Wandrin Star

I was born under a wandrin' star,
I was born under a wandrin' star.

Could be. Could there be a genetic source for these itchy feet. Could some of those distant ancestors from Prussia in the mid 19th century had a "wandrin" gene. All those ancestors emigrated from Prussia and settled in the same small Wisconsin farming community and four generations later through a genetic crap shoot, the nomadic "wandrin" gene popped up when I arrived on the scene. Could be.

Wheels are made for rollin'
mules are made to pack.
I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back.
I was born under a wandrin' star.

For 13 years Silver Slug with Wandrin Wagon in tow I toured urban areas and the natural landscapes. Most of that wandrin was concentrated in the Southwest and the Rocky Mountains. After extended exploring of a place, there were times I regretted leaving, but there was more to see and explore further down the road.

Mud can make you prisoner, and the plains can bake you dry.
Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry.

Twice I needed a tow to get the truck and the heavy trailer back onto a surface with better traction. There were many summer days when I longed for air conditioned comfort. In those thirteen years, there were two times when I found myself seeing snow flakes. Being semi-intelligent, I managed to move to the sunny south away from higher elevations and northern latitudes where the snow could accumulate.

Much of the nomadic journey was all about the people I met along the way. Some were full time RVers. Some were on cross country bicycle trips. Some were from other countries on round the world tours. Some were on short visits from other countries. They all had stories. Wonderful stories. Funny stories. Inspiring stories. And sometimes there were sad stories.

Home is made for comin' from, for dreams of goin' to,
which with any luck will never come true.

Where was that "home" that I came from. Although I have now settled in Tucson, is it home or a temporary base for dreams of future travel. The dream list of future travel is lengthy. Hopefully, I will satisfy just some of those wandrin dreams in the years ahead.

I was born under a wandrin' star,
I was born under a wandrin' star.

Do I know where hell is? Hell is in hello.
Heaven is in goodbye for ever, it's time for me to go.
I was born under a wandrin' star, a wandrin' wandrin' star.

There are more people to meet; more places to explore; more learning. I'm not ready to give up wandering -- or wondering -- just yet.

When I get to heaven tie me to a tree,
or I'll begin to roam, and soon you know where I will be.

Heaven is everywhere. And right here. Right now. Trust me. Please don't tie me down!

I was born under a wandrin' star, a wandrin' wandrin' star.

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Note: I am a mere neophyte following a wandrin star. I've met people in my journeys who make my nomadic exploring appear as a visit to the local grocery.

The lyrics to Wand'rin' Star were written by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe for the stage musical Paint Your Wagon. Lyrics copyright: Chappell & Co. Inc.