"Life doesn't happen along interstates. It's against the law."
~ William Least Heat-Moon
On the door to my manager’s office is one of those little dry erase boards. She uses it as a changeable Successories poster.
It’s usually home to a rotation of pithy quotes by Simon Sinek or similar. You know, the sort of mildly inspirational quote meant to rally the troops but safe enough for corporate America.
My employer may have just started using the phrase “one’s whole self” in press releases, but we’re not that evolved…yet.
For the last several weeks, the door has sported a single word: Fernweh. It’s a German word (they have a word for everything, don’t they?) that literally translates to “far pain” and essentially equates to “wanderlust.” It hasn’t changed, as she’s been off on maternity leave. An ironic last post for someone enjoying bonding time at home with a new addition to the family.
As regular readers know, I’ve been spending a lot of time over the last few weeks exploring my adopted home state of WI. My older son plays on a travel team for soccer, and we’ve been logging all kinds of road miles getting to fields near and far.
Regulars also know that I—and my boss—work for an airline. My entire career has been spent helping people get from one part of the world to another.
I jokingly say that I “facilitate life events,” but might switch that to “I help people get their wanderlust fix.”
I haven’t quite figured out how to work Fernweh into a phrase yet.
At any rate, as the world bursts out of hibernation, I’ve noticed my wanderlust returning with a vengeance… except it’s no longer an urge to rack up passport stamps so much as it is to explore the region I now call home.
When John Mellencamp sings about being born in a small town he had Indiana in mind, but the same ideas are applicable up here, little pink houses, and all.
This past week I was on vacation. When asked, the easy answer would be “I didn't go anywhere,” but that’s not entirely true. I went all over the place; I just never left the state.
Even after living here for over 15 years, I still don’t have to go too far to feel like I’m in another country (and depending on how “red” it is another universe.).
Last year, our only real option was state parks. And we saw plenty. This year, we again have the option of working on quick side trips that involve actual human interaction and man-made facilities.
We have to be at games on time, so I plot the fastest way. No such deadline exists for the return, and I aim for Blue Highways and the towns left to wither once the interstate bypassed them. That’s where the ‘real America” lives. Places where what Least Heat Moon called “six-calendar cafes” still exist.
We don’t always find them, and often settle for something like Subway. But occasionally it means stumbling onto an oddity like store that only sells Trump-brand merch, or a beautiful new park.
It always makes for meeting interesting people.
When we talk about travel, and life events, I think what we’re really seeking is connection. Sure Machu Picchu is worth seeing—and walking down the Champs Elysees arm in arm with a love should be on everyone’s bucket list—but the real value comes with seeing other humans all over the world and realizing that for all our differences, we’re really a lot alike.
You don’t need to travel all the way to Germany to do that— sometimes all it takes is a trip up Highway 151.
Thanks for being here,
Kevin—
P.S. I’ll be back to the usual link farming and curation next week.
What caught your attention this week? Got a rant or rave? Let me know in the comments or send me an email. I read all the responses. You can also read more of my work on Medium, and connect with me on Twitter.