One of our best couple things has persistently been meandering conversations. It was during one of these rambling interactions in 1977 that it became quite clear to me that we were going to get wrinkles together. We have boundless energy and interest in sharing our thoughts with each other. Every now and then we say something meaningful and it turns into a new marriage ministry idea that feels a bit like an inspired witty invention. The quality, intensity, and duration of our talks increases when we take a couple of days away in a new location.
This time sweet baby brought a new book with her and asked if we could read it to each other. And we did. She is one of those readers that puts a lot of good expression into it. Over two days, she read about half of the book to us and that resulted in some even more interesting discussion topics. The lady author, a Swedish woman in her 80’s, was talking about aging with exuberance and intentionality. We are somewhat at that age where we are spending more time than we used to pondering aging well. The signs of that are hard to ignore even if you try hard.
We recently spent two nights at Tim’s Ford State Park in a mighty swanky cabin in the woods that had a long balcony overlooking the lake. We were both ultra-grateful for the leaders that had the foresight to buy the land and build some cabins in the 1970’s so that regular old folks like us could enjoy million-dollar views including the pink and blue sunset and the full moon glittering across the lake in the dark of the night. Those people had vision and foresight. I hope that there are still some leaders today with that kind of character and vision.
Before we left, I had determined that one of the things that I would pack for our trip was our Electra Townie bikes. These well-designed machines are famous for their flat foottm technology where you can sit on the seat and easily touch the ground. They are really difficult to fall off. They have giant cushy soft seats and an upright riding position. They have crisp-shifting Shimano gears that allow us to be able to pedal up most of the hills. And if we run out of juice, then we simply push our bikes.
Phyllis broke her wrist about six months ago and the recovery has been long and gradual. She felt brave enough to give her Townie a spin on the paved bike trail. First she made a couple of test laps around the parking lot. That went well then we carefully launched into a paved trail bike ride.
About a mile in we encountered a couple, that looked at least 80, riding motorized electric bikes. When I rang my ringy dingy bell she responded with her electric ah-ooga horn that sounded like she had stolen it from a Model T. She had a radiant childlike smile on her face. My conclusion: As long as we have breath we will keep riding bikes and being playful.
The lady behind the counter at the Tim’s Ford visitor center gave us a map and suggested that we take a bridge that goes out on a long narrow peninsula. That was a mighty fine suggestion.
Soon we were upon the fabled bridge.
The first thing I did was quite predictable. I rarely use the word always, but I always take a picture of Phyllis when we are out hiking and we cross a bridge. My inner- photographer took advantage of the beauty of the bridge, the way that it artistically leads into the image, and how I can place Phyllis.
We then pushed our bikes out onto the primer orange painted hand-welded steel bridge with a wood slat floor.
There was a big steel sign that said, “No Jumping. No diving. No fishing”. I thought, “Of course we don’t want anyone to get killed diving, but no fishing sounds harsh and bureaucratic. It’s like giving young boys long pieces of wood and cinder blocks and expecting them not to make jumping ramps.
Phyllis spotted an enormous 3-foot-long fat carp fish lazily swimming by on the right side of the bridge. I leaned my bike against the rail and went to check it out. That white-lipped chunker went under the bridge and we quickly ran to the other side and saw it floating by in the current. The last time I had seen a carp this big was camping at Inks Lake in Texas when our kids were little fellows. These fish were easily 10-20 pounders.
At first there was one. Then several. Then about a dozen.
A little boy, about 4 or 5, came walking out onto the bridge with his grandparents. Phyllis said, “There are great big fish in the lake!” Then the little man got so excited that he clenched his fists in front of himself and began jumping up and down. I am so glad that I happened to be looking his way when his joy spilled over for us all to see. He had not even seen the fish yet. Just the idea of seeing a fish overwhelmed him with joy. He proudly said, “My poppa can catch fish.” Oh yeah, that has to be true. That moment of pure innocent excitement on the orange steel bridge was my favorite part of our bike ride.
I thought about Dr. Glenn, found of Connection Codes, saying that children naturally express the full range of their emotions simply and purely without having to be coached. Then there is a season of life where that begins to diminish. Children can easily share unfiltered how they feel. I had the thought, “When was the last time that I saw a grown-up man jump for joy?” I am going to do that. The next time I experience joy I am going to jump for joy.
After a little while of being on the bridge we continued our bike ride. As we pedaled, I scanned the water for more carp and for a potential fishing hole for future adventures. It would be a fantastic life experience for our granddaughters or grandson to catch a carp this big. And there are lots of them in the river. I continued dreaming about landing a giant cap for most of the rest of the ride.
After about an hour it seemed right to head back.
The orange steel and wood bridge brought us back safely. After I took another picture of sweet baby. It is one of the focal points of that intimate weekend getaway. When I reminisce about these two days I will remember our long meandering conversations and her sweetly reading to me on the deck overlooking the lake and the bike ride with the childlike joy experience on that bridge.