There are many quotes and sayings that muse about the journey being more important and more meaningful than the destination. “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey” by Ralph Waldo Emerson, “It’s better to travel hopefully than to arrive” by Robert Louis Stevenson, “It’s better to travel than to arrive” by Robert M. Pirsig…and so on and so forth.

I suppose it is often the case that such thoughts are important reminders for us to be present in our journeys so as not to miss all that may present itself enroute to our destinations. Destinations that we have possibly festooned with more grandeur in our mind than they produce in reality. So it goes.

Afterall, sometimes, as the Griswold’s discovered, you arrive at your destination only to have Marty Moose tell you, “Sorry folks! We’re closed for two weeks to clean and repair America’s favorite family fun park. Sorry, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!”

There are very few absolutes in life. The journey isn’t always going to be better than the destination, nor the destination always better the journey. Much depends upon the company one travels with and the destinations one chooses to travel to, with, in my opinion, more weight given to the former.

Enduring a journey captive to boorish company can sully most any destination, especially if the destination is shared and offers no reprieve from your captives. One must also keep in mind that the captivity may run both ways. Misery, after all, loves company.

So, what is one to do? Never venture anywhere? Never venture with anyone? Both viable options I suppose. Afterall, the houseplants get fidgety and sullen when I’m not there to whisper sonnets of adoration and caress their leaves. Or, choose travel companions wisely, and trust that your plants will forgive you.

My wife and I have been fans of David Francey’s music for many years, as have our good friends, Paul and Jodi. Which of us introduced the other to Francey’s music is a question none of us can recollect, nor is it a recollection that seems all that important. What is important, at least to us, is his music, and when I heard that the 70-year-old folk singer from Elphin, Ontario, was going to be performing in St. Paul, Minnesota, the troops were rallied for a road trip.

My cousin Jamie and his wife Tammy live in Minneapolis and knowing that they have similar taste in “folksy” music, I inquired into their interest in attending the concert. They gave Mr. Francey a listen, signed on for the destination and graciously offered to host us Dakota folk in their home on our pilgrimage east.

Through the company and camaraderie of good friends, the kindness and generosity of dear family, and a tremendous night of song and story, this journey and this destination proved to be equally enjoyable. I wish you the same in the journeys and the destinations that await you.

Take it away Mr. Francey…“This morning, this morning the sun rose and then, the world kept turning again and again, singing your songs from beginning to end, while the hearts break without a sound. That′s the way that the world goes ‘round.”