Finding Myself in Conventions Everywhere

It’s Convention time, all across the land, and my son Henry and I are getting a pretty good education in what goes on at these multi-day, resource-intensive, hotel-based, name-tagged events as we take our road trip through several states.

We started out in brutally hot Indianapolis with the Episcopalians, there assembled for General Convention (which occurs only every three years). Here we had some familiarity, of course, relating to our close relative who is directly involved — indeed, is being welcomed into the House of Bishops.  There must have been at least 1,000 people here, and it felt not unlike being in the halls of Congress, with delegates carrying thick books of policies to be voted on over the course of ten days.

Not needing to stay beyond a few key events in the opening days, Henry and I began our long-planned road trip by continuing on to Louisville.  There, along the banks of the Ohio River, awaiting fireworks on the 4^th of July, we encountered the Convention for the National Association of the Deaf.  We don’t know what kind of measures may have been under consideration, or whether people were gathering mostly for fellowship, but it seemed like the sign-language conversations going on there were at least as animated as the ones happening in Indianapolis.

When we returned to Louisville, that “City of Possibility,” after spending a few days down further South, we were delighted to find that the American Council for the Blind was holding its Convention (I just have to capitalize here) at the same hotel.There were gentle guide dogs attached to their people everywhere, and also much gladness.  We talked to participants who told us how much they were learning about new developments (driver-less cars?) and also to representatives of service dog organizations from all over the country who answered our questions about how the animals are cared for in a downtown hotel.  Seeing all those tails wagging in the lobby, with the utmost understanding that they – the dogs — were not there to socialize themselves, was truly moving.

During our fabulous 24 hours in Nashville, the place my country music-loving son was most aiming for when we planned the trip, we were thrilled to find tunes of all kinds practically running through the streets.  The mantra there is “Be true to thy music.” We went to a terrific bluegrass concert at the historic Ryman Auditorium and then added to that by taking in a live rock/country band in a club down on gritty Broadway.  I was taken back to college days by Alabama and the Allman Brothers, and Henry found out that his current favorite singers tip their hats to many who came before them.  

What we hadn’t expected, however, was the quite different flavor that came from mingling with members of the American Guild of Organists – in town, you guessed it, for their Convention.  When I stood in line at Starbucks with some of these musicians, they were raving about the concert the night before given by some very distinguished practitioners of their craft from Cambridge, England.  Talk about mixing it up.  And then I couldn’t help but wonder what the Episcopalians up the road a piece might want to share with the Organists, and vice versa.

The main takeaway (if that’s a word now) for me, however, from all of this convening was that I was comfortable with my role as observer rather than participant, and that life often offers up these opportunities.  Even in Indianapolis, where we are returning today, it was helpful for me to remind myself that this is primarily my husband’s business and that I can dip in and out of it as befits my own tastes and the welfare of our family as a whole.

Indeed, I had a kind of an epiphany there when my son and I walked the huge main exhibit floor of the Convention – with representatives from not only the United States but the Caribbean and Central America too, and rows and rows of booths presenting information on every possible kind of particular sub-group of the Church.  There was much to learn, and I stopped at a few places and took some leaflets on topics of interest…and then left to go back to our room or maybe to get some exercise.

It hit me there, as it has hit me since on this trip:  we are, each of us, in charge of deciding what our particular passions are and where they will lead us.  Life is a kind of smorgasbord of offerings, every day, and we need to choose wisely how we will – and will not—spend our time.  Doing one thing often does in fact preclude doing another, and at the end of the day, we want to be happy with our choices.

One of the best things about this past week, of course, is that I have been with my son and we’ve had a chance to talk on a range of subjects.  When I shared with him the topic I was considering for this essay, he let me know that he too often feels pulled in different directions — about how to spend his time, which group of kids to be with, how to carve out his identity in the world.  He is learning, along with lots of other 13 year olds, the importance of being true to himself.  It’s no small task.

Henry and I had a wonderful visit yesterday with old friends from our neighborhood.   It was not only fun to see them in their new home; it was also really helpful for me at this juncture to hear all about their recent moving experience.  We don’t have quite enough time on this trip to go to the Kentucky Horse Park, but I feel more certain that a return to riding is on my horizon.   And I think I’ll be playing bluegrass, good and loud, in my kitchen more often than listening to organ music.  But that’s just me.