The computer monitor of my desktop “work computer” has been slowly dying. It started before our Duluth trip. Suddenly the words and pictures looked smeary, unreadable. Almost like the viewer badly needed a new pair of glasses.
Yesterday–when I noticed I wasn’t turning the computer on any more–and avoiding as much work as possible–it became apparent that a call to the Computer Doctor was in order.
I offered to bring the patient up to Houghton to the computer clinic. The kind doctor agreed.
So Barry and I leaped into the car (I swear we leaped. We had to drive almost an hour north and west and reach the doctor before he departed for the evening) and brought Ms. Monitor into the clinic. Eric hemmed and hawed. His assistant hemmed and hawed. It could be the monitor. Or it could be a video card.
He kindly loaned me a new–rather, an ancient decrepit substitute for testing the appropriate remedy–and sent us on our way. He’ll be our neck of the woods Saturday retrieving his broken-down vehicle from a backwoods camp. If we need a new monitor or video card, he’ll bring it. (Don’t you love small towns?)
Of course we had to eat dinner out. That is our weak point. Or it could be a strong point, depending on how you look at it. Since we only have about five possible restaurants from which to choose, we hemmed and hawed ourselves. Which one?
Finally we settled on the Library Restaurant. I had chicken fajitas and he ate the Veggie Sub on Jewish Rye. All very good.
Then we started the car, pointed it south, and drove down US 41. They are building a new road next to the lake near Keweenaw Bay. That’s because studies have hinted that someday–someday, mind you–the cliff sandstone rocks beneath the road will crumble away and send innocent drivers into the bay below.
We admired the new road.
“We are stopping along the road and I am going to show you a special place, ” I announced to Barry.
He raised an eyebrow. He looked momentarily as if he really, truly, did not want to get out of the car.
Then I got all passionate and assertive and insistent.
“But, Barry! We can’t live life driving from Point A to Point B! We can’t simply move through life like robots. We HAVE to stop every single day to smell the roses in a new place.! We HAVE to!”
He pulled the car over.
We disembarked and followed a hidden steep trail down to the bay. Through thickets. Someone had tossed garbage alongside the trail. We frowned, but had no bag to clean it up. An eagle had dropped his own white deposits along the greenery. These did not need to be cleaned up.
Ahhh, the bay! Ahhh, the beach! Everything looked so peaceful and blue in the dusky evening. The light shined low on the lake, and the waves lapped softly against the shore.
Aren’t we humans always glad when we stop during our busy treks from Point A to Point B? Aren’t we always delighted by what the world shows us from the in-between places?
It’s the journey; not the destination. It’s the way a magnificent eagle feather lies against a rock and you can hold it to your heart and bless all the beings in the universe before placing it gently down. It’s the way the sunset reflects in the eye of a green amphibian. It’s the way rocks murmur against blue waves.
Hoping everyone stops often between Point A and Point B. Maybe even today!