A Nice Day for a White Wedding . . . Makes it Hard to Get Back in the Saddle Again (PART 1)

Ever notice how many analogies and metaphors have to do with horses?  Anything from getting back in the saddle after a long absence to getting right back on after you have been bucked off.  How about “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride”.  Never fully understood that one.  There seems to me to be a whole lot of presumption in that statement that I am not comfortable assuming at this point in my life.  For example . . . Do beggars make wishes?  I feel as though their waking hours are filled with more practical thoughts such as . . . oh, I don’ t know, what highway underpass will provide the most cover in the face of an oncoming storm . . . or maybe where their next meal might come from.  If, in fact, beggars do dream, the presumption is that they do so more than the rest of us.  The wants and desires born from their monastic lifestyle making them far more prone to flights of fantasy.  Again I am skeptical, but if indeed they “wish” more than the rest of us, then they would quickly have a herd of horses that would make it virtually impossible to ride.  Their days would be filled with a never ending quest to care for and maintain their herd.  Feeding yourself is one thing, but scratching together enough grub to feed a stable of horses from the nearest dumpster would seem an impossible task that would be far beyond the reaches of the most common beggar.  It also begs the question (pardon the pun) that if a beggar were to suddenly find himself rich with horses, would he still be a beggar at all.  Surely the horse trade is not so poor that one could not make themselves a reasonable living with a little bit of effort.

So, the more apt analogy would be that if a beggar has just one wish, and that wish was in fact in the form of a horse, then they would ride.  Given my general distrust for cowboy analogies, I guess I find myself disappointed to be hopelessly caught in the middle of one at this very moment.  It is an accurate description afterall, and the only one that immediately comes to mind.  I am in the process of “getting back in the saddle” so to speak.  I have been back “home” for a week.  Strange concept that . . . “home”.  It’s where the heart is right?  Hmmm, I’ll have to ponder that for a moment.  It would seem that while I am with my wife and children, a great deal of my heart is back in the US, yet while visiting in the US, my heart is back with them in France.  Having one’s heart split in two is not really all that enjoyable.  In fact, I know now that one cannot live forever with the knowledge that their heart is no longer a “whole”.  In my case, the choice seems quite clear . . . sort of.  One of two options seem to present themselves, but within those two generalities, a myriad of options seem available.  It is sort of like purchasing a new car.  The choice between a Chevy and a Ford is straight forward enough I suppose.  The general product line falls within certain design parameters and as such the consumer would generally be drawn by one firm’s designs more than the other.  A unified design team makes certain that certain design cues are carried from one model to the next and that certainly plays out in our preferences.  Once you have decided that you are a “Ford Man or Woman”, then the unenviable task of selecting the model that best fits your needs complicates the scenario a bit.  Now, I know there are lots of folks that prefer to shop by category rather than brand loyalty.  They choose a type of vehicle, SUV for example, and then weigh the options amongst all the car makers in the available market.  Those people are lost and will take forever to make a decision.  It is then like comparing apples with oranges.  The features and styling are so wildly divergent that selecting the best fit will almost certainly lead to buyers remorse and the “what if” factor that I am trying my best to avoid in life.  I need to keep this decision simple, uncomplicated.  To be honest, my usual methodology for buying a car doesn’t trend toward either of these scenarios.  I like a certain number of vehicles across Make and Model lines.  I like some compacts, some SUV’s and a few Pickup Trucks.  Comparing these is more like comparing Apples with Asparagus.  No longer are we talking about comparing two relatively dissimilar fruit.  Now we are comparing fruits with vegetables.

Yet perhaps it is here that my decision is made.  Do I prefer the sweetness of the fruit or the hearty earthiness of it’s cousin in the vegetable world.  Both have their claims and selecting one is certainly not a betrayal of the goodness found in the other.  Both will provide you the nutrition required for subsistence, but in the end, you will find yourself drawn toward one and regretting the loss of the other.  So it is with this decision before us now.  Do we stay or do we go.  It is as simple as that.  We either pack it in and end this experiment somewhere near our original 2 year commitment and make our way back to the US, or we stay . . . set down roots here in France and push toward senior citizenship.  When put in such concrete terms the decision is quite simple.  Perhaps it is because we have never really left the US in our hearts and as such have not given our lives here in France a fair shake, or perhaps we know that there is value here but the fit back home is simply better for us at this point in our lives.  I rather suspect the latter is true as I could certainly see a scenario where our lives could be much different.  When weighing the very real options, it is clear where my heart is.  It is with my family, and it is with them wherever they long to be, and it seems that their collective hearts are somewhere in the United States of America.  When the transition does finally arrive, I will be sad to bid France farewell.  It has held us and nurtured us like a surrogate mother.  It has offered the best of itself to make us feel comfortable and secure, and tending to someone elses children is no small feat. 

Though in the end we have chosen the apple for it’s sweet presence on our tongues and the Chevy for it’s spacious reliability, we have learned a great deal from eating asparagus drizzled with butter on the luxurious bench seat of our Ford Pickup Truck.  We will miss them both in their own way.  We have learned that the Ford is not so different from the Chevy after all.  Their style is different, but both will carry you in comfort.  And though the asparagus doesn’t tickle our fancy like the sweetness of the apple, the memory of it’s strange flavor on our tongue will have us looking for more whenever the menu provides it.  So, bring on the Chevy full of apples.  Whether that be a Silverado full of Granny Smiths or a Corvette full of Washingtons, we know where our heart truly lies.  Perhaps the greatest lesson of all is that we know that we could easily trade in our Astro Van full of Jonagolds for a Honda full of Sashimi and never be worse for the wear.  We now live a life of based purely on choice,  without regard for any known border, and that is really what this is all about, isn’t it?  In the end, I guess if OUR wishes were horses we would be unable to ride.  He who finds himself fulfilled would prefer to do the walking himself . . . the scenery passes slower that way.  R.