Dr. Seuss' book serves as a reminder for anyone charting unknown waters, which is all of us on any given day, to hike far and face up to our problems.

“Your mountain is waiting.

So … get on your way!” 

— Dr. Seuss “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!”

Graduations, weddings and birthdays, oh my. ‘Tis the season. My cousin’s son is marrying. Denise’s son just tied the knot, and Lynn is having a birthday along with two grandchildren graduating high school. Lane is celebrating another orbit around the sun, and my sister Nancy in Phoenix, Arizona, will soon blow out the candles on another cake. I’m celebrating with them all, and I’m vicariously tired and broke. Just kidding.

I just spent last Saturday with good friend Kay and my wonderful daughter Emily on the Britt Hill enjoying the Pink Martini concert to the utmost, including starting a conga line during their finale with the song, “Brazil.” It’s going to be a great season of music up there. Yes, I’m pooped but not too pooped to pop with a party for Lynn and dinner at Decant for Lane. Both are this week.

Today as I sat myself down in the driver’s seat of handsome Giovanni the Honda, I prepared to scoot off to Barnes & Noble to purchase a volume of Dr. Seuss’ “Oh, the Places You’ll Go.” It’s a classic piece of work often given to graduates this time of year, but this one is special for Lynn. Yes, she’s having a birthday, but she has successfully raised her granddaughter Renee who just graduated from high school. Renee and Lynn at opposite ends of the life spectrum, are each launching into new phases — both worthy of praise and a proper measure of hoopla.

As I prepared to exit the manse, a private angel — I think — whispered in my ear about my worn tires. I’ve known fully that they had served well with nearly 60,000 miles worth of wandering on them, and I really should bite the wallet. It’s always something, isn’t it?

I made myself a list and thought, now let’s see, do I want new carpet? I’m embarrassed of what I have now. Or, I could certainly use a closet full of new clothes. I’m currently wearing my daughter’s bathrobe from her junior high days. How about a long-desired, cross-country train trip? No, I thought, what I really want to spend hundreds on are new tires.

I pulled out a penny and employed the old Lincoln’s head trick. The idea is to see how much of the former president’s head shows, thereby indicating the depth of remaining tread. Not only could I see all of Abe’s head, but there was a speech bubble above it with him saying, “Four score and seven years ago, these tires were new.” Like myself, Honest Abe wasn’t above exaggeration. There was no tread.

I drove to Quality Tire in Central Point where Jeff and the crew had us fixed up, aligned and ready to rip in no time. I love the smell inside a tire store — so rubbery.

Oh, the places I’ll go now that my dear, faithful steed has new shoes.

When I walked outside, I lovingly fingered the considerable groove depth. Hey, I may as well get the full experience since I forked for the privilege. As we glided home — safe and aligned — I felt as though I sat about 4½ inches higher. I may have imagined it. We rolled along, religiously avoiding potholes and cracked asphalt. I wondered if anybody noticed my new treads. Probably not. I can still smell the newness of them in my carport.

“You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself

Any direction you choose.”

I made it to Barnes & Noble where a copy of the book waited. When I got home, I sat down and read it aloud. It’s a wonderful book and an excellent reminder for anyone charting unknown waters, which is really all of us on any given day. Seuss reminds us of the inevitable lurches and slumps, and that we’ll play lonely games against ourselves sometimes. But the good doctor encourages us to hike far and face up to our problems whatever they are.

“Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You’re off to Great Places!

You’re off and away!”