Whitman – Almost a decade later

Every few years, I revisit what may, arguably, be one of the most American of poems: “Song of the Open Road.”

The opening lines are justifiably famous and well-known – romantic, full of promise, and speak to a 20-something about to hike the Appalachian Trail.

Appalachian Trail, 1998. I forgot which section offhand, but somewhere in the southern Appalachians.

But the meat of the poem lies elsewhere. The lines about “carrying those delicious burdens where I go” and, of course, the “rough new prizes.”

And speak to me more than they did before I followed that “long brown path” to Katahdin.

I wrote a follow-up almost eight years ago to this day. I no longer sit on a beach chair on a corporate campus in the Denver suburbs. But those “rough new prizes” continue to have much allure.

But nearly a decade later, I again thumb through my (virtual) dog-eared copy of Whitman.

I find lines that still speak to the choice of the rougher, less-traveled path and how it’s often the most rewarding:

The earth never tires,

The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,

Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d,

I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

Pushing forward and choosing the difficult way may reveal something astounding, only tantalizingly hinted at on the topo.

But it’s the final stanza that speaks to me even more now.

Song of the Open Road begins with the promise and enthusiasm of a journey’s start, and the middle rhapsodizes about wonder, discovery, and the joy of the journey itself.

The ending?

It speaks to what we seek to share: a journey taken not alone, but with someone who understands what’s being offered and what awaits. A camerado for the “rough new prizes”:

Allons! the road is before us!

It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d!

.

Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!

Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!

Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!

Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.

.

Camerado, I give you my hand!

I give you my love more precious than money,

I give you myself before preaching or law;

Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?

Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

Over the past few years, I have indeed given my love to Joan. We’ve walked the rough paths together, be it outdoors or otherwise, and the bond between us has only deepened because of what we’ve shared.

Even when we go on solo treks and spend time apart, I know it’s still part of the journey we’re on together.

She has given me her hand, traveled with me, and stuck by my side through it all.

Much like eight years ago, I feel a crossroads approaching. But unlike then, I now walk this path with the person I met when I first chose those “rough old paths.”

They led me to Moab and to something more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined:

The life I share with Joan.

I do not walk the path alone.

Another favorite photo of my wife.

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