O P I N I O N
LEMENADE
By June Lemen
Maybe it’s because I grew up off Exit 10 on the Mass Pike, or that my first walk to school was along Route 20 in Massachusetts. Maybe it’s because I have driven to Worcester, Massachusetts, so many times that I still know the original exit numbers off 495 and 290. It could be because I spent my first years of employment commuting into Cambridge. Maybe it’s because my father was a civil engineer and I heard so many stories about roads and bridges. But whatever the reason is, if I can get somewhere by highway, but there’s an alternate route, I take the alternate route.
I started this because of my father, of course. In his declining years, my father finally decided that I was safe to drive with. He would ask me to take him, say, to the Grafton Credit Union, and we would go there by means of his directions. This meant me taking all kinds of little roads instead of zipping down Route 122. An errand that usually took 45 minutes could easily last twice as long. It was a pretty ride, though.
A lot of the ‘errands’ that I took my father on when he was older were long twisty drives through Worcester County. Once, we went in search of an antique shop that he used to do business in that was way out in the backroads of Charlton. My father had been actively into antiquing for about 40 years, but his most active years were when he was in mid-life, so it was at least 15 years later when I was driving him around. He was in his 80s, and much to my surprise, not only did we find the shop, they clearly remembered him, addressing him as Mr. Lemen and showing him some clocks (my father was always into clocks.) After he saw the shop, he directed me to Dresser Hill – an ice cream stand – and then we drove around until even Dad got lost. Since he had done a lot of surveying for the roads out there, though, he was able to find his way back by going in a certain direction until he found a road he knew. Then we took another roundabout way to get home.
It was a nice ride, though, and I have come to believe that that was what my father wanted most of the time. A nice ride.
I am nearly certain that that’s what my father wanted, because it’s now what I want. When I go to visit my niece and nephew and great-niece and great-nephew in Framingham, I avoid 495 as much as possible and take small country roads. If I am not in a big hurry and want to reach my friend Donna in Holyoke, I meander through central Massachusetts instead of taking 290 to the Mass Pike. I like being off the beaten path.
And I have found great things off the beaten path. A waterfall in Petersham, Massachusetts. An exceptional bakery in Hardwick. A crystal shop in Enfield, New Hampshire, that is full of great things. A place my sister Pat and I now celebrate our milestones in in New London, NH.
I have to remind myself of this, frequently, when I am staying on the path and nothing seems to be either enjoyable or working right. “Get off the highway,” my mind whispers. “Don’t you want a nicer ride?”
Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. Sometimes I actually need to get somewhere fast. But I now realize that I do not regret any of the times I have taken a circuitous route to get somewhere – even when I have gotten lost and have been forced to call for directions. I have not regretted my decision even when I have gotten lost where there’s no cell reception and I have had to resort to my New England Gazetteer to find my way home.
Taking the back roads teaches you to follow your inner sense of direction. I’m not saying that I have never gotten lost: I’m just saying that getting lost teaches you more than a direct route. And, it’s a nice ride.
You can reach June Lemen at junelemen18@gmail.com