A Walk Through the Wilderness: america

America is not natural. Natural is tribal. We're fighting against thousands of years of human behavior and history to create something that no one's ever [done] - that's what's exceptional about America. This ain't easy, it's an incredible thing. - Jon Stewart, CBS interview, 2016

What happened this November?!

The world is falling apart. "Our birds' heads are falling off!" - Dumb and Dumber. Everything is just unraveling.... I've gone through all the stages of grief except for acceptance. I'm not sure about that one, so maybe it is back to denial.

We all know this isn't true. As Obama said, "The sun still came out this morning." Our history has always been full of turmoil that we hope stays at bay and doesn't affect our nights out, Netflix binges, and coffee dates. There was a time when our country was fighting itself - physically waging war on each other where more Americans died than all the wars put together. Now at least we can wage war with our words through social media or actions such as blocking up the streets of Portland, OR. The west coast might go ahead and join Canada. Haha... just kidding... maybe...

I cried and grieved over this election, to my own surprise. My brain shutdown just as it would if I were to become dysregulated over anything else. It slowly began to respond again, lighting up from my brain stem fight/flight reaction - "I can't live in this nightmare, and I feel very scared," then to the emotional brain - tears and confusion for days, followed by the eventual re-opening of my prefrontal cortex - able to think again, digest, and reflect. I had gotten wrapped up and so hopeful that a female would be elected - imagining that celebration of a glass ceiling breaking with confetti that looked like glass. But not only that, that America wouldn't actually vote for a blatant bully (luckily, Melania Trump has stated she'd like to pursue anti-bullying as First Lady). Millions of people across the country couldn't sleep that night, having nightmares, and stammering, "But he --- but... but didn't you hear all the things he said?" Particularly as a female, I kept crying when anyone would bring up the little girls watching, and Hillary Clinton's words in her concession speech, "Never let anyone question the fact that you are valuable." Then I cried some more watching Hillary even get through her concession speech because it further showed that she is actually made of steel.

Ugh, sigh, gahhhhhhh... OK. Well, I guess it's time we all add a little bit of politics to our lifestyle and not wait every four years to finally exercise our right to vote or remember we have a voice. Just as people pull together during crisis, I feel like a positive side effect of all this is that it has given average white folk, known for their apathy, such as myself, a reason to be vocal - and to feel this call to action. Yep, time to actually read information and not rely on soundbytes, call representatives, sign petitions... I imagine all these people are being absolutely bombarded right now - or at least, I hope.

I was pleasantly surprised, after I emailed all the electors, to receive a response back - an auto-response from one of the electors which included a short video of how the electoral college works. Wow! There ARE real people involved in these decisions. I'm okay if they disagree with me - it just felt good to feel apart of a dialogue. We need more of that. Enough of this polarized politics where people demonize each other - can we talk this one out a little bit?

Today, I’m examining my values. As a Buddhist pal said to me on Election Night, “America has spoken.” Now it falls to us to listen with gracious and open hearts. This is not giving in or giving up. The hardest thing about democracy is the boring and irritating process of listening to people you don’t agree with, which is tolerable only when each side strives not to hurt the other’s feelings. To quote my colleague George Saunders, let today be National Attempt to Have an Affectionate / Tender Thought About Someone of the Opposing Political Persuasion Day. And (please, God) every day hereafter as well. - Mary Karr, "Donald Trump, Poet," The New Yorker

Now a montage of pretty Fall photos prior to entering Winter:

The title speaks to exactly what this was: lots and lots of road. So much road! So much road trip. I made the mistake of not counting the miles, but I would guess... over 4,317.

Driving across the country can be easily romanticized. I've crossed this country five times now, and can't say I would be excited to do it again: it is a YUGE country (as some might say).

I appreciate Joni Mitchell's take on these roads in Refuge of the Roads off of her Hejira album. Driving feels existential and ordinary. Lots and lots of highways taking you from forests to plains to deserts, through canyons and mountains and along seashores.

During this January road trip, I lived in fear of facing a snow storm in my two-wheel drive Ford Focus. With this in mind, we took a Southern route that dove from New Jersey down to New Orleans, through the Southwest, and up the California coast. We were lucky. We meandered through snow clouds of Arizona and New Mexico, the flurries swiftly scampering across the road occasionally. Cloudy mist surrounded us through Northern California and Mt. Shasta, with watery stripes across the pavement on rt. 97 up to Bend.

Refuge of the Roads

Joni Mitchell

I met a friend of spirit

A drunk with Sage's eyes

As I sat before his sanity

I was holding back from crying

He saw my complications

And he mirrored me back simplified

And we laughed how our perfection

Would always be denied

Heart and humor and humility

He said, "Will lighten up your heavy load"

And they send me then to the refuge of the roads

I fell in with some drifters

Cast upon a beach town

Winn Dixie cold cuts

And highway hand me downs

And I wound up fixing dinner

For them and Boston Jim

I well up with affection

Thinking back down the roads to then

The nets were overflowing

In the Gulf of Mexico

They were overflowing in the refuge of the roads

There was spring along the ditches

There were good times in the cities

Oh, radiant happiness

It was all so light and easy

'Til I started analyzing

And I brought on my old ways

A thunderhead of judgment was

Gathering in my gaze

And it made most people nervous

They just didn't want to know

What I was seeing in the refuge of the roads

I pulled off into a forest

Crickets clicking in the ferns

Like a wheel of fortune

I heard my fate turn, turn turn

And I went running down a white sand road

I was running like a white-assed deer

Running to lose the blues

To the innocence in here

These are the clouds of Michelangelo

Muscular with Gods and sun gold

Shine on your witness in the refuge in the roads

In a highway service station

Over the month of June

Was a photograph of the earth

Taken coming back from the moon

And you couldn't see a city

On that marbled bowling ball

Or a forest or a highway

Or me here least of all

You couldn't see these cold water restrooms

Or this baggage overload

Westbound and rolling taking refuge in the roads

Traveling has changed a bit since Joni or her musical contemporaries were exploring. A cross-country journey nowadays likely includes podcasts, audiobooks, Google Maps, and Air Bnbs - or at least, ours did. Fully technologized and less moments of silent wonderings and starings out the open windows of an air condition-less vehicle. Knowing the traffic and weather patterns make travel easier, or just give you more to worry about ("We have to get to Albuquerque before the snow does!"). The silence is still available though, and the open windows, and the existential questions. It's up to you. Go current or go old school. I personally like to get gas when we're around half a tank, especially when traveling through the desert. I'd also rather use the bathroom a million times than have to go desperately without a rest stop in sight. And every time we cross a time zone, it's important to make a noise as if you're going through a time warp ("Whoa whoa whoaaaaaa!!"). Sometimes we have long conversations, sometimes we don't. Don't forget to take photos.

Despite my reluctancy to drive cross-country again (ever) there are a few things I love about it:

The road. The road changes gradually. You pass through time zones but your body has naturally adjusted. There's no jet lag. Green leafy foliage are flooded to become marshlands which dry up to tumbleweeds and brush. The dirt turns to a red sandy mix. The land flattens. Palm trees begin to pop up, starting in Arizona until you find yourself at Palm Springs, then Venice Beach. These disappear along CA 1, replaced by pine trees, then redwoods, mixed with Tuscany-esque farmland beaming bright greens and yellows in the golden hour. Patches of snow and fog reappear, followed by ice covered lakes and snow-topped buttes, leading you in Oregon. This road is life; it is always changing it's form.

The music. Let's see... what did we listen to. The Tallest Man on Earth Dark Bird is Home with favorite song "Sagres" and "Dark Bird is Home."

Was I ever part of knowing with your hands in mind. Little screams into the wonder, and a wild set of rides. Come on... (Sagres)

Sylvan Esso Sylvan Esso. Oh Wonder Oh Wonder with favorite songs "Livewire," "Midnight Moon," & "Plans."

I've got plans to get to you, you know, don't you know? Going to make a paper plane and float to you. You know, don't you know? We'll be scraping the sky with our fingertips, screaming "This is the life, we were born for this" (Plans)

I drove us from the mountains of Asheville to lightly trafficked Atlanta listening straight through to Oh Wonder and Monica Heldal Boy from the North while Jordan slept, as he was fighting a strange virus most of the trip. The state of his health also signaled "Doctor" from The Bird and the Bee Recreational Love.

Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor... Give me pills, or give me love...

Another favorite from this album was "Los Angeles" - played very often during our drive into, around and through the city.

(LA, la la la la la) Stop asking me where I come from (Living in LA, la la la la la) Tell me how to love someone (Living in LA, la la la la la) Stop asking me where I come from (Living in LA, la la la la la) I love you more than anyone

What else. Those were the favorites, mixed with a few other things I'm sure (coughAdelecough).

The podcasts & audiobooks. We listened to typical NPR-listener-favorites of our generation. A combo of This American Life, Radio Lab, Fresh Air, The Moth, Serial (!!!), Hidden Brain, and On Being. I haven't looked at these podcasts since returning but am now just reminded that I never finished Serial... The Moth was particularly helpful once the sun set and we had been driving over 7 hours. We listened to stories through the winding dark wet/snowy roads from Flagstaff down through Sedona and into Phoenix. The elevation rise and fall was dramatic, as were the tales of a woman and her boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend of significant years who he still was friends with.

As for audiobooks, we listened to B.J. Novak's collection of contemporary short stories One More Thing through Texas and into Arizona. These can be tricky to follow, as they can be short and when you're listening you may not realize one has ended and another has begun. They are clever, witty, and ironic. Stories connect with each other. Actually, really I listened to them and watched the widening landscape of West Texas while Jordan played I-pad games.

Please listen to Jim Gaffigan's Food: A Love Story if you're into laughing out loud. It was particularly appropriate for us since he goes through all the food across the US. He has chapters devoted to New Orleans, BBQ, Doughnuts, Green Chile... many of the items we had come across ourselves. It was relevant, hilarious, and important to listen to in the voice of the man himself. We're still quoting and cracking up about some of his lines. I remember laughing out loud at this one:

Being southern means liking grits. Grits are not for everyone. It's almost as if someone was like, "If you like the taste of biscuits and gravy, but without the taste of biscuits and gravy, then you'll love our man-made wet sand."

He talks about his theory that New Mexicans are actually hoarding all the green chile. I wish I could find quotes from his piece on the cheap prices of doughnuts ("I guess I'll get 12 doughnuts for a nickel..."). Other lines include:

If aliens studied Earth, they would come to the conclusion that the United States is somehow consuming food on behalf of other countries.

Has peeling an orange ever really been worth it?

The culture. The US is a big country. It is geologically, ideologically, and beautifully diverse. I am always glad to be reminded of this as I drive across the country. The strip malls and gas stations look the same, but then you have these pockets so drastically distinct from elsewhere. You find out what is similar and what is different. New Orleans. New York City. Boston. Big Sur. Asheville. The Rockies. Utah in general. When it comes to politics, you are reminded of how difficult it must be to appeal to the majority of these people - how do you even do it? And why are there only two political parties?

I am also always reminded of the incredibly diverse natural beauty. Our drive along the California coastline and inwards to the wine regions made me so excited to return to get to know it better (the pinots, the sauvs, and the rest). Big Sur lived up to its reputation as one of the gorgeous spots on the coastline. It reminded me of Scotland - as anything with a rocky shore, green hills, and overcast weather does. But it wasn't just CA 1 - the road into New Orleans was fascinating. We drove across extensive bridges taking us over marshland and down into the city. Then there was the city itself. We stayed in a pocket of the Garden District where the buildings fit my image of what the beautiful deep South would look like: elegant porches with high ceilings, ivy tying up the beams, and colorful window shutters lining the long French windows and doors. We walked around at night in an air that I can only describe as deep Southern air; a touch of moisture, rich with flowery scent, and draped in moonlight.

Then there was the food (see Jim Gaffigan's chapter on New Orleans, which he describes as the best in the US). I'm typically sketched out by roadside food. However, we stopped a couple times in Texas for their BBQ and it was so smoky delicious - I've just never experienced that before. It was fun to watch the menus change. Once in Austin, we were starting to see breakfast tacos on the menu, only to be reinforced in New Mexico. New Orleans offered this incredible fusion of french, spanish, and creole. I was reminded of South America. We had ceviche, jerk chicken, and delicious sauvignon blanc. They served kombucha at the cafe around the corner, along with breakfast bowls with poached eggs, kale, and avocado. All my favorite things.

the places we went

blairstown, nj / asheville, nc / atlanta, ga / new orleans, la / austin, tx / albuquerque, nm / surprise, az / los angeles, ca / carmel-by-the-sea, ca / redding, ca / bend, or

All i'll say for highlights is: LA on the weekend is lovely. The traffic is quieter. I find it amazing that such a city has a beautiful beach right there - NYC cannot make this claim. LA does feel glamorous, and I'd like to go back. My picture of Atlanta was redeemed by staying with my friend in her beautifully revitalized log cabin. Atlanta has cozy neighborhoods and parks; you can live next to your friends. And it's warmer in the Winter. The Southwest does not disappoint in the Winter: warm, dry, and just oh-so-sunny. The waves at Carmel, CA were the largest I've ever seen. Can't wait to return to the wine country. Finally driving through Northern CA and into Oregon was just awesome. Oh and so glad to finally see Asheville. I can see why people want to live there: the mountains, the beer, the book store.

Despite all these wonderful places, we're happy to be back in Bend, Oregon - where the natural beauty and beer flow abundantly. Happy to be in our new home.