The Backroads

 

I am writing again based on a dream I had last night.  In the dream, my mother was still alive and we were traveling on what looked like some back roads in my home state of West Virginia.  In transversing those roads, what was familiar in dreamland is often not reality once one wakes up, and in real life these roads and scenes technically don't exist.  As is the case with many backroads in my home state, there are turns, crossroads, and even jacknife-like turnbacks, and it was something I felt comfortable and at home with.  At one point, we came to a river in the dream - it looked so much like the South Branch Potomac and Cheat Rivers I grew up around.  In the middle of the river were two barge-like vessels, and there seemed to be an attempt to build a bridge.  The whole thing was quite interesting, and as I began thinking about it after I woke up, I began pondering if a meaning was there somewhere.  And, that is what I want to reflect upon today.

The enchantment of the backroads is an integral fact of life for those of us who grew up in West Virginia, and even on the peripheries of Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia that border my home state.  You learn navigating those roads a bit differently from other types of travel, in that landmarks play an important role for local people.  You never say, for instance to turn on Route So-and-So when giving directions - you always say something like, "yeah, hang a left at that barn near the Shanholtz place, and then go to where that oak tree sits at the next corner.  Make a right across from the oak tree, and follow that road to the old Nestor place - nice place to pick blackberries, by the way - and then you will see where you need to go yonder past the old fence."  This is how I give directions pretty much now, and I understand that.  Sure, I know route numbers and streets and will utilize those if I need to (living in Baltimore you have to) but I also still try to identify landmarks where those turns are - for instance, to get from where I live to my work, you have to go down North Avenue and turn on Wolfe Street (funny story about that shortly).  But, for me, I look for the Lutheran church at the intersection, as that is where Wolfe Street is, and I take that all the way down to the courthouse at the corner of Wolfe and Monument Streets.  So, even in the city, I still navigate by landmarks just like I used to do on those dusty old backroads back home.  

Humorous side story about Wolfe Street here in Baltimore.  Wolfe Street is not the most impressive route to travel - it looks like a ghetto as many of the old rowhouses are boarded up, and at certain spots one even sees homeless people wrapped up in blankets sleeping under bridges and such.  However, a source of amusement to break the monotony of traveling that same route every day is the automated voice on the bus.  At every stop, a robotic female voice announces the intersections and transfers to other routes, and for the most part there is nothing spectacular about that.  The only exception is when the bus goes down Wolfe Street - the female robot says "Wolfe" in a flat, almost annoyed tone, and then goes back to the normal cadence of voice on "Street."  What is even funnier though is when she says transfers.  The bus routes that serve downtown Baltimore are not identified by numbers, but by colors - for instance, the bus that drops me off out here at the corner where the school is would be CityLink Navy.  The bus I usually take is local route 21, but it parallels another color bus, the CityLink Gold.  When the female voice announces an intersection and transfers, she sounds like a bubbleheaded Valley girl when she says "CityLink Gold," and likewise that is a source of amusement that makes me chuckle under my breath everytime I hear it.  Since I mentioned Wolfe Street, I wanted to share that little amusing anecdote of my travels.

Getting back to the backroads though, they are a part of my own story - I am used to them, have traveled on them and lived near them most of my life, and for me there is a comfort, an endearing charm, with the backroads.  In many of my dreams, I see backroads - of course, in the dream world, they look a lot different but still as familiar to me as the real things.  I am not sure of why I dream of backroads - is there a meaning to them?  I tend to believe there is, but haven't totally sorted it all out yet.  Many of the dreams I have had about backroads have usually been pleasant, and there is a sort of security in them.  It could be that those backroads in my dreams symbolize I am secure and safe despite other things, and they could also be a coping mechanism for stress - many dreams are after all.  I have dealt with my dreams many times before, and I always take them seriously - dreams are a window into one's soul, and also serve as a sort of email from God in some cases to convey messages.  The scenery you see in dreams more than likely doesn't exist in real life, but in the dream there is a familiarity.  What is freakier though is that at certain times in life, you will travel to areas that look almost identical to what you see in dreams - that happened a couple of years back when traveling in Pennsylvania as a matter of fact.  They call that deja vu, but although it does happen it is still a mystery why we see places like this in real life later that we vividly dreamed about.  And, again it is the backroads.  

The charm of a backroad lies in its ambience - it is peaceful, aesthetically appealing, and embodies its own mysteries.  Especially if walking down a backroad, it gives you time to reflect, and even express those reflections in self-directed speech because no one else is around and you can be out there without anyone bothering you.  The solitude is a good way to clear one's mind, which is probably why God allows dreams of them for me.  If you travel the back road enough, you get to know it like an old friend, and it becomes a part of you whether you intended it or not.  I still remember as a preteen and even during my high school years, how I walked those back roads looking for things to harvest like fiddleheads or wild garlic, or going fishing at a favorite hole in the creeks that often ran alongside those roads.  As a younger kid, it was not uncommon to stop at those creeks, take off my shoes, and wade around in them looking for crawfish and other critters.  The simplicity of doing things like that is a precious memory, and there are days I miss that a lot. 

The simplicity of life often gets lost in the routines of our busy lives, especially when living in a large city like Baltimore, where the only wildlife consists of either flocks of pigeons congregating over the coffee shop I stop at each day on Eastern Avenue, or the rats that occasionally dive in and out of the litter-strewn alleys near Greenmount.  And, the rush-rush-rush of punctual clock-in times, meetings, and other junk that clutters our life (often without necessity) makes us forget.  We feel an emptiness, like we know we were not meant for this, and day after day of the same boring routines can be depressing.  God provides us those dreams to remind us that life is much more beautiful than the circumstances we are forced into many times.  And, the backroads remind us that the congested city streets are not who we are, nor are they were life ends.  We are more than that, and God seeks to remind us even in the little things. 

I have spent much time rambling about all this, but in all honesty I needed to.  The routines of busy life - especially in a large city such as Baltimore - can burn you out.  I have been feeling very disconnected lately, and as if a part of me is buried, and I want to rediscover that.  Maybe God can show me how to, and there are reasons we have these feelings.  And, there are reasons we have the dreams when our eyes close as our head is nestled in the pillows.  Perhaps tapping into that somehow would be an answer to the depression, discontent, and misplacement we can feel sometimes, and figuring out how to bring it all together is the next step.  Maybe I can find that at some point. 

Thank you for allowing me to share today, and I will see you next week.