Life Lessons from the Rear View Mirror

Athens, Ohio—When I was in grade school, sitting at the back of the school bus was the cool and fun thing to do. Each morning, my friends, little sister, and I would jump on the bus and head straight to the last couple of rows. Along the ride, we’d hit several speed bumps when approaching pickup and drop-off points. Bump! And off the seats our bums would fly and crash back down. We’d scream with delight and laugh as if on an amusement park ride, each and every time. So simple, so silly, but so merrymaking!

Fast forward to my late-20s and I’m in graduate school in Athens, Ohio, where every day, I boarded the school bus and plopped myself down in the first row, not the last row. What a nerd! I had moved into an off-campus apartment complex where I was quite certainly the only graduate student amid a couple hundred undergraduate student residents. Feeling rather oddball-ish, I’d get on the big yellow bus that shuttled us to campus up the road and slide immediately into the first row of green vinyl seats directly behind the driver – the only other over 21-person on the ride. It’s just where I felt less out of place. And after a quick while, I enjoyed sitting there, chatting with the fella. Plus, let’s be honest. He was a cutie 😊.

His name was Chris. He was tall, lanky, fair-skinned, and had a head of dark brown hair and a thin mustache and goatee. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, plus a flannel layer or Carhartt’s type coat in the winter, he sat at the wheel of the bus every day. And for the two years I lived in that apartment complex, I spent the 10-minute bus ride to campus 2 to 4 times a day, chatting with Chris while ignoring the chatter of the undergraduates sitting in the rows behind me.

I was getting a master’s degree in International Development—the study of poverty alleviation in developing countries, along with classmates from Thailand, Japan, Ghana, China, Ethiopia, Denmark, across the United States and more. I had big dreams of traveling the world, just as I had done as a kid growing up overseas. I also had family roots in a developing country—the Philippines and had visited at least a dozen times by then. Graduate school helped me to make sense of the poverty I had seen there and across Southeast Asia, Latin America, and northeast Africa. I wanted to take that experience and my new knowledge and make lives better while protecting the environment. Idealistic and lofty, it’s what comprised my hopes and dreams of a do-gooder international life.

To get there, I was studying at Ohio University, located in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in rural Southeast Ohio. A few years prior, close family friends had told me about the program and the amount of scholarship money available for students. I had considered several schools but found myself continuously drawn back to OU’s course catalog. There were so many interesting classes to take, and I could get a master’s degree in just one year. I applied, got in, and to my surprise, was given a full scholarship. I was thrilled and yet hadn’t even seen the campus firsthand.

When the time came to move from Boston to Athens in late August 1994, I was excited albeit a bit wary about living in middle America. I had never lived anywhere in the US except the east coast. And the only other place I had ever dreamed of living in the US was California. Somehow, I had a vision in my head that middle America would be less than exciting.

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The drive to Athens was a long 14 hours. My parents were in one car with half of my stuff. I drove alone in my car with the rest. The first eight hours were a breeze and took us to the DC area where we overnighted at my sister’s place. The next day, we drove the remaining six hours into new territory – westward across the width of Maryland, then due south into West Virginia. Once we reached Parkersburg, passing directly through downtown, there was just one hour left after taking a right turn to head due west and over the border into Ohio. Downtown Parkersburg felt a bit industrial and old school, like it hadn’t kept up with modern America. It lacked high-rise buildings but had its fair share of locally owned shops. I recognized not a single name of any coffee shop or fast food joint.

We drove over the small bridge that crossed the Ohio River. Now on Route 50, we drove past the tiny towns of Coolville, Guysville, and Canaanville, before finally reaching Athens. Didn’t seem like there was much going on in these parts. I remember thinking to myself as I drove the last hour into Athens, I am definitely outta here after one year.

It wasn’t my first time in rural America, but it was definitely my first time to live in rural America. What was I doing here? How could I be studying something as worldly as international development in rural America? It didn’t make sense to me.

But my expectations were so wrong about life in Athens. Because it wasn’t until a whole three years later, in June 1997, that I finally peeled myself away from this 20,000+ person college town that surprisingly stole my heart from the get-go.

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Founded in 1804, OU is the oldest university in the state, and the oldest university east of the Mississippi. Ironically, the idea for OU was conceptualized in 1786 by eleven men sitting in a small bar in my city of birth—Boston! The center of campus sat on a tree-covered hill and was comprised of old brick buildings. It was easy to fall in love with campus, especially in the fall in all its colorful glory, and spring with its abundance of tree blooms.

In comparison to my previous life in the iconic and fun city of Boston, Massachusetts, life in Athens was rather simple. In Athens, there was just a handful of “good” restaurants amid the plethora of grungy college bars, sandwich joints, a couple of coffee houses, and the three food trucks that sat at the intersection of campus and downtown—The Burrito Buggy, Late Night Pizza, and Ali Baba. Still, it had lots of life with its population largely comprised of students who buzzed around town at all hours of the day and night.

I also quickly fell in love with my program of study—my class of 40-ish students hit it off from day one and we bonded with our advisor, Dr. Bob Walter. I had also become besties with the one other gal from Massachusetts. We were pretty inseparable that first year.

Most Fridays after class, we headed to Casa Nueva for drinks and eats, following by dancing at Another Fool’s Cafe. During the week, there were always coffee meet ups. Our program was based out of Burson House, a small brick building at the periphery of downtown. It was always so much fun running into people there and shooting the breeze. Who knew graduate school would be so much fun?

The vibe was just all around happy and fun. All.the.time.

Yet outside of campus, there wasn’t much going on. There was a short strip of stores to get the basics of everyday life—groceries, car parts, medicines, toiletries, other sundries. Other than that, life was rural and simple. Along the very backroads of Athens County, small and often rickety homes dotted the landscape where it was not uncommon to see piles of junk strewn around people’s properties. In other areas, there were middle class neighborhoods where university professors lived. On the edges of the county were intentional communities, homes deep in the woods, and farmland. Sustainable agriculture was the one progressive thing happening in the community. I found it rather ironic and unexpected to be studying poverty alleviation in developing countries while living in the poorest county in the state of Ohio where rural poverty was a thing. There just wasn’t much of an economy in Athens County outside of the university.

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My days in Athens started with the yellow school bus. Chris, a year-round resident of Athens County, got up every day, to drive that bus up and down the hill, from 8am until 9pm when he’d return home to his wife. Through our daily chats, I learned that he enjoyed fishing and hunting. And at some point, during the two years that I rode the bus to campus, Chris and his wife had a baby. This was his work and his life. A complete and total contrast to my past, present, and future desired life.

I was fascinated.

He seemed so perfectly content. And was never off-put by my differing life story. Instead of staring blankly at me, he listened with sincere interest, and never talked as if my life was more amazing than his (when people do this, it makes me uncomfortable). He just was. And just so content to be him and also to get to know some Filipino gal from the fast life of the northeast who sat behind him every day talking through the rear view mirror. His seeming contentedness really got into my head. So much so that it made me ponder, even question my life and all that I wanted. Goals and dreams that seemed starkly complex, at least, in comparison to his. I had arrived at Ohio University out of a complete dissatisfaction with my Boston life and a wrong turn in my career. Something was missing. Something central to my identity. Travel. I had to have my international life back. And I wanted not just to travel again, but to “save the world” while doing it. It was so lofty. So idealistic. A big dream.

Yet I found myself appreciating the absolute simplicity of Chris’ life, while at the same time, having fallen in love with my life in this small college town in rural Southeast Ohio. I was happy in a way I hadn’t been since graduating from high school. Amazing friends and classmates from around the world. Beautiful campus. Cultural events. Nature. A thriving farmer’s market. The energetic vibe of the learning environment that is university life. I was so happy that I did a total “180” from that day I drove over the border from West Virginia and extended my studies at OU from one year to three years. I even applied for a job at the university to stay longer after I had graduated.

I was happy in a way I hadn’t been since graduating from high school.

But I didn’t get the job. So instead, I signed onto a six-month internship in Jakarta, Indonesia working on a project directly related to what I had studied at OU. And then, for the next decade, I wandered from contract job to job and contract job, still trying to find my proper place in the working world. The reality of wanting to save the world in the way I had hoped and studied, was not quite what I had dreamed.

Twenty-four years on, I am finally settled in a line of work that I truly enjoy.  And I still have a never-ending list of desires, dreams, and goals. Invest in a second home. Develop passive income. Become a documentary photographer. Build my personal blog. Audition for TEDx. Travel. Travel. Travel. Etc. Etc. Etc. All this on top of my everyday things. The gym. Civic engagement. Contract work. Hiking the Whites. Biking the trails. Paddling the waters. Seeing the next show in town. Checking out the new restaurant or bar. Spending time with friends and family. Cleaning my house!

How do I have and do it all without being overwhelmed? Without buying into the rat race? Without depriving myself of time to just be or simply enjoy life?

I am, in fact, just fine and happy. And always grateful. But I always want more. More experiences. More learning. More giving. More impact. Certainly, none of that is a bad thing. Nor is “living life to the fullest”. But they can also be cause for stress, dissatisfaction, frustration. Why, oh why, do I always want more out of life?

Then I think of Chris, the bus driver, and his sweet and simple life in Athens, Ohio. And how happy I myself was living in Athens, not needing much more than a small but mighty and vibrant university community.

Could I ever be like Chris? Or the many others I have encountered since, who have chosen the “simple life”? While the simple life can mean many things to different people, it’s a general question I continue to ponder. I’m not convinced that I’ll get there, but I am grateful for the memory of Chris and the example set by others I have come to know since, and how their lives keep me grounded in remembering that happiness is also found in the simple. Like those simple and silly speed bumps that gave us kids many moments of joy on the way to and home from school every day. And my simply simple, and simply beautiful life in Athens, Ohio.

#1world1people #simplelife #keepitsimple #dreams