No Backtracking

I will never forget the Blizzard of 1993. I was reminded of the crazy snowstorm as I watched a movie version of the Laura Ingalls Wilder story this week. Oh my gosh! All that North Dakota snow! Who would ever want to settle down in a place that required so much and yielded so little? And yet throughout the story, the family kept repeating the same confirmation, "No backtracking!"

I had the same obstinate spirit during that blizzard that blanketed the southeastern United States. My family and I had planned a Gatlinburg, Tennessee vacation for the week of Spring Break. I had made reservations at a mountain chalet and had scripted each day like the director of a documentary movie crew. What I did not factor into that week-long trip was a blizzard!

My husband's trepidation started with the first snowflake. His comments ranged from I think we should cancel the trip to You can go, but the kids and I are staying here. As the snow piled up in central Mississippi, so did the concerns of every member of my immediate family to my extended family to my dead and buried ancestors.

No one thought we should go on the trip...except me. I was obstinate, and eventually I won! My husband and I loaded up our four-year-old, five-year-old, and ten-year old, dressed in their matching sweatsuits, and we headed for the mountains. What a mistake!

We got as far as Meridian, Mississippi (about forty miles from home), and I knew that this vacation would forever reposition the decision-making weight in our family. I knew that the "blizzard vacation" would come up in every future argument and would long be remembered as "your mother's decision."

Interstate traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see, and we had not even reached the Mississippi state line. We were moving at a snail's pace - about five miles every thirty minutes. David kept suggesting that we turn back after every successfully completed mile. But, I had the pioneer spirit! No backtracking! Things are going to get better. This is the South! The snow will melt! It won't last a day!

Things didn't get better. The snow did not melt. It did last...a week! We left at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, and at 9:00 p.m., we had traveled as far as Gadsen, Alabama. We had slipped and slid on the icy interstate, done a complete 360 on black ice and smashed our bumper when we crashed into a guard rail. Plus, after twelve hours of driving and not being allowed to exit off the interstate, my three backseat passengers were ready to totally combust! David had lost any ability to communicate, because of the extreme driving conditions. And, I just kept telling everyone in the car that Mommy made a mistake, which no one wanted to hear.

David decided to carefully maneuver our car down a slippery exit in Gadsen and attempt to coast to the Days Inn parking lot. He went inside to secure a room for the night, and I will never forget the look on my little boy's face when he came back to the car. "Kids, (he had completely stopped acknowledging my existence) I don't know how to tell you this, but we are going to have to sleep in the car. There are no rooms in Gadsen or in any of the surrounding areas."

Matt, my four-year-old, fell back on the seat and said, "I don't want to stay in this car another minute!" And right at that moment, as if we were in some kind of made-for-television movie, a young reservation clerk knocked on our car window. I rolled down the window, and in a perfectly angelic voice, she said, "If you would like, the manager has asked me to offer and prepare the banquet room for your family to stay tonight."

We were greeted in the banquet room with hot chocolate, roll-away beds and the most beautiful chandelier I think I have even seen in my life. The kids played Beauty and the Beast and danced the night away. The next morning, I took a picture of the kids under the chandelier. I took a picture of the kids (in their matching sweatsuits) with the hotel manager. I took a picture of the kids with the wrecked car. I even took a picture of my husband drinking a hot cup of coffee in two feet of snow.

We finally made it to Gatlinburg two days later, but we were not able to reach our chalet. The blizzard had completely shut down all mountain traffic. We were, however, able to stay in a five-star hotel with an indoor swimming pool for $19.00 a night. We walked to a local outlet mall, bought bathing suits and played in the steamy swimming pool. We never went to a single planned destination during the entire week.

This past summer, I became completely absorbed in the book Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, another unconventional pioneer of sorts. I finished reading it two days before the movie premier, and I was second in line to buy a ticket. I absolutely love one quote in the book:

~~Virginia Woolf wrote, “Across the broad continent of a woman’s life falls the shadow of a sword. On one side of that sword, she said, there lies convention and tradition and order, where “all is correct.” But on the other side of that sword, if you’re crazy enough to cross it and choose a life that does not follow convention, “all is confusion. Nothing follows a regular course.” Her argument was that the crossing of the shadow of that sword may bring a far more interesting existence to a woman, but you can bet it will also be more perilous.~~

I think about the perilous and unconventional journey of Laura Ingalls Wilder, the slightly perilous and unconventional journey of Elizabeth Gilbert and even the briefly perilous and unconventional journey of that obstinate vacation planner. I understand a little more about the defiant confirmation of "No backtracking." Everytime I am tempted to wish that my life would have followed a different course, I realize that I am backtracking. I am wishing for a life (or vacation) where "all is correct." But, when I am "crazy enough" to "choose a life that does not follow convention", I almost feel like a pioneer - perils and all.

The Tomorrow Trunk seemed unconventional and crazy twenty years ago. At times, it still does. But, at some point, I said, "No backtracking," and what a difference that decision has made.

Dianne ; )