Streamin' Dreamin'

I have had this fantasy for most of my adult life. It may have started after I read the book, "Skinny Legs and All" in 2000, but it was likely around been before that. The fantasy was to hit the open road, discover the corners and crevices of the country, be lost in the wilderness, yet finding so much more.
In 2003, I announced this dream to my family. I believe my mother spit out her drink, my step-father pulled me aside and said my career was doomed to fail and this was the first sign, and my grandparents said, "sounds great!" In 2004, when I met my partner, I told him the dream I was planning for post-graduation. He said, "sounds great, I can't wait." (That's how you know you when you should stay with someone.)
Here it is 2009. The economy is in the tank, and my job security has a fear of commitment ("maybe we should just be friends"). It is devastating to be jobless. Americans are raised on having jobs. And this may be coming up for me.
Enter the dream.
Everyone else is selling off their hobbies, tightening their belts, hunkering down for a long, cold, depression. Having saved some money myself, it seems the time to take advantage of the flooded market and start working on that dream.
The Airstream.
It really could have been any kind of RV, but the Airstream is the sterling princess of my dream. And I want to drive her off to find the American Dream, wherever it is, whatever it is. With my faithful kitties at my side, I will gallop down those forgotten roads that cross our country, where you can drive for days without seeing anything. I will go there, and I will find things. This is my dream.
Will I go through with it? True, it has been a fantasy for a long time, but I have spent a good 40 hours in the last three weeks browsing ads, sending emails, scrutinizing pictures, reading manuals. I have told my co-workers and family of my plan. I have test-drove tow vehicles. I have seen three trailers in person (one restored one, two for sale). The one I have moved to the top of the list is driving into the state of Indiana tomorrow. Is it fate? Is it destiny? Is it manifest destiny?! Seize the day, seize the trailer!
If my stomach holds, and I do go through with the plan (why do we block our own dreams), I will be abandoning this blog, and starting another. It's true. "Here2Indiana" has run its course. I cannot pick it up with the fervor I once had. But all is not lost! I will begin a new blog! I am working on it right now, so I won't tell you its name yet (it's a secret!). The project "On this day" will continue until all the days are accounted for. Since I missed the pesky Leap Year, the last post will not be until 2012 ("isn't the world going to end then?!" "no, just this blog-- but if it does, at least I pursued my dream!").

Follow my progress on http://streamin-dreamin.blogspot.com/

Impulse Buy-- try to restrain yourself....

Just because you saw it, touched it, pictured what it could be like (picked out the flooring), doesn't mean you have to buy it. Look at the numbers. They are dreadful! Even if the seller would take that offering price, the money it needs just to get it running would buy one already spruced up. Why not get one of those? The joy of doing it yourself? The satisfaction of labor, a job well-done? How much does that cost? It looks like it costs several thousands of dollars. No, don't do it. Find one that was someone else's money pit. Use your money and your labor to tweak it slightly. Trust me.
But the impulse is so strong...

Play-Dough

This semester has offered me many new students, new courses and new
conversations. The classes have been moving along, down a wild river,
and I am in the back with the rudder, steering us down the routes I
have planned, occassionally going to one side or the other for the
excitement of the passengers. Occassionally, we hit rapids, even
rocks. Sometimes it is exilerating, sometimes unnerving. Sometimes we
see things I have forgotten, or I get to see anew through their eyes.

Last week, some of my students were talking with a philosopher. I
enjoy philosophy, but this man's speciality was ancient Greek
philosophy. The more I listened, the more I thought, this is the
stupidest thing I have ever heard. Has no one had any interesting
thoughts since then? Do our arguments now have so little merit
compared to Plato?

My students wanted to relate this to their own experiences. They asked
about Plato's intent. "No no, no one knows or cares what the intent
was. That's how we should look at art too. Artists don't always know
what they are doing and are idiots at explaining it."

Needless to say, I had to step in.

Later, my student came up and said, "if the artist's intent doesn't
matter, why have I been working on this artist statement for so long?"

"You are not two thousand years dead," I said. "You are a living
artist working in a post- (post- ?) modern period. Of course it
matters. Once it's out there people will try to take what they want,
but you will have controlled the context and your insights help
historians and critics put it in context."

Or something like that. I began debating whether I should assign
"Death of the Author," even if it was the one reading I couldn't bear
to look at in grad school.

Last night, I saw our production if "the Pillowman." I almost laughed
at the irony and relevance of the themes (except I was near tears at
the intensity of my student's performance, who performed with such
energy and abandon, he fell to the stage and concussed himself): a man
who would rather kill his brother and be put to death than see his
creations destroyed (even if they are unseen). Is the death of the
author preferable to the death of the content? We certainly hope all
our love and sweat and pain can communicate on their own, possibly
outliving us. Maybe the "gist" of it will suffice in that
circumstance, that the reader will get what they will (at least, they
think they got it on their own), and go on and respond to it, never
knowing they are doing and thinking exactly what the author wanted
them to.

Right now, I am on a plane (offline, don't worry). I was so tense
about the crowd and the luggage area and the stuffy hot plane air, I
sat in the wrong seat (D instead of C, both on the aisle). When the
rightful owner arrived, I saw my mistake and began to move. "Dont
worry," he said, and took my assigned seat. I looked over at him later
to see what he was reading (one of my quirky, nosey plane habits). I
couldn't tell, but the man in B, next to my assigned seat, was reading
Plato.

Dodged that bullet.

Sent from my iPhone

Imagination

I was picturing selling all the furniture, packing all the books into storage, buying a boat and taking a year off to sail around the world with J and two cats. No, I have never sailed, but this seems a minor set-back. Yes, I have an Internet addiction, but this too could be overcome. Where would I go? I don't care. Miles of horizon, nose-running wind, and untainted quiet are calling to me. What would I do? I don't care. Read. Write beautiful little poems. Count the waves. Perhaps I would practice not speaking for a month. Could you imagine? What kinds of things would I start to think? What kind of art would I make?

The river is wide

I will re-up-load this soon, as the aspect ratio is wrong.
These are images of the upper rapids I took while walking across the bridge.

Patriots and road trips

Us Americans invented the road trip, right? "Go West, Young Man!"

I had this whole diatribe planned about "dead presidents" and how we normally relate to them as money. The diatribe was really good, I promise, but I am too tired and past my interest in it to write it out.

It was going to climax with "The true American road trip must include a visit to the chapels and bedsides of our great dead presidents." Something like that. Anyway, here we go.

This man served the second shortest term in presidential history. Nothing to brag about (not even the shortest term), and yet I was lucky enough to visit a large monument in his honor.

I was struck by how similar this tomb was to my visit to the Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi. There was a beautiful alter-type thing, a balcony with an extensive view, and a sign pointing to the basement, toward the tomb and the restrooms.

And sure enough, you walk down the stairs to see the door to the restroom, and to the left, coffins. Right there. Not even encased in protective concrete like Saint Francis.

The decor in the main level was pretty amazing. There are saint like figures for each of the states (not each one-- some random selection of eight or so), and the allegorical figures of "Peace" and "War."

Things you should bring on a road trip

* Your favorite cats-- you want to make sure you have someone to talk to, to remind you to take breaks, and remind you to stay in hotels and not open the door in the middle of the night.

* A thermos-- hotel rooms furnish mini-coffee makers and styrofoam cups. These cups are ridiculous, and environmentally insensitive, plus true road trippers don't have time to sit in a hotel room and sip away a pot. Why not an insulated cup, you ask? Because an insulated cup is what you take with you to work, at your job. A thermos is for the long journey of the road tripper.

*Granola bars-- excellent source of fiber and protein and don't decay during the trip. The problem? They always have little chocolate chips that jump off them and get between your pants and the car seat.

* Film canister pinhole camera-- I think this one is pretty obvious.

* A GPS-- The trick with this device is how you program it. Obviously, it helps you find you way from one place to another, but it does take you on the least inspiring route possible. Be sure to select the option "least use of freeways," every now and then, to see some true country back roads.

Beware, however, that you may not like all that you see on those back roads:

I got back on the freeway after driving behind that one for a few miles.

Enter Ohio

I am in Cleveland, in a Best Western. It is after midnight. I watched t.v. on the computer, because there were more shows available on the internet than on the antennae-based television in the room. I talked to J earlier via video chat. I'm starting to see how the internet will replace everything-- t.v., radio, phones, commuting. Something as mundane as a road trip seems time consuming, simple, slow. Sure I can listen to a book, and I am making progress towards a destination, but I can't shake the feeling I am not getting anything done. Yes, I know-- getting there is half the fun. That means looking around, stopping at local spots, etc. But all the 'local spots' suddenly look the same. Is this Arby's any different from that one? Is this vine-covered, falling-down barn any different than the one in C'ville, Indiana? True, I saw a beautiful red barn with a purple metal roof today. That may be a bigger statement that Indiana is ready for. But I couldn't get to it to even to a picture for the Internet-- why are there no off-ramps in middle America? How do you get to all those houses? How to the people who live there get to stores, airports, cities? Are they really so self-sufficient that they don't need to??

I smuggled cats into the hotel room. It is harder to do alone than with someone. But they are a comfort. I wish they could be out in the car during the drive, that they enjoyed it more (I mean, they sleep the whole time at home, why is sleeping in the car so distressing to them?).

Anyway, I have nothing terribly witty to say right now. I will try to think of better insights in the morning.

Why you should leave town when you plan, and not wait a day.

Yesterday was the first day it wasn't 70 degrees and beautifully comfy. It was 85 in the shade, with something like 90% humidity. Do you know what happens when a cool area gets that hot and humid that fast? It's like rubbing your socked feet on the carpet. Only bigger.
C'ville, in the middle. That's us. See the red thing moving east? That's a tornado forming. Those little white dots? Lightning strikes.

We sat in the basement and did Saduko puzzles. The tornado siren made the most hauntingly beautiful sounds. Nothing happened. At least the basement was cool and less humid. When we came out, we saw it went around us and took out part of Indianapolis instead.

Road trip

View Larger Map

The road trip-- it is the symbolic act of chasing the American Dream. When you go to Europe, you go back packing. When you go to South America, you bike. Australia, a walkabout. Africa, a safari. America, it is the road trip. It was America that put the auto into mass-production. Thousands of miles of highway, by sea, through desert, over mountain's majesty. Over the river and through the woods. For this, Americans also produce more waste, more carbon emissions, more smog, and we have the rear ends to show for it.

*(Now there are hybrid cars and developments in biodiesel, all of which sounds like a mistake to me. I vote for more solar cars with better batteries, and maybe they run on dirty shower water or something. Temporarily, I think all Americans should be required to drive cars that burn CO2 into O2 to offset all our other gluttons. But I digress...)*

So I am about to embark on a mini-trip. What to bring, what to take, what to think... Which museums to go to? Where to find WiFi connections?

New hometown: Indiana

I should have taken a picture of the house at night when we arrived. The next day (Saturday) was so warm, all the snow melted, and the next day, the temperature dropped to the 20s. It did snow a few times throughout the day, but nothing stayed on the ground. No white Christmas after all.

On Friday night, we stopped to look at the house and say hello to the landlord. She is a little old southern lady who is busy as a bee. She and her husband were at a neighbor's party, so we stopped in to say hello. The neighbor was also an older couple (70s) who had never had children. The lady is a Yoga instructor and interior designer. She reminded me of a character from the Yaya Sisterhood... she was offering cocktails and laughing and telling us about her adventures white-water rafting. She hugged us when we left and said something about being more of her adopted kids. I don't know how more welcomed we could feel!

Crawfordsville, IN

Hi everyone,
I am too tired to blog tonight. But I wanted you to know we made it safe and sound! Here is a pic of the house from two months ago. Just so you know, it has snow all over the yard now!

Tomorrow I will try to catch you up on Missouri and Illinois. I have to say, Missouri was really fun and beautiful. Pictures may not describe how lovely it was, but I will try. We didn't have a chance to stop in Saint Louis, but it was so beautiful-- definitely an underrated city!

I will send you pics tomorrow of the snow and the house. The hallway is red. The bathroom has wallpaper. We are in another motel, probably the nicest of the three nights (the same we stayed in over the summer). I feel terrible the cats will be shoved in the car one more time, but at least that time will be short!

When we checked in, the counter girl said, "Have you been here before?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Because you look like out-of-towners."
I said to J, "and let's hope we still do in six months!"

Missouri

Missouri was a beautiful drive. I was glad it was daytime when we made this leg of the drive. It has the red soil of Oklahoma (not quite as red, but still very red), and has these wild rock formations that are pushing out of the ground, that had to be cut through to make the road. Sure enough, there are a number of caves and other geologic formations of interest in Missouri. We didn't stop for them, but might have to go back for a visit!


We stopped at an antique store where we saw a REAL aluminum tree!! Don't think I didn't think for a moment if there was anything we could toss out of the back of the car to make room for it!

Saint Louis was a brick city that appeared to be both returning to the earth and revitalizing. There were old buildings being repurposed into loft apartments, next to others that were burned out and graffitied. I thought it was an interesting looking city, but we didn't even stop for gas, so what do I know?


We crossed the mighty Mississippi. We are officially East of the Mississippi!

Springfield, Missouri, 36 degrees F

We pulled into Springfield around 10PM local time. That's 8PM in California, by the way. J wanted to drive farther, but I was hoping we could get some sleep and have an actual early start Friday. The fog was rolling in too, which made driving difficult. There is supposed to be a big storm coming in to the north in the next two days, which will bring rain to our destination on Saturday and Sunday.

It's cold here, but manageable.

I took this picture at the last pit-stop we made before calling it a night. The car next to me stopped and let out two girls, around 15 years old. They were wearing capri pants, t-shirts, and sneakers with no socks, and big down coats with fur-lined hoods.

1755 miles from home in California. 496 miles to home in Indiana!!

Update:
The comments were restricting users earlier. I changed the settings so you can now comment freely!

Turner Turnpike, Oklahoma

The bad part about driving in December, is the sun sets so early. We were driving a toll road out of Tulsa to the Oklahoma border when we lost our light. I have not had much experience with toll roads, and when I first saw the sign that said "Free restrooms ahead 8 miles," I thought it was very funny. Then I realized if you got off the freeway to use a restroom, you would have to pay the toll, then again at the pay point every thirty miles. The "free" restrooms were located in service stations in the median area, which had one gas station and a McDonalds. Talk about a captive audience. Oklahoma can probably fund all of its roads using McDonalds purchase price for this exclusive audience.

Two story cats

Cherokee Tranding Post, Oklahoma

We took a break at the Cherokee Trading Post. I like to look at Native American crafts at these types of shops. I was disappointed that a lot of the more popular items-- leather goods, small knick-knacks-- were made in China. They did have an amazing selection of Navajo pottery, with bios of the artists who signed them. Out back, there was a pen with three buffalo, a long-horn, and a calf. The biggest buffalo, Bucky, was quite happy to come to the fence and pose for photos.We ended up buying buffalo jerky in the shop. I felt a little guilty, but honestly, it was the best jerky I have had in a while. We got some in Roswell that was the worst I have ever had, so there you go! They also had fudge, which was excellent!

Leaving Texas

The largest cross in the Western Hemisphere. Because EVERYTHING is bigger in Texas.

Cat Drama

Surprisingly, she did much better today that the past two. J did a fabulous job loading the car (hence our very late start), which placed the cats right between the two seats so they could both see us easily. After the initial outburst (seen here), Dharma went to sleep. Every now and then she would wake up, meow at us until we talked to her, then go back to sleep. We considered driving all night it was working out so well.

Heading out of the hotel

Had a good sleep. Ready for more driving. Our goal for the day is Springfield, Missouri. I have also been looking at some strange stops on the Roadside America website. I don't know if we will have time to stop, however. There appear to be storms closing in on us!