John Williams - Raiders March

Adventure Has a Name

1. I spent most of my life, adult or otherwise, trying to be Indiana Jones. I’ve gotten close a few times. I’ve been to Petra in Jordan. I’ve seen the Vatican necropolis. I’ve ridden horses through the desert and on Mexican beaches in the middle of the night. I own a bullwhip. I look great in hats. The real Indiana Jones is alive and well and lives in a modest home near the Lake Erie shore. His name is Barry Davis. He’s from Pittsburgh, and is a former Methodist minister, U.S. Army chaplain, Freemason, tenured teacher of history, and… yeah… now, in retirement, an archaeologist. He buried one wife, and two sons, and raised a daughter. He broke his back once and lived just to get into a fight with cancer and emerge victorious. Though he looks more like Henry Jones Sr. now, he’s still tougher than any steel to ever come out of a Pittsburgh foundry.

   “It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.” - Indiana Jones

2. The person I know most likely to dramatically swipe everything off a table to make room for a giant map illustrating the plan is Barry. From theology to archaeology, history to ministry, Barry is a curiosity engine. It’s a propelling force for him, this fuel, and if you get near him you’ll learn it’s contagious. He has an awesome and powerful gift that makes history come alive at his fingertips. He’ll stand on desks, punt garbage cans, and stalk a classroom in full Civil War regalia if it’ll help students appreciate the lesson. This is full-contact education. He can make a D feel like a Medal of Honor, and an A- feel like a slap in the face because how dare you give anything less than your very best. His fuel became my fuel. This contagion led to hours of pouring over dusty books and charts, eager to explore and raid these faraway places.

   “You want to talk to God? Let’s go see him together. I’ve got nothing better to do.” - Indiana Jones

3. This life is a grand improvisation. Done properly, it’s X-rated, and hopefully, it satiates every childlike curiosity of young poets and adventurers, those willing to dare it all to experience the sensation of lift-off, to be bold enough to risk a crash landing. I hope whatever belief we each hold of a wilder awareness, a grand architect, or a force of creation is upheld. I want the most puzzling and elusive mysteries of your life to unravel themselves at your fingertips after searching for the clues in libraries of the mind filled with your grandfather’s pipe smoke and your father’s Bourbon. I want your shooting stars in the nighttime sky to launch 17,000 queries urgently seeking answers. I want the campfire watcher in you to find peace and presence of mind in the being in whatever moment you find yourself entrenched. I hope the urge to disappear over the horizon strikes you suddenly and without warning, and what’s more, I hope you return to the magically disappearing shore with tales of ancient lands and hopefully, a scar or two. I hope you tap into the mystical oneness connecting all those who have far, far more questions than answers. Ours is a less sure path, but it’s far, far more fun.

   “I don’t know, I’m making this up as I go.” - Indiana Jones