It’s been called the wanderlust. Everyone has felt the call beyond the walls of humdrum existence in the spring. For most it passes, for me it never has.
Standing on a railway bridge in the warm spring sunshine as a locomotive roared underneath, pulling a string of empty boxcars. Was anyone hiding in the cars? Where was the train taking them? Why couldn’t I be there, instead of here, slogging through undergraduate college?
On a high ridge near Los Angeles, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Restless at the sight of expensive homes along the shore. Looking west across that blue vastness . . .
Come with me, as Something drove me to answer that call, to explore land and sea, the near and far reaches of the planet.
Move with me, from frozen Minnesota to the elite world of western Connecticut. Listen to a teenager named Bob Dylan, as he struggled to find his talent at the Gaslight in Greenwich Village. Hear young Noel Paul Stookey, as he introduced Bob, the ‘new talent’. Carry a banner in the great March for Jobs and Freedom. Stand by the reflection pool and hear Martin Luther King shout “I have a dream!”
Work as a deck hand on a German freighter sailing to Australia. Search that continent for hidden riches. Work with native crews exploring Bougainville Island, where riches in the rocks brought heartbreak and death. Find land for high-rise apartments for poor boat people in Hong Kong. Pick up whale bones in the Aleutian Islands.
And Egypt, Yemen, India, Indonesia, Israel, Sweden, Germany, Greece, Italy, Croatia, Paros …
Come along with me as I relive my life . . .