The Charlie Bravo Story

The law of threes

Dad here with a simple request: can we all take a break from drinking from the punchbowl spiked with hatred?

Charlie’s page was started with the purpose of providing a non-saccharine refuge from the barrage of negative crap on social media. She is as an apolitical being as ever existed; as far as she’s concerned, all celebrities, politicians, actors, basically anyone who holds themselves in higher regard than the rest of us is unworthy of her attention. The time that we have with our dogs is too fleeting to waste a second worrying about those that don’t give a dried up Marconugget about what we really think.

And I’m the same way; I do my dead level best on my own page to leave politics where they belong, which is swirling down the porcelain throne. But being Charlie’s dad does not mean that I am devoid of my own opinions, just that I strive to be as respectful as possible when addresing them no matter who strongly my inner smart-ass demands to be unleashed.

But it just ain’t worth it; why must we focus on that which divides us rathet than what unites us?

Today a person I respect and admire took umbrage at a post that they took to be political concerning a subject near and dear to Charlie and I, camping on BLM land out west. This person has been my friend and one of the earliest followers of this page, but basically “tolt me off”, I believe not so much for the content of the story but because of the source, to which I gave not a second glance when posting. Truth is truth, whether the source be NPR or Fox News, and BLM camping is something that we that travel do know just a bit about.

And if someone posts something that inflames you that much, how about a PM before going nuclear? I would bet my McNuggets that we could come to a reasonable understanding and probably even end up sharing our respective Happy Meals.

But this is about more than friends; this is family. I take Charlie’s story and the relationships formed as a result, as seriously as I do anything in my life. I would not have even one leave because of “politics”, or any other reason; its just not worth it.

There is an ancient Chinese curse: “may you live in interesting times” That’s exactly where we’re at, and the stress is beginning to show, even at the Casa. One thing I’ve learned from traveling is the Rule of Threes; three is both a good and bad number. It’s good in that you can travel around the world with only three pairs of socks and underwear: the pair you’re wearing, the pair that need washing, and the pair that’s drying on the back of the bike. Three is also good, as that’s how many nights we camp before finding a dog-friendly motel to regroup for another three days.

But three is also a bad number, as mishaps seem to hit in groups of three. The third day of a trip is the day that tempers flare between old friends traveling together, or if you’re traveling alone, that’s the day that homesickness, the self doubt and worry, seem to hit the hardest. And NEVER travel in groups of three, as one will always be the odd man out; it might not be you today, but you can count on it being you tomorrow. Mark Twain even referenced the Law of Threes: “after three days, guests and fish start to stink”.

And that’s approximately where many of us are at right now, maybe not three days but three weeks of confinement and confusion; who or what to believe? I believe that this too shall pass, and the best I can do is to come through it with as few harsh words as possible; the toes I stomp on today could possibly be connected to the butt that I have to kiss tomorrow.

And when you make it past that three, days, weeks, months, whatever, the road opens up. The sky is a brighter shade of blue, the curves aren’t intimidating but exhilirating, the “chance” encounters with others takes on a whole ‘nother level of weird wonderfulness.

Stick around; the best is yet to come; we be of one blood, ye and I.

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