Driving across the United States was always a dream of mine, but I never prioritized it, I never made it real. I remember sitting and talking with my college wrestling coach at the end of my senior season and he asked, what are you going to do after graduation? The first thing I said was, drive across the country. Then I never did.
I graduated on a Saturday and on Monday I was working for a technology consulting firm at a bank in New York City. After a year there, I left to pursue a career in teaching and coaching. I put my head down for a moment, then looked up and I was getting divorced…and getting help for my excessive drinking. That was November of 2016.
By June I had planned my cross country trip. When my coach and I were talking that day he said to me – If you don’t go when you graduate you’ll never go – and that sting always sat with me. I figured this was the only other chance I’d get. I was free from alcohol and free to do whatever I wanted. So, I invited a friend for a leg of the trip, which turned into two, traveled with my father for a stint, and went solo too.
I don’t have the time or space to explain how amazing the trip was, but I couldn’t have pulled it off while I was drinking. And if I did, it would have been a completely different experience. I got to be with my dad, I got to be alone. I got to write poetry, go camping, swimming, hiking. I went to Vegas. And stayed sober. I drove the Pacific Coast Highway. I saw Hemmingway’s grave, and Billy the Kid’s too. The miracle of all this is that I didn’t have to write the name of the hotel where I was staying in permanent marker on my forearm like I used to do, so that when I blacked out I could make it back to my room.
In the past 4 years, before the pandemic, I was blessed to travel to China where I walked on the Great Wall and saw pandas at the zoo. I went to Rwanda, my second trip to Africa, in the 25th year after the genocide, and spoke to people who lived through the tragedy. Then trekked with Silver Backs in the jungle. I hiked through Spain on the path that St. Ignatius Loyola took as he meditated and prayed his way to his salvation, as I prayed and meditated my way to mine.
And all this, without any permanent marker on my arm.
