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Bigger and Betterby Patti L. Auber, published October 2013
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I heard an interesting story the other day. It was about a man in Montreal, Kyle
MacDonald, who wanted a house and decided to get it by barter. He didn’t have a lot of money or a lot of
valuable possessions, but he did have one red paperclip sitting on his
desk. So, he put a posting on the barter
section of Craig’s list offering his red paperclip for something bigger and
better. That’s where his adventure
began, because Kyle promised to complete each trade in person, wherever the
trader lived. His first trade was with
two Vancouver women for a wooden pen shaped like a fish. Kyle posted it on Craig’s list. His next trade took him to Seattle (a
doorknob), and every trade after that became an adventure in its own
right. After one year and 14 trades, he achieved
his goal of bartering one red paperclip for a house. It’s a fascinating story, and I encourage you
to read about his adventures on his blog at http://oneredpaperclip.blogspot.com/.
What was significant to me was not so much getting a house from a paperclip (although that was pretty cool), but how, as the trading and traveling went on, it became less about the house and more about the adventure. He met some amazing people who were inspired to want to help him along the way. He had a lot of fun, made new friends, saw new sights, and probably did some crazy things. Even after Kyle got his house, the momentum created by the adventure continued. Kyle’s life was changed in ways I’m sure he could never have imagined, and you can read about where the journey has taken him on his website or in his book which he has written in the aftermath of his wonderful trading adventure. It all started because Kyle put himself out there. A lot of people said he was crazy. They laughed at him. They thought it was a joke. But Kyle left himself open to possibility. He allowed himself to do something a little crazy, and just see where it would go, and have fun along the way.
What a lesson for all of us! Just put it out there and see where it will go. Stay open to the possibilities. Be willing to be changed in the process. Have fun.
This story couldn’t have come at a better time for me. I’m going to retire from my job next spring, just after my 67th birthday. My long-time dream has been to take my ultimate retirement trip. I’ve had this dream since I read a book entitled Blue Highways: A Journey Into America, by William Least Heat-Moon. I found an unabridged audio version of this book at the library a number of years ago. It kept me company on a driving trip to Atlanta to visit my son. (By the way, the unabridged audio version is exactly the right length for an entire trip from Canton, Ohio to Atlanta, Georgia.) Like Kyle MacDonald of red paperclip renown, the author of Blue Highways did something unconventional. He took a trip across America on only “blue highways,” a term he coined to represent those secondary roads that were often drawn in blue on the old travel maps. Those highways and byways took him through small towns all across America. The book is not only a travelogue, but a soul searching autobiography about the author’s search for something greater than himself at a time of great turmoil in his life.
So, I’ve committed to taking such a trip myself. Like William Least Heat-Moon, my dream trip wouldn’t be on an airplane or an ocean liner. It wouldn’t be to famous sites or fabulous resorts. My dream trip would be to get in my car, set my GPS to “no highways,” and take off across the country for one entire month on my own version of Blue Highways. I will forego rest stop chain restaurants for local diners and roadside cafes. I’ve discovered that when you get off the interstates, you are forced to interact with the small towns and villages, and the people who live in them, along the way. You learn to trust in serendipity. I want to meet those people, and hear their stories. I hope to see parts of America that have probably never been written about in a travel magazine. I hope to learn about this country in ways not found in a history book. I want to rediscover what it means to be an American right now in the 21st century.
I’m starting to bookmark interesting sounding places that I might want to work into the journey, but I don’t want to plan it too much, because I want the adventure of letting the road open up before me. I have six months to think about my trip. And the rest of my life to remember who I met and what I saw and learned along the way, and to think about how it all changed me. How cool, huh?
Citation: Blue Highways: A Journey Into America, by William Least Heat-Moon, Fawcett, 1982.
What was significant to me was not so much getting a house from a paperclip (although that was pretty cool), but how, as the trading and traveling went on, it became less about the house and more about the adventure. He met some amazing people who were inspired to want to help him along the way. He had a lot of fun, made new friends, saw new sights, and probably did some crazy things. Even after Kyle got his house, the momentum created by the adventure continued. Kyle’s life was changed in ways I’m sure he could never have imagined, and you can read about where the journey has taken him on his website or in his book which he has written in the aftermath of his wonderful trading adventure. It all started because Kyle put himself out there. A lot of people said he was crazy. They laughed at him. They thought it was a joke. But Kyle left himself open to possibility. He allowed himself to do something a little crazy, and just see where it would go, and have fun along the way.
What a lesson for all of us! Just put it out there and see where it will go. Stay open to the possibilities. Be willing to be changed in the process. Have fun.
This story couldn’t have come at a better time for me. I’m going to retire from my job next spring, just after my 67th birthday. My long-time dream has been to take my ultimate retirement trip. I’ve had this dream since I read a book entitled Blue Highways: A Journey Into America, by William Least Heat-Moon. I found an unabridged audio version of this book at the library a number of years ago. It kept me company on a driving trip to Atlanta to visit my son. (By the way, the unabridged audio version is exactly the right length for an entire trip from Canton, Ohio to Atlanta, Georgia.) Like Kyle MacDonald of red paperclip renown, the author of Blue Highways did something unconventional. He took a trip across America on only “blue highways,” a term he coined to represent those secondary roads that were often drawn in blue on the old travel maps. Those highways and byways took him through small towns all across America. The book is not only a travelogue, but a soul searching autobiography about the author’s search for something greater than himself at a time of great turmoil in his life.
So, I’ve committed to taking such a trip myself. Like William Least Heat-Moon, my dream trip wouldn’t be on an airplane or an ocean liner. It wouldn’t be to famous sites or fabulous resorts. My dream trip would be to get in my car, set my GPS to “no highways,” and take off across the country for one entire month on my own version of Blue Highways. I will forego rest stop chain restaurants for local diners and roadside cafes. I’ve discovered that when you get off the interstates, you are forced to interact with the small towns and villages, and the people who live in them, along the way. You learn to trust in serendipity. I want to meet those people, and hear their stories. I hope to see parts of America that have probably never been written about in a travel magazine. I hope to learn about this country in ways not found in a history book. I want to rediscover what it means to be an American right now in the 21st century.
I’m starting to bookmark interesting sounding places that I might want to work into the journey, but I don’t want to plan it too much, because I want the adventure of letting the road open up before me. I have six months to think about my trip. And the rest of my life to remember who I met and what I saw and learned along the way, and to think about how it all changed me. How cool, huh?
Citation: Blue Highways: A Journey Into America, by William Least Heat-Moon, Fawcett, 1982.