Traveling Old-Style, Fall Foliage, and Other Tapestries
Today is a travel day for me, so I am writing this from a hotel room and hope to be on my way home shortly. I have been traveling since Wednesday, spending much of that time in meetings, and so will only have time to dash out a few quick reports.
My travels have taken me by highway through the states of Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. After roughly 20 months of relative isolation, I eagerly embraced the opportunity to take a long road trip, safe in the cocoon of my car yet able to truly see much of the landscape that has eluded so many of us during this pandemic. Making the trip behind the wheel of my own car at a leisurely pace, allowing me to come and go as I please with no concern about arriving at airports on time, going through security, sitting next to strangers, efficiently packing and checking luggage, waiting for my flights, and renting cars, brought to the trip a level of relaxation I rarely experience in my travels. It felt like I could finally exhale after a long stretch of sitting largely cooped up in my home.
The foliage in most of the locations I passed through is past peak, but still not bad. I saw a lot of yellows and oranges and some reds mixed in with greens, sometimes in sunlight though often in greyer and damper conditions. I drove through the Berkshires, caught glimpses of Lake Erie, and was directed by my GPS through quite a few long, winding, and largely desolate roads. Living in eastern Massachusetts, it’s easy to forget how much land there is in this country, much of it farmland, and how important it is to appreciate and preserve it. I marvel that the scenery I see from the highway doesn’t look much different from the scenery I saw when I made the same trips more than 40 years ago. Our country has changed greatly, and climate of course is changing, but the land remains a constant.
The beauty of the many colors also is a reminder of the richness of diversity. No single color dominates the foliage, and none is superior to any other. Together, they form a tapestry of beauty that enriches our own enjoyment of our world. We could learn a lesson from the autumn leaves.
While I’m on the topic of nature, let me recommend a book called “The Book of Hope: The Tapestry of Life,” and especially the audio version, which I’ve been listening to in my car. It is in the form of a highly edited (too much so, in my opinion) interview of famed naturalist Jane Goodall, with narration by Douglas Abrams who recently published a similar book called “The Book of Joy” featuring the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu. Now 87, Dr. Goodall reveals what she wants the rest of us to know about the crucial importance of being good stewards of nature, both for nature’s sake and for ours. From her studies and experiences, she underscores the interdependence of all forms of life and the planet, as well as humanity’s very small but all-too-destructive part in it all. She imparts fascinating stories and great wisdom which all would do well to hear, and her calm, reasoned manner of speaking enhances her message in a way the written word cannot.
Speaking of tapestries, I heard a presentation this weekend about multi-generationalism. The presenter has been studying that topic since the 1980s and has become a leading expert in a field I didn’t even know existed. He helps governing boards work more effectively by helping them understand how different generations represented on their boards approach the world differently, with somewhat different core values. Like the multi-colored leaves of the fall forests, a multi-generational approach to board governance enriches a board’s work and can significantly strengthen any organization.
That’s it for now. I’m about to head back east and hope to witness once again what remains of the turning of the leaves. As one of my podcast guests said at the end of our session, “We’re on this journey together.” “We are, aren’t we,” I replied.