On the last leg of my recent trip, home being the very next stop, the first thing I noticed that was familiar to me was the radio station. After two weeks on the road, covering 3,658 miles through 12 states and Canada I had punched my radio’s Seek button senseless. I couldn’t get over the plethora of country music stations between Columbus, Ohio and Peoria, Illinois. Not that there’s anything wrong with country music, I kind of like it for a change of pace, but I’ve discovered that there are only three themes to country music: lovin’, leavin’ and drinkin’. It tickles me the way the artists crack their voice to make a one-syllable word into two, like LO-ove or you-OU. But, I digress.
So, when I punched “3” of my programmed stations and got a familiar voice, I knew I was close to home. It was pedal to the metal until I reached my driveway.
I love to travel, but nothing beats getting home to a familiar routine: regimented diets and exercise, using a real key to get in rather than a swipe card that generally never works on the first try, a shower that is a no-brainer to use (being awake is not a prerequisite to its operation), regular and predictable evacuation of the lower digestive tract, and of course sleeping in your own bed. Everytime I travel, I learn new things and this trip was no exception. The awesome landmass of this country, its variety of culture (including music) and landscape, its strength and vitality, and its majestic beauty makes me proud to be an American. There is no place like home.
Thought for the Day: Life’s a voyage that is homeward bound. Herman Melville (1819 – 1891)