Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
*************************************
Greetings to anyone who's found their way here. Thanks for stopping in.
This is my third--and what I hope will be my most successful--attempt at maintaining a blog. I managed to keep one for several months back in 2005. Unfortunately, it was hosted by my former dial-up Internet provider, Earthlink. So when I finally graduated to DSL and dropped the dial-up, my blog got sucked into a black hole in cyberspace and disappeared forever.
I've been meaning to start up a new one ever since.
So today--with my kids on the verge of starting up school again--feels like a good day for me to try this again. I figure it might be easier for readers to find me here. I get the feeling this site is much more of a happenin' place for bloggers and blog readers than earthlink ever was. Put it this way: it wasn't a good sign when I realized that my blog was the only one I'd ever heard of whose address ended in "earthlink.net." So I concluded that it might not exactly be a blogging hotbed over there, might not be the place to be if you want someone to actually find you and read what you've written. And of course that's the whole point, isn't it?
Because my aim is clarity and not confusion, I'll start by explaining why I chose "The Long Way to Germany" as the title of my blog. Also why I've started it off with that famous Robert Frost poem.
*************************************
This particular poem describes the pivotal point my life was at in 1984--both figuratively and literally--more perfectly than any other piece of poetry I've ever encountered. (And my, isn't that a lot of alliteration?)
I had just completed a bachelor's degree in English Literature, and was working on my first semester of graduate school. The wheels were turning just as they were supposed to be, propelling me along smoothly on my career path, with the only bump in the road being a small one indeed: just the acute stagefright I experienced every time I stepped in front of my Freshman Comp. class. It didn't help that my students were all 18 or 19, and I was just 22. I just didn't feel like a "real" teacher yet. Didn't think anyone could possibly take me seriously in that role.
Yet I had enough common sense to realize that the minute I let them know that, the minute I let them smell my fear, they'd eat me alive. So I tried hard to pretend I was as stern, mature and confident as Miss Jean Brodie. (Remember, this was 1984. I didn't yet have Maggie Smith's portrayal of that other stern, confident, experienced teacher, Minerva McGonagall, to be inspired by, or I would've conjured her too--and a few of her spells--every time I walked into that classroom.)
So yes, everything was going along well...until the day I found out I was "with child." (That, you see, hadn't been a part of my plan, which up until that point had involved an eventual Ph.D. and professorship.) While I was still trying to deal with this little crimp in my plans, the very next day I got news of a different sort. I found out that I'd been accepted into a study-abroad program I'd applied for...in Germany. Talk about a double whammy! Talk about a roller-coaster ride of wildly conflicting emotions!
My English professor (who was not actually English at all, but an ascot-wearing, graying-at-the-temples German gentleman) had a smile on his face as he asked me to step into his office to break the good news to me. (At this point he had no idea about my other "news.") He didn't seem to notice my mixed reaction to his excited, happy announcement that I'd been accepted. As he looked over the brochure with me, he pointed to a photo of the "dorm" I'd be staying in at the University of Regensburg. I put that in quotes, because the 500-year-old building was more like a castle, a picturesque stone building complete with a large turret, right next to an ancient stone bridge arching over a tranquil river. Like an illustration out of a storybook.
My heart sank as I realized all I'd be missing. I knew he'd be very disappointed too when I told him that this dream that he'd help make come true for me just wasn't going to happen, that instead of heading to Regensburg the following fall, I'd be moving back to the suburbs and setting up house with my high school sweetheart.
For after standing at that crossroads for a few days, imagining where each road might take me, talking it all over with my boyfriend back home, I decided that was the only "road" I could travel.
Perhaps it isn't exactly accurate to refer to the path I chose--the one that lead to domestic life in the suburbs--as the one "less traveled by." After all, there are many more women who become suburban mothers and housewives than get paid to spend a year studying in magical, medieval Regensburg, Germany. But otherwise, just about every line of that Frost poem perfectly describes the way I felt for those few days in the spring of 1984, when I had to decide which path to travel.
But that other road turned out to be a lovely, fulfilling journey in its own way. It's been a good, happy life for the most part since that fateful day. And I WILL get to Germany someday, maybe when the kids are just a little older and there's more "luxury money" in our coffers. But for now, I try to keep my German skills up to par by speaking German whenever I get the chance, just so I don't forget it. And I continue to enjoy the journey along the road I've chosen. And that's what I plan to write about here in this space. Of course, if I ever do get to take that long-awaited trip to Germany, you'll hear all about that, too.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
*************************************
Greetings to anyone who's found their way here. Thanks for stopping in.
This is my third--and what I hope will be my most successful--attempt at maintaining a blog. I managed to keep one for several months back in 2005. Unfortunately, it was hosted by my former dial-up Internet provider, Earthlink. So when I finally graduated to DSL and dropped the dial-up, my blog got sucked into a black hole in cyberspace and disappeared forever.
I've been meaning to start up a new one ever since.
So today--with my kids on the verge of starting up school again--feels like a good day for me to try this again. I figure it might be easier for readers to find me here. I get the feeling this site is much more of a happenin' place for bloggers and blog readers than earthlink ever was. Put it this way: it wasn't a good sign when I realized that my blog was the only one I'd ever heard of whose address ended in "earthlink.net." So I concluded that it might not exactly be a blogging hotbed over there, might not be the place to be if you want someone to actually find you and read what you've written. And of course that's the whole point, isn't it?
Because my aim is clarity and not confusion, I'll start by explaining why I chose "The Long Way to Germany" as the title of my blog. Also why I've started it off with that famous Robert Frost poem.
*************************************
This particular poem describes the pivotal point my life was at in 1984--both figuratively and literally--more perfectly than any other piece of poetry I've ever encountered. (And my, isn't that a lot of alliteration?)
I had just completed a bachelor's degree in English Literature, and was working on my first semester of graduate school. The wheels were turning just as they were supposed to be, propelling me along smoothly on my career path, with the only bump in the road being a small one indeed: just the acute stagefright I experienced every time I stepped in front of my Freshman Comp. class. It didn't help that my students were all 18 or 19, and I was just 22. I just didn't feel like a "real" teacher yet. Didn't think anyone could possibly take me seriously in that role.
Yet I had enough common sense to realize that the minute I let them know that, the minute I let them smell my fear, they'd eat me alive. So I tried hard to pretend I was as stern, mature and confident as Miss Jean Brodie. (Remember, this was 1984. I didn't yet have Maggie Smith's portrayal of that other stern, confident, experienced teacher, Minerva McGonagall, to be inspired by, or I would've conjured her too--and a few of her spells--every time I walked into that classroom.)
So yes, everything was going along well...until the day I found out I was "with child." (That, you see, hadn't been a part of my plan, which up until that point had involved an eventual Ph.D. and professorship.) While I was still trying to deal with this little crimp in my plans, the very next day I got news of a different sort. I found out that I'd been accepted into a study-abroad program I'd applied for...in Germany. Talk about a double whammy! Talk about a roller-coaster ride of wildly conflicting emotions!
My English professor (who was not actually English at all, but an ascot-wearing, graying-at-the-temples German gentleman) had a smile on his face as he asked me to step into his office to break the good news to me. (At this point he had no idea about my other "news.") He didn't seem to notice my mixed reaction to his excited, happy announcement that I'd been accepted. As he looked over the brochure with me, he pointed to a photo of the "dorm" I'd be staying in at the University of Regensburg. I put that in quotes, because the 500-year-old building was more like a castle, a picturesque stone building complete with a large turret, right next to an ancient stone bridge arching over a tranquil river. Like an illustration out of a storybook.
My heart sank as I realized all I'd be missing. I knew he'd be very disappointed too when I told him that this dream that he'd help make come true for me just wasn't going to happen, that instead of heading to Regensburg the following fall, I'd be moving back to the suburbs and setting up house with my high school sweetheart.
For after standing at that crossroads for a few days, imagining where each road might take me, talking it all over with my boyfriend back home, I decided that was the only "road" I could travel.
Perhaps it isn't exactly accurate to refer to the path I chose--the one that lead to domestic life in the suburbs--as the one "less traveled by." After all, there are many more women who become suburban mothers and housewives than get paid to spend a year studying in magical, medieval Regensburg, Germany. But otherwise, just about every line of that Frost poem perfectly describes the way I felt for those few days in the spring of 1984, when I had to decide which path to travel.
But that other road turned out to be a lovely, fulfilling journey in its own way. It's been a good, happy life for the most part since that fateful day. And I WILL get to Germany someday, maybe when the kids are just a little older and there's more "luxury money" in our coffers. But for now, I try to keep my German skills up to par by speaking German whenever I get the chance, just so I don't forget it. And I continue to enjoy the journey along the road I've chosen. And that's what I plan to write about here in this space. Of course, if I ever do get to take that long-awaited trip to Germany, you'll hear all about that, too.
2 comments:
Julie, what a touching story. When we encounter these crossroads in life, making the decision can be difficult. I hope you get to make your trip soon because when you do, it is going to be that much more beautiful because of the wait.
Thanks for dropping in, Kirsten, and for your good wishes. And when I finally DO make that trip to Germany, I'll be sure to allow time for a stop in the enchanting Rothenburg ob der Tauber too, and make sure I bring along a copy of your guidebook. :)
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