Last week, my family and I spent a few days in what can best be described as paradise. Well, for some it might be paradise “unplugged”. And for others it may just be tedious, boring, torture. But for us it was magnificent. The place I am talking about is a resort hidden deep in the Adirondacks that time seems to have forgotten. Most of the buildings there date back to the early 1900’s, and they have maintained the rustic charm and simple beauty that the original craftsmen intended. We were rooming in what is considered the most luxurious building, with bathrooms in each room and quaint, cozy beds. There is no air conditioning in any of the buildings, but we did have a ceiling fan and a window fan, and our 2nd floor corner room had a steady, cool flow of air that kept the temperature comfortable. There are also no televisions in the rooms, or in any of the buildings as far as I could tell. And no phones. Or cell phone service. There is a phone at the main desk, and a scrolling sign for visitors to know if someone has called for them. There is no alcohol allowed on the premises. There is a dining hall that serves three daily meals. They are simple, and generally healthy, and filling. There is also a small home made ice cream store that serves frozen delights, delicious crepes and a few other tasty items.
Does it sound more like Nirvana or Hades to you? Please just hold your judgments a bit longer until I get to the best parts. The entire property sits on what I consider to be the most beautiful lake frontage in the eastern part of our country. A mile of deep blue lake separates the compound from the wild and untamed growth of the Adirondack wilderness to the east. The lake seems to stretch endlessly north and south from this place, and the boat traffic was extremely limited, especially compared to other places on the lake that have sacrificed serenity for tee shirt shops and rent by the hour jet skis. There is a boat house, and as a guest you can paddle out in the lake in kayaks, canoes, sailboats, or rowboats completely free of charge. Many other activities are included in your room rate as well: tennis, shuffleboard, basketball, archery, and a superb old fitness center with a work out room, ping pong tables, climbing wall, and more. There are also several trails that begin near the complex, and we took a strenuous four mile hike to a smaller, pristine pond nestled in the mountains.
And there are plenty of opportunities to relax and reflect. Two beaches with floating docks offer a great opportunity to soak in the sun and cool off. Adirondack chairs are scattered throughout the property at various grand vistas and under old oak trees. There is a labyrinth with instructions on how to quiet your mind and release the worries that might have traveled with you to this quiet, healing setting. There are also daily spiritual programs, and lectures, and services to strengthen the body and mind. In the evenings, the immense wrap around porch of our lodge that overlooks the lake was filled with people sitting and talking, and rocking in the large wooden rocking chairs. Talking and rocking in a way that I’m sure has not changed since the chairs were placed there decades ago. It seems that many conferences are held in this place and they all emphasize the simple and strong powers of nature. I was very glad to see many young people attending a few of these conferences while we were there – they had no technology stuck to their heads, and they looked like they should look – like awkward kids doing their best to fit in and find their way.
It should be clear by this point that my family and I really enjoyed our stay at this magnificent get away. We balanced our activities with some beach time and some family games “did I mention all the board games they had – or the library”? By the time we loaded up the car to come home, we were tired, but it was the good kind of tired – not drained emotionally and physically, but completely content. The feeling of knowing we had spent our time well and had come back to the center of what is really important as people and as a family. And, for me, this feeling lasted for about 40 minutes.
One might think that, coming from such a deeply spiritual and fulfilling time, I would be able to handle situations with calmness, and serenity, and the recognition of the temporary nature of all situations and indeed our life journey overall. And I think that many people, if not most people, may be able to achieve this after such an experience. But what happened to me after leaving this sacred ground was different. It pushed one of my biggest buttons about the state of our world, and, more specifically, an ugly change that I have seen coming to this area of the country that I want so much to protect, and defend, and to keep the same forever. So that is my justification for “losing it”. Now I’ll tell you what happened.
As I mentioned, we were far away from what would be considered modernized civilization. The ride to get there involved a majority of time on “blue highways,” the old two land roads that twist and meander through the best scenic areas that the Adirondacks have to offer. On the ride home, however, I opted to save a little time by jumping on a much larger and faster route that plowed its way through the mountains in the late 1950’s in a furious mission to connect New York City with the Canadian Border. One of the results of this “progressive move” was to put many of the Mom and Pop grocery stores, gas stations, motels, and restaurants that lined the popular “Blue Highway” route to Canada out of business. For an easy to follow/kid friendly idea of what this was like, rent the movie “Cars” and watch it with a youngster. The story, though fictional, speaks to a truth about the effect of many major highways that were constructed in our country.
So it was on this highway that my troubles began. We had gone about 15 miles when the flow of traffic suddenly and mysteriously slowed and then stopped completely. At first, I thought that there may have been an accident, and I hoped that is was not too serious and that no one was hurt. After we crawled along for another 15 minutes, however, a sign came into view that informed us that two of the lanes were closed ½ mile ahead for paving, and that we were all merging into the right lane to get around the construction. The sign brought a sense of relief because now I knew that not only was the delay not caused by human suffering, but I also saw the end of the problem was in sight – only ½ mile to go! I put on my blinker, and dutifully merged into the right hand lane, fully expecting the cars behind me to do the same.
I have spoken before about the danger of expectations, and judgments, and defining what I believe to be “common sense” for other people. Maybe it was my state of serenity and a belief in the innate goodness of humanity that had me off guard that day. Maybe it was the fact that I was in a part of the country that I feel such a oneness with, almost an extension of myself, and of my beliefs in common courtesy, a place that I have always felt I could hike, or walk, or even drive with my proverbial shoes off. Whatever the reason was, I quickly found myself becoming extremely annoyed, infuriated might be a better description, by the fact that so many cars continued to race by us in the left hand lane in an effort to get to the very front of the line before merging.
Before I go further, let me inform you of my prior driving experiences so that you know I am not naïve to this practice of the “obnoxious merge”. One of my first jobs after college was driving 13 passenger vans across the country and driving around all of the major cities in our fine land. The two main offices for this company were located in Manhattan and Los Angeles, and I drove these vans daily through the worst traffic you could possibly imagine. My “winter job” during this time involved driving similar, although far less maintained “and hence more dangerous” passenger vans back and forth to the Denver airport after driving around Denver picking up passengers. The traffic was a nightmare. I also spent years courting and then marrying my wife who lived on Long Island, which has, in my humble opinion, the Indianapolis 500 and most other car race courses I have seen beat hands down in terms of overall reckless driving and a seeming disregard for anyone or anything else on the road at the time. Unless, of course, you are driving on Long Island at a time when it is not really driving at all, it is merely sitting, or inching along. At those times, the “Long Island mile” makes a mile of uphill climbing at the Grand Canyon in direct sunlight with no water look extremely appealing. Luckily, those times only usually happen twice daily on Long Island, with usually being the operative word.
And normally that has been my technique for finding peace in those various horrible, time wasting traffic jams – I simply remind myself that I am not one of those unfortunate souls that has to deal with the situation every day. When I remember that for many people simply getting to and from their home, or workplace, or to a store involves maneuvering around certain times of day that might double the commute time, I am normally able to find a degree of gratitude that I am not one of those people. I am also able, through this view of the situation, to recognize that these people are not driving this way simply to annoy me, or belittle me, or to make me feel less important – this is simply how they drive every day. It is a habit, a survival skill of sorts. It is certainly nothing personal.
Those are the thoughts and perceptions I have had in the past to help with similar situations. But on this particular day, they did not come to mind. What did come to mind was the downright nerve, pushiness, self centered attitudes and disrespect every car was showing to those of us that were trying to do the right thing by merging when we saw the sign. My attitude about the situation did brighten a tad when I noticed that the majority of license plates on these vehicles that were recklessly zooming ahead were not from New York State. They were from New Jersey. And that was both ironic and hysterical. You see, my dear father detested all drivers from New Jersey for as far back as I can remember. He thought they were on a mission to destroy themselves and anyone else who happened to be in front of them. Looking back, I do not where his insights or opinions about New Jersey drivers came from, as I only remember him driving in or through the state once or twice. Apparently that was enough for him to form his assessment of all the Garden State’s motorists, and we would be subjected to his predictable, irate diatribe about their ineptitude behind the wheel whenever he spotted “one of them” by a license plate in our great state of New York – where all the drivers are kind, considerate, and follow the rules of the road. I’m sure my Dad was looking down from Heaven as I sat in the “merged” lane, the slow burn in my stomach and the throbbing in my head intensifying with every passing car. I could almost hear him mumbling those four words that all parents, alive or crossed over have the pleasure of telling their kids: “ I Told You So…”
In reality, there were cars from other states that passed by as well. I felt especially betrayed by those from New York. And I felt even more let down by those from New York that had some kind of bumper sticker or decal identifying that they lived locally – I felt that they should know better, that they were intentionally and forever changing and ruining some unwritten rule – these vehicles fanned the flames within me the most. I have the same feeling in my current hometown every August. You see, there is a large horse racing track here that runs every year in August, and during that month the town is mobbed with out of towners. We “natives” are challenged during this month to be especially kind, understanding, and tolerant as many of these visitors push their way to the front of everything – whether they are shopping, or dining, or driving their cars. Perhaps for those of us that have grown up in this climate it is slightly easier to take than for people that have relocated to this area. I learned from many “old timers” in my town from a very young age that in this part of the country, where so much depends on summer tourism, the person who winds up holding the money at the end of the day “or the end of the season” is usually smiling the broadest. So for the next month, I will avoid the main streets and travel the back roads to get around my town, and I will drive slower to allow for the erratic and strange driving that is so commonplace at this time of year. To me, it is a long familiar routine and I realize the necessity for it all.
But my bigger concern, the fear that came up for me during that trip back from a forgotten time and place in the Adirondacks, was the realization that with an ever increasing population, we are not advancing in concern or recognition or respect for others when it comes to the day by day tasks of getting along. My coping skills for dealing with traffic jams, or someone cutting into a line, or the people who constantly put themselves first is just that – a coping technique. It keeps me from fanning the internal “slow burn” into an uncontrollable wildfire within myself. I’ve done my time with constant, intense anger fueled by the actions of those around me, and it is not a place I chose to revisit. So I slow down, and I try not to personalize anything, and I feed the healthier squirrel in my head – the one who remembers adages about New Jersey drivers and smiling natives with handfuls of money. But the truth I felt that day, the tragic fact of much of our “progress” is that in a world of brilliant technology and amazing scientific advancements, we are subjected every single day to more and more people whose words and actions and driving skills scream out ME FIRST! It would make more sense to me for a society of smart, loving human beings with the spectacular equipment at our fingertips to help each other and to be moving further away from selfishness and closer to selflessness. And I realized as I sat in the car that day that I had really thought and hoped and innocently believed that the ME FIRST attitude would somehow never completely permeate these mountains, this beautiful, rural paradise, this land that is part of my heart and soul. Foolish boy.
Perhaps I ruminate too much on it. It is summer, and summer will pass. The New Jersey drivers will head home in the fall, as will the many visitors to my town. Things will return to normal. But change is really the only constant – whether I like it or not. In the end, I will choose to believe that some of the wisdom of the “old timers” of my youth will hold true in the end. I will merge when I see the sign. I will even let others “cut” in front of me with a friendly wave. I will hold a door open for strangers. I won’t cut a line or be an obnoxious driver. I’ll turn my cell phone off when asked, and I’ll try my best to be present to each person in my life and in my presence. These things may be old fashioned and outdated, but I’m going to do them anyway – I’m not going to become a ME FIRST convert. There was a tradition near my hometown, and I’m not sure if it continues today, but I may go and check this year. Every September, on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, a group of old men would gather on the porch of one of the oldest General Stores in our town and sip iced tea while sitting in their rocking chairs for the day, watching the long line of tourists “whom they called flat landers” pile into their cars and head back to their homes. They never jeered, or taunted, or said much to the hordes of “flatlanders,” but the amused, contented, wizened faces seemed to speak volumes. I used to think this tradition was strange – maybe insulting even, but this year I have a mind to go with my iced tea in hand and join them for a spell…
Thank God for black flies and cold winters!
Driving to Florida was where Dad got his opinion of NJ drivers. Phyllis’ dad would mutter, Well, maybe that person really has to go to the bathroom. (Pause) And I hope they don’t make it!” That was the worse curse he could come up with. I used to feel the way you did, but now I say many of those people live in a world of competition, and we need to be a role model to them. I’m sure at some level they notice and respect it. We are so blessed to live where we do.