It's Personal: Returning East Day 3

Hello from South Bend, IN. Yes, the home of St. Mary's, Holy Cross, and Notre Dame...

We started the day in North Platte, NE. The dog, the brother, the trailer, the Forester, and I got under way at 8 a.m. Central. We couldn't escape that hell hole of a hotel quickly enough. We didn't even stop immediately for breakfast. We just got onto I-80 and started driving.

We drove due east until we came to Kearney, NE. There, we partook of Starbucks. Yes, I know. A little taste of home in the midst of a foreign land. A veinti white chocoloate mocha and a sausage with egg breakfast sandwich. The brother longed for Dunkin Donuts simplicity and requested an iced coffee with milk and sugar.

We were soon on our way across the very flat state of Nebraska. Thank you God and Subaru for cruise control. And Ralph Teetor, the blind inventor and mechanical engineer who suggested the idea of cruise control in modern vehicles.

The dog slept most of the way with his head on the center arm rest. The brother slept some of the way. And played PSP some of the way. Meanwhile, I drove. And texted a few people from time to time. I was told to beware, for instance, the children of the corn.

We passed Lincoln. Not the man but the capitol city. We didn't get to see the dome.

Then we got to Omaha. Bigger city than I expected. Significant signs of extensive civilization. But we didn't stay long enough to see if they were highly evolved.

We found ourselves in Iowa. And the brother and I, because of our love of baseball, immediately found ourselves talking about the field. You know, the field. Where James Earl Jones disappeared into the corn. And where Moonlight Graham had his first hit.

The next few hours went - what I thought to be - quickly. Iowa's certainly more hilly than I expected. But it has just as much corn as I thought it would. Well, it will. The other thing that surprised me was the amount of wind across the plains. I suppose it makes sense since there's nothing to stop the wind from blowing across those states. But still, there were gusts that almost carried my Yankee cap far away.

Random comment. Saw the name Dubuque. The brother - who enjoys reading every sign and billboard on both sides of the road said, 'DUH buck'. I turned and smiled at him, thinking he was making fun. He looked at me in all seriousness and said, that isn't how you say it? No, it's 'duh BYOOK'. He looked at the name again and said, that's dumb.

We made our way through Des Moines. And then passed near Winterset, IA. I texted a few people and told them I was passing by Marion Morrison's birthplace. Most had no idea about whom I was speaking. But Ashley came back with her favorite quotation from him, 'Life is tough, but it's tougher when you're stupid.' And the Old Man - of course he knew who it was - asked if the brother and I were 'DUKEING' it out.

We passed by Brooklyn and Montezuma. Not to mention Iowa City and Davenport.

We crossed the Mississippi - which the brother loves to spell (I dunno). It was a tad anticlimactic. The brother thought it should have been wider. That's the word he used.

That meant we were in Illinois. Land of Lincoln. Well, not Lincoln, NE. We had just passed. Lincoln, NE. But Lincoln the man. Well, he's not a man anymore. Hasn't been for 145 years and 1 day. Is it strange that we passed both Lincoln, NE and through Illinois the day after the 145th anniversary of his death? Yeah, I suppose not.

On another note, the Old Man was excited to tell us that Utah experienced a 4.9 earthquake yesterday after we had driven through approximately the same part. Hmm... strange coincidences.

Yes, in Illinois. And in Illinois, I came across the strangest road signs I had ever seen. 'Caution Rough Road Ahead'. There were two yellow diamond-shaped signs that told me this. And the road was rough. I said aloud, why don't they just fix the damn road? The brother laughed and agreed. I then followed up by saying it was probably more cost effective to put the two signs on the side of the road.

We passed Peru, Ottawa, Princeton, and Marseilles. The brother quipped that people in the midwest weren't particularly original with their naming. I agreed.

We passed Joliet. He started talking about Juliet Capulet. And Romeo. But we couldn't remember his last name. I came up with Mercutio out of nowhere. And knew there was a guy that had the name 'Ty'. I just looked it up. Romeo Montague. And Tybalt. My Shakespeare is rusty.

Some time after Joliet, IL the brother suggested a game he had learned from his wife. Take a well known real person's name, for instance Meryl Streep. Then take the last letter of the last name and think of another person's name who begins with that letter, for instance Pedro Martinez. Then Ziggy Marley. And Yolanda Adams. Sam Snead. Dwight David Eisenhower. Raquel Welch. And so on. It lasted us through Illinois.

By Indiana, night had come. And there was construction. And the brother was bored and decided to sing and whistle and make random unintelligible noises. The dog continued to sleep. The GPS lady kept telling me to veer left. She was insistent, like an unbearable nanny crossed with a scratched record. We stopped for gas soon after. And I walked into the visitor center to regain some semblance of sanity.

We drove the last hour to South Bend. When we arrived at the exit, the GPS lady - she's buried deep in the recesses of the machine - told us to go and look for the Comfort Suites somewhere opposite the direction of all the hotels. Not a good sign, we thought. She then took us around and about until we discovered that we had gone in a circle. Not at all helpful. The brother started cursing. At her. At long lights. At lights that weren't bright enough. I headed back towards the hotels while the brother had a tiny fist fight with the woman in the GPS. I think he eventually won because we found the Comfort Suites. Except it was full. Just what we wanted to hear. I backed up the trailer all by my lonesome. The brother was surprised at the agility with which I maneuvered the small rig. I told him it was because I was pissed. Yeah, I can see that, he said.

Luckily, the guy at the Comfort Suites had recommended the Jameson Inn. Well, I was damn well not going to spend another night in a Motel 6 type place. So, I approached the Jameson with caution. But I'm pleasantly surprised. Thank God.

Now, it's 1:45. Primarily because we crossed into yet another time zone, the last one. And we'll be up early tomorrow to reach our final destination. And my final destination for now...

Good night all...

It's Personal: Returning East Days 1 & 2

Here I sit in a Motel 6 in North Platte, NE. I've never been to Nebraska. And I hope never to stay in a Motel 6 again. It's true that you get that for which you pay.

Many of you already know that I'm on my way back east. Others of you didn't prior to the preceding sentence. Well, now you know. And here I am.

Because it is late, because I am tired, but mostly because I'm not prepared to discuss the topic, I will not be disclosing the associated whys and wherefores. Instead, I give you a few hows along the way. My trip remembered, as it were.

Before I begin, I will warn you that I have no pictures. It's partially because I don't have a camera. Partially because the camera on my phone isn't up to par. And mostly because pictures of random signs and mountains will not help me to remember this trip. Instead, I give to you a few recollections, most of them true...

With all the stuff - translated books, clothes, and crap - that I've accumulated, I can no longer fit everything into a Mitsubishi Galant. Not to mention I have my brother and the black / brown dog, Buddy, with me. So, a trailer was a must. Which meant I needed a hitch. Well, I did it by the book. A hitch first, professionally installed. Then an appointment for a 4' x 8' trailer. Then got the trailer on Tuesday. Drove it to the house. And acted like I was going to back the trailer into the driveway. Then I realized it was rush hour and pulled forward. And then I realized that I didn't know how to back it up.

So, that's how the whole thing started. After goodbyes had been said (again, not getting into that) I got into the car. With the booklet I had received from UHaul and the advice I had received from the old man through the brother, I slowly but surely backed the trailer and the forester out of the driveway. Yes, I held up morning traffic for 5-10 minutes. But I think Joseph enjoyed telling them to wait.

We were on our way. North on I-5. East on I-90. The brother, the dog, and I. Late, by the way. 8 a.m. You have to understand that when I started towards Seattle, I awoke at 5 a.m. Big difference.

Anyway. We traversed the Cascades. Beautiful this time of year. Don't have to worry about snow too much. And yet you can still see the traces of it here and there. Mountains and lakes and beautiful conifers. Amazing that I hadn't actually visited that road since July 2002. In fact, it's quite amazing that I visited so few places in the immediate vicinity. Once to Portland. Twice to Vancouver. Once to the San Juans. Once to Mt. Rainier. Never to Leavenworth. And still never to California, not that it's in the immediate vicinity.

We followed I-90 to Ellensburg and then veered south on I-82. Through Yakima and Kennewick, our first stop. Nothing really of note during that period. Buddy wasn't sure what was happening. And I felt badly for him. The brother fiddled in the front seat - not literally - and tried to enjoy the scenery. His favorite saying of the trip thus far - except for Seattle and Ogden, UT of all places - there is nothing here; I mean nothing.

We entered Oregon, which the brother insists on calling oar-uh-GONE as opposed to OAR uh gun. We got gas. I forgot it was full service. I hadn't had full service gas since a trip through New Jersey. And then we left Oregon. Not much in that northeast corner.

We entered Idaho and almost immediately passed through Boise. Well, that was after Nampa which the brother quipped was Tampa's cousin. Relatively uneventful. Except for the smell. Not sure what it was, but every so often we caught a scent entirely too similar to raw sewage. Yuck.

Lost an hour sometime in there. Went from Pacific to Mountain. Ugh.

636 miles. 12 hours. Good enough.

Spent the night in Twin Falls at a Best Western. Nice place. Had amenities I wish I had had time to use.

Went to bed. Slept well.

Awoke at 6 a.m. Better. We ate the complimentary breakfast and were on our way by 7.

Made it the rest of the way through Idaho. Then into Utah. Didn't quite get down to the Great Salt Lake. But close. Did go to a rest area just before the Rockies where Buddy left some treats.

The trip through Utah was short. Wyoming came next. Stopped in Evanston for gas. And answered some work email. Yes, there's still work.

Crossed Wyoming to Rawlins. Got gas again. In between, there were buttes and mountains and cows and sheep and lots of trucks.

Tangent. We passed by a small, frail looking creature. It was whitish and had horns. I thought it was a deer and said as much. The brother said, no, it's a cantelope. I turned to look at him. And he started laughing the addictive laugh he's had since childhood.

After Rawlins, we made our way to Cheyenne, Wyoming's capital. We saw the golden top of the capitol building. And we kept going.

Into Nebraska. Sidney was our first stop in the state. Needed gas, after all. So, I insert the credit card and am told to go into the cashier. I pump the gas and then see the cashier. The card has a hold on it. I use the debit card. Why does the credit card have a hold?

I call customer service. In the middle of the call, I get dropped. I am out in the middle of nowhere after all. During the second call, I discover that the card has been flagged as having fraudulent activity on it. Why? Because I'm taking a cross country trip, and that is abnormal. So, the guy removes the hold.

What annoyed me the most about it? Well, I had a hard time understanding the people on the other end of the line. They were all foreign. I'm not against foreigners working in the U.S. But methinks they weren't working in the U.S. Yet more business process outsourcing.

Drove through the black night in western Nebraska. Trucks passed at ridiculous speeds. And then I saw the sign saying we had passed into the Central time zone. Which meant we didn't get into the room at 9:30 as we had intended. But at 10:30.

And I was adamant about writing this entry. So, now it's almost 1:30 Central. That's 11:30 Pacific. Or even 12:30 Mountain, if you'd like. Right now, with everything I've endured of late, it might as well be high noon.

I suppose I should try to sleep. We've another long day ahead tomorrow. South Bend is a reach. More than likely, we'll be somewhere south of Chicago.

Until next I write...

3WW (Deviate, Identify, Saturate): No One

Deviate from good.
Identify with evil.
Saturate young minds.

Deviate from sin.
Identify with virtue.
Saturate young minds.

Deviate from choice.
Identify with balance.
Saturate no one.

It's Personal: Mentors

born, whatever that means.
there are people around
speaking in foreign languages,
telling me what to do
and how to act and where to be.
they say it lovingly,
all of those mentors.
whether in english
or financial speak
or catholic speak.
i listen, more than listen.
i am enthralled, amazed.
i believe all they say.
they speak with such confidence.
they teach the basics
but not all their tricks
of subtle nuance.
i follow where they lead.
i trumpet their arrival.
i proclaim their great deeds from memory.
and then there comes a sad day
when i have learned the nuance,
when i see the subtle tricks
as clearly as through a clean window.
the mentor transforms
from demigod to demagogue.
and i break a little.
a piece of me falls into the ocean,
corrodes from the creeping salt.
all is not as i once believed.
i grope for meaning, understanding.
i find none, only imperfection.
i think i have failed in my contemplation.
it is when we are weakest that we are strong.
failure breeds humility;
humanity wields its noble sword.
mentors are human.
there is a birth around me;
my word suddenly becomes law.
i am telling people what to do.
i am telling people how to act.
i am telling people where to be.
lovingly, of course.
doomed to fail on my path as a mentor,
which means i will succeed.

3WW (Caustic, Hunch, Sacrifice): In Vain

Roses as red
As the crimson blood
Pouring from the knife wound
To your stomach.

Violets as blue
As your cherub face
Choked from the withered hands
Around your neck.

Sugar as sweet
As the honeyed words
Poured from your caustic lips
When I depart.

As for you
As for your hunches
And your sacrifices
They were in vain.