One of Kendra’s favorite movies is the Shawshank Redemption. It is a great story… well written and laid out, and the fraternal themes within the film make it all the more compelling to me. There are several memorable lines from that movie, but one in particular comes to mind when I find myself caught up in the frantic pace of things. The character Brooks made an observation in a letter to his friends at Shawshank that “The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.” His period of reference was Maine, in the 1940’s. If Brooks thought the string of automobiles up and down main street signified haste, he would surely agree that the speed of life has increased exponentially since then. Better technology brought quicker and easier access to information and people. Transcontinental and international travel is rapid and readily available to the general public. One can accomplish more in a day and from multiple locations than ever before. Since more can be done in less time, more must be done to fill the time. We continue to push the envelope. The quality and speed of information and access has increased. But as we hurry along to the beat of the world, I am not sure quality of life necessarily has. Read more…
It was a Tuesday, and the routine was in full swing. Ethan had been running and playing all morning, and it was time to make him presentable for mom when she came to pick him up. Ethan had other plans, as Ethan is known to do.
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No parking lot attendant. No check in station. No makeshift lot on a vacant parcel of land opportunistically guarded by an enterprising local. Just an empty space on a side lawn in a well kept neighborhood; there was no crowd and no hassle. We unloaded the kids and the gear and made our way past one of the stately homes down the side street toward the beach. The paved road came to a dead end quickly, and a gravelly path guided us toward a walkway that seemed to disappear into a grassy dune. We strolled our way up the sandy boardwalk; our path beset by reeds and wildflowers until the trail crested and the planks beneath our feet gave way to a sugary mound of soft warm sand. The stroller sunk down into the sand, but the mound sloped downward enough to allow gravity to lend a hand as we descended into a yawning entry and were introduced to the Atlantic Ocean.
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The security agent unzipped the backpacks and laid them out on the screening table. Something within both of them had caught the attention and concern of the agent at the monitoring station. There were too many options to consider as to what the contraband could be, so I primed myself to stay ready to explain away whatever he pointed out. The boys started walking over. The security agent pulled out the lunchboxes that were packed in each of the backpacks. He slowly unzipped the first one.
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3:20 AM. It was really happening. We were about to load up the boys and plod our way towards a 5:40 flight to South Carolina. My head was in a fog as I went through the motions of getting ready and getting the final items packed into the car. Kendra was in fluid Super Mom mode…she was out of the shower before I was fully awake, and she had dressed two sleeping children by the time I got out myself. Her mother spent the night to make sure we didn’t oversleep and miss our flight, and she was a great help in keeping the house together while we got everything ready for the trip. She helped direct traffic that morning as we checked and double checked, took inventory of the kids, and shuffled out the door. 4:01. Semi-conscious and teeming with anticipation, we backed out of the driveway.
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