Snatched From the Jaws of...

Monday was the anniversary of Lance's launch...actually, it was his birthday, of sorts. Finally given voice and a morphological visage (see Facebook) for the first time ever, he felt like he was finally getting the hang of this nomadic quest. He spent the night amidst the vast stone and marble structures of Oberlin's sprawling campus, built to last after a fire leveled the wooden town in the early 1800's. Oberlin is the home to Oberlin college, known for its offbeat and brilliant graduates, and, among other things, their renown music conservatory. Lance had an old friend who graduated from there, one of the smartest men he'd ever met. He'd spent a weel on a college campus in a T-group with him. Life changing.

Only here, would you find a family of albino squirrels scurrying happily among the trees in the park, right next to a one-of-a-kind, truly quirky, postmodern Pagoda-style bandstand bracketed by wagon wheel-sized stones. Lance couldn't begin to imagine the type of music they would play in such a gazebo. Atonal variations on Sousa marches interrupted by long periods of John Cage-like meaningful silences? After all, these are the people who solved the town's graffetti problem by placing four large rocks in the park which they invite people to paint, at will, with anything, as many times as they like. Gotta love the creative brains in this place, Lance thought. That idea would come home with him.

Funny how the hotel clerks, almost always young women who grew up in the town, have very little charitable comment to say about their birthplace. Still, Lance always asks. What's to do here? "Not much". Where is live music?" "No idea, but we have a lot of jukeboxes in town." Lance didn't bother seeking their wisdom about aging...you can't know what you haven't lived. The same questions in the hotel bar that night fared better with a tag team of sisters and a silent male companion."Go look at the painted rocks in the park (seen 'em.) And we have an Underground Railway Museum I hear is pretty cool." She'd lived there all her life but never been inside. (Memo to self, never assume your neighbors have been inside you place!) "And we've got some albino squirrels (also seen 'em.) And there is a bar nearby that has music...nope, its a jukebox." As for happiness i old age, family is the answer. When we go home for the holidays and special occassions, we spend the whole time laughing and loving each other. We never fight, not really. I leave after one of those meals and my sides hurt from laughing so much. That's the secret to life in old age. Keep family around, and don't fight."

Headed out of town the next morning, he turned south, aiming for Springfield down by Dayton. Why? On the internet it had an arts festival advertised.( And somewhere in his trivia memory, he thought perhaps this was where Homer Simpson lived...) So after breakfast somewhere just south of Oberlin at a place called Nana's Family Restaurant (can't drive by THAT name!) he set his course for the other end of the state on a blue highway called Rte 4. The 80 year old energetic waitress at Nana's offered her wisdom recipe."I go to Arizona for the winter, do water walking, belong to many clubs and come home every summer to help Nana (her niece) run this place. After my husband died 9 years ago, I sold my condo here, but missed it so much I bought another right next door. That's how much I realized I loved it and my friends. (Note to self: don't make big life changing decisions right after a life crisis.)

Four hours later, and with visions of millions of ears of ripening corn dancing in his head, Lance arrived at Springfield, Ohio expecting a sweet little, tree lined town with artsy nymphs dancing on the lawns.

NO. Not only was it a cultural desert without a festival, it was a turgid, bombed out, tragedy of a place without any apparent redeeming features and a vibe so bad, Lance actually felt compelled to flee. Not even the thought of lunch could stay his steed as he dashed west in search of civilization and anything inspirational. Nearby Dayton was better, but a city that featured a vertical, fire hose of a fountain in their river, bordered by block after block of failed, semi-abandoned cityscape, was not Lance's idea of nutrient for his restless soul. On he drove, relentless now, doubting his instincts which just yesterday had seemed so sure and true. Lance considered just getting his ass into any over-priced, charmless city hotel, shutting the door and trying again the next day to find "where he was REALLY meant to be."

But much of the morning drive had been spent, mentally lost in considering the magic found in the brief, almost imperceptible moment between stimulus and response...a split second when man has control over his next action, but often fails to realize it and becomes a pawn of the instigator. So often, children and grownups tend to react as if they HAD to, instead of CHOSE TO respond by stopping and selecting an action in their own best-interest. We hear it every day. Strong emotional responses such as anger, love, lust, fear and prejudice elicit all too quick a result, later blamed on "he made me do it." Even as Lance tired of his fruitless quest for "a place that felt right" he longed to chuck it, pay too much for a downtown hotel, shut the door, and deal with it in the morning. But the stones beckoned, and he kept driving, this time southeast toward Washington Court House, Ohio on Rte. 35 East.

And there it was. a charming little town wrapped around an imposing county courthouse. On the edge of town, he had spotted a Holiday Inn Express, which looked like it might still be under construction with mud for gardens, sprinkler pipe still open to the sky, and no formal sign on the road. But that would be the road less taken, so he took it. Parking under the portico, leaving the engine running, he popped in the door and asked, "Are you open?' The cheerful young lady at the desk grinned and said "Oh yes, and YOU'RE OUR FIRST GUEST...EVER! REALLY!"

In a a flash, the more experienced manager came out, the regional manager (who said he got the hotel occupancy certificate only an hour ago) both came to the desk. They were soon joined by several of the workmen and even a guy who lives nearby and had been waiting to see it open. All congratulated Lance on his FIRST GUEST EVER status. When Lance gave them his traveling card with the 3 questions, it became a parlor game, of sorts.
#1: "There is a beautiful park with a lake just down the road."
#2:"We can't think of any live music on a Monday night, least anywhere around here."
#3 "I got the answer to that one! CONTENTMENT is the answer to a successful life over 60. FIND it, DO it, and BE it...whatever makes you content. Just know that you don't need lots of stuff in life to be happy. Just find what makes you at peace within and want for nothing more."

The Regional Manager walked Lance to the elevator, proudly showing off all the fresh amenities, pride filling every breath. Lance knew the joy of inaugurating a new facility...actually a new enterprise. Suddenly, whatever it meant to you is pre-empted by what it will mean to them, the users. If you did your job right, the place takes on a life of its own. He was watching his work, come to life. Lance felt the stones, solid again beneath his feet. A small honor, but a rare one for a random visitor.Best of all, it saved a day of frustration by registering a special memory for a lifetime. Lance felt redeemed as he fell into bed with his confidence restored. You can listen for better possibilities in every moment, and patience and persistence helps. But when you feel (there it is again...feel) like you haven't arrived where you want to be, keep driving. Even if you have't found your destination on the map.