Note about "This I Believe"

Over the past two days in Honors English 11, we have been sharing personal "This I Believe" essays. Folks, I have to say this: your essays amazed me. Some were funny, some were sad, some were full of stories, and there are even a couple that corporations would love to get their hands on (Connor and Baylee--I'm looking at you...). All of them, though, were statements of something that's important to each of you. Something that's important enough to write down on paper, and read aloud to a whole lot of other people. That's something that you should be proud of; I hope you realize how important it is.

D block folks, I didn't get a chance to ask you this, so I'll put out the plug now: if you're interested in having me publish your essay on this blog, send me a copy. I'd love to do so--some of the A block folks are going to send theirs along. If there's a line or two that you'd be interested in sharing, I'll put that out on Twitter. Just email me! I might start tweeting a few lines...I won't include names unless you tell me it's ok.

Before I end this by posting my own essay, I'll just say this: Thanks for sharing, and thanks for a great year!

I Believe in Long Car Rides
by Julie McMaster

Every morning, I drive past a beautiful view of Mt. Monadnock, which is across the street from my house. I wind along back roads that are technically highways (or highways that seem like backroads—you decide). As my car winds, often my mind winds. I think about the weather, and the upcoming day. I try to remember what the school schedule will be for the day, and when I will eat lunch. I stop for tea, and eat some breakfast. I see the sunrise sometimes—I’m out before the world really wakes up. I try not to go too fast…it’s hard because there’s no one else out, but it’s important because every day there’s some kind of animal standing in the middle of the road when I come around a bend. Often, it’s a turkey (or 8). Frequently, there’s a deer or two that bounds away. A couple of weeks ago, something trotted into the woods from the middle of the street…I later discovered that coyotes run with their tails down, so that’s what it must have been. Last week, I rounded a corner to find a bear hanging out in the middle of the road. She sauntered away, and as I followed her path to the side of the road, I noticed a teeny little bear scampering down the tree he was halfway up. Once, there was a moose standing next to the gas station.

Every day, I travel over an hour from New Hampshire down to central Mass. Usually, it’s pretty routine. Sometimes it’s intense—winters in New England and all. I’ve left my house long before the sun rose, and I’ve returned past its setting. It takes about 2 and a half hours of every day, and though it’s sometimes annoying when I just want to sleep in or be home in my sweats, I believe in the long haul; I believe in everything a long car ride has to offer. 

This will sound simple, but it’s also true: long car rides allow me to go places: new places, familiar places and important places. I’ve driven to Long Island for a 2-hour wedding shower—the trip one way was longer than the time I spent there, but the experience of being there to spend time with my best friend and her family was worth what might be seen as an inconvenience. Sugarloaf is definitely not the closest ski mountain to my house, but it’s the one that holds memories of learning to ski when I was in college, so I drive there happily, and keep an eye out for every landmark (smelly paper factory! car on a stick!) along the ride.

Long rides allow me to see things, like the beautiful scenery and animal adventures I mentioned above. Long rides allow me to learn a ton: I listen to books and the news, and I have the time to really settle in to those listening experiences. Those long rides give me time to prepare myself for a day, or an experience: I can wake up with some news, enjoy a little bit of  a story, then jam to some music to get myself in a good mood for the day. I sing along sometimes, then get self-conscious when I realize the windows are down and I’ve been jamming to some boy-band classic. Sometimes my road trips involve friends, like a recent, fantastic trip up to Maine for my college reunion (accompanied by a bumping soundtrack of 90s pop music). Usually, though, it’s just me and my car (and sometimes my dog).

When I commit to a long ride, I always hope the destination will be worth it. It usually is. But I know, too, that the ride itself is a big part of why I go.