Joe Mosby's blog

An August recap on the road again

The first words of this post started where they so often do: on the road. Specifically, they started at Ling and Louie's Asian Bar and Grill at Terminal A of DFW Airport, where Robbie has just poured me a Deschutes Obsidian Stout to help get my ideas flowing. This beer lives up to its name. It's black as can be - impenetrably so. If I'm not actively moving the glass, it settles into a solid mass that makes the outside look painted. It doesn't have the bitter bite of a Guinness, though. It's creamy, almost buttery. Robbie's a dutiful airport bartender. Aside from checking in once to see if I wanted something to eat, he's left me alone. He knows his guests that want to talk. We all travel in our own way, you never know what kind of mood you'll be in when you're on the road.

I am only a few gates down from gates A18 through A22, which I have gotten to know quite well. I've been there four times this month for a few different work-related trips. I know there's a stack of gutbomb fast food joints, the ubiquitous Vino Volo, the Pinkberry. I know this without having to go look to double-check. They'll be there in a pinch if I need something quick, and if I have time to think - there's Ling and Louie's.

By accident or by fate, I have spent much of the eight thousand miles I've traveled this month meditating on what it means to be a man. Not a man in the sense of gender, but in the sense of maturity. I don't know what triggered it. Perhaps it was the seed of Robert Pirsig's ideas on quality that finally bloomed after reading them earlier this year. Perhaps it was Philip Chavanne's The Early Tales of Snow and Oakham which tells the story of an adventurer handing off his creation and his stories to his sons. Or maybe it was Being Nixon, a phenomenal biography of the psyche of Richard Nixon and a reminder that presidents had to learn to grow up too. Maybe it was watching a healthy amount of Anthony Bourdain shows in Dallas, a man who I unashamedly aspire to emulate. Who knows. Maybe it was just the road. It unlocks my mind in ways a steady home address never can.

I have meditated on the requirement of responsibility for myself and for others. I have previously contemplated the need to take ownership of my own life, but Chavanne's book has made me dwell on responsibility for the lives of those outside myself. Is there an element of manhood that involves willingly stepping up to shoulder the needs of others? I believe there is.

I have thought about the road and what it means to me to be out here. When I was younger, I thought travel was only about exploring new places and trying new food. Now that I'm older, I realize that the road is an opportunity for reflection that - for whatever reason - I can't find at home. It was draws me to long flights and solo stints in cars. That's where I get my chance to think.

I have pondered my future and what I want to do to achieve it. That motivation, that drive, was lost to me for most of the summer. I didn't lose my way, but I certainly felt like I was sitting at a crossroads and couldn't find the motivation to pick a direction and get moving. Now I'm back.

I'm back in D.C. now, because I rarely start and finish a post the same day. I'm celebrating the friends I have here. The road is a good place for lonely reflection, and home is a place for baseball games, house parties, and the people you care about. The road is a good place for pondering ideas, but home is where they must be turned into action.

And to close, as I always do, I have a bulleted list of accomplishments from the month:

Next month I'll be on the road (again) visiting Charleston and some client sites. I hope in the latter part of the month to return to more focused learning and cooking more at home. And football returns very, very soon.