Throw Off The Bowlines

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to travel around the world. As no one in my family traveled, I have to think the seed was planted by Jules Verne. Around the world in eighty days was surely the ultimate adventure. After college I hitchhiked a lot, mostly the U.S. and Canada. Later on it was six months in Central America. When family life came, I was fortunate to visit South America a few times, Europe as well, Jordan, Israel, Palestine, even China and Japan. But not since the early days of hitchhiking and riding the rails, the days with no one to care for but myself, have I been alone in the world without obligations, agendas, and itineraries.

But turning seventy this past July brought home the cold, hard fact that the window of opportunity was closing. The signs of aging were creeping in. One eye in need of cataract surgery. One ear in need of an aid. Bed time coming earlier, and naps more frequent. Not to mention the reliance on a couple of prescription medications.

And there was my psyche, whispering its admonishments: “If not now, then when?”

And the poets speaking out as only they can.

Sometimes a man stands up during supper

and walks outdoors, and keeps on walking,

because of a church that stands somewhere in the East.

And his children say blessings on him as if he were dead.

And another man, who remains inside his own house,

stays there, inside the dishes and in the glasses,

so that his children have to go far out into the world

toward that same church, which he forgot.

• Rilke

I want to be born again, in exactly the selfsame life,

aware this time from the inside out, and to stand this time

as a beautiful un-worrying witness, living beyond

the need for this or that; some memory always with me

of a ship making its way through lifting water,

the song of the wind, the song of my mother,

my father's disbelieving, expectant face,

and the crowding, merciful voice of the sea at my birth.

• David Whyte

And, of course, Mark Twain, the quintessential needler of the complacent and the couch jockey:

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed

by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did.

So throw off the bowlines.

Sail away from the safe harbor.

Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

So here I am, in the Delta terminal at DTW, waiting to board a KLM flight for Amsterdam and then a mid-morning flight tomorrow to Lisbon. From there, the details are sketchy. Though there is some certainty, as visas are still required at times, even for us privileged Americans.

What I do know is that my family has given me permission, better yet, they’ve give me their blessings, to be true to myself as best as possible and to live out a dream. But for their love and support, I wouldn’t be sitting here.

I won’t be alone, however. My great-grandfather, Fred T. Van Liew, will be my traveling companion. I only knew “Pa” after his retirement and long after his traveling days were over. He spoke little, but influenced me greatly with his quiet wisdom and dignified manner. He was in his late 80’s then. I’d sit beside him, ten years old and thirsty, breathing in his life of integrity and curiosity. Perhaps this journey is pay back for his profound influence on me.

Over the next several months, Pa and I will travel from west to east, completing our journey in late spring, flying home from Japan or South Korea, or somewhere thereabout.

Feel free to hop aboard. Perhaps our experiences, observations, and conversations will motivate you. If not, maybe Mr. Twain will.

Fred Van Liew