I20 to I85 to I77 to I81...

There’s nothing like an 18 hour drive across
Middle America to set your mind a wanderin’!

I just drove from Texas to Virginia. Even through the obscuring rain of Hurricane Cindy, the drive was a familiar one for me. I know the major towns well…Shreveport, Jackson, Meridian, Birmingham, Atlanta…like a connect-the-dots puzzle leading me to my destination. I am familiar with the change of scenery…from the dead armadillo and coyote who never made it across the roads of Texas and Louisiana to the skunk and possum with similar fates in Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia. As I drive northward, the Martin Luther King Jr. highways become Dale Earnhardt boulevards.

On the road I sense an odd camaraderie with other travelers. I am in my loaded down red ’95 Nissan pickup. But I feel at home amongst the inspirationally named RV’s …Holiday Rambler, Endeavor...Bounder. I drive comfortably along side the spiffy bus convoys, wondering what famous country music singer might be playing Solitaire inside.

I find it interesting to note that in America…just like in West Africa, we carry just about everything imaginable on the road with us. In West Africa I have seen 5 human beings riding on a single motor scooter. I’ve seen men carrying full size refrigerators and stacks of mattresses on their heads as they ride through chaotic streets on the backs of motorcycles. And I’ve seen cars loaded down with people, goats, chickens, and baskets of goods…so full, you could hear the bottom of the car scraping the road as it passed by. I noticed on my drive that here in Middle America, we tote our own assorted volumes from Point A to Point B. This time, I saw houses and amusement park Tea Cup rides being carried on flat-bed 18 wheelers, truckloads of watermelons, wingless airplanes, and poultry galore, just to name a few.

But even with all the familiar along the way, it seems that the drone of the road, the caffeine, and the solitude seem to provide the perfect recipe for some personal moments of clarity. I have traveled a lot beyond the borders of America and am intimately acquainted with many of my friends who are living around the world. But for some reason, as I pondered life on this trip, I felt a new appreciation for my countrymen. With all our faults, our short sightedness, our narrow world-views, our supposed egotism…I observe a kindred spirit in people along my way.

American traditions may be baseball (or rodeos) and apple pie (or grits). Outlet malls, fire works stands, XXX bookstores, and farmer’s markets populate the exits along the highways. But there is also a spirit of goodwill, the human spirit of “giving,” that remains evident in people. We may be far from the bags of rice being handed out in the Sudan, or the immunizations being given to infants in Liberia, or the orphanage finally getting a roof in India. But here, in all fairness, the human spirit of giving is alive and well. It may not be in the form of a well known NGO. But rather it is in the form of the car wash being held where donations are collected to help pay for an 8 year old's cancer therapy. Or in the form of my friend in Texas who is walking along side a struggling single mother she met through her involvement in the local Mothers of Pre-Schoolers (MOPS) group. It is in the form of a young couple I know who just adopted a baby in Illinois, and in people stopping to help a stranded motorist along the highway, and in the form of my own mom delivering Meals on Wheels every other Tuesday.

People do what they can, with the knowledge and resources they have. I am privileged that because of my life experiences, I have a world view that has become real to me and goes beyond the borders of where I am. I have touched and smelled and seen things that many people have not had the opportunity to experience. But I am also reminded of the little points of “giving” all around that make up the world we live in.

Ahh…the open road!