I was twelve and it was early spring. At the time I was in Mentone, Alabama. Lowell Ray Barron Jr. was one of my closest friends. He taught me how to love mushrooms, shared the transcendental that dwelt in the trees around us, and had — to this day — some of the most otherworldly green eyes I’ve seen. Regardless of that last detail and the fact all of my relatives and friends teased me about being his girlfriend, we really were just great friends. Secret and safe from any adolescent reality.
On this green, green day, he revealed one of the best gifts anyone has ever given me — The Hobbit. From the moment I opened the pages, my life has been seeking adventure. And for all of you other like-minded people out there impacted by that prelude and its following trilogy, you know today is a special day. It’s Bilbo’s birthday. One of the best-loved but reluctant adventurers in English lit.
I bring this up because I’ve had several conversations with people of late who feel like their dreams, goals, or small desires are out of reach. It’s disheartening. To those futile few, even if the horizon appears very far off, I think we should try to be more like Bilbo, grab a cloak and walk out the door. Really, what else are we supposed to be doing?
And yes, I do realize this post is permanently marking me as a total geek. Oh well, life (and the road) goes ever on. Wherever you are Lowell Ray, thanks.