My father-in-law has a preference when driving on long road trips - staying in the pockets. Pockets are those gaps between large groups of cars that naturally form on freeways when traffic isn't too bad and people are actually able to go at the speed they want. The faster drivers inevitably clump together, the slower ones get left behind, and if you're lucky and aware of your surroundings, you can sneak into a pocket between the two groups and have some elbow room and not have to worry as much about your blind spots or tailgaters. Lately, I find myself on the road a lot - not that I have to drive for a living. But I do live in Southern California. I drive about 40 miles, each way, to & from work, and my family and friends are fairly spread out from Orange County to Pasadena to Santa Monica. So I'm on the highways a lot - the 405, 5, 22, 110, 710, and 10 - fully immersed in the fumes and frustration that fill our SoCal roads. Sometimes I battle, sometimes I cruise, and when I'm lucky - I find pockets.
The fact that my father-in-law likes pockets tells you a lot about him. He's generally a quiet man, easily lost in thought. Don't get me wrong, the man has his opinions, and he's certainly not shy. But he's definitely someone who thinks long and hard before he speaks. At parties, people chat about everything and nothing around him, and he drifts about from small circles of people to large raucous crowds - putting in his two cents here and there, but mostly listening and thinking. Sometimes he escapes to the kitchen (if the party's at his home) to make sure the pile of dirty dishes and glasses doesn't get too high, to check on his basset hound, and sometimes he'll just go on a walkabout.
I had never heard the word "walkabout" until the first time I met my father-in-law. That first meeting was at a restaurant with a large group of people, and after most had finished eating the main course and were waiting for dessert and coffee and talking amongst themselves, he just vanished. He had quietly slipped outside and was walking about. Later I found out that he's infamous for his walkabouts - his friends and family often tease him and refer to them. They'll ask him what he does on his walkabouts, but he never really replies. He may shrug and mutter something about walking around, stretching his legs, and so on - but he never gives a "real" response.
I like to imagine that the man just values Silence. He is the father or stepfather of 6 children, he has 6 sons- and daughters-in-law, 8 grandchildren, 2 sisters, a sister- and brother-in-law, and hundreds of friends and extended family between him and my mother-in-law. How valuable, then, are the rare conversation-free, TV & radio-free, bark-free, phone-free and work-free moments? How comforting, then, is a blanket of fresh air, the darkness of night, the stillness of early morning, and relative quiet of a room with doors shut to a boisterous gathering in the next room?
Now my life isn't nearly as busy and full as his. It's just my significant other and me, a cat, no kids... We live at the bend of a quiet dead end street, in a duplex out of earshot of any schools or parks. I work in a small office on a quiet street. We don't eat out very much or party hard or go to clubs. Our lights are usually out by 10. But I do definitely find myself constantly bombarded by sound - looping music at the mall, people talking on their cellphones at the dry cleaners, people on their hands-free in line at the grocery store, 35 large screen TVs with surround sound at a sports bar, the booming bass from the car next to me at a stoplight, sirens late at night... And sometimes, especially at night, when I find myself on the road, and traffic is moving at the right pace, I turn off the radio and seek out a pocket. I find one, settle in, and just enjoy the black emptiness around me, threatened only with the twinkle of headlights far behind me in my rearview mirror and the warm red glow of tail lights in the distance ahead of me.
The fact that my father-in-law likes pockets tells you a lot about him. He's generally a quiet man, easily lost in thought. Don't get me wrong, the man has his opinions, and he's certainly not shy. But he's definitely someone who thinks long and hard before he speaks. At parties, people chat about everything and nothing around him, and he drifts about from small circles of people to large raucous crowds - putting in his two cents here and there, but mostly listening and thinking. Sometimes he escapes to the kitchen (if the party's at his home) to make sure the pile of dirty dishes and glasses doesn't get too high, to check on his basset hound, and sometimes he'll just go on a walkabout.
I had never heard the word "walkabout" until the first time I met my father-in-law. That first meeting was at a restaurant with a large group of people, and after most had finished eating the main course and were waiting for dessert and coffee and talking amongst themselves, he just vanished. He had quietly slipped outside and was walking about. Later I found out that he's infamous for his walkabouts - his friends and family often tease him and refer to them. They'll ask him what he does on his walkabouts, but he never really replies. He may shrug and mutter something about walking around, stretching his legs, and so on - but he never gives a "real" response.
I like to imagine that the man just values Silence. He is the father or stepfather of 6 children, he has 6 sons- and daughters-in-law, 8 grandchildren, 2 sisters, a sister- and brother-in-law, and hundreds of friends and extended family between him and my mother-in-law. How valuable, then, are the rare conversation-free, TV & radio-free, bark-free, phone-free and work-free moments? How comforting, then, is a blanket of fresh air, the darkness of night, the stillness of early morning, and relative quiet of a room with doors shut to a boisterous gathering in the next room?
Now my life isn't nearly as busy and full as his. It's just my significant other and me, a cat, no kids... We live at the bend of a quiet dead end street, in a duplex out of earshot of any schools or parks. I work in a small office on a quiet street. We don't eat out very much or party hard or go to clubs. Our lights are usually out by 10. But I do definitely find myself constantly bombarded by sound - looping music at the mall, people talking on their cellphones at the dry cleaners, people on their hands-free in line at the grocery store, 35 large screen TVs with surround sound at a sports bar, the booming bass from the car next to me at a stoplight, sirens late at night... And sometimes, especially at night, when I find myself on the road, and traffic is moving at the right pace, I turn off the radio and seek out a pocket. I find one, settle in, and just enjoy the black emptiness around me, threatened only with the twinkle of headlights far behind me in my rearview mirror and the warm red glow of tail lights in the distance ahead of me.
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