Dec. 10: Off the beaten path

Before I became a father - in a time when I could afford it - I would regularly take sojourns to small motels so I could write. Some people didn't think I was going there to write; they thought I was going there to consort with prostitutes. They were wrong. I went there to write.

When choosing a motel, I stayed off the beaten path. I never consulted Expedia; never looked for fancy hotels with swimming pools and room service. I wanted isolation. I didn't want to be disturbed by happy families on playgrounds, by rock bands in nearby bars, by corporate parties in the hospitality suite. I wanted to be alone with the muse. Me, my fountain pens, a big yellow legal pad, and Bach or Wendy Stark on my iPod. Later, I would order pizza and Dr. Pepper. 

Sometimes I would go 48 hours without seeing another human being. One winter, there was a massive blizzard at the motel and I was snowed into my apartment. The motel owner called me, panicking, promising to have me dug out by evening. I assured her I was fine. I had enough groceries to last me into the new year.

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I don't think anyone would be happy eating at McDonald's everyday. No one wants to spend their lives at Disneyland or the mall. It's exhausting always trying to be like the cool kids. You have to find a place that's your own. Somewhere off the beaten path.

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I am grateful that my parents always took the family to my grandparents' cottage at Jackfish Lake in Saskatchewan every summer. Sometimes we'd stay one week. Sometimes two. That was my favourite vacation. We also went to Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm and the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore and Canada's Wonderland in Toronto, but it's Jackfish Lake that I remember the most. That's what I pine for.

And you'd NEVER see Jackfish Lake advertised in any sort of tourism brochure. Talk about off the beaten path. Talk about uncool. For entertainment, there was a Tasty Freeze with a crappy mini golf course outside. My sister and brother were both able to persuade my parents to let them bring a friend along to Jackfish Lake, but I never tried that. I knew they'd be bored. I knew that it wouldn't be magical for them.

Oh yeah. I think there was a photo booth in that Tasty Freeze. You could get four pictures for a dollar. Blue curtain in the back. I remember once someone left their picture in the slot. It was a redhead, tilting her head slightly to the left. I guess she liked the other thee pictures better.

You don't see photo booths anymore. No need for them now that we can all take selfies with our phones.

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If Jesus was here, He might say that the beaten path, the broad path, leads to destruction. The narrow gate, the path of self sacrifice and repentance, is what gets you to Heaven.