Telling A Story

If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it, you wouldn’t cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers. You wouldn’t tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you’d seen. The truth is, you wouldn’t remember that movie a week late, except you’d feel robbed and want your money back. Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo.

But we spend years actually living those stories, and expect our lives to feel meaningful. The truth is, if what we choose to do with our live won’t make a story meaningful, it won’t make a life meaningful either.

-Don Miller

I read these words in the newest Don Miller book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. My mother sent me a goodie package that I delightfully dug into after coming back from Morocco Sunday, but the tastiest treat wasn’t the Big Ben Roethlisberger Beef Jerkey (can you believe Spell Check all ready knows Roethlisberger? Incredible), wasn’t the mound of Cliff bars, or the refreshingly “healthy” Florida’s natural candy. It was the written word of Don Miller, reminding me that life is about making a story. One that I hope I can tell to some fascinated (or maybe bored by their then senile storyteller) grandchildren someday. However, for now, I will play catch up on the last couple fast and furious weeks.

Geneva

Geneva was a nice little weekend repose. Interesting visits to the UN headquarters, Red Cross Museum, many a coo coo clock and watch shops, and an “American” store where I discovered the Left Handed Brewing Company out of Colorado filled the trip. I would like to head back to Switzerland someday to see more of it, but for now, my life pushes on to other adventures.

Overnight train to Rome

Marc and I decided to air on the side of interesting and go for the overnight train from Dijon (like the Mustard) to Rome. In typical Italian fashion, the train was late, about three hours, but some very hospitable gypsy artists invited us along for a beer in town while we waited where we discovered Picon, a very new and interesting beer. Turns out our new friend Nico Faya is a talented Reggae Freestylist. If you’re into that sort of music, go here or come to Lyon on the 23rd this month and join me at his concert. After finally boarding our train, Marc and I shared a very comfortable compartment with a lovely French couple who gave us all sorts of tips for Rome. We woke up refreshed and ready to explore Rome.

Rome and Florence

We came, we saw, and we walked everywhere. Yet another strike in our European adventures, thankfully Rome is a walking friendly town. The Coliseum, The Forum, A very long and educational tour of the Vatican and a pub-crawl thrown in for good measure. Rome was good to us. The city and famous sites are best seen at 3 a.m. after a night of bacchanalian, which is as per normal for the Romans, a festival in honor of Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry. Fear not readers, this traveler does all things in moderation and responsibly, and thankfully saw the sights at their finest indeed, when nobody was out. During our tour of the Vatican we met three Canadian sisters who as fate would have it, accompanied us to Florence, which in my travels has set itself apart as the best city in Europe. The tour was by far the best decision we made in Rome. It is simply impossible to appreciate or take in the Vatican (or the Coliseum and Forum really) without an expert’s help. I have a new found appreciation for The Downfall of Adam, take a good look at what his real temptation was…old Michelangelo was quite the vindictive fellow and made sure some of the content was less than holy. After appreciating all of Rome, we moved to Florence. The city should simply charge visitors a onetime fee to walk around and go to the museum, for the city is in and of itself a grand museum, with remarkable works around each corner. The Canadians were quite knowledgeable on Italian art and served as great tour guides.
I could have rested a bit longer in Florence, but as always, onto other adventures.

Casablanca

After a quick stop in Lyon to go to class, (we are students after all) we set our packs one more time for a trip to Morocco. Casablanca still has charm, but not anything like the movie these days. It was definitely fun navigating the old city markets. Thankfully a friendly taxi driver served as our tour guide (we still aren’t sure why) and showed us the different spice markets, places to buy camel meat, and off limit views from the now abandoned Catholic cathedral. You can’t have much more fun than haggling with the Moroccan vendors. It isn’t a true sale for them unless it comes after many healthy minutes of haggling, threatening to walk away, potentially actually leaving and coming back, and then settling on a price that is definitely half of the initial proposition. Only in Casablanca can a Timex watch on its last leg be traded for a couple pieces of art and some trinkets. I was looking to replace the watch anyway. I can’t go into detail about what was purchased at the markets, but do know if you’re a good friend of Nate’s, you’re probably in for an interesting gift from the straight out of the Maghreb. Casa was a little dirty, a little dangerous, and a little sketchy, and I loved it. We heard the “real” Morocco could be found in Marrakech, but that turned out to be faux. We went to Marrakech for a day, but were sadly disappointed with its cleanliness, appeasement of tourists, and overpriced markets. I’ll take good old dirty Casa any day.

Telling a good story
If you’re still reading, the tone of this blog will change a bit now. A couple weeks ago our Army, West Point Community, country, and world lost a good man in 1st Lt. Tyler Parten. I had the pleasure of being under his brother’s tutelage my plebe year, and learned a lot about what wonderful people the Parten family is. There aren’t too many of their breed left; caring, loving, courageous and strong folk who are as quick to laugh with you as they are fight alongside you. The true loss is that we didn’t have more time to learn from him, not that he is no longer with us. Don Miller spoke of his uncle’s death as such. “My Uncle told a good story with his life, but I think there was sadness at his funeral because his story wasn’t finished. If you aren’t telling a good story, nobody thinks you died too soon; they just think you died. But my uncle died too

Gelato and Friends
Our new Canadian friends at the best Gelato joint in Florence; as recommended by Joe Gulino...or Joe Jr in family circles.

soon.”

Tyler Parten was telling a good story, and he died too soon. As many of you know, and hopefully were planning on attending, I was planning a night of revelry for my upcoming 21st birthday on New Year’s Eve 2009. Tyler’s passing made me rethink what kind of story I’d be telling if I threw such a party. Not that I don’t believe in celebrating life, but there are far more productive, and honoring ways to do so. So instead of crawling from bar to bar in Uniontown, we will instead show our solidarity and support of the men and women who make such crawling possible, and send them a little love from home. On New Year’s Eve 2009, BYOL, that is Love (beer is an acceptable form of extending love), in whatever form you can, as we make care packages for Tyler Parten’s unit in Afghanistan, and honor a life cut too short, but one we will always be able to learn from. More details to follow on this if you are interesting in supporting. Hope you are all are well my friends, and tell a good story.

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