The Nomadic Life

Hit The Road Jack

Chapter 13

Five days a week. Home, TV, bed, wake up, repeat. The monotony of it all makes me itch for something more. Once out on my own I realize routine is my nemesis. The boring small-town grind feels like it is slowly suffocating me. With a short attention span and a thirst for adventure, I am unable to ignore the pull of the world beyond. There must be more out there. More excitement, more to live and strive for than the sparsely populated towns that surround me have to offer.

Eupora is a tiny town. Maben and Mathiston are even smaller. When the most exciting thing going on in your life is past due bill roulette, wondering which utility would be shut off first, it’s easy to understand why I begin questioning my life choices. A minimum-wage job barely covers the basics, and my lonely one-bedroom apartment has begun to feel like a prison. There has to be something better out there, I tell myself.

In Mississippi, there are only two big cities I prefer to choose from, Tupelo or Jackson. I chose Tupelo. It is closer and, from what I hear, has a nightlife worth checking out.

But what kind of job could someone like me, a high school dropout with only restaurant and factory experience, get? Neither pays much better than minimum wage. Plus, living in a city will be more expensive, and if I cannot make it in a small town, what is the point of trying somewhere bigger?

Still, I have never been one to listen to reason. So, I pack my car and drive to Tupelo, hoping for the best.

I land a job washing dishes in a fancy restaurant beside a major hotel. Not glamorous, but a place that hires real chefs, not short-order cooks. I am not delusional enough to think I will ever move up in the ranks and become a member of the cooking staff, nor do I believe I have a chance of becoming a waiter. This is merely a stopgap job, something to tide me over until something better comes along.

Having left all my furniture behind, I need a place that is cheap and furnished. I become friendly with a few members of the waitstaff, and Lucy, an elderly woman, tells me there is a vacancy at the hotel where she lives. “It’s a small room with just a bathroom and a TV, but it is affordable.” She explains. Tired of sleeping in my car along the Natchez Trace and with winter looming, I move in after getting my first paycheck. Sure, it is a step down from my old apartment, but it feels comfortable, almost like returning to the small, cozy duplex I’d lived in back in Mathiston, or more closely resembling the room at the old boardinghouse, minus the vermin.

At 19, I am outgoing, and it doesn’t take long to make friends. My first is Lynn, the night clerk at the hotel. I take an instant liking to him. He is kind and easy to talk to, and from a small town too, Pearl, just outside Jackson. One night I asked why he chose Tupelo over Jackson, as Pearl is only minutes away. He tells me Jackson felt too big. Tupelo, he said, still has that small-town charm but with the perks of a bigger city.

As we become closer friends, Lynn shares with me that he has a partner named Richard. Uncomfortable around gay people, I did not know how to process that information. He is the first openly gay man I have ever met. I admire his honesty and willingness to share details about his personal life. I still do not trust people and could never be that brave.

I leave the hotel office after speaking with Lynn, my mind, my heart and soul, unable to process what he shared. I am not able to sleep that night with all the questions reeling inside my mind. Was Lynn’s ability to be openly gay threatening to me? Did his honesty challenge my perception of manhood? Was it my insecurity driving me to leave Eupora and Maben? Was I trying to find myself, or was I running away from something I was not ready to face? I had spent so many years taking care of Junior that I never took the time to think about who I really was. Now, I am alone and forced to confront the questions I have been avoiding. Who am I? What do I want from life? What kind of person do I want to be?

After searching the deepest recesses of my mind I find no answers. I do not even know where to begin. I have no idea what the world has to offer. How can I make such a life altering decision if I ignore all the options available to me? What bothers me the most is the thought that I have no control over this. What if, just what if, it is not even a choice.

The biggest question gnawing at me is not who I am, but who I want to become. The possibilities seem endless. As a nomad I can reinvent myself with each move, start fresh and be whoever I want to be. But that is the tricky part, do I want to spend my life running away from the one question which has haunted me since childhood, or will I choose to face the question head on?

Growing up, my mom had one rule, fit in. Do not let them know you are German. Hide your accent and never mention where you came from. Assimilate. Blend into whatever community you’re in, and you won’t get laughed at. Don’t stand out. Talk like them. Dress like them. Be like them. And you’ll be accepted.

I learned to do exactly that and for many years I lived as a chameleon, never truly taking the time to get to know me. I was too busy pretending to be someone else, anyone else, and everyone else. That skill has served me well in life, but now it keeps me from answering a most important question: Who the hell am I?