When we last spoke I was preparing to traverse the 1,300 miles between Grenville, South Dakota, and Houston, Texas, in the company of a two-man expeditionary force. Both of whom, are well-seasoned Army veterans, battle hardened, and familiar with this particular expanse of terrain. I’m pleased to report that Operation Graduation was a rousing success.

Master Sergeant Bernard Lesnar and Corporal Anthony Lesnar are to be commended for exemplary performance of their duties as co-pilots, navigators, and general chit-chatters throughout the duration of the mission. Never wavering, never complaining, occasionally napping. Tony at 86, and Bernie at 85, have earned the right to nap whenever napping calls.

At 0800 hours on Saturday May 27th we departed Grenville, with Tony at the helm for the first leg of the journey. At 0845 hours, the first leg of the journey stopped for potato pancakes at Perkins in Watertown, after which, I willingly took the helm for the next 2,550 miles.

As I settled into the driver’s seat, Tony said, “Bernie and I have made a lot of trips to Texas over the years, but now they don’t let us go that far.” I simply nod. Nod in recognition of the many road trips Tony and Bernie have taken. Nod in agreement with whoever “they” are. A nod to the past, coming to terms with the present, and contemplating the future. So it goes.

Tony and Bernie seem to have committed every highway number within the continental United States to memory, and many times throughout the journey they would rattle off a few of these highway numbers and ask which of them I was planning to take, and many times I shrugged. Numbers make me shrug. The shrugging, and my statement, “if we keep driving south we should find Houston” seemed to raise suspicion amongst the ranks in my ability to effectively transport us to our expected destination.

Several hundred miles into the journey, Bernie asked, “What highway is this?” To which I responded, “I435. I think?” To which Tony responded, “No, the clock is right, it’s 3:30.” Perfect, we’re all on the same page.

At around 1900 hours, 700 miles south of our starting point, we stopped and set up camp at the Holiday Inn in Perry, Oklahoma. The measured shake and rattle of pill bottles and a few cautious blasts of south wind marked the end of day one. The morning of day two is marked by the same.

As we made landfall on Texas soil, I spied a rest stop on the horizon, and I asked, “Does anyone need a bathroom break?” Tony responded, “I do.” And inquired, “Bernie, do you need to stop for a bathroom break? Bernie replied, “No. I took a shower this morning.” I contemplated that exchange for the next 100 miles. “I took a shower this morning?”

Hearing aid effectiveness was impacted a bit by road noise and Johnny Cash’s “boom-chicka-boom-chicka”, so there were many conversational exchanges that I likened to a tetherball of words being chased and swatted around and around a pole. Sometimes the words eventually lined up and the point was successfully resolved, sometimes the words twisted and knotted around the pole, sometimes they were abandoned and left to waggle in the breeze.

The philosopher Fredrick Nietzsche once proposed the idea of Eternal Recurrence, in which he suggested that we should strive to live each day in such a way that we would be happy to live that day again, and again, and again if such a thing were possible.

I’d be happy to travel with Bernie and Tony again.

The thought I contemplated most over the course of the journey was, “How do I want to be treated when I’m 85?” If such a number is attained.

If my cognitive and physical capacities are somewhat sound, I want to be allowed a level of autonomy that is deemed appropriate through conversations with me, not in directives conceived entirely by others and handed down to me. I want opportunities to demonstrate competence without being pandered to like a child that has just successfully transferred a Cheerio from their highchair tray to their mouth. I want to be included in life, even if that inclusion takes a bit more time and effort from all involved. As Tony summed it up, “Yeah, I’m old, but I’m not dead.”

As the famous epitaph reads, “As you are now, so once was I. As I am now, soon you will be.” Happy summer trails my friends, may a bit of eternal recurrence find you.