Healthy, free, the world before me.
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose...
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune.
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing.
Done with indoor complains, libraries, querulous criticisms.
Strong and content I travel the open road." -Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road
I was in the Mongolian Barbeque place the other day (I know! I know! White Trash Scale off the Charts!) but I was the one being raked over the coals:
"How can you take your kids across the country by yourself?"
"What if something goes wrong?"
"It's almost tornado season!"
"Do you know how much it snows in the midwest?"
"You can't go there. It's full of creeps and criminals!"
"Are you going to carry a gun?"
And so on... and so on. I tried to remind people that, here we are in this restaurant and I'm the only one at the table who'd actually been to Mongolia, but it fell like a big yak turd into a butter bucket of yak milk. Plop!