Roughing It

This weekend had been planned for at least a month. Bri and I were going to pack up on Friday night and leave with our friends Jayson and Laurie to drive to Robbers Cave, a neat little state park in Oklahoma. We were going to find a campsite, pitch some tents, open a cooler of beer, and chillax in the wilderness until Sunday afternoon. We packed up all our camping gear, got the dog psyched out for his first long trip, bought beer.

We set off along I-40, Sam being his perfect angelic self in the backseat of the car, perfectly content to be confined to the backseat for long stretches of time. Then, somewhere near Wewoka, Oklahoma, Jaye and Laurie’s car died. We managed to get it into the parking lot of a filling station off the interstate, but only barely. The alternator was out.

So. We loaded up everything we could in my truck, four people and two dogs and everything even remotely valuable we had with us, and headed back to the city. Brian and Jaye went back the next day to fix the car while Laurie and I watched the very, very disappointing Oklahoma football game. We’ve been camped out in my living room ever since. We’ve taken the dogs to the dog park twice, and shopped for Halloween decorations at Super Target, and eaten at Qdoba. We took a field trip to Norman last night to play miniature golf and skee-ball.

It’s been rough, but we’ve managed. Seriously though, it’s funny how a little bit of bad luck can lead to one of the coolest weekends ever.

Of Bees and Poet Laureates

Photo Courtesy Wake Forest University
photo courtesy Wake Forest University.
 
(Preface: I’m writing about North Carolina a lot lately; it’s only because I’ve been missing it – and my college life – a lot; not out of dissatisfaction with my current life so much as just pure nostalgia. This is another North Carolina-centric post, but it’s an awesome story).

Springtime in Winston-Salem is really glorious; I fell in love with the Piedmont Triad in April. The smell of tobacco is thick in the spring; you wade through it as you walk. The magnolias would bloom on campus and the flowering trees around the Quad would shake in every gentle breeze, showering you with petals. Also, there were gigantic bees, killer bees the size of dinner rolls, with stingers like machetes, and they were mean-spirited; they’d chase you.

One of the reasons my life has gone the direction it has is that, when I was 12 years old, my cousin Robert gave me a book of poetry; "Here," he said, presenting it to me like I was an adult just like him, "I think you’ll like this woman." It was Maya Angelou. My decision to attend college where I did was influenced in no small part by the fact that she was a professor at Wake Forest. In the spring of my junior year I was lucky enough to get to take her class, titled World Poetry in Dramatic Performance.

It was kind of everything you’d think; she’s intimidating, but she puts you at ease quickly. She has a way of being in a room – in the world – that makes you want to be polite, and well-spoken, to think before you speak, and think well. The class was only 3 and a half weeks long, but in a lot of ways it changed my outlook. It made me see the importance of good manners and of laughing at oneself. I’ll always be deeply grateful for the experience.

One day, my friend Brianna and I were walking to Dr. Angelou’s class, and as we approached the Fine Arts Center where the class was held, Dr. Angelou’s car pulled up. Her personal assistant, who we’d met and come to like, got out and opened the door for the professor, and the two of them began schlepping these big bags toward the building. Brianna and I walked up and said, "Professor, may we help you carry your things?" Trying to be all nice, you know.

Dr. Angelou and her assistant handed us the bags with a thanks, and the four of us began walking toward the building. As we approached the door, a large bee flew directly into the professor’s face, and she swatted it away a few times before it finally left her alone. We all kind of stood there, frozen, for a moment, and then Maya Angelou said, in that unforgettable voice, very softly:

"That bee came to me and said, ‘I want to become one with you.’" 

O! Winston-Salem!

O!

Hey North Carolinians! Guess what!

I’m coming to Winston-Salem. November 29 through December 3. I spoke to my friend Woody on the phone today and he said we should go to the Moravian Love Feast they have every year in Wait Chapel. I thought it such a good idea that I checked my SkyMiles balance and $70 later, I’m headed to North Carolina.

So. Who’s gonna let me & Brian crash for a few days? 

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