The Song of the Open Road
Rightly charged.
The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.
—Walt Whitman, The Song of the Open Road
I am not a big poetry guy in general. Not that I have anything against prose, I appreciate it, but in print journalism, poetry begets more poetry. And most of it is usually bad.
Which is why we smartly had a no poetry rule at my old magazine. Until we didn’t. The offending work was written by a future colleague, but the old adage still applied: a whole host of publisher-seeking poets emerged. All were rejected.
As we packed up the house yesterday in Virginia and hit the road, I had a fully packed car and one dog to myself. My wife bore the brunt of the emotions of our twins while Gus the Westie1 peacefully slept in our brand newish SUV, with more seat room than he is used to.
The finality of the move hasn’t really hit me yet, and I’m a sentimental guy. Yet, I managed to throw away a ton of stuff and pack the majority of an 18 wheeler with my crap. 400 items, mainly boxes.
As we were driving through West Virginia and Maryland, right as I was going out of cell coverage, I switched to my saved YouTube Music playlist and videos. One of them was this nearly decade old Volvo S90 commercial2, and that got me thinking about Walt Whitman. At our hotel? Responding to work emails, catching up on Slack, and reading The Song of the Open Road.
I guess I am wired by the open road, which is unusual because as I’ve aged, I can’t make the marathon drives as easily as I used to. 10 hours from Cleveland to Saint Louis? Easy. 14 hours from Missouri to Manassas? Give me some Red Bull, and let’s do this thing.
My most embarrassing drive came after the Indians lost to the cheating Astros in the playoffs in 2017. We made it halfway back to VA, but day drinking in the fall sun, twin toddlers, and a dog will change your life choices about driving late into the night.
Perhaps I am wired because I am psyched for Cincinnati. My new Congressman and fellow Mount Warshingtonian, Greg Landsman, came on the pod at work today, unbeknownst to me, to talk about another neighbor of ours: JD Vance. I now at least have something to listen to in between calls today! Maybe when this little blog gets a podcast, we can have him on.
The final day of the move involved sending a “House Bible” to the new owners, explaining where the bodies are buried, so to speak. Not literal bodies, but “now that you own this house, here are its quirks” sort of thing. Also multiple trips to the Prince William County Dump, UHaul (I’m rated to drive a 20 footer again!), and Lowe’s.
Oh, and a completely naked man at an Exxon station by Potomac Mills walking around, I hope having the worst day of his life.
You can’t see it in this photo, but I do have a black eye. I stubbed/cut my toe, too, stupidly doing work while in sandals that I shouldn’t have been doing. The black eye came similarly, pulling out nails from the wall when I shouldn’t have. It could have been way worse.
That’s the lesson if that thought pops up: Don’t do tasks you shouldn’t be doing.
For all of my luck, Vice President Kamala Harris will announce her running mate at an inopportune time today. Fridays are a bad day given the weekend news cycle, but while I was here in Pennsylvania, I asked the front desk clerks if they were excited about the potential for Gov. Shapiro to be Kamala’s pick for VP3. They were. I also asked about Lt. Gov. Austin Davis, and they were also (though sleightly less) excited.
I profiled Shapiro (and met Davis) two years ago and was impressed by both. Hopefully tomorrow will be boring so I can focus on moving in.
It is much easier when you don’t have access to the outside world not to pay attention to it. Whitman writes, unintentionally related: “Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial.” Or lackthereof. I didn’t remember that line, but it is fitting, as I traverse the open road.
Yes, he has his own Instagram. He now shares it with Rusty.
I do save memorable commercials. I studied marketing, don’t judge. Have you ever made a real commercial? It’s hard!
It’s going to be Shapiro.
Welcome to Cincinnati! Mt Washington is a wonderful place to put down roots.