High school math is now just a distant memory, but one thing that has stayed with me all these years is that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. If you want to go directly from point A to point B, walk a straight line. Makes good sense…and yet, I rarely do.
The trouble is the straight line theory has a few holes in it. Mariners, even ones at sea before Columbus set out on his straight-line voyage to India, knew of the phenomenon we now call the Great Circle route. It turns out that the shortest distance between two points on a sphere is not a straight line; it’s an arc. Once the steamship replaced sails, navigators became unhooked from rhumb lines which depended on prevailing winds and fixed compass headings. These days, for any journey outside of equatorial regions or for distances greater than a few hundred nautical miles, it’s faster and cheaper to follow a great circle route. I mean who doesn’t want to save time and fuel? But those economies are not why I have come to view the straight line theory as suspect. Straight lines are suspect because I—and I admit it—am an inveterate meanderer.
It’s healthy to meander. Eons ago, our beautiful river learned to meander on its twenty-three mile journey down to the Bay. I feel the same way today: given the choice or the luxury of time, I’ll take back roads over Interstates any day because you never know who’ll meet or what you’ll see when you take the long way ‘round. Even on my hebdomadal journey over to The Kitchen on Thursday evenings, I’ll often eschew the shortcut through the garden behind the White Swan and do a little window shopping at The Wine and Cheese Shop or Twigs and Teacups or The Village Shop on Cannon Street. When I turn the corner onto High Street, there’s the Music Store and the Art Gallery and The Garfield beckoning to the wayfarer in me. No wonder that by the time I arrive at Rob’s bar, I’m ready for my Martini Night libation!
Now don’t get me wrong: there are times when it makes good sense to take that shortest of routes from A to B. I don’t have time to meander when I hear nature’s call. I try not to meander on the golf course. I used to make a beeline from our house to the Bakery when I wanted one of Melissa’s bacon and cheddar scone, but that was before I gave up carbohydrates twenty pounds ago. Now I take my time and enjoy the journey—except the errant ones on the golf course, or the golf off-course as I sometimes call it.
Our culture is built along straight lines these days. Fast food, the twenty-four hour news cycle, instant gratification in all its cyber forms. It would be a crying shame if we’ve lost the ability to meander every once in a while. So if it seems to you that you’re always rushing from Point A to Point B, go a little off course just for the fun of it. Take an intentional wrong turn or explore that neglected back road and breathe some free airtime along the way. You might arrive at your destination a wee bit late, but I bet you’ll have a good story to tell.
I’ll be right back.Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with homes in Chestertown and Bethesda. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy magazine. “A Place to Stand,” a book of photographs and essays about Landon School, was published by the Chester River Press in 2015. A collection of his essays titled “Musing Right Along” was published in May 2017; a second volume of Musings entitled “I’ll Be Right Back” will be released in June 2018. Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com.
Michael Brunner says
Steve, Can you enlighten us on your return trip Thursday nights from Rob’s bar? I’ll bet your straight line looks a lot like a meander.