Go West, Young Man! The Open Road Calls

“Go West, Young Man!” From the first time I heard that line, it has echoed within my head. Sure, life has taken me many places—many wonderful places, many exotic places. Still, the allure of this simple sentence keeps coming back. It’s been a never-ending whisper, lingering just below the surface of everyday life.

It’s in the quiet moments before dawn when the deepest sleep removes all inhibitions that the call echoes loudest. But upon waking, it disappears. The daily routine takes over. Yet it gnaws. Beneath the skin. Yearning to be free.

Then, one morning, it happened. The bags packed snugly into the family truckster (an aptly named Ford Expedition, courtesy of the also aptly named Enterprise), the phrase became a reality. We, the Carosas, were heading west. No longer a young man, the spirit of my youth danced sprightly in my mind.

On this day, we would heed the siren call of this purely American vision.

“Go West, Young Man!” That’s how books and movies teased me as a kid and well into adulthood. These literary devices created an image of a West filled with hope, promise, and wholesome righteousness. It’s everything a young boy could want.

The steely gaze of the dust-covered hero stared at the forever horizon. It beckoned him. And me, too. It called to the cowboys, the pioneers, and the dreamers who believed with all their hearts that a better life lay just beyond the mountains—a place “where the buffalo roam” and freedom stretches as far as the eye can see. If you doubt the sincerity of this motif, read “What’s Your Dream? (Here’s How To Capture It),” Mendon-Honeoye Falls-Lima Sentinel, January 20, 2022.

For anyone growing up in the East, the West – the real, physical West, let alone the ideal of the West – was as distant as the moon. And just as irresistible, especially for this astronomy and space enthusiast. (Now you know why “Enterprise” was aptly named.)

It wasn’t just the land of make-believe. It was real. It had to be real. They taught us all about “the West” in school. Yeah, we understood that Hollywood movies may have exaggerated a bit. They were, however, well within the realm of the zeitgeist of the West.

In our imaginations, we could live the ideal of the West, at least during recess and play time. After all, who doesn’t remember playing Cowboys and Indians? The honor of the Cowboy Code permeated our relationships (you might remember it being called the Law of the Playground).

More important, we dreamt of playing in wide open spaces. Our tiny backyards became the vast prairie. Tiny hills transformed into mountains to conquer. And when we ventured into a new neighborhood, we acted with the stoic determination of the pioneers.

That was our image of the West. Vast skies. Towering mountains. Featureless plains of grass extending around us in all directions to every horizon.

Never once did it strike me to consider what my ten-year-old Western counterpart thought of the East. Just as I’d roll my eyes when he likened Western New York to New York City, I’m sure he’d roll his eyes with me describing the West as nothing more than cowboys and canyons.

“Go West, Young Man!” Teachers taught us that Horace Greeley most pompously bellowed this phrase. It’s funny. We hear these words today, and we think they mean one thing. Our brains conjure up visions of exploration, the evocative “final frontier,” and that whole Enterprise thing.

Greeley had a more plebeian, downright political intention. The full quote from his 1865 editorial was, “Washington [D.C.] is not a place to live in. The rents are high, the food is bad, the dust is disgusting and the morals are deplorable. Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country.”

Though known as the publisher and editor of the New York Tribune, Greeley was also a politician of somewhat dubious renown. He served a term in Congress and ran unsuccessfully for President when Ulysses S. Grant was reelected. He was also a socialist who once hired Karl Marx.

It’s probably best that elementary schools focus on the quote rather than the man. Over the generations, the expression has grown to embody the mythology of the American West.

Or is it a myth?

At the end of the 1962 film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, newspaper editor Maxwell Scott tells Ransom Stoddard, “This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

The spirit of the West burns in the heart of every true American. The branding iron of reinvention, escape, and endless possibility captivates us. For those who have never really crossed the Mississippi, the West holds the secret our soul craves. It calls to all who seek transformation, discovery, and a higher moral purpose.

The myth isn’t just make-believe; it’s tangible, undeniable.

At least in my mind. (Maybe yours, too?)

Traveling the open road along the paths of the pioneers continued to mesmerize me. In a sense, it represented personal “unfinished business” – a laundry list of places I didn’t want to just see pictures of. I wanted to breathe their essence firsthand.

Did it rise to the level of “Lifetime Dream”? I don’t know. But if it didn’t, it approached that level. It certainly offered a chance to reclaim youthful wonder. At the same time, it presented an opportunity to test myself against the miles of life.

“Go West, Young Man!” That’s exactly what I did. I wasn’t alone, though. Better than embracing this dream alone, it became a family affair. I’m so glad I waited. What better way to experience the legends, landscapes, and inevitable surprises than with your family? It ties everything together nicely. A family expedition. In a Ford Expedition. (See what I mean about everything tying together nicely?)

From Chicago’s towering skyline to the stoic faces of Rushmore, from the manmade tourist trap of Wall Drug to Yellowstone’s steaming earth, the West unfolds in vivid contrasts. The rugged mile-high heights of Colorado and the soaring arch of St. Louis’s Gateway City await. It’s all there—and more!—waiting past the next bend in the highway.

This June, as spring turned to summer, a lifetime of staring westward on maps, wondering what was out there past the edge of the paper, became a wonderful chapter of resolution, excitement, and self-discovery.

The wheels turned. The open road stretched ahead like a promise. Forward we traveled, ready and willing to find out where that road led.

We all have horizons waiting to be chased. What is yours?

“Go West, Young Man!”