nonesuch #344

I realized something last night about "On The Road". The first time I read it oh some 15 years ago, I remember thinking these guys seem so old, older than me at least and there was more of a pull to reach their ages and do the things they were doing. I think it was more of the trap I was feeling at the time, staying in a dead-end relationship that both of us knew was going to end. I don't think either one of us knew how but it was better than the mess we were in when we were together. And the feeling of being lost, getting ready to graduate college and having no idea what I wanted to do, knowing my ancient greek grades were not high enough for grad school in Classics or Religious Studies, know that in order to find a good job, career even, with either one of these areas, I would need that masters at some point. Knowing that in 6 months after I graduated, the student loan bills would start to come in and how was I going to pay that, I didn't know where I was going to find a job in the first place.
But now, they all seem so young, I am guessing they are mostly in their 20s with a few of the older ones perhaps in their early 30s. And I am well beyond my early 30s. Maybe it was the time, the things they were doing, traveling criss cross the country, drinking tons, hitching rides in cars, on backs of trucks, on trains, making or attempting to make girls in the little towns they would stop for gas and beer and apple pie and ice cream. The romantic side of the road and yet, yet the descriptions given of life on the road, panhandling, begging and stealing in some cases, just to get back home to his warm comfortable bed to continue to the manuscript, to finish the manuscript, I would not want for that for no reason. Aging or maturing? Not sure on my part. Even younger, I had no urgent burning desire to travel that much but I did and do want to see the States, more than I want to see other countries even though I head for England in almost 3 months. Of course, sign of a good book is that it can have meaning, hit home, on different levels, different stages of life. It is also a sadder book than I remember. I guess chasing dreams, chasing friends, chasing girls, trying to find where you fit is not always a happy journey.