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.

Day 5

After leaving Michelle and her kids last night, we drove west for another two and a half hours and marveled at the fact that we could still detect light in the Nebraska night sky at 10:00pm. The traffic was minimal, the kids were tolerant, so we drove on. Eventually we came to a KOA in Grand Island, Nebraska, but for the life of me I cannot figure out why they named it Grand Island; it is neither grand, nor is it an island. The campground would do, so we pulled in, and started to unwind for the night. Nebraska has already made the transformation to digital tv, so there were no stations available by way of our antennae, so I popped a movie in the DVD player and the boys relaxed. The campground is so quiet, and all we can hear is the low, dull roar of nearby Interstate 80. After looking at a map, I begin to comprehend the magnitude of the drive we will have the next day to Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota. It is very far from where we currently camped for the evening and riding in the truck is not as much fun as it was on Saturday. We are very tired, so we all call it a night and my book is calling me.


Today is Day 5 of our trip and I rise early to do laundry because it has super accumulated. I grab my dirty clothes, towels, and sheets, my laptop, and off I go to the laundry. I love talking to people whom I do not know, so I am looking forward to running into some fellow nomads and finding out where they have been and how they are connected to Pennsylvania. So far on this trip, I have received two free cappuccinos because I am from Pennsylvania. The first was in Iowa when I was teasing the clerk at a gas station because she possessed such a “southern” accent in Iowa. She explained that she was from Missouri (which she pronounced Mi-sur-a) and wondered how I detected her southern twang. I laughed because it was so obviously apparent, and so did her fellow workers. She asked where I was from and I told her and she asked if I was ever in Williamsport. I told her certainly and she bought me my hot cappuccino. Yesterday in Nebraska, I had trouble with a cappuccino machine and the store clerk came to help me. He asked where I was from because I had a peculiar accent. I, again, explained where in Pennsylvania. He asked if I ever get to Altoona, and when I said no, he told me that his wife was from Altoona but she had passed away last summer. “I love Pennsylvania,” he sang, and told me to take my coffee for free. Ben cannot believe it, but my friend, Sheila, would. She teased me about this sort of thing all the time. I have digressed. When I enter the Laundromat, there is an elderly man there trying to figure things out. I tell him where we are from and where we are going and he immediately tells me how to get to Rapid City, SD as quickly as we can. His wife is gone and he sold off all his property, bought a class A RV and drives around visiting his children and his 95 year old father who still drives (I secretly hope we don’t run into him on the road). He tells me he is on his way to Arizona, but explains that he sold equipment to farmers and has driven all over the country. “Now,” he said, “If I don’t like the look of a place, I gather up my things and move on.” After he gives directions to Ben about the best way to Rushmore, he stumbles and almost falls. “Keep your feet under you, old man,” he says to himself. I tell him to take care, and he, in words that were more like a warning than advice says, “Enjoy those boys. They will grow and leave. Love them.” I tell him I sure will and he leaves with his towels and his coffee.



After gathering my things and returning to our RV, we follow our routine of breaking down and cleaning up, and we head down the road toward gas, a Walmart, and South Dakota. Today will be a very long day.
The Nebraskan terrain is nothing if it is not monotonous. I believe the overcast sky adds to this effect. Mile after mile is nothing but farmland and watering apparatuses. I ask Ben how the farmers move those giant, airplane-like structures, and he tells me he has been wondering about that himself. Route 2 in Nebraska, which will take us north through Broken Bow, another Star Trek connection to a terrestrial town, where we will eventually come to 83 which will take us to Valentine, and eventually South Dakota, runs parallel with train tracks, and the Northern Burlington Santa Fe railroad company is working on replacing railroad ties. We ride along a train that goes on for miles, and Ethan snaps a pic with his disposable camera. My friend Linda Kelly surprised my boys with gift bags for the trip filled with their favorite snacks, games for the car, and disposable cameras. What a wonderful surprise for them. They loved rifling through the bags to see all that she had given them. I thought Indiana was flat! It has nothing on the fields and plains of Nebraska. On this route 2 we are traveling, it is as if we are alone in the world. From time to time, we see another car, but we go for miles without seeing one. Many of the side roads are not paved, and farmers and equipment dominate my surroundings.
Even though I thought that I would notice stark differences between home and many of the states we have travelled through up to this point, it is Nebraska that offers the most different landscape to date. If you have never been to a place, you often have an image of it based on stereotypes that are portrayed in movies and novels, so you may think of fog and rain when you imagine England or snow and mountains when you think of Canada. I think of corn when I think of Nebraska, but no such stereotypes are in my vision this afternoon. On Route 2 between Broken Bow and Valentine, Nebraska is comprised of lumpy, dunes of green and yellow grass as far as the eye can see. For a moment, imagine the duney mounds of a golf course, but remove the lush green grass from your mind’s eye. From time to time the Country Club known as Nebraska produces sand traps for us to see and water holes with walls surrounding them that are the color and texture of the inside of a Three Musketeers candy bar (can you tell it has been 2 years since I have eaten chocolate?) These dune-like hills are spotted with different types of cattle that appear to have miles to roam. We have spotted black ones, chocolate brown ones, and white ones. Occasionally, we see some horses, but they are few and far between. As I write this, we are approximately 80 miles from South Dakota, and no matter what, I am going to beg Ben for a stop so we can stretch and get something to eat. The boys have been so good today, but Bennie told me he is not a fan of Nebraska. I can only imagine how long this trip seems to them. When I was young like them, everything took so long and lasted so long. Summer stretched out for at least 6 months, Christmas only seemed to come around every leap year, and waiting for your dad to get home to punish you because your mom called him at work to tell him about your latest transgression was equivalent to waterboarding. When I turn around to look at them, they are either reading, watching movies, or sleeping. The ride is long and tedious, but I keep promising them the reward of Mount Rushmore.
I guess I finally dozed off because when I am stirred from my sleep, Ben is pumping gas in Valentine, Nebraska. The woman inside tells us we are 9 miles from South Dakota. Praise God! I can barely stand the temperature of a windy 53 degrees in Northern Nebraska, and I realize my Bermuda Shorts were a mistake (they are a mistake for other reasons as wellJ) I grab a cup of coffee, the boys spy mood rings and I give in. I don’t need a ring to detect Ethan’s mood! As we venture along 83, I see an Indian reservation Casino called Rosebud and I miss the photo op of the South Dakota welcome sign. I have been taking pics of each sign as we enter, so I ask Ben to turn the RV around. He gives me that look (wives, you know the look) and he quietly does so! The highway is deserted so I ask the boys if they want to cross it and take a pic in front of the South Dakota Welcome sign. They run with me (well, they run…I don’t remember how to run) and I snap some pics. Bennie then starts running back and forth between Nebraska and South Dakota, yelling, “I am in Nebraska and now I am in South Dakota.” Ethan stands in Nebraska and yells to Bennie, who is standing in South Dakota, “My state is better than yours.” I hope they will remember this forever.
South Dakota is immediately different. It is hillier and greener than Nebraska and we are able to catch the momentum of driving down hills which should help with our gas mileage, which, by the way, is a staggering 9.7 mpg! I feel like all we do is stop for gas. Ben told me I could pick the campground for this evening, so I thought we should stick it out and go right to Hill City, SD which is just a few miles from Rushmore. This way, we will wake up and be where we need to be to make the most of the two days we plan to spend in South Dakota taking in Mt.Rushmore, Crazy Horse Monument, and Deadwood. I pick the Hill City KOA with cable, wifi, two heated pools, hot tubs, mini golf, water slides. I am hoping to get some relaxation in over the next two days. We plan on arriving to our campground around 8:12 pm which is Mountain Time. We will be crossing into Mountain time in an hour or so. You should see the view from the top of hills in South Dakota. As far as my eye can see, where the plains meet the foothills of the Rockies, we see the random pattern of heaved up geological formations. A sign denotes that we will be crossing the White River, and we are happily surprised that it is WHITE like a light French Vanilla cappuccino, froth and all. Some of the radio stations in South Dakota broadcast diet and nutrition tips for pregnant women all day long! The other station we can tune in is Native American music.
South Dakota is beautiful and different from Nebraska, and after hours of driving, we think we see the Badlands ahead. Ben and I start discussing the Badlands with Bennie and Ethan, and, frankly, from a distance, I am really not impressed. What’s so BAD about the Badlands I keep ruminating. We stop, take a restroom break in our own RV, grab some sustenance, cheese sticks and Sun Chips, and we drive again. Slowly, I realize as the Badlands draw closer, that we are in for an awesome eyeful. We approach Badlands National Park, which we did not intend to visit on our trip, and we decide that we JUST HAVE TO GO. When will we ever get to South Dakota again? This will make our arrival to Mount Rushmore very late, which will involve a late, dark set up, but WE HAVE TO GO! We pay the 15.00 to enter, and, friends, we are utterly and overwhelmingly amazed by the sandcastle like structure the loom in front of us. Imagine, if you will, brown sandcastles painted with orange stripes. Our first stop is a scenic overlook that allows us an overhead view of a valley of castles that are eroding before our eyes. In fact, we are walking on the very sand that has eroded from the grainy pyramids. The soles of our shoes are completely covered in the cement-like muck, and we venture out to the boardwalk lookout to overlook the Badlands North Unit. After we take some pics and marvel at the view, the boys put the South Dakota decal on our RV, and we decide to take the 40 mile ride through the Badlands. Our first view of the Badlands turned out to be NOTHING. What awaited us around the corner were Badland Giants that were so close to us we could climb on them. Bennie is awestruck and is snapping pictures left and right. He wants to take a piece of them home with him, and Ben explains that they are not really rocks, but sand which is the remainder of the Inland Ocean floor. We continue driving and commenting on the distinctly unreal, dreadful Earthly architecture that surrounds us. The road curves in and out of the structures and up and down with them. In between, we see groups of cattle, grazing on the little bit of grass in the national park and notice that as we venture away from the Badlands, the grass slowly returns and covers the Earth. Ben promises that if I loved the Badlands, which I did, I am going to be astonished by the Grand Canyon.
We still have two hours of driving ahead of us and we are the only vehicle on old route 44 which cuts out of the Badlands and heads toward the Black Hills of South Dakota. We drive, drive, drive and know that our destination, Mount Rushmore and our campground in Hill City, at the bottom of Mount Rushmore awaits us. How we wish we were there already.
After a few more hours of driving, we begin to slowly and painstakingly ascend Mount Rushmore in the dark fog and rain. Our ears pop and release and stab us as we climb and climb and climb. The boys are looking for the 4 presidents, but we never see them tonight because the road is behind the mountain. We climb to the top, see the visitor center we will visit tomorrow and finally find out campground at the bottom of the long and winding mountainous road.

Day 4

Michelle is an even earlier riser than I am, and on this trip I am having the strangest dreams. Last night I was traveling, in my sleep, cross country with Oprah Winfrey and her girlfriend, Gail. Perhaps they are the fantasy versions of Michelle and myself. I think she is Oprah and I am Gail. After the usual quick cereal breakfasts and grooming, we are off! We have almost all of Iowa to travel today and we are roughly 135 miles from Des Moines as I write this. I am really enjoying the view. Iowa is very green and not unlike Pennsylvania, especially where we live. When I scan the landscape, my eyes do not wander far without a red or white farmhouse or barn in their ken. Farm equipment sits, abandoned, in many fields and we pass, one after the other, farm equipment manufacturers. Traveling on the highway allows us to see all sorts of gargantuan equipment being hauled by 18 wheelers. Today, alone, we saw the giant blades of wind turbines, so popular here in the midwest, carried, one by one, on enormous trailers. Almost every small vale reveals livestock, cows, sheep, horses, bison, buffalo, that rise up like the colorful inserts of a "Pop Up" book. Because of the jokes I have heard over my lifetime about Iowa and the midwest, I expected to be bored, but I am amazed by the beauty of the pastures and the architectural simplicity of the homes. Life is not simple here; there is simply more space.

Incidentally, Iowa has wonderful Rest Areas that also have WiFi available to visitors, so we decide that for lunch we will find one of the rest stops, grill hotdogs and sausage on our gas grill on the outside of our RV, and create a picnic feast. Around 1:30, we do just this. I find a tablecloth and our supplies, and along side Interstate 80, 30 miles from Des Moines, we have a beautiful picnic: strawberries, cantaloupe, grapes, blueberries, bananas, hot dogs, sausage, and cold, icy drinks. The boys play football, Ethan climbs on the jungle gym with Tim, and I try to comprehend the fact that I will be saying goodbye to my friend in a few hours when we reach Omaha. We pose for pictures, laugh, sing a little bit, and eat, eat, eat! After we clean up, we hit the road and search for a gas station. At this time, I realize Ethan has been watching the same movie over and over again since Pennsylvania! He has been watching Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith. Throughout most of the trip, he has been watching this and holding Star Wars figures in his hands. Nearer to Des Moines we find this great gas station that serves 9 different types of Cappuccino. Everyone loads up, and we are off.

Western Iowa is filled with wind turbines, and I don't know if you have ever been up close to one of these, but words cannot hardly describe the enormity and futuristic look of these. We have certainly seen this in Pennsylvania off in the distance, but in Iowa, the are right along Interstate 80 on the farmers' fields. Bennie is taken with them, and he snaps pictures with his camera. Ben and I discuss how these work and how they are so science fiction-like that they seem a bit unreal. I am surprised because when I think of Iowa, I don't think futuristic, although I suppose I should because they were first to bring us Obama and first to validate same sex marriage. They do say "Where goes Iowa, there goes the rest of the country," so perhaps they know a thing or two about generating energy.

As we drive and drive, I know Michelle is excited about seeing Meghan's little baby and as we cross the Missouri River and enter into the state of Nebraska, I am sure she is simply anticipating the reunion and introduction. Meghan's husband is a lawyer in the Air Force, so we head toward Bellevue and after following her excellent directions, we pull up right in her driveway. Michelle introduces me to her son-in-law, Matt, a very nice man, and eventually Michelle calls me upstairs to see her new grandbaby, Charlotte, who is nursing on her mommy's bed. She is a beautiful little girl with a mop of very dark hair, and her father is in love with her. Their home is lovely and white and I am hoping Bennie and Ethan will not leave handprints on all of her pristine walls! Yikes. Despite the fact that baby Charlotte is only 18 days old, Meghan and Matt have prepared a ton of food for us: pork barbeque, homemade cole slaw, homemade muffins, and homemade desserts. I cannot believe what she has done. The only person who should be eating anything of Meghan's that is homemade is Charlotte! She is so hospitable and looks and sounds just like Michelle. We eat and laugh in the backyard; Ethan shows off and rough houses with Tim and Matt, and I know it is time to say goodbye. We all gather at the front of the house and in front of our RV and the goodbyes begin. I know this will be sad but I am consoled ONLY by the fact that we will see her in San Diego for a day when we reach California. As Michelle and I embrace, she immediately cries and, of course, I have been holding back the tears in the base of my throat for at least five minutes. We cry, we tell each other it will only be temporary, and we get in the Dodge Dakota and drive away. Ethan, who would not hug Michelle, begins to cry as we drive down Chenault Drive, and then begins to sob. "I was so comfortable with them following us. I want them to follow us again." Just two blocks away, I ask Ben to stop the truck so I can change Ethan and wash his face, which is tear stained with dirt from his fingers. Ethan looks like I feel.

Tonight as we drive and I keep choking up about leaving Michelle and her family behind in Omaha, Nebraska, we look up into the sky and it is as if there are two suns in the Nebraska sky because of the way that a cloud formation has gathered in front of it. As we drive away from the city, I think of change and friendship and love and family. I have come to realize that people enter our lives when we need them for the very special quality or gift or presence or even buoyancy they give to our lives, and they often disappear or fade away when they have give this present to us. I have had so many wonderful people in my life, and even though I no longer see them or jobs or marriages have taken them far away, I remember what they added to my life and how they often healed me. During a very difficult time in my life many years ago, the lovely ladies of Panther Valley School District entered my life and became my soft place to fall. They cheered me, comforted me, buoyed me, and brought me back from dead. Christa encouraged me, made me laugh, and complimented each day. Sue supported me, gave me news that I needed to hear, and promised me happier tomorrows. Joany listened to me, validated me, and always thought on the same wave length as me. Each loved me and helped me to live again. Today, I leave, curbside, another dear woman in my life who helped me at an equally difficult stage: the loss of my mother and grandmother. Michelle laughed with me, commiserated with me about our professional lives and motherhood, and she and her family helped to fill the hole in my heart. Michelle, the patch you put there is holding fast and has healed over. I will always be grateful to you. I am glad that we did not say goodbye in Tamaqua. It is fitting that we escorted you half way across the country. You deserved it: you my dear are forever family. I love you.