Last week at this time I was likely walking the Las Vegas strip with my husband. We did that a lot last week. Walked the strip. It was interesting and fun. And the thing we noticed, besides the crazy people and the hustlers and the in-your-face sex-for-sale, was the lack of benches. There was nowhere to stop and sit and rest. Vegas is not designed for rest.

Vegas is designed for movement and manipulation. When you go into a hotel, you have to walk through a casino before you get to the lobby. The only place to sit is in front of a slot machine or at a card table. When you are on the street, the only chairs are in locations you have to pay to go into. Bars, cafes, street-side casinos. Lots of chairs there. But along the street … nothing.

Lyndon must have commented ten times a day on the lack of benches in that city.

Having no benches to sit on for a week made me realize that I am a park bench kind of girl. I need spaces of rest in my day, my week, my life. I need to stop and sit and look around from time to time.

And I’ve realized too that, even though my nature tends to be a bit the introvert, I still like people. And while the park bench is a nice place to sit in solitude from time to time, it can also be nice to share the bench with a friend. Both are good.

And so these are some of the benches I have in my life. The getting-up-earlier-than-the family-so-I-can-have-time-alone bench. The once-in-a-while-breakfast-in-town-with-my-husband bench. The book-club bench. These benches, and others along the way, make the walk so much more enjoyable.


This post is part of the My Dad and Me series. I’m looking forward to hearing what Dad has to say about this or any other subject he’d like to write about next Tuesday.