One
Life has a certain symmetry. Sublime. If—and this is key—you pay attention.
As I alluded in The Wanderer, I often run when I'm traveling. Not only for the exercise and all of its benefits, but also to see a place in a way that is hard to see unless you are on foot.
That is what I was doing when I heard The Wanderer while running along the Arkansas River on my early July visit to Sand Springs, Oklahoma. It was the first time I've heard The Wanderer in a very long time. I owned a CD of it back in the day (said day being circa 1993) which was lost. I saw the disc at Half Price Books a few months ago for $2 and bought it. From there I ripped the CD and it ended up on my iPod where it played on Saturday, July 2nd as I ran along the banks of the Arkansas River.
Three weeks later, literally, while on vacation, we were in Gruene, Texas where I walked into the patio area of Adobe Verde restaurant where The Wanderer was being played by the band that was setting up to take the stage later that evening.
What does it mean. Hell if i know. I simply noted it, going as far to post it on my Facebook status, and put our name on the wait list.
Three days later while running on a sidewalk through downtown New Braunfels my path was blocked by an elderly woman using a walker as she crossed the sidewalk into an old school beauty shop that reminded me of my Mom's shop (Joyce's) for what I assumed was her weekly hair appointment since she had that old lady back-comb style of hair.
I could have easily ran around the old lady, as I usually don't stop while I'm running. But I did. Out of deference. And because the old school beauty shop, and sadly the walker, reminded me of my Mom. All of which is running through my monkey brain as I watch an old man come around the passenger side of what has to be their farm truck.
He was old too. I'd guess in his eighties. But still formidable in his bib overalls and cowboy hat. It was easy to imagine what he must have looked like in his prime and to see that he had spent his life working hard, outdoors.
Then. Dissonance. Hard.
He had a large handbag purse, the type carried by old ladies, over his right arm.
Not that it made him any less of a man. If anything it made him more of one as he walked around what had to be his wife, allowing her to move across the sidewalk on her own, yet making it easier for her by opening up the door and carrying her purse since her hands and arms were busy with the walker. The newspaper in his left hand made it clear that he more than likely would sit in the beauty shop, something he probably did every week, while his elderly wife had her hair done.
In that moment I was filled with a sense of awe. Goofy as that may sound. And to be honest it was one of the coolest moments of my entire vacation. Witnessing this random act on the streets of New Braunfels. And to prove how awesome it truly was, and probably to make sure I was paying attention, at that very moment, as I took all of this in, the song that was playing on my iPod ended and One by U2 began.
Until I BLOG again...We're one, but we're not the same. We get to. Carry each other. Carry each other. One.
As I alluded in The Wanderer, I often run when I'm traveling. Not only for the exercise and all of its benefits, but also to see a place in a way that is hard to see unless you are on foot.
That is what I was doing when I heard The Wanderer while running along the Arkansas River on my early July visit to Sand Springs, Oklahoma. It was the first time I've heard The Wanderer in a very long time. I owned a CD of it back in the day (said day being circa 1993) which was lost. I saw the disc at Half Price Books a few months ago for $2 and bought it. From there I ripped the CD and it ended up on my iPod where it played on Saturday, July 2nd as I ran along the banks of the Arkansas River.
Three weeks later, literally, while on vacation, we were in Gruene, Texas where I walked into the patio area of Adobe Verde restaurant where The Wanderer was being played by the band that was setting up to take the stage later that evening.
What does it mean. Hell if i know. I simply noted it, going as far to post it on my Facebook status, and put our name on the wait list.
Three days later while running on a sidewalk through downtown New Braunfels my path was blocked by an elderly woman using a walker as she crossed the sidewalk into an old school beauty shop that reminded me of my Mom's shop (Joyce's) for what I assumed was her weekly hair appointment since she had that old lady back-comb style of hair.
I could have easily ran around the old lady, as I usually don't stop while I'm running. But I did. Out of deference. And because the old school beauty shop, and sadly the walker, reminded me of my Mom. All of which is running through my monkey brain as I watch an old man come around the passenger side of what has to be their farm truck.
He was old too. I'd guess in his eighties. But still formidable in his bib overalls and cowboy hat. It was easy to imagine what he must have looked like in his prime and to see that he had spent his life working hard, outdoors.
Then. Dissonance. Hard.
He had a large handbag purse, the type carried by old ladies, over his right arm.
Not that it made him any less of a man. If anything it made him more of one as he walked around what had to be his wife, allowing her to move across the sidewalk on her own, yet making it easier for her by opening up the door and carrying her purse since her hands and arms were busy with the walker. The newspaper in his left hand made it clear that he more than likely would sit in the beauty shop, something he probably did every week, while his elderly wife had her hair done.
In that moment I was filled with a sense of awe. Goofy as that may sound. And to be honest it was one of the coolest moments of my entire vacation. Witnessing this random act on the streets of New Braunfels. And to prove how awesome it truly was, and probably to make sure I was paying attention, at that very moment, as I took all of this in, the song that was playing on my iPod ended and One by U2 began.
Until I BLOG again...We're one, but we're not the same. We get to. Carry each other. Carry each other. One.
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