Ian Lockwood’s Trip to Harvard University



Following the orientation, my family and I had to make a decision about who was coming to Cambridge.  Our first realistic option was that we could all go.  Harvard would house us and help find a high school for Sarah and Evan.  My affiliate (that’s hard to get used to) and children would undoubtedly have all sorts of cool experiences at Harvard and in the area.  It would be a great family adventure. 



Sarah (front middle) and Evan (back left)
with Evan's Orlando Gold Volleyball Team
at 2011 National Championships

Our second option was for me to go alone and have the occasional visit back and forth.  This ended up being our choice.  Sarah and Evan had positioned themselves for roles at their High School that they would not necessarily have at a new high school.  Sarah, in particular, had positioned herself for three years to take on several leadership roles in her senior year, including president of the Quill and Scroll Club and head editor-in-chief of the school newspaper.  She really didn’t want to miss out on those experiences.  She also wanted that experience on her resume so she could better position herself for her college aspirations.  Both children were also heavily involved in their high school’s volleyball program.  In addition, Evan was on a nationally-ranked team with his volleyball club. 

During the months preceding my departure from the office, I finished up what projects I could, transitioned other projects to capable team-mates, passed on my marketing leads, and allocated any new work to others.  Tim, Fabian, and Ed were their steadfastly supportive selves.  Brent Lacy, who is my Service Group Leader, in Orlando, and Paul Moore, a senior transportation engineer from our Atlanta office, were also very supportive.  Both Brent and Paul would likely have to fulfill roles that I would normally have done.  By the end, through a team effort, everything short of a few memos to write was off my plate.  The table was set for reloading my plate at Harvard.

Rented Minivan Packed for Trip

 I rented a Dodge Caravan minivan, packed up my stuff, said my cheerios, and headed north.  Saying “fare well” to my family was the hardest part.  I’d routinely left them over the last twenty-something years for business trips.  However, those trips were generally during the week when they were busy with their schooling and routine.  Those trips rarely lasted more than three to five days and I’d only miss the odd birthday party, school concert, tutoring opportunity, volleyball game, graduation, and so forth.  If something broke around the house, then it would only need to wait a few days and I’d be back to fix it.  This was a different story.  This was for a long time.

My family (Evan, Sarah, and Joanne) and
Evan's friend and teammate, Joel, see me off

The morning of my departure, I gave Joanne, Sarah, and Evan a series of hugs and kisses, told them that I loved them, and asked them to look after each other while I was away.  Sarah had made me a large bag of chocolate chip cookies and my wife had made me a bunch of muffins.  I certainly wasn’t going to starve.  We promised to video conference every Sunday evening.  I left a framed picture of myself in Harvard Yard on the mantel to remind them that I was still there in spirit but had to be in Cambridge because I was doing something important for our family, for our community, and for many other communities.  Leaving home, which seemed so theoretical and far away in December, had become incredibly real.  It was everything I could do to not lose it in front of my family.  I was going to miss them so much.  I was hardly out of the driveway and tears were rolling down my cheeks. 

Traffic Jam en Route

The drive was relatively uneventful for me.  However, it was not uneventful for others.  On the way up, I would occasionally get caught in a traffic jam.  The pattern was the same.  A police car and/or ambulance would race by on the shoulder of the highway, sirens screaming and lights flashing.  The rest of us, highway sheep, would dutifully creep along in our lanes until we got past the blockage.  The odd impatient driver would switch lanes, often more than once, and not seem to get any farther ahead for the effort.  The traffic reports on the radio were less than timely; they would confirm that, yes indeed, there was a traffic jam at my location and that there was an “accident” ahead.  However, what was only an inconvenience to the flock and an “accident” to the lady on the radio lady was a life-altering disaster for the victims and their families.  The pain and suffered were so routine that those not directly involved were not even feeling it any more.  The lady on the radio wasn’t concerned with the father and daughter who just died in a highway ditch; she was concerned about me and my flock-mates being delayed.  I passed several recent crash sites on my way to Cambridge, some of which involved injuries at best.  Each time, the emergency responders were on the crash scene doing their job, tending to the injured and dead, clearing the wreckage, and documenting.  The rest of us gawked as we drove past, accelerated back to 5 mph over the speed limit and lamented, “Gee, it’s lucky that wasn’t us.”

One of Thousands of Crash Scenes Each Month in the USA

The crash scenes reminded me of the big picture, the aggregate of similar scenes being played out on highways and streets across the country.  It reminded me that 30,000 to 40,000 people are killed on American roads annually.  That is the death toll equivalent to the 911 disaster’s death toll every month of every year.  Compared with other countries, the annual collision-related deaths per million people in the United States, at 152, is substantially higher (e.g. France 89, Japan 86, China 82, India 81, Germany 71, and U.K. 56).  Conventional thinkers would say that even though every American’s chance of being killed in a crash is about twice that of citizens from other countries, we drive more than twice as far as they do so our roads are safer per mile driven.  I’m so sick of hearing misleading statistics like that.  It would like saying that Americans exercise less and eat more pounds of highly processed food every year than citizens of other countries and, thus Americans suffer more from various related diseases.  However, conventional thinkers would say we are healthier than citizens in other countries because we have fewer health problems per pound of unhealthy food consumed.  Twisted logic!  Last time I checked, people are being killed in crashes; not miles driven.  God knows how many are injured on the streets and highways in the United States every year.  Now, our emergency responders are doing a great job at the scenes.  I saw that for myself on my way up.  However, my profession, the transportation engineering profession, is doing a terrible job with the big picture; I witnessed that on my way up too.  It reminded me about how important the reform mission is and doing my part in it and why I am away from my family for a while.

Of the four guys who would be sharing the Doebele House, I was the first to arrive.  Sally had mailed me the door key and there was an envelope with my name on it to indicate my bedroom.  I emptied the minivan into my room and returned it with about 10 minutes to go before I’d got charged for an extra day.  I was on the ground.