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Travels 18: The Call of the Desert: or If I Can’t Stand the Heat, What Am I Doing in Death Valley?
A man who refuses to acknowledge his god is unwise to set foot in the desert. Count Anteoni from “The Garden of Allah” (1936) I think it’s the isolation that attracts me to the austere places on the planet. I love the North because of the intense bone-crystalizing cold. The water-logged plants and animals without…
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Travels 17: Don’t Look Now
Acrophobia (n). An abnormal fear of high places. The American Heritage Dictionary (2012) Did you ever sit in the driver’s seat of your car with a lovely woman beside you? You are resting your right arm on the beige vinyl coated foam armrest. You fingers can touch the shifting lever. She is resting her left…
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Travels 16: The Rest Stop: An Encounter with Rex and Jenny
One long-standing rule of life I generally live by is not to form serious long-term relationships with people you meet at highway rest stops. Today, I made an exception to this tenet and I bonded with an older guy named Rex and the girl, Jenny, who sat at his feet. We had been ripping down I-5…
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Travels 15: Some Reflections on California
This morning I was very chilly in Oregon. It was about 41 degrees. Then we crossed into California and when we parked the R-Pod, it was about 87. Right now (it’s almost 9 PM), I’m chilly again. I wish someone would develop a reversible shirt. I could put it on when I’m chilly and then,…
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Travels 14: Advice
One should always follow good advice. The following four passages were taken from posters that were for sale at the Visitor Center of the Crater Lake National Park Headquarters. The writer is Ilan Shamir. Advice to the Mountains Reach for new heights. Rise above it all. There is beauty as far as the eye can…
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Travels 13: Always on the Edge of Beauty–A tale of women, beauty, a city and a marred landscape
Once I found myself wandering through the streets of Bruges, a small lace making city in Belgium. I walked along canals and old buildings. I began to cry. “Why can’t all cities be this beautiful?”, I kept asking myself. “Why can’t every city be a Bruges, or a Paris or a London?” I’ve always been…
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Travels 12: A Rest Farewell
And though the line is cut, It ain’t quite the end, I’ll just bid farewell till we meet again. —Bob Dylan “A Restless Farewell” I’m sitting at Erin’s breakfast table composing the final post of our visit to Orting. In an hour or so we will be on our way homeward. The route back is…
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Pacific Northwest Interlude: It’s Almost That Time Again
I’ll be waiting when you’re ready to love me… I’ll put my hands up. —Adele from I’ll Be Waiting. I’m sitting at the kitchen table of my daughter Erin’s house. I just made a Scrabble move against her. She’s sitting at the breakfast counter making Scrabble moves against me. It’s not that we don’t talk,…
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Pacific Northwest Interlude: The Legendary Pumpkins of Washington State
We’re sitting beside Commencement Bay in lower Puget Sound, enjoying a brunch with friends. This is not a “brunch” in the way that the word is thrown around so often these days. We’re provided with Mimosa’s that just keep coming like the tide and enough oysters and shrimp to drive a Maine shell fisherman turn…
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Pacific Northwest Interlude: A Song. A Journey. A Metaphore and a Memory
Sitting at the kitchen table, I can see my daughter, Erin and her husband watching a mute TV while a song is playing on an iTunes mix. Bob is a musician. He plays the drums and he has an encyclopedic knowledge of most kinds of music I could ever run across in my lifetime. I…
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