Day 16

I awake the next morning, Father’s Day, to Ben zipping up his coat and leaving the RV for an early morning walk. He loves the canyon, and I think he wants to take in as much of it as he can. I stay in bed for a little while longer, and then I shower, make breakfast for the boys, and get ready to see the canyon in full sunlight.

We take the bus to the El Torvah Hotel, which is vintage and classic and adorned with elk and deer heads and antler chandeliers. The hotel sits nearly on the rim of the canyon, so the upstairs balcony porch has the most amazing view in the United States of America. Can you imagine? We decide to walk along the rim for a while and each of us stares out and down, constantly. The enormity of the canyon is overwhelming and it is a different place every minute of every day of every year because of light and cloud coverage.
From the southern rim where we stand, I look across to the northern rim which is 10-30 miles across depending on where one stands, and the length of the canyon is 277 miles! One cannot help but be humbled in the ancient presence when one considers that the canyon existed before dinosaurs. 250 million years of erosion have caused the south rim to be lower than the north by 1000 feet. The gargantuan gorge is green, red, yellow, orange, gray, brown, tan, puce, pink, and so many other shades. We look over to see if we can see Phantom Ranch, which sits at the bottom, the suspension bridge which spans the Colorado River and Bright Angel Creek. They are WAY down there, believe me. I keep a close eye on the boys because there are MANY places where we can simply fall off into the canyon and the thought is nightmarish. Ben wants to hike in; I don’t. I go anyway. Bright Angel Trail is on average 4 feet wide and in some places, not even that much.
We make our way into the canyon and I keep thinking, I have to come back up this thing!
Those who are emerging are sweaty and out of breath and relieved they are at the top. Oh no…that is going to be me!

Friends, going down is the easy part! As we descend, we look over the side and at times, chills go up and down my spine. The trail is almost sandy in consistency, and in places, the smell of mule manure is horrible. In fact, there is so much of it and it is so common that as it bakes in the sun and gets stampeded by tourists, it turns back into grass that the mules have eaten and so sometimes we walk through grass piles! We stop often for drinks of water we have brought, and I notice that a herd of mules is on its way to the top. The signs warn us that we must listen to the mule wrangler for directions on what we are to do when they pass us, and we find a cool, shaded overhang to sit under and wait for the tired, sweaty mules to pass us. I have to tell you that every fiber of my being is against what they do to those beasts of burden. What an existence! Walking up a steep canyon with tourists on your back. I find it repulsive and revolting. The mules walk dangerously close to the edge, and, at times, friends, they only have three feet on the trail! The head wrangler also turns them sideways on the trail for a brief rest, and they continue on their weary, repetitive way. What a Sisyphusian existence. It angers me. We continue, and I tell the boys to call their pop from the Grand Canyon to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. They are excited to tell him where they are calling from, and I giggle thinking about the fact that we have cell phone service in the Canyon. Suddenly, we hear the thrump, thrump, thrump of a helicopter.

“Where is it?” Ben asks. “It must be a rescue of sorts because the Grand Canyon is a no fly zone.”

We look and look and suddenly we see the helicopter below us, and it might as well be a mosquito hovering in the air. It has landed at least a half mile below us and away from us and we need binoculars to see it. Rangers run down the trail past us, carrying water in both hands, and all the tourists are rubbernecking to see what is occurring. The boys are fighting over the binoculars, and I cannot believe we are seeing a canyon rescue. We found out later from a ranger that a man fell, bumped his head, seemed disoriented, and needed to be lifted to Flagstaff Hospital. The helicopter was required to land in a very narrow part of the canyon, and she explained that 6-10 people die in the canyon every year. We are amazed by this, but we could definitely see how it happens.

We descend further and in some areas, the trail is very steep and the powdery sand causes us to slip at times, lose footing, and have adrenaline shoot through our systems. I am really starting to complain at this point because I am worried about Ethan climbing back out and I can already hear him asking to be carried, which none of us will be able to do. Hikers who are on their way out ask us how far until the top and I tell them, one hour or so. They moan and I am dreading the return trip. The canyon, though, is just lovely and primitive and unforgiving. The boys complain that we have gone far enough and Ben decides that we should turn around and head for the top.

Oh my God! What a hike. Strenuous does not even begin to describe the walk out of the canyon. I am out of breath and sweating, and my legs are beginning to burn. I am definitely getting one of those t-shirts that brags that I have walked in the canyon. On the way out, the boys whine and people ask us if they should go further. The boys tell them no and Ben advises some girls to turn around. They are in flipflops with a half a bottle of water! What?????? No wonder people die.

Finally we are at the rim, and after we get drinks and rest, we head to a 4 o’clock program for kids about the Raven, which is one of the popular bird breeds that live at the park. The ranger, Juliet, is very nice and sets up a huge memory board game on the ground. Every single clue which has a match is about the Raven, and Bennie and Ethan are first to play. Eventually, more and more kids gather, and everyone joins in. Eventually this boy joins and he is every teachers worst nightmare in the classroom setting. He constantly interrupts, he ruins each of the Ranger’s set ups, and he chimes in to tell an “off topic” story. He continually does so, and some of the mother’s start raising their eyebrows and looking at each other. Somewhere in America there is a happy teacher who doesn’t have to deal with this kid for a few months. I am positive they talk about him in the faculty room. Every time the kid interrupts, Bennie looks disgusted (like I would have as a child and I think that he is probably going to be a teacher like me) and looks over at me a few times. Eventually, they play an interactive game about Ravens and one little girl gets to dress up as a Raven as well. What a pleasant, benign, educational way to spend an hour in the park.

We make our way back to the camper to relax for a while, and unwind before our sunset view of the canyon. We are determined not to miss it tonight.

Later, we begin our trek to the bus station to see the canyon as the sun sets on it. Sunset will be at 7:46, 10:46 your time at home, and we are afraid, again, that we may miss it. As we wait for the bus, two little Australian girls, Bennie and Ethan’s age, try to describe S’mores to their mother who has never heard of them.

Now, imagine your best Australian accent: “They are like a chocolate biscuit, mum, smothered in creamy marshmallow but absolutely smashed between two biscuits.”

Aussy Mom says, “S’mores?”

So I ask her if she knows what a Graham cracker is and she says, “Sure.” Then I describe
S’mores and why we call them that.

“Clever, ay?” she says and we begin a nice conversation.

Turns out we are all going to the same point for sunset, so we pal around together. Her husband, Tony, is a dentist, and she is a “primary” teacher. We talk education and the price of college in the US vs. Aus. and they cannot believe how much it costs since their higher ed is funded by their gov’t. We talk politics, Obama, Australia, Education, elementary school and, wait until you hear this, the fact that all Australians are paid overtime when they are on vacation. They call it “loading.”

As we make our way to the point, I am struck by the intensity of the colors of the rocks as the sun seems parallel to them. Striking, life-changing, gorgeous beauty that exists only here. What an adventure we have all been on. What an absolute privilege to be standing on the edge of one of the wonders of the world. The reds, oranges, and pinks are so deep and so intense that I am transfixed on them and as the sun lowers, the sky turns light blue, pink, orange with a purplish glow.

It is at this very moment that Ben remembers the “Legend of the Sky” and tells it to me, the kids, and the Aussies. The legend goes that during the evening, as the sunsets, the colors LEAVE the canyon with the sun and go to all directions of the sky, and decide to return in the morning again. What a beautiful story to end a beautiful day because as he tells this to us, the canyon seems to fall into a slumber of gray, brown, and black while, above us, the pinks, oranges, reds, and purples rise into the heavens.

I smile.

We chatter happily all the way back to the campsite with our new friends, part in the darkness, and retreat to our RV’s for a late dinner.

Some days are perfect and they are few and rare. This is such a day.

Day 15

Day 15

The tiny bugs that live next to the Colorado River make me insane through the night. At one point, we thought there were ashes flying through the air, but it was these little annoying gnats that fly all around us. I should not complain because our trip and the lands we have visited have been mostly bug free.

We have a very long day of driving ahead as we head to our last huge landmark: the Grand Canyon. We have saved the best for last, and I know even though the trip will be an arduous one, it will be well worth it when I set my eyes on the vastness of the House of Stone and Light.

As we pull out of our KOA, I am struck by the party boats, jet skis, and “yeehaw” attitude of the people around me as they lower their crafts into the Colorado for a day of fun on the bluish-green river. I would rather be on the river today than where I know we are going…the unforgiving Arizona desert.

We start out with a trip to a Flying J Travel Center for gas and snacks, and it is still humorous to me that I am reading road signs for Phoenix or Los Angeles or San Diego. The traffic is hectic, and we head out on the steaming macadam road.

As we get further and further into the desert, we finally see the things I have been looking for: Sageuro Cactus, you know, the classic cactus you imagine when you imagine the desert. They are everywhere, waving their opposing limbs at us, and sharply getting our attention. I am taken with them, and I snap many pictures. I want to stop on the side of the road and pose the boys in front of one, but it is so wretchedly and hellishly hot outside that Ben does not want to do it. I wish I could say the desert feels beautiful to me today, but I cannot. The only word that comes to mind for the part of the desert we drive through is apoctalyptic, and I look at the gas gauge, even though we just got gas, to make sure we have enough. Friends, the poverty around us is sad and unspeakable. We pass trailers that look abandoned but they are not, and broken down, torn apart cars are piled in the backyards. From time to time, we come across a small grocery store that is closed or a bar and grill that is inhabited by one person. This part of the desert is also home to closed down motels that promise air conditioning and a pool. Small, dark children play in these areas as their mothers sit on partly shaded concrete steps watching. We don’t want to break down here or have another tire blow out; that is for sure. The temperature is 99 degrees and we determine we should withstand it and cool ourselves with the road wind since I don’t want Ben using the air conditioning while towing the behemoth behind us. Hours go by as do hundreds and hundreds of eight foot cactus and tumbleweed and prickly pear. The scenery, while so different from what we are used to, is eerie and desolate. Up ahead, however, we see great, grand mountains, and I wonder if we will go around them or through them or up in them. I decide to call ahead to the Grand Canyon National Park campground to make reservations for the night. I am fortunate to obtain two nights at Trailer Village right in Grand Canyon National Park with full hook ups and cable tv. Awesome. And very lucky. I am surprised to get a site.


My question about the mountains is soon answered as we begin a gradual climb up a very steep mountain range that is going to require us to switchback very often. Ben prepares for the taxing climb, and luckily, in places, a passing lane is available to allow the frustrated drivers behind us to pass by with great speed. As we climb off the desert floor and up out of the 99 degree climate, the temperature immediately begins to drop.
We are headed for Prescott, Arizona, a beautiful Americana, Western town and the ride there is equally magnificent. I watch out my window as I rise above the desert and the world seems to fall beneath me. In moments like this I think how fortunate I am to be having these sensations and experiences. So many people never see the desert descend behind them or rise to the elevation of 10,000 feet above sea level like I did in the Big Horn Mountains in Wyoming (just before the cowboy…if you are following along.) In no time at all, both of the boys become car sick as Ben navigates the very windy, curvy roads and predicts the turns with his steering wheel. Ethan looks green and has his eyes closed as he whines about his belly. Bennie tells me that if we don’t stop soon, he will hurl! I tell them to watch the road and it will help, but the bends seem to be neverending. When we reach the top, we are rewarded with very pleasant temperatures of 75 and green fields and lush trees. Cows and horses leisurely graze in their pastures and a sign tells us we are where “the desert breeze meets the mountain air” and nothing could be truer. The rock formations in the little town are gray granite and remind me of the formations in Black Hills in South Dakota when we visited there. When was that? It feels like months ago.

Prescott is a gorgeous place that is hosting a Rodeo and a huge arts and crafts festival. I am glued to the courthouse square as I see people, almost all wearing cowboy hats, eating funnel cake, French fries, buying colorful hula hoops, and listening to western music. The town center has the classic one story buildings with flat fronts and flat roofs. I want to stop at the festival, but I can just imagine Ben’s face as he tries to figure out where to park the “rig” behind us! I laugh to myself and don’t make the request. I know him TOO well. Right now, we are on a Walmart mission. We need some serious supplies before heading to the Grand Canyon which is still at least two hours in front of us.

The GPS tells us in her polite British accent that there is a Walmart ahead, but the Limey is wrong! I have to settle for Target which will do in a pinch. We shop after Ethan wakes up, and Bennie checks out the 4.00 DVD’s. He has taken a liking to Tom Hanks, so he is in search of old Tom Hanks’ movies like Splash. I want to find BIG but it is not there. We get our groceries and head for “the hills” of Arizona.

I am continually amazed with Ben’s knowledge of Geology and Geography. He talks about his last trip to the Canyon in 1995 and discussions how we will be climbing to an enormous plateau and how the environment, wildlife, and plant life will change as we begin to approach the canyon. I am imagining desert and more desert, but I am wrong, and Ben explains that we will be surrounded by pines and wilderness and he is exactly right. We finally reach a point where the horizon seems flat and there are no mountains ahead of us. Ben explains to the kids that we will be on a “subCanadian climate zone plateau” of sorts and that the weather will be pleasant and cool. As we finally approach the Grand Canyon National Park sign, I am very tired but anxious to see the canyon. I know it is enormous and I know it is spectacular, but I really have no idea what I am in for. Ben is super excited about being here again after 15 years and he wants so badly to share it with the kids. Bennie takes a picture of the US Ranger at the welcome station and we are in.

Did you know that there are hotels and lodges on the rim? I didn’t. One of the oldest hotels is the El Tovar and presidents have stayed there. We take our time navigating the different turns to find our campground, Trailer Village, which is inside the national park and I catch a very brief glimpse of the canyon.

OH MY GOD!

The sun is low and Ben wants to see the sunset, but we have to register and park and semi set up to do so. At different points along the rim, I am able to see the canyon as the sun descends and the colors ricochet and split into a spectrum of beauty. We hurry through our chores, and run to the bus station at our campground. Grand Canyon National Park runs natural gas run buses every 15 minutes to all of the scenic overlooks and lodges and shops. They are super convenient and easy to use. We hop on our bus and head to Yavapai Point to try to catch the sunset, but we know that we are already too late. By the time we reach the edge of the rim, the sun is down and the canyon has gone dark gray, but it is wonderful nonetheless. Vast and unfathomable are the two words I think of when I look across the part of the canyon we can see. It is deep and the multi-layers make it difficult to discern where rocks begin and end. As I stand at the scenic point, I am left speechless and I cannot take my eyes away from the canyon. I am really here.
Again, it feels surreal.

At this point, I must tell you that I am utterly exhausted. The journey and fast paced moving across the country is taking its toll on me. All I can think about is lying down on the couch in the RV or even hitting my soft bed. I know everyone is hungry, so Ben says he will grill hotdogs for the boys and himself. I take two bites and I am asleep.

Day 14

As we pack up to leave Orange, CA, Ethan takes a swim with his dad, and I make beds and organize the RV. I call Michelle to make plans to meet up with her in Palm Springs, CA at the Cimmaron Resort where her parents are staying. Turns out that Palm Springs is very much on our eastward way, and we will arrive there at the same time Michelle does. As you know, the boys have been putting a sticker on the side of our RV for each state we travel in, and they have saved the California sticker for Michelle to place on the map. They are looking forward to seeing her and I am, too. I miss her already and I will miss our lunches during the work week. The drive away from the LA area is as hectic as ever and we make our way to the desert which is baking. The ride is two and a half hours long, and we arrive to the middle of the steaming desert to a golf resort. We meet Michelle and visit with her and her parents. Her children are so sun burnt from visiting beaches with their dad, that they are actually sick. I suppose it will take them sometime to adjust to the California sun and remember that they are not in the northeast anymore. Michelle promised Ethan they would swim together in sunny CA, so he changes and Michelle takes him to the pool. He talks Michelle’s face off and she patiently listens, and I know that when we have to leave in a few hours, he will be sad again to say goodbye to the Jordans. Ben and I join them in the pool under the scorching desert sun and Bennie and Matt play Frisbee behind the condo. We meet some very funny, friendly people from Seattle, Washington, and when they find out about our journey, they start singing, “Holiday Road” from Vacation. Yes, we are a cliché! We laugh and talk with them. After a long, refreshing soak, we exit the pool. We have to leave our flipflops at the steps of the pool because we cannot bear to put our barefeet on the concrete that surrounds the pool because we will burn the first layer of our skin from our feet! Seattle and his sister kid us that we should stay and not try to reach Arizona this evening, but we persevere anyway. I hate saying goodbye to Michelle, but we will see her in July when she returns for work and the closing of her house. We almost turned her into a Democrat during the duration of our friendship and we may be able to finish off the job this summer! I will visit her again in California when she can really show me the sights! Ethan hugs her hard and doesn’t talk for sometime after we leave the resort and we are off to Blythe, California and a KOA that sits on the Colorado River, just a few feet from the Arizona State Line.

This deserted part of California, I have to report, is not very appealing. It is hot, rough, dead terrain that is broiling in the sun. We pass massive wind farms and trucks do their best to derail us, but we drive on. The desert is a lonely, abandoned place in the dark, and we pass several groups of migrant workers towing vehicles and moving on to their next destination. Huge federal or state penitentiaries loom off in the distance, and I miss home.

Off in the distance, we see the lights of Blythe, and we are all relieved to find our KOA and exit the truck. A very, very friendly campground owner tells us we cn stay in the pool as long as we want, and I change Bennie and Ethan into their trunks right in the RV in front of the office and take them to the pool, leaving Ben to set up the camper by himself. He definitely appreciates me diverting the kids, and the kids need exercise and to blow off steam. The pool is pleasant and the warm desert air makes sitting at the pool so refreshing and relaxing. I chat an inebriated couple at the hot tub who asks lots of questions about New York City. Since it is difficult to carry on a conversation with a slurring woman, we decide to call it a night and head back to our RV.

Tomorrow we make our way to the Grand Canyon which will require an enormous, taxing drive through the Arizona desert.

Day 13

Hollywood Today!

We rise fairly early and get ready for our train commute to LA. Turns out that the train station is in the same huge parking lot as the Angels stadium in Anaheim, so we take a few pics for Pop. The train station is clean and organized, and we arrive just in the nick of time to board Amtrak to LA. We purchase round trip tickets for 72.00 (a bargain compared to driving in and listening to Ben) and we have two minutes to board. The Amtrak conductor is friendly and helpful and finds a four seater for us on the second floor of the train. The boys love a train ride (and so do I) and as we chug into LA, I remember the many train rides we took with Bennie when he was gaga for trains and Thomas. I cannot tell you how much he adored anything having to do with trains. As we pleasantly fly along the rails, I also marvel at the many train systems my kids have been on. They have ridden the NYC subway, the Washington, DC metro, the Southern Florida TriRail, the Miami El, and now the trains to LA. Lucky Kiddos.

I can tell we are getting closer to the city because our view is filled with graffiti and gang symbols. In so many places, it has been painted over only to be re-graffitied again. The conductor checks on the kids and reminds them to keep an eye on their parents and our bad behavior. Ethan is squealing with delight and decides that he wants many kisses from me as we move along.

Finally, Union Station, which is a gorgeous retro-station that is painted with beautiful murals and occupied by newsstands and hotdog vendors. The boys grab a hotdog and Ben and I read the metro maps so we know where we are going. Turns out that Hollywood/Highland, our destination, is 8 stops which will take a bit of time. I am growing excited and the boys love the subway. As far as underground trains go, the LA Metro is cleaner than NYC but not nearly as nice as D.C.’s metro, which is the Cadillac of subways in my opinion. We are immediately surrounded by diversity and I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE that my boys are exposed to diverse peoples when we travel. I truly hope that it will cutdown on some of the narrowmindedness that they hear at home. The woman across from me is reading a book about the controversy over Muslims wearing headscarves in France and the Hispanic couple in front of me, she is pregnant, hug and kiss until a Middle-Eastern looking gentleman offers his seat to her. Two loud, spirited, and energetic young African-American girls board, and a Japanese-
American man who is elderly sports a World War II Veteran Hat. Ethan does not even notice the cultural diversity around him…he is too busy hanging on to the silver bar because there are no seats available. Bennie continually counts the stops that are left, and watches a group of teenagers try to pry the subway car open to scare each other. He looks at me as if to say, “They are going to get hurt.”

Our stop, Hollywood/Highland, is announced, and we disembark the train and head for the stairs. We climb and climb and climb and climb, and one of the girls in front of us complains that we must have been riding one inch above hell. I laugh out loud and she turns and smiles at me. I can finally see blue sky as we ascend the final staircase, and we are up and out onto the famed Hollywood Boulevard and we are immediately bombarded by out of work actors who are dressed as famous movie characters. They will take pics with you or your kids and then they ask for money. The dark street and crowded sidewalks are so different from the rest of our journey so far, but I do love the city so much, and I immediately smile. Where is the Chinese theater? Just a few paces away, I begin to see the famed Hollywood Walk of Fame and Bennie poses by George Lopez’s star! We walk and check out some shops until we are immediately in front of Grauman’s Chinse Theater, and I begin to take in all of the handprints and names. Shirley Temple, the cast from Star Trek, Tom Hanks, Ron Howard, Jack Nicholson, Will Smith, Michael and Kirk Douglas, Paul Newman and Joanna Woodward, Henry Fonda, Jack Lemmon and Walter Mattheau, Mel Gibson, Richard Gere, and many more. Most are addressed to Sid Grauman, thanking him. Bennie puts his feet and hands in Will Smith’s, whom he loves, and marvels at how big Will Smith’s feet are (they really, really are). I am enjoying myself, looking across the street at the famous El Capitan theater and the Roosevelt. Where is that Hollywood sign? I read that the best view is from Beachwood Street, so I am determined to find that but Ben finds a great view on a bridge between two levels of a shopping mall connected to the Chinese Theater. We walk through the court of the outdoor mall and the boys eye up souvenirs. I can see the Hollywood sign off in the hills and it is a completely surreal experience. I feel like I am looking at it on television and not in person and Ben takes pics for me and of me in front of the sign. “Are you happy?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.

Down in the center court of the mall is a fountain of sorts, with water that shoots up out of holes in the ground. Ethan begins running through the water shots but I know it is only a matter of time until he is drenched. I buy some Hollywood souvenirs and when I return to Ben and the boys, Ethan is completely waterlogged. That will be comfortable on the ride home in the trains. He is wet and happy. I don’t even get upset.

We board the subway and head back to Union Station. We plan that when we return to Anaheim, I will stay at the campground and swim with Ethan while Ben and Bennie tour the Queen Mary in Long Beach. I call over to the Queen and find out that the tour at night is free and anyone can board and walk around the floating hotel, so Ben is thrilled about the freebie.

When we get to Union Station, we realize we have read the train schedule incorrectly so we are an hour early! Oh brother, what to do now? We find a cafeteria in the Transportation authority and I get the boys some pizza and drinks and we wait for our train. Finally the time arrives but we cannot find our track because someone has played a practical joke by writing Hi Bob on the message board instead of our destination. After some confusion, we realize we are track 9, board, and we lazily make our way back to Anaheim and the pool.

As I sit poolside with Ethan and Ben and Bennie tour the Queen Mary, I am so happy to chill and just relax and Ethan is at his happiest when he is in the water. I do some laundry, think about our plans for the next day, and sit in the wonderful hot tub.

Tomorrow, we will meet Michelle in Palm Springs, a resort in the desert, say goodbye, and head toward the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

Day 12

Our check out time at our lovely resort is 12:00, so we decide that we are going to breakdown, pack up and go out for breakfast. The boys love IHOP, which Bennie called the Intentional House of Pancakes before he could read well, so we decide to find an IHOP in order to get them some chocolate chip pancakes. This is the first breakfast we have eaten outside of the RV on our trip! IHOP has wireless, so Ben does some pic uploads and as the boys devour chocolate chip pancakes we discuss our plans for California, specifically the LA area, which is 275 miles away straight through the Mojave Desert and Death Valley. The heat is bearable in Vegas, but I know it is going to get hot as we climb out of Vegas and into the desert.

Nevada, near the border of California, is brown and cacti-filled and hot, hot, hot. We are all very excited about crossing over into California for many reasons; however, somehow we miss the California Welcome Sign because it is probably lost among last chance casino signs right along the border. We hope to get a picture of it another time. As we enter the Mojave desert, we are immediatly struck by the penetrating sun and heat. I tell the kids where we are, but they are not overly impressed at all, but both of them have taken their t-shirts off because it is so hot in the car, and we are climbing some mountains and Ben cannot stress the engine with air conditioning.

Up ahead we see a California Inspection Station that we ar required to stop at. We pull in, and the state inspector tells us that since we are from Pennsylvania, we had to be checked for Gypsy Moths. He asks us if we know what they are.

“Sure,” we say.

He crawls underneath our vehicles to check for the webbing that they live in, and he also enters our RV to inspect our fridge for produce and plants. This just takes a few minutes. I remember reading about this somewhere…could it have been in The Grapes of Wrath. Either way, is this California or the Czech Border in 1975?

We pull away and head toward the Cajon Pass, which we have been warned about. The crosswinds are very strong and the traffic is bad. We are looking forward to Hollywood, LA, Long Beach, the Queen Mary, Michelle, Palm Springs, and the Pacific.

Nothing, my friends, nothing, prepares you for the LA Freeway system. Nothing. Not driving in Manhatten. Not driving down the West Palm Freeway on your way to Fort Lauderdale. Not even the aggressive, cockiness of Bostonians in Mass. NOTHING. Eventually we enter a 7 lane (14 combined) freeway and as we whip and weave our way through and others do the same, we put our lives in the hands of Californians! And Ben, of course. He is tense and stressed and irritated and a little bit frightened (don’t tell him I said so). The traffic is fierce and unforgiving, and one slip up and we will crash into someone who is too close or cutting in front of us. Driving a 30 foot trailer on the freeway is not Ben’s idea of a vacation, so I work hard at keeping the kids quiet and calm. Good luck to me, huh?

Finally, after dozens of potential accidents, we arrive to our destination:
Golden Shore RV Resort in Long Beach. Guess what?

THEY HAVE NO OPENINGS!

“Why didn’t you call ahead?” you are all asking.

I know, I know, people. See, I always call ahead. Each campground says, “We have openings…come on in.”

The one time I don’t call ahead? See what happens.

Ben is super agitated and tired, and he was finally feeling relief from the drive as we pulled into Golden Shore RV. No luck.

The nice man at the campground gives me phone numbers for other places to stay and highly recommends Orange RV Park in Orange/Anaheim, CA but it is a half hour away and guess what we will have to take? Yes. If you just said “the freeway,” you are correct. Ben is really still stressed, but he has a drink and something to eat, and heads once more onto the freeway. The GPS gets us lost a few times, Ben is really angry, and the three of us are just quiet and hopeful. I cheer him up by suggesting we go to see the Queen Mary, which is permanently docked only a mile away in Long Beach. The Queen Mary is important to Ben and one of the reasons he decided to come all the way to California on this trip. We honeymooned aboard the Queen Elizabeth 2, we celebrated our 10th anniversary aboard the Queen Mary 2, and now he will see the original Queen Mary. It is 7:00 at night, so the huge parking lot of the Queen is basically deserted, and we park and Ben literally scurries to the great vessel. Her smoke stacks are so familiar to me as well as her famous Cunard colors. Ben and the boys run ahead, and I organize and gather things from in the truck and RV and take a phone call. When I decide to walk to where the three of them are taking pictures, I run into a huge guy urinating in the parking lot. AWKWARD! Incidentally, he never stopped; he simply turned away. We were right in a very public parking lot! And in the presence of a Queen, too!

We finally arrive to the campground and when I go into the office to register us, I still feel like I am moving in the truck. That sensation has happened to me a few times. It is the same feeling you have when you finally disembark from a cruise ship except that in that case you rock for a few days. I feel like I am perpetually moving forward! I think my body must also look like a car seat.

When I find our camper, Ben is in a discussion with a man who work at the resort and boy oh boy can he talk! I thought I could talk! We are so tired and hungry, and he is talking our faces off. He tries to talk me out of visiting LA the next day due to the driving and the freeway, and after what I just experienced, I am buying his story. According to the RV guy, if we get stuck in LA after 1:30 in the afternoon, we are looking at a 3-4 hour commute due to traffic even though LA is only an hour away. I am discouraged, and Ben can see this so he does some research and decides we will take the California Amtrak into LA, and connect to the subway via Union Station. I agree and feel happy that I will see Hollywood. I make cheeseburgers and everyone calls it a night.

Tomorrow, LA!

Day 11

Driving into the night was a great idea last night because today we wake in Vegas in our lovely RV resort. The boys want to swim since it is so warm outside, so we head to our tropical paradise pool at 9:00 am. We have to live every moment of this day because we want to swim, relax, see Vegas, and visit with old friends.
I get the boys changed into their suits and the four of us head to the pool. Our resort has two pools, one for adults and one for families, and hot tubs. We also have a restaurant, a very nice store and gift shop, and room service to our RV! The family pool is surrounded by giant rocks, a waterfall, and a sandy beach. Finally, we get to relax and just hang out! The boys JUMP right in but I am less eager. The hot Nevada sun bakes down on us and I am hoping the sunscreen I have applied on the does the job. Under the thatch-like umbrella, Ben and I sit and relax and watch the boys revel in the gorgeous, hot day. We talk about what we are going to do with our day, and Ben enters the heated pool and plays with the boys. I love to watch him interact with the boys and there is nothing on earth, not a Nintendo, a Wii, an ipod, or a television show that they like more. Ethan’s giggles and yells echo throughout the resort and a man from California compliments me on my “beautiful” family. We strike up a conversation about California, our next destination, and he gives us tips about traveling around San Diego. The water is warm and pleasant, and all of us are enjoying this pit stop because we are travel weary.
Ben is expecting his old college friend, Tonia, to drop by our resort so that they can have a mini-reunion here in Vegas. After some time in the hot tub for both of us and a very warm, happy conversation with my sister-in-law, Mindy, Tonia arrives and Ben is very happy to see her. After intros, I let them catch up and I play in the pool with the boys and buy them snacks in our campground store, which is just great. Bennie and I buy a Las Vegas magnet for the RV, and the early afternoon is a real success.
It is hard to pull the boys away from the pool and the sand, but we must explore Vegas. I have not been to Vegas since 1995 so I am expecting a lot of changes and great new things. Traffic is a bear, but we enjoy taking in every inch of the strip. Mandalay Bay, the Luxor, New York New York are like busy paintings to the eye. Bennie is very enthusiastic, and as I look into the backseat, I notice how sunburned little Ethan is. He is a freckle monster! Bennie is absolutely amazed by the mini Statue of Liberty (which is not very mini) because he has been to the Lady Liberty several times (again, lucky kiddo). I love the Brooklyn Bridge that spans the entire sidewalk and I adore the ethnic neighborhood building fronts. If you have never been, you will be delighted by the New York Taxi rollercoaster! Hehe How appropriate. As we continue down the strip, I am just anxious to get to the Bellagio Hotel and I imagine Ocean’s Fourteen (the 14th cast member being me). The Eiffel Tower looms ahead and stands erect over the strip. Just awesome and cheesy all at the same time. Across from the Eiffel Tower and the Paris Resort is my Bellagio. Ohhhhhhh…stately, luxurious, magnificent and grandiose. Could such a palace have been created for middle-aged fat men in Bermuda shorts eating buffet style? Me thinks Not! We park at the Bellagio, and I am so happy to be in the city again. I adore city life and all of its business and hectic happiness. I am telling you now, I will live in Manhattan yet. While we park, we hear the not-to-distant sounds of the water cannons exploding and dancing in the Bellagio Fountain, which is the size of a large pond in front of the wonder that is the hotel. We opt to go through the Bellagio on our way to the strip, and I have died and gone to hotel heaven. The towering ceilings, covered in glass colorful flowers and merry-go-round with sunflowers in each of the cars is breathtaking. Giant watering cans water down on a beautiful Italian garden, and the front desk is bigger than my entire home. I am constantly in danger of bumping into fellow tourists as my eyes are always up and I am hypnotized by grandeur. Our first stop will be the gorgeous dancing fountains. As we come to them, the music begins: Bocelli’s ConTe Partiro, one of my very favorites, and the fountain guns rise out of the beautiful lake and waltz to the rhythm of the music. I love this! After singing along and watching until the choreography ends, we make our way to the Mirage for the dolphins and Treasure Island so the boys can see the pirate ships on the Boulevard. It is difficult to keep the boys on track because they are so overwhelmed by their surroundings, and I can tell that Bennie loves Vegas. We walk and walk, and Bennie asks so many questions about the almost nude women on the sides of the trucks and the word “prostitute.” Ay Carumba! We are all hungry and I know that the pirate ships battle and sink so I tell everyone that after we watch the war at sea, we can get something to eat. Turns out that the pirate show only happens in the evenings, so we partake in a luscious Vegas buffet and then head to the Mirage to see the animals.
In the meantime, we get in touch with Joanne Genits and her daughter, Andie, and we decide to meet them on the strip around 7:30. The boys are enamored with the wonderful dolphins at the Mirage, and Ethan just adores the baby dolphin who swims by his mother’s side constantly. However, nothing could prepare our boys for the gigantic lion and the playful, huge tigers. They love watching them, but I am really angry that I have paid for and helped to perpetuate the lives of the animals in these small living areas. They are healthy looking, but I cannot help thinking about how truly awful this whole environment is for such magnificent creatures.
We can barely pull the boys from the mini-zoo to see the pirate ship show, but I am finally able to do so. We wait outside Treasure Island for it to begin. I saw this once before and I know it will be very cool. Boy was I wrong. The show is completely sexual in nature, and six or seven “Sirens” dance on a ship and call to the other ship filled with horny sailors who have not seen women in a long time. They dance Vegas style (stripper style) and I am thinking, “Oh Lord, I brought my sons here!” The songs they sing are filled with innuendoes and strong sexual undertones, and Bennie keeps looking at me and rolling his eyes. I want to pull them away but we are surrounded by such a large, chaotic crowd that I cannot move them as I would like to. Bennie keeps saying, “This is lame. I don’t think you should let Ethan see this,” and a mother next to me is as aggravated as I am!
Finally, the burlesque is over, and we enter Treasure Island to meet Joanne. We find them at Ben and Jerry’s and the reunion is touching and tear-filled. I have not seen Joanne since right before my mom died, so we talk about her and what it was like, and more and more tears. Joanne feels like home. To be with her is to feel my mom, and I like it and miss it. That feeling seldom occurs and no matter what I try, it is only conjured when I am with her friends. I am so glad I saw Joanne and Andie. Love to them both. Although it was a wonderful night in that way, I am struck with a minor gall bladder attack, so I am in some pain. This makes me cut the evening a bit shorter than I would have liked, but it was all for the best because Ethan James Turrano had reached his full expiration point. He HAD it! He wanted to go back to the RV resort and swim and he was very, very tired. He slowly begins to hate everything around him, and no matter what we say or see, he doesn’t like it. As we come back to the Bellagio hotel, we want to watch the fountains in the evening and Ethan keeps exclaiming, “They’re lame!” They dance to the theme from “Titanic” and “Hey Big Spender” and I am mesmerized again. Ethan is sitting on the ground exclaiming that I don’t love him. The Bellagio security guard ( the size of a bouncer) cannot stop laughing and Ethan, and finally I put him out of his misery and we find the truck and head up the strip toward our RV resort.
Ben and I have decided that we are going back without kids…soon! Tomorrow we see California!

Day 10

Early start for laundry detail at our KOA in Filmore Utah. A very unfriendly KOA manager does not want to give us change for the washers and dryers and tells Ben he is not an ATM machine. I will be sure to put that on our campground evaluation. With a stick of dynamite, I blow Bennie out of bed and he showers and eats breakfast. He misses home and tells me he is ready to return. We have been away from home a lot longer than this before, but Bennie misses his routine and his friends.

After we are organized and on the road toward Parawon, I call Roseann and Randy and tell them when to expect us. I have not seen Roseann since my grandmother’s death last August, so it will be great to see her. When we finally enter her little town, Randy drives out to meet us and lead us to their home because it is not on the GPS system. Roseann looks good and I can see Utah completely agrees with her. She and Randy had just returned from two days of rock hounding near Filmore where we stayed for the night, and she takes the boys and me out to her beautiful rock garden. I would expect this since Roseann loves nature very much, and always loved collecting rocks when he lived in Andrea, PA when my dad was still alive. The two tell us we have to see the Petroglyphs, ancient native rock and cave drawings in the Parawon Gap, so after a short visit in their lovely home, we follow them between the mountains and into the desert. We head toward two giant structures that are split by a road and pull into a makeshift parking area. As we get closer to the rocks, we see the ancient carvings. Some look like suns, others look like scaled snakes, and Roseann takes us to the pregnant belly drawing that is discussed in books. We enjoy talking and investigating the rocks and as I look down the road between the mountains we are learning about, tumbleweeds blow across the highway. The boys are delighted by this and the three of us look for some tumbleweeds on the side of the road. I pick one up and quickly drop it as it pricks my finger and the thorn gets stuck in my skin. Ethan and Bennie don’t seem to mind being pricked, and they walk around carrying tumbleweeds and then releasing them into the wind. After some great discussion of the meanings of the petroglyphs, we head back to Randy and Roseann’s for some dinner. They serve us ziti, salad, pork, and garlic bread. The boys are mannerly and well-behaved, and we talk of what we have seen so far. Randy and Roseann are Utah experts, and they tell us after we eat, they are going to take us to Cedar Breaks National Park and Brian Head. Randy tells Ben that there is NO WAY we can bring our trailer the way they would like to take us. The grade is 13%, the turns are hairpin and steep, and it would be so absolutely difficult to haul the thing up there. We all decide that is best since we have to come back their way to get on Interstate 15 to head to Lake Meade, Hoover Dam, and Las Vegas!

As promised, the climb to Cedar Breaks National Park is intense but spectacular. Bennie begins to complain about his ears, and I can hardly hear as mine deal with the pressure around me. The earth around us is growing redder and ruddier by the mile, and I wonder what we have in store for us. I know Roseann has probably walked all of these nature trails and knows every inch of them. Eventually we enter a ski resort area, which is fairly abandoned right now since there is no real snow, except some patches around us. Still, though, we climb. Cedar Breaks is part of the Dixie National Forrest which surrounds us on both sides, but pale pink rock is being to be exposed to us at every turn. “Wow.” That’s all we say anymore. “Wow,” and “Oh My God!” At this point in the trip, words are useless. We arrive to a lookout point, and as we exit the truck we are immediately hit with the cold wind and jackets are an absolute necessity. We have ascended thousands of feet and the temperature has dropped 20 degrees. As we look over Cedar Breaks, we are met with a beautiful pink canyon that has eroded over millions of years. All that the eye can see was at one time underwater, and the magnificence caused by the water is really unbelievable. Roseann gives us information on the view and then we all turn to look at the peak behind us: Brian Head. Roseann tells us that if we are enamored by this view, just wait until we see Bryce Canyon. I cannot wait and I believe her.

We say goodbye for now and head to Bryce. Roseann explained that we would come to Red Canyon first. As we quietly drive, I look in the backseat and both boys are completely asleep, heads back, mouths open, quiet, repetitive snoring. We have really expected a lot out of them, haven’t we? Most of the ride is comprised of dark green, rough terrain with mountain ranges as far as I can see to my left, my right, and in front of me. How is it possible that there would be red canyons here? In fact, it looks a lot like South Dakota. Houses spring up here and there, and an occasional inn and small resort. Ben is forever snapping pics of the rustic cabins out here, and there is no short supply of them. He dreams of having a log cabin in the West. Someday, Ben, someday. I, like the boys, am lulled to sleep by the tranquil setting and our GPS system’s British accent. When I wake, I see a light red mountain ahead of us and a realize we have neared Red Canyon. The closer we get, the redder the rocks become. The deep, orangish red color demands my attention, and the small hoodoos sit on the rocks as if they are launch pads and the stalagmite structures might blast off. Red Canyon is curvy, so each bend reveals a new site of color explosion and design. Oh how I want to wake the boys because now we have to drive through rock arches of Red Canyon which have been blown out to make way for the road. Ben reassures me that we will come back this way, so I let sleeping dogs lie. Red Canyon is little but impressive, and now my curiosity is piqued for Bryce.

Friends, nothing prepares you for Bryce Canyon. It is concealed by wooded forest and pristine, quiet forest floors. We park in the shade of the forest, but I catch a glimpse of the pink rock in front of us where the canyon drops off to its archaic ocean floor. The boys run ahead and I yell to them to return so I can read some rules to them about dangerous cliff drop-offs and staying on the path as instructed by the rangers. Many people are here today and RV’s are everywhere. I miss not having the camper with us today because I have grown quite used to having my home behind me for a snack or a bathroom break or a change of clothes or shoes. Despite the fact that I have a thirty-foot trailer, I am a hotel girl at heart, but I have loved seeing all of this by way of our RV. As we drive I dream of RV trips this summer with my family. As we come to the canyon edge, I am completely flabbergasted and my eyes are glued to Bryce. How to explain? Bryce is huge and we can see 200 miles of awe-inspiring view. The canyon floor is easily seen but it is filled with red, pink, and white hoodoos that form shapes such as heads, fingers and toes. The tie-dyed rock is creamy and rich in color, and the entire sight looks as if it has been airbrushed by God. The white blends into the pink as if marbleized, and the soft colors melt into each other. Several scenic points and overlooks call our names and we are off! I eavesdrop on a ranger who is discussing geology and he explains how erosion has given birth to this rocky creation. How lucky are my sons to take this in. Around us, I hear German, French, Swedish, and Indian. A German couple with three very small children really have their hands full. I don’t speak German and I don’t know how well she knows English, but I giggle at the antics of her kids and she and I give each other that knowing, understanding “mother” look. Bryce Canyon with a three year old, a two year old and a, perhaps, 11 month old? God Bless You, Frau! We take loads of pics and I have to laugh as Bennie and Ethan descend into their imaginary world of Star Wars. In no time at all, they have each found an old stick that resemble blasters from the movie, and with a pair of binoculars, they look for Sand People in Bryce Canyon. They find them, too, living in caves among the HooDoos. WhoKnew? Their imaginations are enviable; I mean here I am at one of the greatest sites on our planet where our very surroundings seem to defy imagination, and Ben and Ethan find a way to make it even more imaginative. Ben, Ethan, and Bennie take one of the paths down into the canyon, and I stay above to snap pictures of them. Bennie is beside himself that Ethan might fall down one of the steep cliffs, so Bryce loses some of its fun and adventure for the always responsible, big brother Ben. By now we are all tired, so as the boys ascend from the canyon, we decide we are going to take the scenic walk back to the truck and go back to Randy and Roseann's to pick up our trailer. We are running behind in our schedule, but I am very surprised when Ben tells me we are driving straight through to Las Vegas tonight! What? Is he sure? It is already 8:30 but he says there will be enough light and enough time to get there plus we will enter Pacific time this evening which will put us 3 hours behind most of you.

We say goodbye to Randy and Roseann, who think our breakneck pace is impossible, and head on down the road, fueled by Taco Bell and some snacks. We are going to Vegas baby! The sky grows darker and darker, and the trucks faster and faster. They suck us under them and Ben fights off what they do to our air. He tells me the car carriers are the worst, and I can tell he is very tired. Vegas lives somewhere in front of us in the darkness around 190 miles away. The boys watch movies, I write my blog, and Ben stares off into the darkness of the flat, hypnotic highway. The desert is very dark. We leave Utah into Arizona, but we don't stop for pics but it is too dangerous. We will get our Arizona welcome sign on our way back. After brief time in Arizona, we finally cross into Nevada, and just a mile after the state line, we are inundated by our first casino. Ben laughs.

As we descend into the dark desert, the temperature outside climbs and climbs and we feel the heat of Nevada. When we left Utah, it was 71 and now it is 88 degrees outside our truck. We roll out of the mountains and we are cautioned by strong cross wind signs. We do feel some of those and I keep wondering if we should pull over and rest or continue on. I have my heart set on the Oasis RV park in Vegas, which is luxurious and wonderful. Check it out here: http://www.oasislasvegasrvresort.com/
We have room service to our RV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If we can get a site. It seems their reservation phone line is not functioning for some reason, so I am a little stressed about arriving in Las Vegas at 11:30 pm without a stop.

After miles and miles of darkness and 18 wheelers, the sky above us and ahead of us has a faint lighted aura to it, and Ben says, can that be Vegas? We are still 86 miles away. I assure him it is. What else could it be? The 86 miles roll by fairly quicklly and as we turn a long bend, we are absolutely amazed by the brilliant lights of Vegas that lie ahead of us but are still 18 miles away. Ben is simply astounded by it. Ethan is sleeping, but Bennie is awake and interested. As we get closer, we can make out the strip, the needle, and the beacon that shines into outerspace from the Luxor Hotel. We hope the Oasis will take us, and Ben navigates his way through the detours and chaotic roadwork of Interstate 15 that runs busily parallel to Vegas and all the hotels and casinos. It is hard for Ben to drive as he wants to look at the sites, but he is tired, it is late, and its is stressful!!!!!! The GPS leads us to our RV resort, which is spectacular! They have room! We luck out!

Tomorrow we do Vegas. We see Joann Genits and her daughter Andie, and Ben sees his friend from college, Tonia. The boys are looking forward to a day of swimming and fun and so are we. Luck be a lady tonight!

Day 9

Day 9 is brought in with the rainy tapping on the top of the RV, which I simply love. We had, I believe, our first night of real relaxation as we got to our campground in late afternoon, which is very different from the rest of the trip when we are usually arriving to the campgrounds in the evening and setting up in the dark. Last night was so restful. I cooked teriyaki sesame chicken, potatoes, and created a Caeser salad. The boys played at the playground, and I fought off the tiniest, blackest mosquitoes I have ever seen. Fellow campers are always a highlight to our travels, and we meet an Idahoian names Pat who has rented an RV and just arrived from Glacier National Park in Wyoming. He offers Ben a beer, and I insist Ben takes it as he needs to relax. Pat breeds Golden Retrievers and he is traveling with two, one that was born in Russia and another that was born in Australia. He earns 2000.00 per pup. Ethan loves Golden Retrievers! Too bad for Ethan that we had to buy 1000.00 worth of tires on this trip! J

It is cold in Montana and the rainy damp weather increases the chill I feel. The high mountains are shrouded in fog, and in places Ben says they look like they are steaming as if they are not quite done yet. Yellowstone is situated in the upper Northwest corner of Wyoming, so one is able to visit Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho by only driving a few miles in each direction. After organizing, having our mandatory coffee, getting the kids up, fed, and dressed, we buy a Montana magnet and hop into the truck. In only a few miles, after climbing a mountain, we are in Idaho, so we stop to have our pictures taken by the sign which also designates the Continental Divide and high altitude. Again, like in South Dakota, the boys run from state to state, Montana, then Idaho, then Montana, then Idaho again. I call my Aunt Roberta in Florida to check in, and the rain starts to fall so we run to the truck. Our plan is to head toward Idaho Falls and make our way to Utah. I have been dreaming of seeing Utah for a very long time. Hands down, it was my father’s favorite state in the union, and after his death, my stepmother, Roseanne, got a place out there and stays there during part of the year. We plan on visiting Salt Lake City, Bryce Canyon National Park and Zion National Park. By the time we reach Zion, we will be in southern Utah, and we will be able to shoot right over to Lake Meade, Nevada via Hoover Dam and spend some time in Las Vegas. As I write in the truck, the phone rings and it is Michelle. She and her kids are leaving Albuquerque, New Mexico. She is on her way to Tucson, Arizona for the kids to visit their old neighborhood and familiar haunts. We talk about having a pedicure when I get to California and our estimated time of arrival. At this point, June 14, 2009, we figure we will be in California on Thursday or
Friday.

There is so much to be seen in this country of ours, and each decision to visit somewhere results in excluding other things that we would love to see. For instance, I would love to visit Yosemite National Park in California, but it is too far north for our trip because our destination is LA/Hollywood/ and San Diego. I would like to fly out to the California with the boys and do it right in the future, and now I have a great friend there to show us around. Bennie is a bit homesick, and this morning he asked if we could go home. He misses his house and his friends. I talk him out of it by enthusiastically discussing the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas. I haven’t been to Vegas since 1995, so I am looking forward to the many changes that have occurred since then.


So our day begins in Montana, but we spend a great deal of it driving through Idaho, which begins ruggedly but then changes to farmland. I wonder how many cows there are in the world? I know that I have seen more cows than I ever wanted to or need to. The weather is rainy and foggy and we drive into a wicked storm in Rigby, Idaho.
I can tell Ben is a bit tense as the water pounds our car, makes the road conditions slick, and the wind is pushing our truck and rv around the road. Each truck that passes by begins to suck us under it until it decides to release us back to our side of the road. I ask if we shouldn’t.

Today we drive and drive and drive, and the scenery, as always, is wonderful, and as we fly down the road, the mountains, one after another, are more beautiful than the the ones we are currently looking at. Eventually, we reach Pocatello, Idaho, the home of the University of Idaho, which is a beautiful, little college town nestled down in a valley surrounded by rocky giants. These giants are beginning to change, and we are starting to see patches of red as we near Utah. I have to say that even though most of our day was spent in the car, the boys are very good. Overall, they have been quite tolerant and at time, I think we have bitten off more than we can chew. There are hundreds of miles between the things we want to see, and we are definitely getting roady weary and not spending enough time “camping.” I am hoping to spend at least two days near Lake Meade in Nevada so we can refresh ourselves.

As we near the Utah border, I decide I am going to call my stepmom, Roseann, who lives out here in Utah for part of the year. I leave a message and she calls me back twenty mintues later, unsure of when I called and afraid that she has missed us because she has been away for two days and just received our message. She tells us we are six hours from her yet, but we decide we will stop at her home in Parawon, Utah. She sounds excited and I will be happy to see her. Tonight, it is raining in Salt Lake City, so we have a poor view of the city and the lack. We drive as far as Filmore, find a KOA, and stop for the night. I am so sick of sitting in that truck that I am not looking forward to getting back in there in the morning, but at least I know that it is only an hour or so of driving before visit Roseann. The Filmore KOA is neat and clean, and after watching a movie with the kids we all crash land on our beds. The driving is getting to all of us.

All in all, day 9 is comprised of three different states: Montana, Idaho, and Utah, and as lovely and wonderful as they all are, nothing, in my opinion compares to Wyoming.

Day 8

Synonyms are depleted and worthless at this point of my trip. My surroundings, which are the 40 miles into Yellowstone National Park by way of Buffalo Bill Dam defy description. As we meander through the pass and crane our necks to see the tops of the Rockies, I am filled with joy, wonder, appreciation, and fulfillment. My admiration wells up inside of me and I feel the sensation in my neck, throat, and mouth. To my right, the Shoshone Creek, white water which is the fast moving, refreshing turbulence seen on beer commercials. The rocks closest to our truck and camper are reddish brown, and some have been naturally formed while others have been blasted to make way for the smooth macadam we ride upon. RV’s and motorcycles abound, and we wave our friendly wave to each one. We are kindred spirits out here on the road together, joining in a spiritual journey that more should take. Really, friends, you must come here. You will be forever changed. Yellow flowers grow on the hills around me and seem to starkly juxtapose the rugged, raw Rockies that loom above them. The white-capped skyscrapers keep appearing off in the distance, one after the other, and I think of my dear friends and how much they would love this. Kerry, Cara, and Dominic would love the rock formations. Wyoming is filled with archeological digs and palentological sites. The ancient rocks would fascinate her and her family, and Kerry would be divinely inspired by the landscape. I wish Leona and her family were here to share the camper and the many experiences of the road. Leona would have loved to return to her childhood haunt: Indiana Dunes State Park in Illinois. She would love the adventure and patriotism of Rushmore. My dear stepfather, Husser, would have loved to have seen Buffalo Bill Historical Museum in Cody, since he is a member. We miss him so much on this trip! How I wish my father-in-law, Mike, could have been in Cody with us. His love of westerns, horses and Indians and Buffalo would have had him whistling that whistle he does when he is impressed and his eyebrows raise. He would have loved Crazy Horse as well. The boys and I picked out a Buffalo shirt just for him at Yellowstone! Of course, I wish we never would have left Michelle in Omaha. We miss her everyday and when the boys see a Ford Explorer, they believe, somehow, it will be hers. Of course, I wish I could share all of this with my mom and dad, but I have to be grateful that I can be here with my own little family.

Up ahead, we see the sign for Yellowstone National Park, we all grow excited. We pull into the guard station, and a very friendly ranger greets us, “Welcome to Yellowstone!” Ben tells her he would like to buy the Interagency National Park Pass for 80.00 because we still have Grand Canyon, Bryce, and Zion, Grand Teton, and the California parks to visit. The money is well worth it and they give you a very cool card! She tells us to keep our eyes peeled for Grizzly, Bison, Elk, Moose, and other wildlife and advises us to stay within the speed limit to protect the animals. We tell her how far we have come and she chats with us about the fact that we have traveled 2309 miles to see Yellowstone. Bennie takes her picture, and we are off. As we climb into Yellowstone and more of the Rockies, we grow closer to the snow and ice capped ridges. I hope we see animals! When I stare off into the mountains, small waterfalls trickle down everywhere, and loose rocks lie about on the side of the road. The elevation begins to bother our ears, and we can hear the engine starving for air. Incidentally, we were in Cody, Wyoming all morning while we got 4 NEW TIRES. We didn’t want to take any chances and we bought heavy duty babies! 800.00 dollars later, we were on our way! The dead and decaying life around us is as interesting and awe-inspiring at the living. Dead trees take on the shapes of deer heads and antlers and logs and uprooted trees abound. Again, we climb and my eyes are killing me. We come upon Sylvan Lake, which is surrounded by snow even though it is 53 degrees. We stop for a pic, and Ben decides to use the snow to fill our cooler. The boys have a wicked snowball battle, and as you can probably predict, they hit my bare, flip-flopped toes with snowballs. Yow! Once inside the park, we have 30 miles to travel until we get to the campground we want to use. The trees around me are missing most of their foliage and it is easy to spot where forest fires have claimed acres. At other times I have told you that things are not as you have imagined; YELLOWSTONE IS! We climb again, and from our altitude, we can spy Yellowstone Lake surrounded by the white-crowned Rockies. We are really here. Our next mission is to find the wildlife the ranger promised us. I tell the kids that I hope to find Yogi and Boo-Boo. Perhaps they are out looking for some excellent pic-a-nic baskets! I am the only one who laughsL A lookout point allows us a clear view of Lake Yellowstone, which is gigantic in size. It seems to meet up with the Rockies that are miles and miles beyond it. Eventually we descend down to lake level and we begin to notice the thermal areas of the park that exude steam into the sky. This, of course, is the stuff Old Faithful is made of, so we stop to see the steam escaping the Earth and pools of bubbling, hot water. Warning signs abound and we are attacked by small, black flying insects that I have never seen before. We decide that our campground is past Old Faithful, so we drive and drive toward Old Faithful and Geyser Basin. Yellowstone is the size of Rhode Island, so major highways and thoroughfares spiral through the park and the scenery changes constantly. The setting around Yellowstone Lake is incredible as smoke, steam, a gigantic lake, mountains guarding it and pine trees are in every square inch of my field of vision. Ben is a state park guy. I don’t know if you know that about him, but he would rather stay in a state park than anywhere. I am a cable and wireless kind of gal, so I prefer a “campground” due to the neverending supply of water in campgrounds. Ben is much more rustic, so seeing Yellowstone is really a dream come true for him. He has an in-depth knowledge of nature and science, and a real understanding of why things are the way they are. On this trip alone, he has explained many things to our kids, and Bennie and Ethan are very fortunate to have such a well-read, educated father who not only knows many things, but wants to share those things with his sons. Someday I know they will appreciate it and come to the realization that they have seen so much as children.


At top of a mountain we see the Continental Divide sign. Ben explains what that means and is very excited to say that we just crossed it. We pass it again, further down the road as it certainly zigzags through the park.

When we arrive to the parking lot where we can leave the RV to see Old Faithful, we see the people all lined up so we know right where to go. “I bet we just missed it,” I say, always the pessimist. Turns out I was wrong! We arrived just in the nick of time, and we are able to see OLD FAITHFUL! The geyser slowly builds as it puffs and billows steam into the sky like a factory chimney. It gets higher and stronger, and the crowd is quiet. We can hear Old Faithful steam and slightly rumble and Ben asks if I can feel it under my feet. I really have to concentrate to do so, but I can feel the purr of the earth. After a few more seconds, Ben and I can feel the mist of Old Faithful on our faces, and the crowds in front of us begin to disperse. I am a little puzzled by this as it is only a mist, not the splash zone of the killer whales at Sea World. I have always wanted to see Old Faithful, so I can now cross one more thing from my list of great things to see here before I leave!

Of course, Bennie and I must visit the gift store which is called Yellowstone General Store. There are several in the park as, again, the park is the size of Rhode Island. Our plan is to camp in Montana this evening which borders the park. Ben has always wanted to go to Montana, so after a buy some things for my nephew and goddaughter, we are off. By the end of our visit we will have driven over 60 miles of Yellowstone Park and every mile was a surprise and a reward for the long travels we have endured.

On our way out of the park, we see Bison and Elk. The boys are very excited, and we stop to take pictures. The Bison’s heads are the size of Ethan, and their horns are amazing. Some are grazing, while others are lounging in the tall grasses. We continue to pass hot springs and warm pools of water, and I feel so chilly I could just take a dip but I am afraid I will be joined by a Bison.

Yellowstone is an astounding cornucopia of sights, smells, and sounds. As we head to our campground, we look off into the distance and Mt Olympian-like white moutains emerge into our view. Ben says, “You know what we are looking at? That’s Montana.”

I cannot wait because it is known as the Big Sky Country.

Day 7

Day 7

Wyoming.
Unbelievable.
Wide open.
Huge sky above us.
Clouds that hide the mountaintops.
The tallest, skinniest pines I have ever seen with growth only at the top of them.

3 billion year old Granite Gneiss creates a tunnel effect around us and along side the road, boulders the size of our camper lean toward the highway as if to tumble over the rails. I am not prepared for the splendor and magnificence that is Wyoming, but I am a believer now. As I write this, I am looking at the snow-covered mountain off in the distance known as Cloud Peak, a 13,167 foot peak that is snow covered and simply breathtaking and out of this world. Bennie says it looks like a painting, and I believe he is trying to convey the dreamlike quality of the site before us. The truck struggles and moans and wines as we sluggishly make our way to the top and the pain in my ears is throbbing and pressure-filled. I keep looking at Ben as if to ask, “Are we going to make it?” and he gives me the “Oh my gosh” look! When we finally get to the top, we stop at a scenic viewpoint, and we exit the truck. Freezing! It is only 40 degrees and the ground beneath our feet is spotted with some ice and snow. We stare off to Cloud Peak and I realize that there are really no words to explain to you what I feel inside as I view the heavenly, glacier-like mass off in the distance. I have decided that if there is a God, he created clouds as mountain head dresses. One cannot be without the other. When you look at the view, you are not sure where the peak ends and the clouds begin, so the optical illusion adds to the divine experience.

After we return to the truck, we make our way into the mountains we have just looked at. We climb, we fall, we climb again, and we are welcomed by the most devastatingly massive rock formations and canyons I have ever seen. As we navigate the hair pin turns and narrow, well maintained highway, the rock formations are red and tan, and gargantuan in size. The signs on the side of the road educate us. The rock in the Big Horn Mountains, Granite Gneiss, is three billion years old and others are 500-700 million years old. We marvel at the smooth rock in some places and the intricate ridges in others. The rocks dwarf us, and again, we find ourselves in awe of the glory of the Earth around us. To be here, today, encapsulated in these ancient rocky mountains, I have to wonder about the creation of our planet. We switchback down after a quick stop at the top to take some pics, and the rocks get more and more beautiful and canyons and ravines reveal themselves to us. We can hear a creek at the bottom, and we pass barns with caved in roofs that look as if one of the mountains has sat on them. As we come back down to earth, we pass deep, ruddy red buttes and look back from where we just came. I keep saying, “Wow,” and “Oh my God.”

At this point, Bennie is videotaping and I hear a sound like he has dropped the camera out of the window, as if plastic has just hit the road’s surface. I ask him what it was and he says he doesn’t know, and he is still holding the camera. After a few more miles, we hear a repetitive flomp, flomp, flomp and Bennie asks, “What is that sound?”

Ben stops the truck to inspect the camper, and he yells, “Oh no, we have a flat tire on the truck!”

I begin to panic. We are literally in the middle of nowhere, somewhere between Cody, Wyoming and Buffalo, Wyoming, and I can feel my anxiety starting to develop. The boys have a nervous look on their faces and I know they are reading our faces in order to know how to react. Ben begins the tedious job of changing the tire which I believe will be complicated by the fact that we have a 30 foot travel trailer connected to us. We have pulled into a driveway of some sort with a gate but the ranch house itself is at least a mile away. As I try to be helpful to Ben (which is often unhelpful and can lead to fights—ladies, you know what I mean) I look down to the ranch and the red rock mountain that is its backdrop. What a view. I wish you could see what I was seeing as Ben changed the tire. I worry about him and hope all will be fine in just a few minutes, and as I get the boys away from the camper, I see a Dodge Ram heading up to us from the far away ranch. Apparently he had been watching us with binoculars and he and his son ventured up to see if we needed help. I decide I will talk to him because, frankly, I never pass up an opportunity to talk to a cowboy; it is some strange fetish leftover from my John Travolta Urban Cowboy days, and as I put my face in the passenger window, I see a 10-year-old boy and a man with the straightest, whitest teeth I have ever seen.
“I just bet you are on your way to Yellowstone, right?”
I smile and say, “Yes. I hope we are not in your way?”
“No problem. How are you making out? You will need to get a new tire in Cody, which is an hour and a half from here. You will probably have to spend the night there.”
This, by the way, is not part of the plan.
“Maybe we could spend the night with you,” I say.
Just kidding. Had you there for a moment, huh?
He then tells me more info about shortcuts and where we are going. The cowboy has taken my mind off the tire change and as I return to the truck, Ben is nearly finished. He checks the tire pressure on the spare and off we go. I was very worried, but I think all will be well. We will have to replace both back tires, not just one, and I spend my time searching the KOA book for a campground near Cody. Detours have always added interesting things to my life, so here we go!

By the way, in the middle of Wyoming, the nearest Walmart is 86 miles away! The cowboy gave me that information. I am so spoiled by our Hometown Walmart that if I had to live 86 miles away from Walmart, it would be the end of civilization as I know it! I know Walmart is evil. Michelle, I know you are reading this, so I need to reinforce this. I know Walmart is evil, but ME LIKES WALMART! Ben comments that all of the ranchers seem to have an RV. I think it is because Walmart is 86 miles away and you need a car you can sleep and shower in if you need to go there. One more thing about the local color: as we pass the ranchers, each nods or tips his hat. ME LIKES COWBOYS TOO! The 86 miles to Walmart must be some sort of metrical, western measurement because it seems like 886 miles long when you have to listen to your youngest son sing that annoying song from Madagascar ad nauseum:
“She like to move it, move it. He like to move it, move it. We like to movie it, move it.” Over and over. Over and over.
“Mom needs to move out, move out!” I start humming to myself.

After hours, we finally arrive in Cody, Wyoming which is a small, tourist town surrounded by gorgeous mountains. Like most Western town, it has that Americana feel with its flat-fronted stores and their flat roofs. I like it here a great deal, so this detour has been worth it. Cody reminds me a college town and it is alive, alive, alive. We roll down the window and smells of steak, pizza, and grilling waft into our car. It has been hours and hours since we have eaten and we just want some food and some rest. The stress of the blown out tire and waiting to reach civilization has taken a toll on us. We were on roads today that I wonder why were ever built, and seeing people and stores is a relief to me. I am not really an explorer I guess! I found the Ponderosa Campground in the AAA guide, so we go there, but when we arrive, even though it is only past 8:00 and very light outside with tons of activity, the office is closed and does not seem to allow for late arrivals which work on the honor system. I am agitated NOW! I go back to the guide and find a park called Absaroka Bay RV park, call the office, and the man welcomes me and tells me to come right over, but now we have to find it!

So here we are in Absaroka for the night. I throw some sausage and potatoes on the grill, the boys play Star Wars action figures and I continually ref their disagreements. I think we are all a little stressed, but, friends, YOU SHOULD SEE THE VIEW!

Reality Check

Dear Friends,

Perhaps my journals give you the impression that we are the ideal family, so today, I thought I would bring us all back to reality. I just refereed the third fight of the day, and the commandeering of such feats is not easy from the front seat. The teasing and taunting, the touching and tormenting, the tantalizing and torturing that is the rite of passage for brothers is maddening. Do sisters fight like this?

“Bennie said…! Bennie is touching me! Bennie is giving me the thumbs down sign! Bennie is laughing at me and sticking his tongue out at me! Bennie says he is going to fart on my pillow! Bennie! Bennie! Bennie.”

I think that an aneurysm is going to burst in my head. I begin my diatribe. “Bennie, you are 11. You know better. Can’t you stop, Bennie? Why most you continue the fight, Bennie?”

“Ethan James! Please stop yelling, it startles your father while he drives. Ethan please stop whining. Would you like to watch a movie or play a game? Please stop jinxing your brother and teasing him about Kayla.”

I sound like my mother.

Suddenly, I am transported to 1977 on the Schuylkill Expressway. I am in the backseat with my brother who is lying on the shelf with the speakers in the back of our Pontiac. Remember the shelf? As my father curses the Schuylkill Expressway traffic, my brother agitates and aggravates me until I think my mother’s head will explode.

At least I don’t threaten to leave them on the side of the road in the middle of the Big Horn Mountains and Forrest in Wyoming. At least not yet. I can hear my father in my head, “If I have to come back there, someone in this car is going to be very sorry! I can promise you that. Everyone is going to be crying and then we are turning around and going home.” We believed him. We were only near Philadelphia. My kids are wiser. We are over 2000 miles from home. They know we will never deliver on that threat.

Again, as I write, I hear, “Stop it Ethan!”

Ben’s eyes roll so far back in his head he can see the part of his brain that does long division. “Please stop them, honey. Please do something.”

Day 6

This morning, after a much-needed night of sleep, we wake around 7:00am and start discussing our plans for Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse today. The boys are super excited about seeing Mount Rushmore, and Bennie is already discussing what he wants to buy at the gift shop with the 40.00 his grandfather, Husser, gave him. Bennie wants a mini sculpture of Mount Rushmore, and he wants it BAD! After breakfast and organizing, we decide we need jeans, sneakers and warm jackets because it is cold, rainy, and damp. Throughout the night I listened to my favorite thing: the quiet tapping of the rain on the roof of the camper. I don't like to lie in bed much and I am not a great sleeper, but when I hear the gentle tapping of the rain, I could lie in bed all day. We dress, pile excitedly into the truck and head up the rugged and pine-laden mountain known as Mount Rushmore. As we ascend the Black Hills, we read signs around us that point us to Horsethief Lake, the fictional scene in National Treasure 2. Other signs point us to Black Hills Forrests Trails and we see people riding horses, despite the misty precipitation that marks our windows and our view. As we rise into the Black Hills, we are immediately overwhelmed by the absolute grayness of the rock as it is surrounded by fog and the dark, dark pine trees that, no doubt, give the Black Hills their nomenclature. These mountains are so vastly different from the Blue Mountain in Pennsylvania, and I am instantly reminded how far from home I really am. As we pull into the Profile View (which is just that, a glimpse of just the profile of George Washington) we figure we are 1800 miles from Tamaqua, PA and the surrounding landscape denotes this. We pull into the Profile View and search, and oh my God, THERE HE IS! Washington's profile prominently projects from the side of a beautiful mountain and vapors cloud his serious expression. We are speechless. All our lives we have seen this image on television, in movies, in travel magazines, but we are here. We are really here experiencing this in person! It seems so unlikely and unreal, and Ben and I stare at his majestic face in wonderment and appreciation. How fortunate am I? How lucky are our boys?

We can hardly pull ourselves away from the rustic, granite view, but we must if we want to see all four of the presidents. Ben and I keep staring, but the boys have already jumped into the car and are bellowing, "Mom, Dad...Come on! Come on! Mom! Pleazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" Another hooded tourist looks at us and says, "I think they're ready!" and laughs at our sons. We just have to make it to the entrance so that we can pay our 10.00 fee, which is good for a year, and enter. As we make the curve toward the entrance and the visitor's center, Ben yells, "There it is boys! There it is!" They are both so excited that they begin screaming and yelling and giggling. I whip my head around and I take in the big four as they regally jut out from their hard, smooth surfaces and instantaneously demand the respect millions have given them over the years. The rain has caused tear-like streaks and dark marks on the faces of Rushmore Four. The boys can barely contain themselves and Bennie continually asks me if I am sure there will be a gift shop. I tell him, "Son, I am only sure of a few things in this world, and the existence of a gift shop at Mount Rushmore is one of them." He gathers his money, the video camera, his disposable camera, and he jumps out of the car. Ethan is nonstop talking and I stopped paying attention to his run on sentences about five minutes ago. It is at this time that Ben finally has cell phone service, so he realizes he has missed many calls and decides to listen to his voicemail. The boys are biting at the bit, it is freezing, but I know he has to take the calls. Turns out he sold a home! Wonderful. We celebrate with Rushmore! As we leave the parking garage and climb the stairs, all four of us are mezmerized by the presidential view in front of and above us. We keep stopping for pics and Ben's phone keeps ringing. I think of the number of times I have thought of coming here and imagining this very moment. The boys skip and run, Bennie interviews Ethan with his video camera, and I take some great shots of the boys and Ben. As we get closer, I snap another pic and my batteries go dead! What!?! They are rechargable ones, so now I must go to the gift shop and pay 100.00 for batteries! When I say "gift shop", Bennie just about bursts with enthusiasm, and we enter. Bennie says, "Mom, you were right." Magic to my ears. I hear it so seldomly. The gift shop is buzzing with activity and I have to be extra vigilant in keeping my eye on the boys. They are like heat seeking missiles, honing in on the booty they want to bring back with them, and I cannot seem to find batteries. Ben searches the store for me, finds them, and I am busy helping the boys find the things they have been dreaming about. Eureka! Bennie finds the mini sculpture and he keeps running his hands over its smooth surface and saying, "I am so glad they have one of these." Ethan falls in love with it as well, but hopes there is an 18 wheeler truck model with Rushmore on it. I tell him it is doubtful, so he touches every single thing they have in the store, twice. We finally leave with hats, t-shirts, magnets, post cards, and all the other cliche items you would imagine. Just insert them here:________. One hundred and forty dollars later, we emerge into the fresh air, the misty rain, and the gaze of the Rushmore Four. We walk closer and closer and take lots of pics. I cannot take my eyes off it. I feel like I did when I saw the Capital in Washington D.C. for the first time when I was 10 or the Lincoln Memorial again when I was 41. We talk to some people from Nebraska and decide to enter the museum downstairs. The rangers are helpful and friendly, and we look at models, read descriptions of the history of the monument, and I tell the boys to call their Nana from Mount Rushmore. Inside, the boys get to pretend they are blowing up a piece of Rushmore as they select the explosion they want to denote on a tv screen and then actually push down, with both hands, on a t-bar dynamite detonator. Ethan loves it so much that he wants to do it again and again, despite the fact that there is a line of kids behind him anxiously waiting for their turn.

After spending time in the museum, we decide it is time to leave and get some lunch. We stare at the monument again and again, and as we depart, the fog sets in and partially hides the monument. It seems we came at the right time. We jump in the truck, head for our campground, a very UPSCALE KOA, (80.00 a night) and have lunch at the restaurant. After we have eaten we go to the KOA office and I purchase some very awesome scrapbooking supplies. We are finally warm and satisfied, so I suggest we go to the Crazy Horse Monument and take in the sites.

C-R-A-Z-Y-H-O-R-S-E. What an interesting story. What dedication. What a noble pursuit. The story of Crazy Horse Monument is inspiring and worth spreading. You can read about it at http://www.crazyhorsememorial.org/

As we approach, after following signs, we are searching the mountains and the sky for some sign of it, any glimpse of it. Suddenly, we see it, but it takes another five minutes for Ethan to see it:) The boys are less enthused about this because they know nothing about it, but that is about to change after we watch the movie in Theater 2. Crazy Horse Monument does not take any federal funds to continue with their titanic pursuit, so that explains the 27.00 admission fee for our car. We gladly give it. We must be easily a mile or two from the monument, but it is so large, it is easily seen. So far, they have only completed his face, which is 3D but they have so far to go. If they continue at this rate, it will not be completed in my lifetime. CrazyHorse stares off, with a piercing countenance, into the Black Hills of South Dakota. He will eventually be pointing toward his land, which is where his people are buried. Heavy earthmoving equipment and fences can be seen in front of him, and there is a white chalk-like tracing of a horse's eye and ear below him. The final product is supposed to be very elaborate and it will lookover and protect a university and a medical center. It is more than a daunting task, and many of the sculptor's 10 children still work on it and dedicate their lives to it, along with his wife. After spending an hour there, looking up at the haunting monument, we decide to head back to the camper for some much needed R and R. The day is not over, as we will be returning to Mount Rushmore in the evening to take in the "Lighting Ceremony." I cannot wait. I know it will be emotional. During our visit to Washington D.C. in October, I must have cried 30 times, and I think that will probably happen to me this evening. Ben is used to me and Ethan just shakes his head and says, "I hope those are tears of joy, Mom." I will update you later about the lighting ceremony and include some pictures. For now, I remain a very humbled and grateful blogger.

Just before dinner this evening, I had one of those terrible moments that is heartstopping and nerve wracking. I could not find my kids!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1700 miles away from home and Ben says to me, where are the kids? I was in the camper and he was outside, so I assumed they were with him. He predicts that they went over to the camp store, so I literally sprouted wings and flew there. NO KIDS! My heart is beating fast and the anxiety inside of me is spreading and rapidly increasing my breathing and heart rate. I feel like I may pass out. Where could they be? I start yelling to Ben that they are not in the store, and he immediately hops in the pick up truck and begins riding around the campground to search for Bennie and Ethan. I am yelling their names and thinking, "Oh my God. Oh my God! They are here. Calm down. They are here. There is some explanation. Please no." As I look down one of the campground roads, I see someone in a white t-shirt running toward a road. I realize it is Bennie. Of course, he and Ethan are absolutely oblivious to my feelings of panic and sheer terror. "What Mom? What's wrong? What?" My voice is bellowing, "You do not just take off like this! You don't do this!" Ethan is giggling and laughing, but Bennie sees the fear in my eyes and knows the serious tone of my voice. "Sorry, Mom. We were just swinging." I put their coats on, hug them (even though I feel like shaking them) and we head back to the camper for grilled chicken and salad. They are filled with excitement and joy and, of course, they live in a different world than I do. Their world is filled with friendly people. My world is filled with strangers with bad intentions who have fast cars.

After dinner, we head back up into the Black Hills to take in the lighting ceremony. As we arrive to the admission gate, the attendant asks for our parking pass that we received earlier. She tells us that we have an Indiana registered parking pass, and we tell her we are from PA. She says, there is a PA pass sitting here for a Dodge Dakota. This must be you! It is so cold and damp that it cuts through me, but, of course, the boys don't seem to ever mind temperature. They wanted to swim in the campground pool! We head toward the mountain that is the home to the presidents and we find a seat on the bleachers of the enormous outdoor theater that faces Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln. Their faces have dried from our earlier storm, but Washington still has a very thick dark tear streek down his right cheek. Bennie is videotaping every moment of it and explaining things to Ethan, who doesn't quite understand time, history, and his place in it. At 9:00 a park ranger takes the stage and introduced a Boy Scout troop from Lincoln, Nebraska. They will be taking down the flag at the end of the ceremony this evening. The ranger discusses the theme of hardship and how it is prevelant in American history and in the lives of the presidents behind and above her. After her excellent speech, which discusses the trials and tribulation that each of the presidents overcame along with the emphasis on the fact that they were all great readers (at this point I give Bennie that See-you-have-to-read-look) and he mouths to me, "Ok...I know Mom...I know!") we are treated to a very patriotic movie on a huge screen about the presidents and American values and ideals. The boys are very entertained by it, but Ethan is just killing me and I am trying not to laugh out loud during this solemn, moving presentation. When the movie would depict Washington, Ethan would say, "Oh..he looks young and has a deep voice. I wonder if he knew the camera was there." Another time during the movie, Washington is depicted looking out a window. This shot is followed by his image on Mount Rushmore. Ethan looks all around us and says, "Where is the house that Washington is looking out of at his face on Rushmore." This just aggravates and infuriates Bennie. He stops his videotaping and tries to explain to Ethan that this movie is filled with actors who are playing the presidents. He continues that there were no cameras during Washington's life. Ethan says, "Oh." When the movie moved on the Jefferson and a narrator read Jefferson's famous words, Ethan says, "Oh so that is what his voice sounded like." Bennie's grimace could light up our dark surroundings. "No! That is a man playing Jefferson. Don't you get it?" Ethan doesn't. I look over at them and I am in love:)

As the movie draws to a close and a beautiful voice sings "America the Beautiful" a very dim light appears on the faces on the mountain and slowly brightens on them. The crowd is quiet and respectful. As the light grows brighter and brighter, I feel the tears building slowly in my eyes, and Ethan whispers, lovingly, "Don't cry. Don't cry. Mom!" I give him a hug and listen to Bennie whispering into his video camera as he narrates what he sees. Now with the presidents lit and the movie over, the park ranger returns to the stage and asks the Boy Scouts to join her. She then asks for any and all members of the audience who have ever served in the military to join her on the stage. Just a few seconds ago, we were all the same. Audience members seated, watching a presentation. Suddenly, people begin to rise and descend the ampitheater steps. I am amazed at how many of us have served our country. The ranger helps them to take their place on the stage, the Boy Scouts lower the flag and fold it, and the ranger passes it among the veterans and each one touches it and holds it in his or her hands. I am moved. My children are quiet and respectful, and Bennie instructs Ethan to remove his hat.

As the ceremony closes, I can hardly feel my hand and feet, and event though I am anticipating he warmth of our truck, we walk up the stairs slowly, each of looking back often as if to take in the mountain as much as we can. Ethan tells me that when he becomes a history teacher he will bring his class here. Each day Ethan is going to be whatever his brother is going to be. We stop for a few last pics with the lit presidents behind it and call it a night. What a wonderfully, memorable day filled with happiness and pride. If we had to go home now, I would feel complete.