I know every teenage boy of a certain inclination finds "on the road". Those boys with a wanderlust not yet understood. Boys with a sense for rhythm and beauty. I know "on the road" coffee mugs and mouse pads litter the desks of those same boys grown to be dull. Maybe that's why it's easy to dismiss it as adolescent fantasy or mass marketed rebellion. I have just listened to a recording of Kerouac reading his novel. I am reassured that first excitement wasn't just the novelty. He brought back for us a taste of the sublime that we all continually seek, whether conscious of it or not. The written word is a clumsy device but to hear them from his lips returned the novel to its sacrosanct state. It touched me to listen to the rhythm and cadence of his story.
The anniversary of his death is this Thursday. Give him a thought and a prayer that he found the Christ he sought.