Travel is good for ya

But you knew that. As Zelda (I've decided to rename my daughter, and no, I'm not a hippie) and her friend Zanna make their way south on a midsummer road trip to Atlanta, I am reminded of the virtues, as well as the challenges and the pleasures, of travel. For evidence that travel inspires good writing, see a message MGL sends from NYC.

My friend LibraryMan was talking the other night about some people he met on his recent trip to Iceland. Never mind the endless hassles of airports and airlines, never mind the delays, the missed connecting flights, the uncertainty of flying stand-by, and the general anxiety of getting from here to there, it's the journey, not the destination, right? Well, yeah! He arrived just in time to catch the tour bus going around the perimeter of the island with a really interesting group of folks from all over the world. But it was one British lady in particular, a 90-year-old traveling by herself, who made the greatest impression, walking proof of the adventurous spirit.

It must be in the air. A day or two later I was at the gravel pit picking up half a yard of limestone when I heard a story on the radio about some real estate developers in Iceland who had trouble getting clearance on some land because the neighbors didn't want to disturb the elves. The snarky NPR announcer in Chicago made it sound quaint and archaic, but I find it refreshing that there are places in the civilized world where the presence of other life forms is common knowledge. Take that, rationalists!

Meanwhile, I got an e-mail from my brother Rock with information about an upcoming family gathering in southern Indiana. He's suggesting the little town of New Harmony as a central meeting place between our far-flung siblings in Georgia, Iowa, and Michigan. New Harmony was originally a utopian community founded by Robert Owen and other freethinkers on the banks of the Wabash. I went ahead and reserved a room at The Old Rooming House on Church Street, a few blocks by foot or bicycle from some cool historical and architectural sites, gardens, a labyrinth, and a Roofless Church.

Hey, that was Zelda herself on the phone, calling from Forsythe County, Georgia (pronounced for-SYTHE, as in "Forsooth!"), where she is visiting her grandmother and cousins on her mother's side. Everybody's fine, everybody sends their love, and back atcha.