland.

I could have skipped dropping out of college like it was a competitive sport?

“What would you have done?”

“Finished college the first time around, become a teacher and a coach, and lived a different life.”

“Who does that?”

“I could check the National Wrestling Hall of Fame and find a few, like my brother.”

“Your brother is in the National Wrestling Hall of Fame?”

“Yes he is, like royalty. Maybe I ought to call London and tell the prince about it.”

“Any you’re a Granddad to a little princess.”

“Yes, I am. I’ll add that to my new title.”

“New title?”

“Traveling man with royal connections.”

“Sounds good. Let’s keep driving though. Maybe we’ll find a castle.”

“That’s right, something to match my crown.”

“You’ve got a crown?”

“I do. It’s the gold one on a five year molar.”

“An undercover crown.”

“I’m the king of the road.”

“So that’s why people are waving?”

“Either that or my turn signal’s on.”

“It’s on.”

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Stay safe out there on the road, my subjects. The life you save may be a king or a queen, and they might not know it.

But you do.