Names and the Stories That Go With Them

Little Michael grew up in a fairly well-to-do neighborhood. Down one side of the street lived Doctors, a lawyer, and some affluent business men from the community. On the other side of the street lived nose-to-the-grindstone blue collar workers, all living paycheck to paycheck. Across the street from Michael’s house was a convenience store where Michael’s family and the rest of the neighborhood would buy household necessities – milk, bread, ice, and a multitude of other things. One day, Michael’s best childhood friend told Michael, “My dad says I cannot play with you anymore.” Michael’s best friend, who was white, would not be allowed to play with him anymore because Michael was black. Michael was heart-broken much like any 6 year old would be.

Luckily, as a 6 year old, Michael would not have had to deal with 5:00 traffic in 2009 in downtown Atlanta, Georgia. If you have any luck, you will not have to deal with Atlanta traffic either because…OMG! (OMG = oh my goodness, that’s for those of you who may not be up-to-date on your texting lingo). I take back everything I said about Houston being a crazy city to drive in. I said that all prior to knowing that I would have spent more time on the freeway than off the freeway during our stay in Atlanta. Okay, okay, I may be exaggerating a bit, but seriously, it took us 2 hours to get from the Braves game back to our hotel, which are only 19 miles away from each other. If you do the math, that makes your average speed 9.5 miles per hour. At certain points on the Atlanta freeway system, there are over 8 lanes of traffic all headed in the same direction, and which at any given time, 5 of them are at a complete standstill. Literally, 5 of them will not be moving, 2 of them will be crawling, and the last will be moving fairly quickly but it is the one lane you can’t be in because it is an exit only, the exit you don’t need *refer to video at bottom*. Now this fits somebody like myself great because if you know me, I’m not what you would call the “fastest driver” in the West. However, when the freeways do pick up to “normal” speed, it is absolutely, horrifically, unimaginably…scary. You will be going 75mph in a 55mph one moment and slowing down to 10mph in a matter of seconds all the while avoiding 4 cars in front of you trying to merge to their exits, 3 cars behind you attached to your back bumper, 9 cars in front of you slowing down because of the 3 semi-trucks in front of them, the Earth moving in one direction beneath your back wheels and the other direction beneath your front wheels, 24 tornados forming over your head, a volcano erupting in the distance in the middle of a blizzard, driving uphill in a mountainous terrain both ways. I know, sounds crazy right? Well, to add to the story, just pretend that it’s true, because that’s what it felt like. Oh yeah, did I mention the girl with her left foot hanging out of the window, talking on her cell phone, in the middle of rush hour traffic – and she was the one driving?! (Doesn’t make my volcano sound too out of place does it? I think I would have rather taken my chances with the burning lava than the psycho-driver girl). Anyway, back to the Atlanta story.

After we got into Atlanta the first night, we decided to not brave the traffic and settled on a good ‘ole Cracker Barrel night. It’s amazing how similar these restaurants are 2,000 miles away from each other; I think they use the same decorator. We came back to the hotel and decided to call it an early night so we could attempt to get up early for a full day in downtown Atlanta.

After the early events of our 2nd day in Atlanta, which I’ll discuss later in this blog, we made our way to Turner Field, home of the Atlanta Braves. You would have thought Atlanta, Georgia was right in the middle of the Equator. Rachel’s skin on her legs was so hot that you could have cooked an egg on them. Apparently, one of our readers does not believe we are intelligent enough to sunscreen-up every time we are going to spend some time in the sun. He underestimates our genius – we remembered and good thing because for 5 innings, that Atlanta sun bore down on us with all its might. We caught a break in the 6th inning when little white puffy clouds turned into dark, ominous thunder and lightning-bearing clouds which gave us some cover. The game ended with the Braves losing 3 to 1 and not a moment too soon. Not 60 seconds later, the Atlantic Ocean that we just left arrived over the top of Turner Field. This was not just a little drip-drip storm, but a storm that kept us and 10,000 other petrified fans in the halls of the Braves stadium for about 20 extra minutes. Neither Rachel nor myself have seen that much rain in that short amount of time, ever. The thunder literally shook the steel rafters holding up the stadium – needless to say, we were glad to finally get back to our hotel, shower off the globs of sunscreen we had smeared over our entire bodies, order in some Chinese food, and relax for a few minutes before diving into our new blog.

Something I was super excited about was my brand new Atlanta Braves jersey Rachel had been saving for me for months. I had pointed out a really nice authentic Braves jersey that I wanted over a year ago and Rachel spent months looking for it after the store we saw it in had sold out of them. She surprised me with it last night before bed and her and I were both able to rock our new looks in our new Braves baseball gear to the game today.

Oh, and about Michael…you see, I didn’t just randomly tell you some story about some kid named Michael to open this blog. That is actually a true story. But who is Michael and why should you care about him? Well, in 1934, a man lay on his death bed with his son at his side. The man’s dying wish was that his son would find a way to keep the family name going after his death. The son, who had a son of his own, decided to keep that wish for his father. Soon after his death, the son marched himself and his own son to the local courthouse and decided to have their names legally changed. While many of us desire possessions, materials, money, and basically just “stuff,” this dying man’s desire wasn’t for his gold pocket watch to be handed down or for a house to be left for his grandchildren, or for his fortune in stocks to be passed down through the generations, no, his name meant more than anything. He obviously felt that he had lived up to that name well and was entrusting that name to his son and his grandson. If you think about some of the most famous people in history, it usually isn’t their bank account that we remember them by – but their name. John F. Kennedy, Adolf Hitler, Einstein, Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Ghandi, Mother Theresa, Napoleon, Jesus…all people we remember, some well-off financially and others not, but we do not remember them by their portfolio worth. We remember the stories behind their names.
Sometimes, I think about what my name is worth.
I hope that you too will think about the story that will be attached to your name someday.

Today, we were able to see inside the birth home of Martin Luther King Jr. We saw first-hand at the MLKJ Historic District in downtown Atlanta, just what his name has meant to millions of people. Shrine after shrine after shrine, Dr. King is remembered by the words he spoke, the actions he performed, and by the lives he changed. I am grateful, after all these years, to know the whole story of Martin Luther King Jr. This blog is dedicated to the memory of that man who once famously said, “I have a dream that one day, my 4 little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” Because sometimes, a name, even if it has to be legally changed from Michael to Martin, is worth more than all the money in the world.

From the Road Less Traveled,
Josh and Rachel

In memory of, Martin Luther King Jr. 1929-1968 (born Michael Luther King Jr.)

Atlanta Highlights: Braves game, Martin Luther King Jr. memorial, shelter in the storm!, Cracker Barrel’s fixin’s, surviving Atlanta freeways, advanced map reading skills, good ‘ole southern hospitality, a decent hotel room (even with the weird smell), a blind tour guide that didn’t let his disability stop him from his passion, chocolate milk!

License Plate Updates: *so we forgot to post in Florida, so here’s our latest update* Idaho, Washington, Nevada, Arizona, Utah, Indiana, Texas, Florida, Oregon, California, Colorado, Montana, Wyoming, Illinois, Oklahoma, Maine, New Jersey, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Wisconsin, Nebraska, Minnesota, Alaska, Michigan, Iowa, New Mexico, Arkansas, Maryland, Massachusetts, North Carolina (go Tar Heels!), Virginia, Georgia, Hawaii, Louisiana, Mississippi, New York, Alabama, South Carolina, Missouri, South Dakota, New Hampshire, Kentucky, Connecticut, Kansas, Vermont, West Virginia (47/50)