Birds of Passage
by Gordon B. White
If I didn’t inherit my father’s natural instinct for adventure, it was drummed into me steadily enough by the time I was a young man that you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. If you don’t go looking for adventure, he would say, adventure will come looking for you. Over the years, I got so used to the counter-programming against my inborn tendency towards the comfort of safety that I wonder – if left to my own natural limits – would I have turned out differently? Are there other dimensions with less driven, but perhaps more content, versions of me? I’ve thought about that a lot since my father died.
My father and I had plenty of what he would call “adventures,” even though we sometimes disagreed on what qualified. Road trip to the mountains and across state lines? Sure, that counted. Pushing his broken car to the dealership and walking home? Not in my book. Nowadays, although I would not trade any of them for the world, the years have smudged away most of our individual adventures. However, I will never forget Cotner’s Creek. (Continue Reading…)