Volume 1 - Vagabond
When the mascot starts attacking you, you know it’s time to go. I came home last Sunday from the Strawberry Fest, a cool yearly fundraising event at this old mansion along the river that a small non-profit group is trying to restore. Right now the mansion is falling apart but is still open to walk though, a cool experience of being inside a decaying building without trespassing. When I arrived at my front steps I saw a cute little baby blue jay standing on my steps. Its head was still fluffy but its back was just beginning to show the black, white, and blue that helped me identify it. It clearly couldn’t fly, so slowly and tenaciously it hopped its way the three inches or so up every step, squawking all the way. Hop, squawk, hop, squawk. I stood there and watched this little guy for about ten minutes, not wanting to scare it, accidentally push it off the edge, give its parents the impression that I had abducted it, or worse yet, attract the ire of the momma. Mom and dad both appeared and made their way from roof gutter to tree to power line, surveying the situation. I was glad to see them, because I thought the baby may have fallen out of the nest or been abandoned. I can just imagine what it would have been like if I had walked out of my house at that moment and seen a baby blue jay greeting me at the door. “No Mr. Blue Jay, I would not like to buy any cookies.” My little friend did eventually leave the porch, taking a diving leap to the plush uncut grass below and hopping off to hang with the ‘rents. It was really cool to get this close-up view of the family life an animal that usually never appears for more than ten seconds at a birdfeeder. But then things turned ugly…
The next day when I got home from work I was pleased to see my little baby blue jay friend under the tree near my steps again. Mom and dad were also hovering around and flying from perch to perch. Sometimes they seemed to be flying a little lower than normal. All was kosher till it came time for me to leave to go out that night. I walk out of my apartment only to find the baby blue jay now happily standing on my steps. Of course I can’t go down for the same reason I couldn’t go up the day before, so I went back inside for a few minutes hoping he would get the hint and move down the steps. He did not. He went up the steps. I slowly peered out my door and saw the little guy about two feet from me at the top of my steps. I contemplated jumping down but decided I couldn’t do it with the papers I had in my hand. So I thought I could avert disaster by moving very slowly. Most animals don’t get scared if you move very slowly. Baby birds are a bit easier to scare. As I inched my way out the door, locked it behind me, and creeped onto the deck, I got a cold hard stare followed by “SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK!!” I laughed for a second at how innocent this little thing was. He wasn’t going to charge, and he didn’t fall of the edge, he was just yelling at me. I tiptoed down about a step before I was abruptly disturbed by a very surprising crash and scrape across the top of my head. It hurt. I thought I was bleeding when I realized that little bird wasn’t yelling at me, it was yelling for its momma. I totally got dive bombed by a blue jay! I knew Etown chose the blue jay as its mascot because they had a reputation for being scrappy fighting birds, and now I can affirm that they are indeed the helicopter parents of the avian world.
But of course none of that has anything to do with the real message behind this, my first journal entry in three years. For three years I have been living the domestic life – apartment, bills, job, cooking, and all – in Elizabethtown. That period will have to stay a mysterious omission in the history books, because I know any vain attempt to characterize this period of my life and the volatility and range of emotions that have gone with it in a paragraph or even a book would fail miserably. It shall always be a part of me and will continue to play a part in shaping who I become, but it will not be a part of the public record. And anyway, I’m leaving it for a lifestyle of throwing my entirely too many possessions into boxes to store in basements, a lifestyle of answering the inevitable “Where are you from?” question with the perplexing “well, um, you know, it’s complicated.” Of course it’s all subject to change. My anchor is still aboard the ship, and without any significant rock to latch it onto, I will continue to float, not quite aimlessly, and not without purpose, but ever moving and ever onward into that great and glorious unknown.
Truthfully, there is nothing I would rather do than throw that anchor down. My years of travel taught me many things, the most important of which – the value of genuine relationships – has never left me. But this world is not designed for lovers, it’s designed for workers and drones and beer bellies and agnostics. This may sound terribly depressing, but it’s not intended as such. The world is just as beautiful as it ever was, and you certainly may not throw Jeremy Ebersole in the old bin of yet another idealistic college grad beaten down by the real world. No, friends, my idealism is stronger than ever, but (and this isn’t the first time I’ve mentioned this) as Bono reminds me, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” So I’m headed off to move the world inch by inch ever closer to one that actually is designed for the lovers and the dreamers and the spiritual out there, which of course in our heart of hearts is all of us.
Along the way I will do cool things. Next month will find me in Bavaria, working alongside 15 international young adults to reconstruct a labyrinth at a world heritage site marking the border of the ancient Roman Empire. A labyrinth is not a maze. Mazes get you lost. Labyrinths help you find yourself. It’s an ancient spiritual practice that helps Christians focus their thoughts by walking a specific pattern and meditating along the way. I will be in a tiny town with lots of people from all over the world. Most importantly, I will eat lots of delicious chocolate. Chocolate so good it doesn’t matter if it’s bite-sized. I’ll just have two! After Germany, the plan is to intern with TOMS Shoes. TOMS is a little company that no one had heard of six months ago till they made a commercial with AT&T that has now been seen by all of America. No one remembers it’s AT&T, but they do remember TOMS. Hopefully they will buy lots of shoes but not apply for this internship. Competition is not in my nature. We’ll see how this turns out. Then maybe I’ll work on an organic farm and learn how to cook, and maybe I’ll bike across the country. But maybe I’ll buy a Vespa, or maybe I’ll go to school for historic preservation, or maybe I’ll become a city planner, or maybe I’ll marry a nice California girl, or maybe I’ll become a helicopter pilot. That anchor is just waiting for something to latch onto.
They say that college is all about “finding yourself.” That’s a half-truth. Life is about finding yourself. It doesn’t end, kiddos. It’s the great grown-up whitewash. Of course they had to do it. Small minds need to believe that perfection exists, that someone out there knows what they’re talking about. And of course it does, but it does not come from a person. And yes, folks do know what they’re talking about, but do they know what you’re talking about? Life is questions, not answers. I have found one answer, the only answer. And that is Love; that is God. It’s just the great question that still eludes me. So I will build a labyrinth, and I will donate shoes to impoverished children, and I will smile, and I will make others smile, and I will fail, and I will succeed, and someday I will sit down with a fluffy white dog and tell my grandkids that when he was young he knew how to rock the party, and they’ll believe it – because he still does. I’m glad to have you join me on my journey, for it is only in our relationships with others that any of us truly exist.
The next day when I got home from work I was pleased to see my little baby blue jay friend under the tree near my steps again. Mom and dad were also hovering around and flying from perch to perch. Sometimes they seemed to be flying a little lower than normal. All was kosher till it came time for me to leave to go out that night. I walk out of my apartment only to find the baby blue jay now happily standing on my steps. Of course I can’t go down for the same reason I couldn’t go up the day before, so I went back inside for a few minutes hoping he would get the hint and move down the steps. He did not. He went up the steps. I slowly peered out my door and saw the little guy about two feet from me at the top of my steps. I contemplated jumping down but decided I couldn’t do it with the papers I had in my hand. So I thought I could avert disaster by moving very slowly. Most animals don’t get scared if you move very slowly. Baby birds are a bit easier to scare. As I inched my way out the door, locked it behind me, and creeped onto the deck, I got a cold hard stare followed by “SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK!!” I laughed for a second at how innocent this little thing was. He wasn’t going to charge, and he didn’t fall of the edge, he was just yelling at me. I tiptoed down about a step before I was abruptly disturbed by a very surprising crash and scrape across the top of my head. It hurt. I thought I was bleeding when I realized that little bird wasn’t yelling at me, it was yelling for its momma. I totally got dive bombed by a blue jay! I knew Etown chose the blue jay as its mascot because they had a reputation for being scrappy fighting birds, and now I can affirm that they are indeed the helicopter parents of the avian world.
But of course none of that has anything to do with the real message behind this, my first journal entry in three years. For three years I have been living the domestic life – apartment, bills, job, cooking, and all – in Elizabethtown. That period will have to stay a mysterious omission in the history books, because I know any vain attempt to characterize this period of my life and the volatility and range of emotions that have gone with it in a paragraph or even a book would fail miserably. It shall always be a part of me and will continue to play a part in shaping who I become, but it will not be a part of the public record. And anyway, I’m leaving it for a lifestyle of throwing my entirely too many possessions into boxes to store in basements, a lifestyle of answering the inevitable “Where are you from?” question with the perplexing “well, um, you know, it’s complicated.” Of course it’s all subject to change. My anchor is still aboard the ship, and without any significant rock to latch it onto, I will continue to float, not quite aimlessly, and not without purpose, but ever moving and ever onward into that great and glorious unknown.
Truthfully, there is nothing I would rather do than throw that anchor down. My years of travel taught me many things, the most important of which – the value of genuine relationships – has never left me. But this world is not designed for lovers, it’s designed for workers and drones and beer bellies and agnostics. This may sound terribly depressing, but it’s not intended as such. The world is just as beautiful as it ever was, and you certainly may not throw Jeremy Ebersole in the old bin of yet another idealistic college grad beaten down by the real world. No, friends, my idealism is stronger than ever, but (and this isn’t the first time I’ve mentioned this) as Bono reminds me, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” So I’m headed off to move the world inch by inch ever closer to one that actually is designed for the lovers and the dreamers and the spiritual out there, which of course in our heart of hearts is all of us.
Along the way I will do cool things. Next month will find me in Bavaria, working alongside 15 international young adults to reconstruct a labyrinth at a world heritage site marking the border of the ancient Roman Empire. A labyrinth is not a maze. Mazes get you lost. Labyrinths help you find yourself. It’s an ancient spiritual practice that helps Christians focus their thoughts by walking a specific pattern and meditating along the way. I will be in a tiny town with lots of people from all over the world. Most importantly, I will eat lots of delicious chocolate. Chocolate so good it doesn’t matter if it’s bite-sized. I’ll just have two! After Germany, the plan is to intern with TOMS Shoes. TOMS is a little company that no one had heard of six months ago till they made a commercial with AT&T that has now been seen by all of America. No one remembers it’s AT&T, but they do remember TOMS. Hopefully they will buy lots of shoes but not apply for this internship. Competition is not in my nature. We’ll see how this turns out. Then maybe I’ll work on an organic farm and learn how to cook, and maybe I’ll bike across the country. But maybe I’ll buy a Vespa, or maybe I’ll go to school for historic preservation, or maybe I’ll become a city planner, or maybe I’ll marry a nice California girl, or maybe I’ll become a helicopter pilot. That anchor is just waiting for something to latch onto.
They say that college is all about “finding yourself.” That’s a half-truth. Life is about finding yourself. It doesn’t end, kiddos. It’s the great grown-up whitewash. Of course they had to do it. Small minds need to believe that perfection exists, that someone out there knows what they’re talking about. And of course it does, but it does not come from a person. And yes, folks do know what they’re talking about, but do they know what you’re talking about? Life is questions, not answers. I have found one answer, the only answer. And that is Love; that is God. It’s just the great question that still eludes me. So I will build a labyrinth, and I will donate shoes to impoverished children, and I will smile, and I will make others smile, and I will fail, and I will succeed, and someday I will sit down with a fluffy white dog and tell my grandkids that when he was young he knew how to rock the party, and they’ll believe it – because he still does. I’m glad to have you join me on my journey, for it is only in our relationships with others that any of us truly exist.
