All Who Wander

Listen while you read:  Old 97s

I must live in this confusion
I must love to be confused
I must strike out in the darkness
Buy some time both new and used

Time to wander through the arches
Time to wonder at the ruins
Time to figure out exactly
What the hell I'm doing

All who wander are not lost
Just me, just me
Signals and wires both get crossed
Remember back when you got lost with me?

I must cling to that which kills me
I must lose my heart's desire
I must wind up worn and wasted
With a flatscreen for a fire

Will the stories make me happy?
Some facsimile thereof?
Will they give directions that will
Lead me back to love?

I must walk through walls of whispers
I must sleep 'neath sheets of rain
I must climb up to the basement
Just to slide back down again

~  Old 97s

Earlier this year, Old 97s released Graveyard Whistling, which includes "All Who Wander." If that title sounds familiar to you, perhaps you've come upon a similar line on a Life Is Good t-shirt? The phrase actually comes from a poem written by J.R.R. Tolkien for The Lord of the Rings:

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Pretty cool, huh? Unlike the protagonist in "All Who Wander," who claims Just me, just me, my daughter Jenna is not lost. In fact, she will find her way home tomorrow, assuming that my house is still "home" for her. (I think so.) After a month living and working in Amman, Jordan, she will be unpacking and settling down here . . . for a little while, anyway. I'm sure that urge to wander will take hold again before long. I will enjoy her company while she is here, and support her wandering when she leaves again.

Although L. Frank Baum cautioned us so many years ago, "There's no place like home," nearly all of our favorite stories involve wandering. It is part of our dreaming, part of our desire, part of our nature. Whether you wander around a forest or a shopping mall or a grid of city streets, there is always the anticipation of what lies around the next corner. And when we tire of wandering, there is home, a place we appreciate so much more after we've left it for awhile.

Welcome home, Jenna, my wandering child!