“In the End, Everyone is a Loser.”
- Andrew Ross Sorkin (new york times) on today’s/tonight’s Charlie Rose show.

Some may argue he was talking only in reference to the botched Microsoft-Yahoo deal, but the twinkle in the wunderkind’s eye illuminated omniscience.

A Debuke college professor and English tourist are sitting at the India House kitchen table and exchange quips on a history I’m unfamiliar with. “What can you do?” the Iowa man inquires, with a sad and serious undertone.

“You can forget it,” I offer with a nervous chuckle I habitually share to let others know that I’m light hearted, harmless and mean no offense by interrupting their conversation.

“Then history will repeat itself.”

“It’ll repeat itself anyway.” This conversation is already repeat of so many before. They accept my introduction into their conversation and we spend the next few minutes gently chewing on the paradoxes of the study and definitions of history. We take small bites and let the food marinate in our saliva to extract full flavor and aid in digestion.

Is the secret to happiness and working to have many jobs? (Unless you’re one of the lucky 1% who don’t have to have any job.)

Grants, NM: Restaurant Owner, Property Owner, Wrestling Coach, Assistant Football Coach

Larry owns El Cafecito, which I find in my “road trip america” book, off of historical Route 66 in Grants, NM. While enjoying my solo Valentine’s dinner and winding down with a game of “Ka-Glom!” on my Blackberry, Larry asks me how I can type so fast. “Oh, I’m not that cool … I’m not texting …” And we launch into a conversation on family, work ethics and our generation gap. On top of owning and managing this restaurant, which just doubled in size this year, he plans to double it into the next lot next year and owns 20+ properties, coaches high school wrestling and is the assistant football coach. (We swap some wrestling stories, since I grew up in a town with Olympian Brad Vering and was a wrestling cheerleader. Shhh…) The school wants him to be the head football coach, but he runs through his daily schedule and there just isn’t the time. Did I mention that he’s been married for 30+ years and has 3 gorgeous kids and 1 grandchild?

He worked in the mines for 19 years before they closed down and he decided to open up shop. Since then, he’s enjoyed the variety of multiple jobs and only wants to give his kids something he didn’t have - a good head start. (We then explore our generation gap, the waning work ethic and concerns we have for my generation, which I plan to dissect later.)

Santa Fe, NM: Musician, Guitar Instructor, Flight Instructor, Personal Trainer

Bob plays his guitar at the Santa Fe Baking Company and Cafe every Saturday. For the short while I’m enjoying a Southwestern sandwich special, I hear the Beatles, Dylan, Clapton and other classics. His voice is soothing and he keeps the mood light with mock growls and accents. As he wraps up, he announces that also teaches lessons. That would be fun, I think, to take lessons as I travel. I accidentally almost unplug his shelves of amps and equipment and he throws a joke my way that opens a new conversation. “Any chance I can get a lesson from you today? I’m only in town for a day.” He must not hear me all the way, as he says “Sure, I’ll get you a card before I leave and you can give me a call.”

Oddly enough, he’s also a flight instructor and a personal trainer. “You’re my new hero” I blurt out. Seriously, I’ve wanted to fly forever and dream of being fit someday. “That’s the way I like it. If you have many jobs, you never have to work a day in your life.” When he focused on being a musician for a living, he didn’t have as much fun. He started playing venues he didn’t like, just for the money and finally decided to go back to having it as a hobby instead of a career. And now that he has diversity again, he doesn’t have to “work” and has fun for a living.

Me: On a Break …

Larry and Bob spark admiration and reflection, which conjures hint of a spice nearly forgotten: variety. Remember 9-10 years ago? Bartending, waitressing, web design and the online daily paper jobs along with photography, drawing and other studio classes … I had fun and community and a little paycheck. A new question pops up: can one have variety and pay the bills?

You: ???

How do you keep variety in your life? When are you (or were you) most satisfied in how you “make a living?”

U-Turns

Lesson of the Day: a u-turn keeps you moving forward (not backwards)

As I’m dashing out of Tucson, I intend on swinging by the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum before driving down to Bisbee, where I’ll follow the border over to Texas along my pre-planned route.

By the time I’m finished with the museum (which is a zoo crossed with an arboretum: GO HERE when you can - you’ll love it!) I’m exhausted and spend some time checking my missed calls and messages. Michelle writes to remind me that Austin’s music festival is HUGE and if I can swing it, I should reconsider making it. Several friends have left messages to check on my situation with Kyle. Kyle has questioned if I’m alive and still in town.

I decide that I don’t want to speak for the remainder of the day. (Aside: more to explore on silence as communication vs isolation.) And I decide to turn around and head back the way I came - all the way to Phoenix and beyond. I don’t know how far I’ll make it and even though I’ve done this drive before, it’s almost comforting to travel through the same landscape. Now I can use all my energy to digest and process the past 6 months and last night.

A KOA near Black Canyon appeals to me as a cheap alternative, after having to fork over nearly $200 for an “emergency” hotel stay last night. $23 bucks and a few laps around the lot later, I’m re-arranging the insides of my car to make a bed in the passenger seat. Why not lay out under the milky-way? The black sky with sprinkled Christmas lights comforts me: I can be alone in silence and remain a part of a large universe. But the creepy-crawlies from the desert museum have me scared of sleeping outside and the wind has an unnerving way of rustling the trash can so I can’t tell what’s running around and about to attack. I finally nestle in my new sleeping bag with my Maglite. This turning around feels right.

After a rejuvenating morning work out, I give myself a tour of this tiny town. My plan is to find a non-interstate route up to Flagstaff - and maybe get close to the Grand Canyon. A friendly woman at the mart tells me she doesn’t think there are any other ways to get there, except maybe an old road that’s likely impassable by car.

Hm… I find this back road (Old Black Canyon Highway) and after a short few miles I make my first u-turn after a sign reading: Tell ADOT No to Freeway in Canyon. And the itch scatters in - when I realize that I have to go backwards and lose ground, lose time. Resigned, I head for I-17 and take the next exit with a brown (recreational) sign for Bumblebee and Wild Horse Canyon. The pavement ends immediately and I’m excited to be driving on the gravel roads of my youth. OK, these are a bit more rugged and more rock hard dirt than gravel, but the Scion has great shocks.

Time disappears with the pavement and I’m suddenly free to go as slow or pull over whenever I want. And I do. I take good chunks of time to sun bath on the roof of the scion (which now acts like a toaster in addition to looking like one). In Bumblebee I see another sign pleading for no pavement and I think of Edward Abbey. These Arizonians are serious about keeping their country country … and the thought of an explosion explodes a new energy.

The next time I realize I have to make a u-turn, I’m sliding through a long patch of mud into an old mining town in Prescott National Forest: Crown King. If I live up here I’ll want a helicopter. Surprisingly, I get cell reception, so break my day of silence and call friends back so they don’t dispatch a search party and know my new travel direction and plans. My proud Scion, painted in mud, almost fits in with the trucks and ATVs and I know she’s ready to give the road another shot.

I have no reservations having to turn around. With all sense of time gone, and no set plans on where I’ll make it to, I look forward to gaining a new perspective on the scenery and paths I’ve traversed. As I descend the mountain, I relax a little since the road holds less surprises, and my mind takes its own u-turns in concepts, memories and processes. Like a simulated flying game (or GPS “fly over”), I see myself wandering around a slough of emotions in slow motion. At the end of 26 miles back down I have a new option: turn right and hit I-17 or turn left onto an unknown road where town names are listed with no mileage.

After 5 hours of driving with frequent stops to snap photos, sun bathe and walk around, I had gone the same distance North (Sedona direction) that I could have gone in 30 minutes on the interstate. I check my fuel gauge and turn left: I’m not ready to have a destination yet. Eventually I hit pavement at Spring Valley and end up taking 89 north to Prescott and 89A with Sedona as my goal.

An old mountain town grabs my attention. It reminds me of a town out east (on a drive from Boston to the cape) that I can’t recall and I search out a place to park. It’s tricky as the roads are small and zig zag down the mountain. Following a sign to parking I end up in an old ghost town (where they have a gift shop) and am offered a free place to stay (by Rai with a sweet smile that tells me she genuinely loves the earth and cares for me even though she’s never met me before).

So now I continue on 89A to Sedona Pine Resort, with a promise to give 90 minutes of my time to hear a sales pitch on time shares. Tonight I don’t mind: time feels different now and I’m basking in the beauty of u-turns. And I’m even more excited to sit in an outdoor spa, letting the hot pulsating water massage the soreness of a forgotten yesterday away.