Dude, I got the DT's

Today is the day after Christmas, times about twenty.

You know how you so look forward to Christmas day, to the giving of favorite gifts about which you've been so excited? We spend months looking for things our children and loved ones will enjoy, we wrap them lovingly and place them under the tree (which we also spent several hours picking out and decorating with specially purchased ornaments and lights). The anticipation of the day is almost overwhelming, particularly for the young ones.

And then the big day arrives. We read the Christmas story and acknowledge in our meager way that the day is about the celebration of when Jesus Christ came to earth--Emmanuel, God With Us. While it is unlikely He arrived on December 25, that Jesus of Nazareth was a real person from a real town is a historic fact. What folks believe about Him from there is a matter of faith, or the lack thereof. And as the sticker in my old classroom at KVHS says, "If you believe there is no God, you better be right!"

Finally, the time for gifts. They are excited, and then quickly ready for the next. Excited about that one, then ready for the next. In an hour or maybe two if you really stretch it, the gift-giving is over. All the months of planning, shopping, anticipation...over in a flash.

And that is exactly how our trip was. I began jotting down ideas and working out two or three possible trips in August and September, made the decision, wrote the grant in September, turned it in, and waited four months to find out if I was among the chosen. The letter arrived in the mail--You got it!--then the planning really began. Choosing the route, booking hotels, looking for fun things to do along the way, and so forth consumed most of four months. It seemed like forever before July 22 would finally arrive. Then, finally, we were on the way! Buffalo, Boston, Gloucester, Deer Isle/Stonington, the WoodenBoat School, Waterville, Quechee, back to Ohio, and now..........fffffffffffffffffffffftttttttttttttttttttttt. Eighteen days of great fun, over in what I would call even less than a flash. A fleeting moment.

That is the sound of my sail going slack as the wind has left it. The Big Trip is over. Kaput. Rats.

We're not home yet. We came first to Indy to spend three days with Hot Wife's family. I'm sure we'll do a few fun things here, and the Indians will be in town on Saturday night, but...well, it's not the same. That thing by which I will soon make my living--corn and soybeans--is in many ways the bane of my existence. Ironic, ain't it? The fact that our slice of the United States has such rich soil, and is so flat and ideally suited for farming, also means we have very little in the way of interesting geography.

I have a confession to make: I live in Medaryville, Indiana. And I don't like it. We have been blessed to traverse much of our great land lately. In the past few years I've been to Tennessee multiple times, backpacking in eastern Kentucky, all the way to the Atlantic Ocean in way south South Carolina, to the Ozarks region of Missouri, and now all the way to mid-coast Maine, missing nothing along the way. I believe I have visited 38 states in my 35 years.

This is what I have learned: My soul is drawn to moving waters. My bucolic state of depression rises and falls in direct proportion to my proximity to moving waters. Everywhere we go, the terrain and other natural geographic features are interesting and beautiful. In and of themselves they encourage vigorous physical activity. I cannot begin to tell you the percentage of cars I saw with Maine license plates that had bicycle and/or kayak racks on top, usually loaded. Today we drove four hours from Mansfield, Ohio, here to Indianapolis, and I saw one. One friggin car with a kayak on top. No wonder the state of Indiana has one of the highest obesity rates in the nation, myself counted among that number, much to my chagrin.

Drew and I both have kayaks now, and rest assured that we will take every opportunity to throw them in a river or maybe one of the tiny local lakes, and I hope to throw the boat in Lake Michigan yet this fall. There are things we can do, and the more tools I have to go do something, the more reasons to believe I will. By the way, the fellow in the picture with Drew and I is Nick Schade, the designer of the kayak and our course instructor. For those of you who are curious, the kayak rode atop the van beautifully.

But alas, for now, it's back to the corn.