fedoradon

I first met Kitty not long after my wife and I split up. She was an ex of a friend of the girl I was seeing at the time. So naturally we all piled into a van together with a few other people and drove to Dayton to go to a club. Still we didnt really get to know each other until about a year after that, when we started hanging out on a more regular basis.

We would meet up for coffee of dinner once or twice a month and bitch about relationship problems. Its always nice to have someone there to tell you youre not crazy, even if the person reassuring you is just as fucked up in the head as yourself. I would talk about the irrationality in my want for an intimate emotional relationship, and simultaneous need to keep people at a distance. She was dating a man (oddly enough, an old friend of mine whom I had lost all contact with after high school) with a story very similar to my own. That made the insight from the other side of our situation mutually beneficial. Our friendship grew, and eventually she was among the closest of my friends, and one of my most trusted confidantes. Wed meet up every Tuesday just to shoot the shit. Like I always say; why pay a shrink when friends listen for free and they have beer?

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever and early this year her relationship with my old friend ended for the latest and probably final time, so she moved to the middle of Pennsylvania to be with her family and finish her college.

Back in Ohio, the current economic recession is taking its toll. The shop I work at has gotten rid of all the temporary workers and it looks like it may not be too long before my number comes up. Ive lost a couple jobs in the past due to a factory closing and downsizing, so I dont worry about it too much. I made it through before, and Ive got less financial responsibility now that my trucks paid off. Plus, if theres anything Ive learned in my life its that worrying never solved anything, only action gets results.

So action it would be, I decided to burn up some vacation time, just in case I do lose my job Id like to use it up before they take it away. I made a couple calls, packed a duffle, grabbed my tent, loaded up on coffee, hopped in the truck, and started driving east.

The six hour drive offered me a lot of time for quiet introspection.

The thought process started simply enough.
What do I want out of life? Where do I want to be in five years? Ten years? What makes me happy, and how do I get it? If Im writing a book thats largely autobiographical how will I know when Im done?

Then it got a little deeper.
Is my general attitude of misanthropy nothing more than a subconscious defense mechanism to keep people at a distance and hide my anxiety in social situations? What is the atheist equivalent to a soul mate? Why am I so unconcerned with the possible loss of my job that Im going on vacation, yet the thought of loosing someone I care about terrifies me so much that I limit the number of people I actually care about? Who is really happier, the millionaire CEO in his mansion or the broke wino on the street?

Then it got a little trippy.
If DJango rode west into the sunset symbolizing freedom is east the direction of captivity? How long would it take a finite number of monkeys on a finite number of typewriters recreate Dr. Seuss?

The radio offered minimal insight on any of these subjects.

Luckily this was about the time I was finishing the first leg of my journey. I met up with Kitty shortly after she got of work, and we drove downtown to take in the city. Overall the city was not much to see. The main strip was lined with yuppie bars teaming with over-privileged youth spending there uncaring parents money. It was one of those sights that makes me proud to be a working class Joe that knows how to get my hands dirty. A little ways off the main strip, things were a little quieter giving us a chance to catch up on recent happenings and whatnot.

As we rounded the corner to walk back past the main strip and get to the car, we heard the unmistakable thump thump thump of an upright bass guitar playing jazz. Sure enough, Jonathan Ragonese and the Deep Roots Quartet were playing for the patrons of the Hiltons patio restaurant with director Steve Rudolph backing them on the keyboard. We stood on the sidewalk, no more than twenty feet away from the tiny stage, watching the band play. As the music mingled with the sounds of cars cruising by and the idle chatter of the people on the streets, I thought to myself, This is what cities are all about.

Early the next morning we headed off towards Philadelphia. Neither of us had ever been, so it promised to be an exciting trip. Aside from the car charger for my PDA burning out (disabling my GPS, camera, phone, and ability to keep this trip log) we made quick work of the two hour drive.

We walked around the city aimlessly for about an hour, quietly studying the architecture and local culture. It was an eclectic mix of expensive hair salons and tattoo parlors, high rises and cobblestones, locally owned thrift shops and Starbucks. The gay neighborhood was particularly interesting; although it was a chore to keep Tom Hanks jokes to a minimum.

Eventually we arrived at the Mtter Museum, for a Disturbingly Informative lesson in medical science. If nothing else the exhibits prove that Murphys Law is true beyond the shadow of a doubt, and that during the growth and development of a human being there is a lot that can go wrong. Aside from the freak show displays, such as the amazing forty pound colon and the skeletons of conjoined twins, there was still a lot to see. My personal favorite was a large wall lined with skulls each with a note card stating the country of origin. It just goes to show no matter race, nationality, sex, or religion, when it comes right down to it we are all basically the same. Leave it to me to see a room filled with skulls and interpret it as a statement of unity.

Once we left the museum, we decided to try and find an authentic Philly cheese steak. We asked the bartender and a patron at Drinkers Bar (what a great name) what shop had the best cheese steaks around and the result was unanimous, Jims. We took a short cab ride to the corner of Fourth and South where Jims Steaks is located and hopped into line. It took nearly twenty minuets to get to the counter, though the time was now wasted as I was enthralled by all the celebrity autographs hanging on the walls. I mean, how often do you get to eat at a place that is endorsed by the likes of Jimmy Buffet, Hall & Oats, Billy Joel, Teddy Pendergrass, and Mr. T? Even without the in-line entertainment the sandwich would have been well worth the wait. Having hardly eaten on my trip so far I was to the point where my stomach was trying to eat itself. Although that fact still didnt stop Kitty, who probably weighs all of a buck ten soaking wet, from finishing while I still held on to a third of my sandwich. After exclaiming Damn, kid and vowing to her that she would never live this down, I finished my sub and we headed for the exit.

We took the side door out of the restaurant, as to avoid the line in front of the counter, which at this point had extended out the door and around the corner. With our tummies full and our feet rested we decided to check out some of the shops in this part of the city. We were barely out the door when she spotted a little joint called Studio Music Culture, the building was done up in a reggae style paint scheme accented by pieces of colored glass and mirrors. This was definitely my kind of place. While I was busy ogling the guitars in the front window the guys inside the shop start to jam. In between songs we stepped in to see if they had any recordings to sell, they seemed thrilled that there little jam session was calling people off the street to purchase there freshman album. We talked to them for a couple minutes, as they dug out a couple copies of their CD, and then we moved along to see what else this city had to offer.

The area around Fourth and South had a lot to see. Lots of little hippie shops, selling shiny rocks and other things I dont fully understand. Bars and restaurants lined both sides of the street, all with a large signs boasting the best cheese steak in town. There was a little punk store called Crash Bang Boom that I had to check out, it had a cool vibe inside, kind of like a Hot Topic but more about music than fashion and no corporate affiliations. They had some shirts with a punk rocker raising a bottle and 4th and South Philadelphia PA. printed on it. I asked the guy behind the counter if it came in black, but they only ordered white because were heading into summer time. I liked the design so much I decided to get it anyway, and the cashier seemed thrilled that I was so into that logo. It turns out, he had drawn it up. Just goes to show you, you dont have to go to a museum to meet artists and admire their work.

At this point we met up with Laura, a friend of my brothers who moved to Philly for Culinary School, and her boyfriend. The search for a place to park in this neighborhood is near imposable so we chased them down the street a bit and jumped into the back seat of their car while they were stopped in traffic. It was about a ten minute drive to our last stop in the city, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, or more exactly the steps in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. There were a lot of statues, fountains, and murals painted on the sides of buildings. Luckily parking was much easier around the museum, and the short walk to the steps gave us plenty of first-rate photo ops.

It may be clich, but there was no way I was going to drive all the way to Philadelphia and not run up The Rocky Steps. So I ran up them not once, but twice. Though I have to admit, the second time was only because I went out of frame about midway during the first take. Thoroughly winded, I followed everyone back down the steps and to the car. Laura and her boyfriend were kind enough to drive us back to the parking garage where I had left my truck. It was about a fifteen minute drive, but after a spending most of the last six hours on foot it would have been an exhausting walk.

The two hour trip west turned into a three hour trip in between traffic and a much needed pit stop. After one more cup of coffee and parting ways with Kitty, I was still left with a little gumption and thirst for adventure. I headed further east for a while until my brand new phone charger decided to stop working, again killing my GPS. I decided this was a sign to turn around and start driving towards home. It could have been a real downer, but I decided to look on the bright side. After all this was a trip built around the search for personal enlightenment; and how can you find yourself if you dont get lost?

The rest of the trip I navigated via road signs, I figured if I drove west long enough I was bound to end up back in Ohio and everythings fairly familiar from that point on. Other than an excellent steak and slice of apple pie at a greasy spoon about forty miles from the Pennsylvania Ohio border, the drive was rather unremarkable. It did however, give me more time to think.

I reflected on the teachings of the Buddha, Jack Kerouac, and Joey Ramone. I thought about this trip, how overdue it was. I thought about the smiling bum and the grimacing millionaire. At long last, I started to answer some of my questions.

I dont worry about my job because in the long run its unimportant. What is important had been staring me in the face the whole time.

Love, in all its forms, not just love for friends and family but the love of life itself.

Art, be it music, architecture, the logo on a t-shirt, a painting hanging in a museum, or graffiti on a wall.

Knowledge, for the sake of knowledge, finding out how things work, why things are the way they are, even if it seems useless its better than not knowing.

Food, its something we have to do every day, take a moment and really enjoy it.

Adventure, trying new things, going new places, its a big world and there is always something new to discover.

Unity, not just for your fellow man, but for everything. Love art, be adventurous with food, and know everything you can about all of them. Any way these things can be done together, should be done together.

None of this is really news to me; anyone who knows me well knows that these are the driving forces behind most everything I do. So I wouldnt call it an epiphany; what I would call it is a reminder. Sometimes, especially when those times are getting tough, its easy to lose sight of whats important. We only have a finite amount of time in this world, and we never know when it could end. All we can do is and make the best of it.

In high spirits now that I could see what was important again, I found I-70 and rode it the rest of the way back home.

And Im back on the block; Where I say Im living.


P.S.
Upon returning to work Thursday I learned that twelve full time positions have been eliminated. Though the exact selection process was kept a secret, seniority was obviously not among the top priorities, and I was not one of the people let go.