Asphalt In My Blood
Bro. Bennie, our Pastor, told me several years ago that I must have asphalt in my blood. After a few more years and a lot more miles, I am coming to the conclusion that he is probably correct. We do love life on the road.
Kelly Jo and I have had opportunities to settle down at times through the years. Have we ever seriously thought about it? Yes, but not often and not for long. Although there have been fleeting moments when we were sorely tempted and have come very near doing it.
Why keep going?
Why keep going?
Well, the answer is two fold. First and foremost, we believe that we are walking in God's plan for our lives, at this present time, to the best of our ability. That is most important.
Secondly, somewhere along the way, while growing up, Kelly Jo and I caught a bug that all the rest of our immediate families escaped. We love to go, we love to travel, we love the road and we can not help ourselves! We are willing to spend everything and do anything to keep moving along.
Maybe be heard too many lonesome train whistles blowing when we were small.
Maybe we saw too many cowboys ride over the next hill just to see what was in the next valley.
Maybe we read one too many books where the young man goes west and never comes back.
Maybe we heard "Ramblin' Man", "Rambling Fever" and "The Running Kind" about 500 too many times growing up.
Maybe we breathed too much diesel exhaust.
Maybe we did get too close to the road when they were paving and we inhaled the blacktop dust.
Maybe we watched and read too much Charles Kuralt!
Yep, Charles Kuralt Is To Blame
Who is Charles Kuralt, you ask?
Mr. Charles Kuralt was a reporter and host for CBS for many, many years. His best known and best loved work was the short segments he produced for the CBS Evening News and later for the CBS Sunday Morning program.
Some of my early memories are of Mr. Kuralt and his small crew reporting in from small town America every week as they traveled the back roads of the USA in a motorhome.
Maybe that is where I caught the traveling fever. Maybe the lonesome trains, wondering cowpokes, diesel fumes and asphalt are not really to blame after all. Maybe it is the fault of a man I never met.
Mr. Kuralt was a paradoxical man and died before many of his personal imperfections or weaknesses became known. Although he celebrated all that was good and moral in rural America, it seems he did not embody those traits in his private life.
Yet, he influenced millions of people with his wholesome curiosity and gentle manner.
It was said by people that knew him well that Mr. Kuralt never said an unkind word about anyone. He chose to see the good in people even though good was not all there was to see. I choose to do that with Mr. Kuralt as well.
Charles Kuralt was only 62 years old when he died on July 4, 1997. He will always be remembered best for his stories from small town America.
His On The Road with Charles Kuralt stories affected me more than I could possibly know at the time. In the 80's and 90's I found and read all of his books. We have eaten in restaurants where he has eaten, we have driven roads where he has driven and we have felt many of the same feelings he felt out on the open road in this great nation of ours.
A few years ago I discovered that some of his old stories are posted online. I ran across this one about the Chandler Family from Prairie, Missouri. Amazing!
Start with Alex and Mary Chandler and see if you can resist a hankering to find some more clips. I could not resist the tears as this family prays over their Thanksgiving meal as they celebrate Mr. and Mrs. Chandler's 50th anniversary. Let me know what you think.
Thank you for reading.
Davy
