My second foray into wanderlust took me on the road for years. When someone starts out a question, “Would you like to GO…” I’m already thinking, “Yes!” in my head before they finish the query.
This particular decision was not well thought out, I hadn’t saved up any money, and I didn’t have a plan. I left on a whim because I was wild and restless and reexamining all of my life goals.
Disclaimer: This next post will not sound like a travel article at the get-go. Life, like travel, is an unpredictable journey. I think how I got to the road is just as important as the actual being on the road.
I enrolled in college with a clear vision, I loved politics, and I would pursue it. When I was 12 years old, I campaigned for George McGovern at my elementary school. I held campaign rallies at the teeter-totters. I know this because my mother kept a poster I made stating as much. I loved politics in elementary school, in junior high, and in high school. When I graduated, my plan was to get a political science degree, followed by a law degree, followed by delving into the political arena.
I had another great passion, theatre. I loved singing, acting, and writing. I was in school plays and in the choir at both church and school. I was in the very exclusive (or so I thought) “Girl’s Ensemble at my junior high. I loved being on stage, the costume, the songs, the choreography, all of it. But the adult advisors in my life told me that was a hobby, and one couldn’t make a living with those skills.
When I started college, I pushed my drama dreams to the side and focused on politics. I became the President of my College Democrats club in my Freshman year. I had a political internship working on the Carter/Mondale reelection committee in Akron, Ohio.
I have Forest Gump’d my way through life, stumbling into situations I should never have reasonably been part of. The 60 Minutes show decided to do a segment on the importance of college students voting. Dan Rather was coming to Ohio State University, where President Carter was coming to meet with students. I stumbled into an invitation. My friends and I were inexplicably invited to participate. We were given notes of talking points and were supposed to memorize them so we wouldn’t embarrass ourselves with Dan Rather.
Here I was, a college Freshman, sitting at Ohio State University with a bunch of other teenage Democrats and first-time voters preparing for an interview with Dan Rather. What?
Suddenly, President Carter walked into the bar we were in. It took my breath away. He was accompanied by Coretta Scott King, Andrew Young, and a bunch of secret service guys. President Carter sat down at the table and joined us for pizza and beer. He asked us questions, and he listened to our responses. I felt that flood of emotion wash over me. I was having a beer with the President, and I had never even voted yet.
I worked for and was wholly invested in President Carter’s campaign. I had two friends who decided to transfer to Georgetown and asked me to move with them. We had big, bold dreams: we had met people. We could be interns in Washington. We could jumpstart our political careers.
But then, Carter lost the election.
All of my dreams of jumpstarting my career with a White House internship fell by the wayside. I was disillusioned and depressed. I decided that sort of crushing blow of losing elections was not something I could bear a lifetime of repeating.
I was wrestling with the future and what my next move should be. I opened my dresser drawer and found a flyer I had shoved in there from months before. A traveling theatre group had come through my town earlier that year and invited people to audition and possibly join them on the road.
At the time I met them, I had a firm plan for a political future. Even so, I took the flyer because I am eternally restless and always take flyers that concern going somewhere.
I remember sitting on my bed that night looking at that flyer and wondering if it was totally crazy to drop out of college to go live in a van and act for a living. I decided it was exceptionally impulsive, but concluded it was precisely what I needed to do. Dream A hadn’t panned out, so let’s move on to Dream B.
A week later, I was on a flight to Chicago. The group was headquartered in Los Angeles, but they asked if I would be willing to join on the road because they had lost one of their actor’s mid-tour. Was I ready to dive in and just be trained on the way? Could I pack my bags and get on a plane immediately?
Absolutely. I took my very first flight completely alone to meet a bunch of total strangers to live in a van traveling and performing. My parents were mortified. They were worried about my hasty choice and the education I was throwing away. I loved them so much and didn’t want them to worry, but I had to go.
With that first tour, my fate was sealed. I realized then, as Bonnie Raitt sings, “The Road’s My Middle Name.”
Forest Gumping my way through life 
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