The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry and Breakfast With Buddha

So, you're ready for a vacation but can't afford one. Then, take a road trip with Buddha, Harold Fry or any number of literary figures.

I just read two very different road-trip novels, as I was taking a not-so-joyous journey of my own.

Breakfast with Buddha by Roland Merullo tells the story of one Otto Ringling, an upper middle-class man with a typical family, a typical lifestyle and a typical religion -- a believer of sorts but not much of a practitioner in other words.

Ringling, an ordinary New York suburbanite, is planning a cross-country trip to Oregon to close the estate of his parents, recently killed in a car wreck. He goes to pick up his
New Age sister, the one who reads tarot cards and has her own guru, a long-robed
fellow named Volya Rinpoche. To Otto's dismay, the sister says she's staying
at home and sending Rinpoche in her place. That's Rinpoche, the one who smiles
a lot, ponders life even more and preaches moderation in all things, even in driving and eating.

So, while Otto the gourmet orders a splendid meal, Rinpoche settles for a poached egg and a slice of bread. When Otto takes the expressway, Rinpoche suggests the slower, more scenic back roads. Along the way, Otto learns to listen and Rinpoche -- well, he learns to bowl. It's
a good book packed with plenty of laughter and some serious notes as well.
It could pass for non-fiction, but it's not.

Another road-trip book -- albeit this time the story of a foot journey --
is The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. Rachel Joyce's novel tells the
story of Fry, a recent retiree whose rather boring, unemotional life begins to change
when he gets a letter from an old friend named Queenie. She's dying and
just wanted to tell say thank you to him and good-bye.

Harold, in typical form, writes a brief, unemotional letter in return and starts walking to
the post office to mail it. Along the way and without any sensible plan or even proper walking shoes, he decides to walk the roughly 600 miles to Queenie's  hospital room in the
hope that she will  cling to life until he gets there.

During his journey, Harold meets a varied cast of characters, all with their own stories
and idiosyncrasies. Harold also has time to think -- a lot -- and starts to
see his life and the lives of his wife and son in a more objective yet also more emotional way.

I read these books shortly before I was about to embark on my own road trip, though I never left town. I was already grappling with issues, problems -- aka life in general -- when I became sick one day and collapsed onto a tile floor at home. I irreparably damaged all of my upper teeth. Days later, I got a call from my mother at about 2:30 a.m. My father was sick, and she needed help. My daughter and I rushed over there to discover that his heartbeat was plummeting. I called 911, and he was rushed to the hospital. Days later, he had a Pacemaker implanted, quietly observed his 85th birthday in a hospital bed and then celebrated President Obama's re-election in style -- at home in front of a television.

My road trip was a short one, from my house to my parents' home across town and then to the hospital and finally back to my place. Along the way, I learned to quit taking family and friends for granted. Teeth can be replaced. Bills will still be there -- invariably. But the people we love are with us only for a season. Do as Rinpoche suggested: Slow down, take the back roads and be with your families. You deserve that time as much as they do.