Out of Canada and Back Again

Yesterday, Thursday the 27th of July, Tamara and I crossed from Sault St. Marie into Michigan state, driving west along the Upper Peninsula, north of Lake Michigan.  We cut through country whose geography I'd researched in the creation of this map.  The forests I'd envisioned were there, though cut back for farming ... and unfortunately, we didn't drive along Lake Superior's south shore, so I didn't seek what that looked like.

We were bound for Wisconsin.  We crossed at Menominee and Marinette, drove down to Green Bay and then along the freeways that run from Green Bay through Appleton, Oshkosh and Fond du Lac towards Milwaukee.  This last we reached just as rush hour began.

Fond du Lac was our destination.  There, as Tamara repaired to our room, I met one of my readers and patreon supporters, an occasional commentor on this blog, Ozymandias.  The meeting was a pleasant one.  Our conversation was fluid, wide-ranging and demonstrative that if we only lived closer together, we'd probably be close friends.  Which is more the pity, as we don't live near to one another, and the chances are we'll never see one another in person again.  

Though one never knows.

It's hard to express the experience exactly.  It didn't feel to me like meeting a "fan," but rather with someone who's opinion I've heard for well over a decade on this blog.  I felt greatly beholden to this man, to his support for me in bad times, and for the kickstarter I ran the year before last, and for his contributions to numerous discussions about D&D that have taken place here.  He's been an influence on my thinking and on my desire to evolve as a designer.  And to be able to tell him these things, in person, with the full benefit of my presence to convey the truth of my words, meant a great deal to me.  It's much more than thanking someone online.

Over and over, I do think the readers of this blog underestimate their influence on me, while describing my influence on them.  Every time I've been challenged, or made to doubt myself, has led to better viewpoints and epiphanies that have far advanced my philosophies about D&D and role-playing.  Which is perhaps the worst thing about not getting comments.

People often say, "I felt I had nothing to offer" ... but that is a misunderstanding of the better dynamic that goes on between those who are willing to collaborate.  It isn't about having "something to add."  It's about having something to ask.  Questions force answers that are, in essence, a demonstration of evidence.

Any time I've ever had to ask a question, I've needed to review and re-evaluate my argument, to put the answer in contexts I'd never considered on my own.  Those moments are my best writings here ... because clarity is most important of all.

But when I'm not questioned, I'm not pushed to do better.  And when that happens, my thinking is apt to stagnate.  

Which is something I hate.

Ozymandias and I spoke on matters that couldn't be discussed here ... but at every point in our conversation, he always had something to add, because he's an intelligent, imaginative, intuitive human being.  Just as most are, once deciding to commit themselves passionately to something they love.

Anyway.

After last night, Tamara and I got up this morning and headed back to Canada.  At present, we're at rest on the north shore of Lake Huron, which is so close I can hear the geese on the water honking through my motel room door as I write this.  I'm in a little village I've never heard of, whose name I'll give tomorrow, after we travel south along the coast of Georgian Bay.  We may or may not get as far south of Niagara Falls tomorrow, but there's no hurry.

I'll withhold my opinions about the United States for the time being, except to say that going through the upper peninsula and in a circle around Lake Winnebago in Wisconsin, we did not see a single Trump flag or poster, not in any city, on any building or written on any sign.  And we were supposedly in those parts of both Michigan and Wisconsin that vote Republican.  I did see a single painted motto on a decrepit barn, that was plainly aged by the weather, that read, "Let's Go Brandon."