Crossroads

Recently I read an article in which the word ‘crossroads’ was mentioned in passing. That one little ten-letter word stuck out from all the other words on the page like it was made of flashing neon. It unleashed an avalanche of images, times I’ve been at physical, mental or emotional crossroads in my life. 

I put down the article, gave those images a bit of time to settle, and hurried over to my laptop, excited by a new topic to write about. 

Half a dozen attempts at a first draft were begun and abandoned before I switched to ink and paper. Another half dozen drafts, a cramped hand and one dead pen later, I needed to step away. 

I didn’t quite know what I was trying to say, and it was obvious I knew less how to say it. Until I’d meditated on the topic more, and why the word and concept of ‘crossroads’ struck me as it did, I’d never be satisfied with what I’d written.  

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Stumped, I embarked on a mental journey to unpack and define what meaning I can take from ‘crossroads’ at this point in my life. A week or two of sifting through the detritus of old memories brought me to this:

When I was in college, I worked one summer at a historic site. It was based around ‘living history’ of 1850s rural Illinois. We dressed up in approximations of prairie-settler garb, cooked pies in cast iron Dutch ovens over a fire, churned butter by hand, and tended gardens on the property to show the public what life may have been like during that time. The site included a house and several outbuildings, among which were a typesetter’s shop, a barn and a potter’s workshop.

A woman who lived nearby used the potter’s workshop to create and sell her wares. She was friendly but quiet, and kept to herself. We mostly interacted with her in passing. 

She made an impression on me nonetheless. She was independent. She had a big dog that went everywhere with her, usually riding in the back of the small pickup truck she drove. 

Watching her made me realize I wanted something similar for my life. A measure of independence. A truck of some sort. A big dog, definitely. And since I’d grown up in the flatlands of the midwest, I wanted to live in the mountains as well. 

After I left college and moved to Chicago, I rarely gave any conscious thought to my brief wish list. 

However, within two years of that college summer job, a client at the grooming shop I owned left his eleven-month-old German Shepherd with me. I was supposed to dog-sit for a few weeks…but the client never returned. I had my big dog - Shuby was sidekick and road trip companion for the fourteen years I was fortunate enough to have him in my life. 

Later I bought a used Chevy Blazer that was, well, not the most dependable vehicle ever. Once I traded the Blazer for Albert the Jeep I finally found the measure of independence I'd been searching for. 

I moved to the mountains of Northern Arizona. Shuby died of old age. Albert and I logged 214,000 miles together. 

A couple months ago, I gave Albert up because it was no longer economical to keep him. He was the last vestige of an era that began over twenty years ago, in the (fake) 1850s. 

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Still: Where does the notion of ‘crossroads’ fit in with all this? 

I suppose in any pilgrimage there comes a time when you stand at a crossroads, scratching your head and wondering whether to turn off down an unknown path or continue forward. 

I’ve achieved the things my college-age self wanted most - and then some. The mode of transport that helped propel me down the path I’ve been on is gone. The changes in my life, the changes to who I am as a person, make progress down the same road, in the same way, no longer an option. 

So perhaps I’ve reached a T intersection instead: still a crossroads, just a slightly different configuration. It’s time to decide a direction, or series of directions, that will take me into the new phase of life that’s forming right now. 

It’s exciting. A little daunting. I just hope that in twenty-some years I can look back at this version of myself, this person who is at this crossroads, and say ‘Wow! If you only knew!’ - like I am saying to my college self from this vantage point.

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I'll leave you with some ear candy, from a man who knew all about the crossroads.
Reposted from Classicmoodexp on youtube.com