When Will and I headed off in the shadowy early morning of June 11th, he plugged in his ipod and qued up Led Zeppelin’s Going to California. Mid day on the 21st we crossed the Nevada-California border just north of Lake Tahoe with the ipod stowed away and nothing but the sound of bird song and a Northern Pacific train rolling along side of us. Now I am not saying we didn’t do a fair share of mp3 musical accompaniment along the way, but I will say, it wasn’t as much as I had anticipated. The unexpected quiet was full of contemplation, inspiration, and exhaustipation.
I did not predict that driving over 3000 miles could keep me so engage, not with actual driving, but quiet meditation. What I thought about, I don’t know, but there was acceptance all over the place and connections happening mile after mile. This is to say, I felt protected and guided and supported. Not a bad way to feel and I think it was reflected in my joy at every stop for gas, coffee and … well, that’s about all I stopped for.
We drove through the lush woodlands of Pennsylvania, just under Lake Erie in Ohio, Indiana, Lake Michigan’s mist in Chicago, clouds sitting on Iowa’s young cornfields, Nebraska, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada and into California. Images, scents, and most of all, my fascination with the dreams and struggle of those that traveled these trails 150 years before me, kept my mind spinning. True, I have absolutely no idea what the dreams and struggles of those who traveled these trails 150 years before me were, but my imagination was sown by clouds, rocks and sage, and it’s fait accomplit. Living over fifty years taught me a few things, one of them: this inspiration will show up somewhere, somehow in my future work. Keep your ear on the rail for more on that.
Now for the exhaustipation… (made up word, obviously, but you get the drift). A previous blog described Will’s mind-boggling ability to drain me of all energy when he fell asleep. This continued without relief until I discovered Glaceau Vitamin Water. Starbuck’s couldn’t stop him, McDonalds Ice Coffee couldn’t impede him, a good night’s sleep was no match, but once I drank half a bottle of ‘Focus’, he was rendered ineffective. There are two reasons for this. First; as any mother can tell you, once one attempts to eat or drink anything your child will inevitably want some of it, which, in fact, is what happened and therefore Will was wide awake for at least two hours. Second; when he did fall asleep I found myself whistling Dixie down the road bright eyed and bushy tailed for several hours. I am hooked. From now on I have quit all food and am only drinking the suite of Glaceau vitamin waters for all my dietary needs. This will promptly start tomorrow afternoon. Tonight Nick, Will and I are dining on a seeded baguette, smoked gouda and fromager d’Affinois. Our second bottle of pinot noir is down two glasses and the sushi, kale salad, and pasta/bacon salad went down a few hours ago. Tomorrow morning we are planning on loading up the car and heading over to Little Prague to watch some of the USA – Algeria World Cup, while eating breakfast and enjoying the free glass/beer special. Right now we are camped out on the floor, watching Jeopardy, Nick’s apartment cleaned and ready for evacuation.
Nick lives/d in an apartment complex, not that different from one you would find in Pennsylvania. During one of the trips to the dumpster I stopped to ask Nick, Will and myself, “If you were blind folded in Pennsylvania and dropped here, would you be able to accurately determine the your location?”. We all agreed, no. That, of course, is a question I asked on the first day of summer. Come December there may be a different answer. But right now, we are sitting pretty, 80 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, birds singing, and Route 101 straight ahead.
This brings me, once again, to thoughts of Joel. Well, first, let me back up and say Happy Birthday to my dad Martin Grady Ragsdale II. He was born today in Chicago in 1922. I am not sure my dad ever came out to California, but something makes me think he did. Joel, on the other hand, did live out here, and not too far from where I am sitting right now. Joel and his best friend, Colette, lived at 22b Olive Street in Novato. Thirty-two and a half years ago he and Colette were heading up 101 to visit friends when, just above Santa Rosa, a drunk driver hit them. Strange but true, tomorrow morning, Nick, Will and I are picking up where Joel left us, Route 101, north of Santa Rosa.
Joel, in my recollection, was a tender soul, with just a bit of sadness fueled by his disappointment in the human condition. This could be an entirely false statement about my big brother, but I guess we will never know. Makes me think that perhaps all we ever leave behind could be recollections and dull reminiscences. That being said:
Joel was a climber of willow trees and a Boy Scout. He was 1964 International Harvesters, surprise homecomings and the Christmas when he decided to give away his most cherished belongings (the yellow ten-speed went to me). Joel was an artist and a poet. He was a traveler, whether he left his home or not. If you believe that we are bundles of energy bouncing around the Universe, you might believe that Joel’s energy is hanging out with us here in Davis, and might be joining us on the ride he never finished with Colette in 1977. If it becomes obvious that he is, I will share with you the signs.
There is so much to tell, from the gathering of friends and family at Ryan and Meredith’s blissful weekend wedding in Vail, the over night stay in a casino in Wendover, Nevada and the sad moose sighting on the shoulder of Route 80 in Park City, Utah. Please stay tuned because I will write all about it tomorrow. Suffice to say that rethinking careers, happy tears and cold beers will be duly addressed in my next entry. Have to run, the Coconut Bliss Vanilla Ice Cream is ready.
