#80: It's Better, By Far, To Have Been Thar (Travel)

So, Open Up Your Syllabee,
And Turn To Chapter Fifty-Three.
It's Time For Some Geography.
Before A Fellow Passes
This Course In All Philosophy,
He's Got To Grasp Schenectady,
And Understand That Tennessee
Ain't Just For Horses's Asses.
But, Don't It Strike You Strange To See
That Booking Passage Is To Thee
What A Passage In A Book Can't Be,
As Being There Surpasses . . .
Like Printed Notes, In Any Key,
Might Blare Like Gabby's Brasses.

So the next sojourn was one of those
that started with the map
I guess you might say, figuratively,
predicting some new trap.

A lot of radial lines were drawn
with equal arrow points
at both, the inside circle and,
the outside paper joints.

Of course, we didn't understand,
until the trip was done,
those arrows were to symbolize
that both ways equal one.

Through drapes of many colors, we
just knew the Buggy'd find
a direction through the myriad
of cut and patch design.

So, we came to rest atop the hill
that we'd so often found,
but this time peopled with a crowd
all dressed in colored gowns.

Then, Jo and I got out to greet
the bright community.
But it was just as well they took
no count of Jo and me.

They spoke a thousand languages,
and nary a single word
was recognized, though it was clear,
they all knew what they heard.

Reflected in each face, we thought,
we saw enlightenment.
They seemed to be conveying more
than message and intent.

It was Jo who noticed first that each,
even before he spoke,
showed a passport, which he pulled
from 'neath his colored cloak.

"It's like they know all languages,"
Jo-Mima then inferred,
"as long as passport protocol
is courteously observed."

And then, I think, Jo-Mima asked
some other questions, and
stood there, trying to figure out
what's up in language land.

However, my attentions were
now tuned to Asians taught
by Portuguese, and I didn't catch
Jo-Mima's total thought.

A few words still came clear to me
in questions that he formed,
"They're all quite multi-lingual, or
some travel is their norm."

At first I thought Jo-Mima's words
were spoken very well,
but I wondered, as the crowd did fade,
might he have cast a spell?

Amidst their conversations, we
watched people disappear.
They faded while still talking, which
looked really very queer.

We might have harbored some concern,
had not the Buggy then
revved up to indicate Jo's words
could have the proper spin.

We took our seats and propped our feet,
expecting to take off
when the Voice broke in to offer us
the usual, helpful scoff.

"It never ceases to amaze me, boys,
but you can find a way
of missing most the meaning while
you hit on what to say.

The message of this State might be,
just as Jo describes,
'perspective,' like the kind that comes
from meeting different tribes.

A man can study cultures, and
learn language from a book,
and read about the cities that
history's armies took.

And all of that provides a man
with learning, pretty fair,
but perspective only comes to him
who's chanced to being there.

Your photos show the pyramids
are tombs and ancient graves . . .
but ask the man who's awed beside
the work of genius slaves.

Your pictures show the wailing wall
is stone laid down with care,
but pictures cannot show you that
it's really made of prayer.

The streets of San Francisco can
be captured on TV,
until you ride the cable cars
from Nob Hill to the sea.

So, all your understanding and
compassion for man's kind
has more to do with where you've been
than what's inside your mind.

Going there and sitting with
the people of a place
will give a man a confidence
that study cannot grace.

Of course, you boys were hardly my
most discerning wards . . .
at least you've put some mileage on
your shoes and tired Fords.

You've bought your share of tickets, and
you've stayed in some motels.
You'll taste the local offering,
in spite of how it smells.

So, credit I must give you, now,
and it's the reason why
you might arrive as strangers, but,
as friends, you say 'goodbye'."