What Happened to Wonder?

We had spent the afternoon looking at some historical landmarks as part of a self-guided tour at a family reunion in South Dakota. We had taken a different way back, heeding the advice of a local.

"If you go up the road a piece and turn left at the stop sign, you will be on the black top," he said. "Follow that until you get into town."

So we did.

We drove past endless fields and farmland. In my growing up days I might have been able to tell you if it was alfalfa or soybeans or flax, but I had spent too many years in the desert, the land of beige. All I saw now, in every direction, was green. Miles and miles of fresh, verdant, green.

My cousin was the first to notice."Look at that," he said.

Our eyes tracked his pointing finger. A collection of nine red cars sat nestled in the middle of a field with a herd of cud-chewing cattle in the background. 

Nine red cars. Just sitting there. In the middle of nowhere.

"Let's take pictures," someone suggested, so my cousin did a U-turn, pulled over to the side of the road and we all got out with our cameras.

"I wonder why there are only red cars?"

"Do you think he is an artist? A collector?"

"I wonder what point he is trying to make?"

"Maybe he is color blind and he thinks the cars are green and camouflaged in the field."

We speculated on several options, but for the most part we were content to wonder. 

won·der

[wuhn-der] verb

1. to think or speculate curiously.

2. to be filled with admiration, amazement, or awe.

Recently my sister and I were talking about the lost art of wondering. My sister quoted a friend who was amazed on a camping trip when she asked a question and immediately six cell phones appeared as people tried to find an answer.

"Are you kidding me?" the friend said. "Aren't we even allowed to wonder anymore?"

Smart phones. Unlimited Internet access. Google Searches. There is a wealth of knowledge at our fingertips, but has our reliance on electronic devices come at the cost of our imaginations? On our ability to just sit quietly and ponder the puzzlements of the universe?

Even though I could do a google-search of “red car collection in a field near Clark, South Dakota,” I have resisted. I don't want to lose that magical moment of coming over the hill and seeing those cars in the distance. A whimsical bit of fun.

Later this month I am going on a road trip to Colorado with my seventeen-year-old son. We have made a pact that if one of us sees something that needs to be investigated or photographed, we are going to stop the car and check it out.

I wonder what we will find?

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When was the last time you were filled with wonder?