This Old Road

Driving away from work this evening, drop the truck into 4 wheel drive, illuminate the high beams and rumble down the forest service road towards home. Deer lift their heads, their swan-like necks craning around to see me and my truck crunching down the dusty, washed-out pathway through the woods. I had the stereo on and playing Kris Kristofferson’s This Old Road. A friend from AA gave me this album about 5 years ago. Damn, I’ve been sober that long? A year longer actually. Wild. Crazy. Life just keeps churning and churning...Anyway, the album is amazing. It’s basically just Kris stripped down with an acoustic guitar and singing into the microphone. It’s very intimate, barren and soulful. He’s looking back on his life. He’s counting his blessings. He’s giving thanks. It’s some beautiful music.

So this is going into my head as I’m driving the truck and looking at the star-struck mountainsides and cold autumn West Virginia night. This old road. All these millions of miles I’ve travelled, places I’ve seen, people I’ve met, food I’ve cooked, women I’ve loved, sights I’ve seen…and now I’m finally back home, back where my life began, back to the place where I was once a boy. My father is gone and I’m now a man in the world. I pause at the park gate, open the door to the truck and leave it open while I unlock and open the gate. The music plays loudly out into the naked forest night. I remember when I was 23 years old and opening this same gate on a night just like this. I was riding a motorcycle back then. I was living at the farm and about to make some major changes in my life. Within 18 months from then I would be married, living in Vermont and enrolled in culinary school. But that night I was just there at the gate. That night I was just motorcycling home. That night I would have gotten home and drank a six pack of beer and smoked some weed. That night I would have dreamed about the future and what my life would be like then.

Tonight I stand at the gate and I look back. I look back at my path and experiences and all the twists and turns and occurrences that helped shape the man I am today. It’s been a hell of a weekend at the restaurant. I carried that place on my back this weekend. I held it together with my time-honed talent and experience. When others panicked I remained calm. When others stressed out and started to lose their minds I came up with solutions and solved problems. At the end of the each night I felt the crush of service on my body and bones and on my muscles. Line cooking is athletic. It’s mental and physical. It’s takes extreme concentration, mental acuity, co-ordination and lightning fast reflexes. It is a dance. And I’ve danced and danced and danced. My fucking dance card stays full! Hahahaha! And I think of where I learned this work ethic. My dad. My dad had an amazing work ethic, unbelievable. It used to piss me off when I was little because my dad was always working. I knew he needed to in order to provide for us but still I kind of resented the fact that he was always away working. When I was a teenager and a young adult my dad was really worried that I hadn’t learned a work ethic. I just wasn’t interested in working. Nothing really MOVED me to want to work. I didn’t have a passion. That was true up until the point fifteen years ago when I lived here at the farm and worked at the restaurant (Mountain Creek) where now I am the chef. I became passionate about cooking and food while working at this restaurant. So it’s very special for me to come back here and to run this restaurant and serve up my food there in the dining room. And as I drive home, as I cover the miles and round the turns and navigate the curves down highway 19 back home to the farm I listen to Kris Kristofferson and This Old Road and I think of my dad. And I get home to this cabin and I’m just beginning to make it a home. I’m putting in new windows and floors and walls. I’m doing things I’ve always wanted to do. It’s not been a piece of cake but every moment of this new path has been rewarding. I’m coming into my own and I’m looking forward to the future. I’m looking forward to what’s around the next bend on this old road.