An End And A Beginning

One year ends and another begins.

2023 was a great dichotomy. A juxtaposition. A schism right down the middle. One half at home, one half on the road. 2024 begins on the road and who really knows where it will end (certainly my mother will hope that I do. That I know exactly where this will end).

It is cold, 45 degrees, and rainy here in the panhandle in Niceville, FL. A nice ring to it, that name. However, my father warned me to be wary of people in Niceville. He said he met some bad apples in Friendship, ME once.

We are camped in Rocky Bayou State Park, site 22.

This is a quiet campground in coastal hardwoods: sand pines, live oaks, turkey oaks and big sprawling southern magnolias. A trail lined with saw palmettos and yaupon (similar to holly with red berries that the indigenous peoples made into a purging ‘black drink’ that made them vomit prior to long journeys or battle. I think I’ll just read about them on the interpretive trail sign, thanks) leads along a small body of water full of lilies and pitcher plants. 

We’ve discussed exactly what a bayou is and it seems to be a variation on many other terms for the same thing: marsh, wetland, swamp, slow flowing river. Essentially, a body of water in a flat, low-lying area. But bayou just has a good, deep south ring to it.

We returned to camp yesterday from Destin after running errands (post office and Goodwill) and shopping (using Xmas gift cards) in the dark and when Sienna opened her door she was momentarily confused as to where we were. She said, ‘wait, what camp site is this?’ As she looked out the door at the camper it came to her and she said, ‘oh, yeah’. A kid shouldn’t be confused and disoriented like that, should they? Isn’t it my job as a father and husband to provide for my family, keep them safe and secure? I question myself like that pretty often. Security certainly means different things to different people. I’m sure there are some who look at us and what we are doing and disagree with our choice. They might say we are unnecessarily putting our children at risk. That we are wasting money that should be used for retirement, college, weddings…you name it. That our transience and irregularity are not good for children. Kids need routine, comfort, safety and predictability, they’d say. And I would agree with all of that. But kids also need to see the world and how people live in it to gain perspective. They need to be uncomfortable to appreciate comfort and not just expect it. They need some hardship and instability to help them recognize and enjoy ease when they have it.

It has been a whirlwind for all of us. In the last month we have stayed in 12 different places including campgrounds in the camper, condos, hotels, friend’s and family’s houses and a VRBO. No wonder some of us are disoriented. It was nice to get back to our camper after traveling to Boston for the holidays but I forgot to switch over the propane tank when we left so all our food spoiled in the fridge and freezer.

It has been fun to visit and stay with some friends these last few days. I think our adventure has inspired some old friends to reach out and I had a good chat with an old traveling buddy from my NAVTEQ days. We reminisced about adventures in Oman, Hong Kong and South Africa to name a few. Our wandering adventure brings back to life old feelings people have had because life, as it steamrolls along, tends to tamp them down. People tell us they always wanted to do something like this; that they want to rent out their place and hit the road; that they want us to care for their farm when we finish so they can hit the road for a year (true story). I think we motivate people to talk about old adventures and reminisce in ways normal interactions don’t. 

I like that idea but I also want people to understand the sacrifice necessary to do what we’ve done. I tell people that we weren’t trying to outrun something; that we weren’t trying to leave a bad situation; that we actually loved our house, our town, our schools, our friends. We left because we knew there was a chance to do something great with our kids, and yes, it’s true, maybe we don’t put down deep roots. Maybe Wendy and I are a bit transient by nature (we are both far more widely traveled than anyone else in our families (my parents in their later years withstanding)). Maybe we are more willing than others to just pack up and go. Maybe we are more willing than others to be uncomfortable, to be insecure, to head into unknown places and situations. Maybe we get restless. Maybe we felt a need to challenge ourselves and do something hard. We like to think we are being brave and adventurous.

My point is this: if you are one of those people who have said to us, ‘boy, I would love to do something like that’ then know this – you have to make a pretty big sacrifice (unless you have some deep pockets and for whatever silly reason want to live in an RV for a year). We sold our house, our cars, our belongings and left our friends, our jobs, and our town of 17 years to do this. We are often scared and anxious about our future. We look at our map and get completely overwhelmed by how much farther we have to go (but also bolstered by what we’ve done). We don’t really know where we are going to end up (we have some irons in the fire). However, I think our strength is in the belief that we will work it out and we’ve come to know (Wendy is much better at this than I) that we do not need to know the answer to every question before we get there.

I know our kids will not really appreciate this time until they gain the appropriate perspective that comes with, say…25-30 years of life on this planet (maybe it will come sooner for them). I think I am ok with that. The point is the time together. Isn’t it always?

I went for a nice walk this morning on the trails here and marveled at the uniqueness of my (our) situation. A walk in the coastal hardwoods along a bayou today, a stroll among the hardwood hammocks of the Everglades last month, a night time walk on the deserted beaches of Cumberland Island before, high on the Appalachian Trail in October, navigating the concrete jungles of NYC in the sweltering heat of an early September heat wave, cruising smoothly across the ocean on a boat out to Tuckernuck in August, a dune walk along the shores of Lake Michigan in July, getting eaten alive in the knee high grass of the Badlands and the surreal departure from Bailey as 159 North Circle slipped away behind us.

Onward into the deep south of Alabama tomorrow.