Okay, guys, I told you a few days ago that we were heading out to the east and the SOUTH! We were going in search of warm weather and a beach. I will admit that I have some sort of withdrawal syndrome when I stay away from the beach for too long.
I guess it is something that just gets in our blood. Where you grew up and religion are about the two most dominate things in a person’s life that just won’t let go. That’s my opinion, anyway. You see, I have never — well, maybe once or twice — talked to anyone who didn’t talk about where they grew up as if it were the most wonderful place on earth. It probably isn’t the actual place, but the memories that were created in that setting. And, as far as religion goes, most of us tend to just accept the religion of our parents rather than going out on our own to think about what we really believe. (That’s another day, folks.)
Anyway, my goal was to get my toes in the sand and the sooner the better. Of course, along the way to saving the whales, we did run across the Elephant Sanctuary. Well, elephants aren’t so different from whales. Both are huge and both need to be saved. The biggest difference I see is that one is on land, the other in the sea.
So, my husband and I were heading toward the sea. Actually, I was more interested in an old passion of saving the loggerheads than in the whales. But, whatever. I’ll save that one for another day, too. We have had the news on for most of the journey east. Both my husband and I are news and political junkies. I think it has to do with the times in which we grew up.
I was driving across the Appalachians when I noticed that my husband had become very quiet. I was a little concerned because I know he doesn’t ride well for long periods of time. I asked him if he was comfortable. He said he was, but I still reached out to touch his skin. That’s the thing about people who are paralyzed. Their skin tells more than they will at some time. When the skin feels sweaty and clammy, their bodies are out of whack. It’s a part of the nervous system telling that something is wrong, even though the person may not feel it. But, like everything else today, that’s another story.
Anyway, we had made it across the mountains and were about to approach I-85 when my husband asked if I was in a hurry to get to the beach. Of course, I’m not in a hurry to get anywhere most of the time. You just can’t live in the moment if you are in a hurry. You are focused too far in the distance. Age teaches that. Maybe it is because the distance doesn’t seem so far away, or perhaps, we are fearful we will see the big stop sign.
I began to get concerned about my husband, asking him if he thought we should stop for the day.
“No, I don’t think so. I was just thinking….”
I am always relieved when he is thinking. It’s a good sign. So, I asked what was on his mind.
“I was thinking that there is going to be the vote on health care reform in Washington on Sunday and maybe we should be there.”
Well, I already cast my vote back in 2008. I have spent hours calling Congressmen and getting the neighbors to do the same. So, what was he thinking?
My husband reminded me of my childhood — of course, I have told him all about it — when my dad took me to Alabama with him to march for civil rights and when my dad had taken me to Washington when the civil rights legislation was signed. And, of course, he reminded me of our university days when we had blocked the entrance to one of the campus buildings to keep Dow Chemicals recruiters from entering. That’s the company that produced napalm. And then there were the protest marches against the Viet Nam conflict. “They” would never call it a war.
Well, to the point. My husband reminded me that we may be getting older, but this could be our last opportunity to see a really big reform in the country. Of course, I hope we aren’t that near to the end of the line, or the big stop sign. But, I felt a bit of a tingle pass through my body as I thought about heading north on I-85 to the nation’s capital.
There is just something special about being there when something big happens. For all the broken parts of our government — and I do complain about them, too — there is something magical about being a part of history if it is only on the fringe.
I turned north on I-85 and last night we slept just outside Washington. I have to hurry now so we don’t miss much. But, today I am thankful for my husband who has not lost his interest in life and is always thinking of what will make me happy. And, hopefully by this evening, I will be thankful for health care reform.
