Route 66 baby ~ DYNAMICS OF “LIFE IN THE CAR” (A blog series of our two week adventure!)

We love road trips. 

Our "Constant"

We embrace them, often choosing to drive to our vacation destination over flying.  We traveled often with Abram when he was younger – trips that included car games, laughter and good conversations with a noted absence of DVD players or earplugs.  The time together is the point of the drive.  Besides the destination of where we’re headed, the car time is a little separate vacation within a vacation. 

Route 66 was a stand-out.  This was the first time the drive was the focal point of the trip and for two weeks no less.  The dynamics changed a bit when the car became the only constant on the trip.

Coolest McD's on the trip!

First dynamic? Coffee and Tea.  As much as we wanted to stay true to local diners (more about these in another post) this was one necessity we quickly addressed.   Tea for me was no problem - vacation or not, I carry my own 24/7 because I prefer Bigelow Constant Comment.  So, a little hot water and I’m good to go (add a little Sugar in the Raw, which I also carry, and I’m extra happy).  Steve however was at the mercy of the local diner coffee gods – and they weren’t too kind this trip.  Enter…McDonald’s a couple times a day for a good, consistent cup of brew that Steve enjoys.      

We switched on & off driving and the person riding shotgun this trip definitely carried the title of Car Concierge.  From that seat you ran the inner working of the car and believe me, it’s no fluff job.  It’s total control of all zones in the car other than the driver’s seat.  This includes:

• Passenger side foot area –Amy’s purse, various tourist publications for the current state, three ring binder with maps, travel journal and garbage collection bag
• Glove compartment – receipts, snack items, napkins and utensils (getting this all in around that pesky car manual is no easy fete!)
• Center console – keeper of glasses, sunglasses, iPod, and the occasional stray map or two
• Dashboard – useful for heating leftovers, warming cookies to that “just out of the oven softness” and of course on this trip, monitoring Wilson (our Ore-Ida smiley French fry – more about HIM in a later post)
• Back seat - case of water, snacks, picnic/hiking backpack, pillows, and cooler filled with individual packets of peanut butter and jelly, butter and cream cheese from the hotel breakfast bar, leftovers from the previous days lunch or dinner, and the stray candy bar or two.  (Each morning at the hotel we’d fill a couple of gallon Ziploc bags with ice for the cooler.  Worked like a charm!)

More about this meal in another post!

As Car Concierge, you juggle the planning and execution of all beverages, meals and snacks, including dashboard reheats (complete with makeshift foil “oven”), navigational devices, maps, iPod and music stations, glasses and sunglasses,  pictures of passing sights, pillow placements for weary arms and tender elbows  and of course, note taking (I’m a writer – of course there’s always a running travel journal!)

Oldest DQ we could find!

We love to snack and that pastime definitely rose to a whole new level on this trip.  Our McDonald’s stops generally vetted a couple cookies or a pie or two for the glove compartment.  There were stops at Dairy Queen or Sonic, nearly every day.  Not something we do at home, where an ice cream stop is a once a month treat!

Passing thousands of miles through farm and agriculture country each day found each of us casually remarking  “you’ve got cows” and the inevitable “lost your cows” when a grave yard was passed.  We didn’t bother keeping count, it was just enough to know whether you had some or not. A silly road trip game that stuck; even with a couple of 50 year olds.  At times there was a stray horse or two thrown in and one time Steve even got credit for a few Gazelles! 

Gas stops fell into an easy routine of Steve at the pump while I cleaned the window with the squeegee – something I never do at home.  I’m not one to pass up a restroom opportunity, so we generally went into each store and then stocked up on glove compartment and backseat snacks while the opportunity presented itself!  One store had a particularly busy, albeit shady transaction being done in the front row of the parking lot that ended when the plain clothes cop finished his shopping, went over and shooed them off the property. 

The luxury of time, two whole weeks, afforded plenty of long, companionable silences and plenty of great extended conversations. There were no interruptions, no residual irritations about a work issue from earlier in the day, no deadlines of heading out to a meeting or obligation to be somewhere.  I loved that there was a particular stock Steve was watching during the trip and over the course of a few days he taught me about what it means to short a stock, how it works and how it affects the market.   We chatted about family histories, world events, places we’d just visited, Route 66 facts, retiring and writing plots.  Often he had me laughing until I cried.  Some days we made note at the top of the travel journal page of items to look up on the internet that night.   (I’m talking really important stuff like…How long ago did George Carlin die? T. Boone Pickens and his view of windmills and the Ghia automobile.)

When we planned the trip, partially as a 30^th wedding anniversary gift to each other, I honestly hadn’t given much thought to all the car time we were going to have.  It certainly took on a life of its own as we got rolling.  Sure, we could have gotten in and just driven.  But we took it to the next level.  It was fun and adventurous.  Hence, neither of us had a moment where we dreaded having to get back in the car again.  Yes, it was our constant – a source of good food, good conversation and good times.  It’s nice to know that after two weeks in the car, I’m ready to hit the road again with this man for the next thirty years and beyond.

Next up... "Oh, The Places We've Seen!"  Join me, won't you?

Route 66 baby ~ THE OVERVIEW (A blog series of our two week adventure!)

If you ever plan to motor west,
Travel my way, take the highway that’s the best.
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.

It winds from chicago to la,
More than two thousand miles all the way.
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.  (Nat King Cole, Route 66, YouTube)

That was us!  We planned to motor west; we were looking for some kicks, so we decided on Route 66. 

We got to Chicago on May 6^th, grabbed our Tahoe rental and headed out.  Our only time commitment stretched 13 days away, at 7 am May 18^th when our flight for home left LAX.  Such freedom!

A few months of prep work got us a three ring binder that held The Route 66 Map Series, a list of Route 66 attractions as well as a few “off-route” ones, and of course an enticing list of “foodie” stops.  It was great fun when we stumbled across Billy Connolly's Route 66, a British documentary television series, consisting of four episodes, shot between April and June 2011.  His unique take on the route and British accent made the episodes (found on YouTube) an entertaining preview of the trip to come.

Other than following the route, we had no agenda and no reservations.  Lucky for us, the past thirty years together have held many road trips, so the prospect of spending the better part of two weeks in a car together didn’t scare us.  We quickly settled into a routine of changing hotels each night and a balance of road time, attraction time and down time. 

It took a bit, but we deciphered the flow and instructions of the maps which were a little quirky and with basically no mileage markers, or lengths of travel but more landmarks and route turns.  It was a mix of constant vigilance and a willingness to miss a turn or two and just keep on going.  We would make a rough plan of the next leg of the journey either the night before in the hotel room or over a leisurely breakfast. 

Somewhere around mid-afternoon we’d decide on our stopping point for the night and call ahead to make a reservation.  Traveling in the off-season made this possible and we didn’t run into any issues until our very last reservation, but we were in LA by then, truly back to civilization and it made for an interesting twist!

So what was the REALITY of spending two weeks together, rolling over two thousand miles in 13 days?  Well, it WAS a lot of time ~ and when all was said and done, on the last night over dinner, I asked Steve if he was ready to go home.  He replied, “I could keep going…” And I could have too.  So, maybe the trip will hold more than memories for us.  It could be an initiation into more cross country trips like it or it could be a glimpse into our retirement lifestyle.  Then again, it may just be another fond memory of the vacation we took for our thirtieth anniversary.  

In any form, it was great and the blog series is where I plan to write and share some of the highlights of the sites and places we visited, meals that ranged from awesome steaks to dashboard reheats, a roadway that seemed to come as go as it pleased (even into a dry riverbed) and a little friend we picked up along the way.  

Join me, won’t you?

How Does My Garden Grow?

                     Pallet Garden

With thoughts of harvest

I turn once more to gardening, in pallets

of all things.  So small and manageable

as my hands spread  dirt

in neat rows between wooden slats.

Seeds of herbs and vegetables nestle in, bide their time,

while water and sun nurture small shoots.

Soon the small corner of the yard

fulfills that pull of nature.

The ripe joy of freshness, just born,

picked moments before gracing the table.

Sating a desire – providing sustenance

for the body, yes, but more the soul.

The idea of a pallet garden this summer sprang from a random glance on Pinterest which produced an immediate spark to have a garden again, without the work of having the large 12 x 12 raised bed garden that used to sit where the new two car garage now rests. 

http://gilannie-goddess.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-new-pallet-garden.html

I mentioned it to Steve who just happened to know where to get me a couple of pallets and my spark was on its way to becoming reality.  It’s a fairly simple process, and there are quite a few websites (best so far) I’ve found to help me along with suggestions like making sure the pallets are heated treated wood, how much soil it will take, watering tips and of course  the best vegetables for this type of growing venue.  A quick Google image search gave me the idea of adding another pallet vertically just for herbs and maybe a few strawberry plants for good measure!

And already what’s grown?  A poem!  It’s been a long time since I’ve written a poem and don’t even know how to begin apologizing for its form or meter or lack of thereof.  (Let’s just call it free verse and leave it at that.)

So how does a poem grow from my pallet garden? I can thank an online writing course I started on a whim last evening.  One of the exercises was to explore whether I prefer to write poetry or prose. Since I haven’t written any poetry for a very long time, I was surprised the above verse came so quickly.  It was a nice reminder that I enjoy writing poetry too.  And, the exercise helped me process this blog post as well that was at the idea stage but hadn’t been started yet. 

So already, my pallet garden has provided a lovely mix of passions, writing and gardening.  All this, nurtured on a whim…

Stop by again this summer, won’t you, and see what else the harvest brings?

Prince Charming? No. Best Husband? You Bet!

Dear Buffalo Magazine,

Like most little girls I grew up wanting to marry Prince Charming. Lucky for me, that didn’t happen.  Instead, I married Steve Morgan, an honest to goodness, real life “good” guy. You know, the ones that when women talk over drinks, they list off the qualities that REALLY matter.

Every day, in some way he enhances my life. His dry wit makes me laugh, his intelligent banter provides fascinating conversation and his charm, well, he still sweeps me off my feet and makes me feel sexy at fifty years old! 

For thirty years he’s made going to the car wash a “date”, opens doors for me and clears the dinner dishes.  He plans mystery dates, ranging from sunset picnics to the occasional weekend getaway which never fail to entertain and make me feel special.

Steve’s take on the world is black and white.  There’s not a reading in the gray area on his moral compass.  Choices are based on whether it’s just the right thing to do and his mantra is to always have respect for people and their beliefs.  The faith he shows in me as an individual and as a partner laid the foundation for me to believe in myself.

You can’t be married thirty years and not go through some rough patches. There have been enough trials and tribulations to remind me that we don’t live in a fairy tale world.  He’s pulled me through the darkest times of my life and has been through a dark spell or two of his own.  But always, without fail, there is that real-life goodness providing steady ballast. 

Prince Charming?  No.  Buffalo’s Best Husband?  You bet! And my personal dream come true. Like I said, lucky me.

###

In January, a call for entries went out from Buffalo Magazine for their Buffalo's Best Husband Contest. So of course I fired off my letter, with my favorite photo of Steve and told them what made him so amazing.   Although he wasn’t the "big" winner, he was listed with his picture and a quote from my submission as one of their "favorite entries"! As I said, I am a LUCKY woman indeed and he's #1 in MY book!

 

30 Years of Love, Honor and Cherish

In love and naïve, we stood at the altar March 19, 1983 and promised to love, honor and cherish each other.  At 20 and 21½ years old, we had no idea where those promises would lead us, only that we were committed to being together.  On Tuesday, we’ll pause to celebrate and reminisce over some of the highs and lows those promises carried us through these last thirty years.  Then on Wednesday, we’ll head into the next thirty, with the same promises, still in love, albeit a little older and wiser.    

Steve and I moved straight from our parent’s homes to our home together.  Some would say that not having that individual time of being on our own wasn’t good, but for us, it worked.  We learned early and fast how to be flexible with each other and laid the groundwork ~ in compromise and laughter. It’s been the foundation of our relationship and how we’ve approached everything, from our finances to our social life to parenting.   

We’ve been blessed - there’s been a lot of joy and laughter.  I mean lots of laughter.  Steve’s penchant for puns and dry sense of humor has carried us far.  Of course it also helps to be married to your best friend, someone you like as well as love and the one who knows you better than anyone else in the world. 

The first three decades flew by in a heartbeat. We learned what it was to be married, established our household, and became parents, settled into our careers and our community.  We lost both sets of parents and became empty nesters for a time.  On the strength of the good times, a strong foundation of teamwork, and yes, at times just sheer luck, we made it to the other side of some brutally dark times as well.  There’s nothing like coming out of a dark place to find the other standing there, realizing they helped you through it and are waiting with open arms. 

Steve supported my desire to be a stay at home mom and homemaker for the first two decades of our marriage and my lifelong quest to be a writer.  I’ve supported his career choices, his involvement in EMS and firefighting, his devotion to community service and his commitment to being a Mason.  We’ve had fun projects, successful and questionable ventures and more mystery dates than I can remember. Above all else, we’ve been truly blessed to have our son Abram, the maker of The Morgan Three, along with us on the journey for the past 24 years.    

It’s been said that a successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.  I believe you “fall” in love once, by chance.  Staying in love is a purposeful choice. It’s work through years filled with highs and lows supported by honesty, humor and commitment.   It’s a purposeful choice to remember and practice the vows to love, honor and cherish …

It’s good to pause now and again to take a look at the whole of your life in relation to the day to day living.  Thirty years seem a good marker for that.  I don’t know what March 19, 2043 has in store for us but I do see us working our way there, through the inevitable highs and lows with love, laughter and promises.

Photos That Dance

I miss the cadence of photographs.  I mean honest to goodness, photographs taken with film that’s dropped off to a store, developed and put into albums. I miss the value of them - the value of time. Of expectation.

Steve had a simple request for me the other night.  Could I find a picture that included him, my dad, brother Keith and brother-in-law Rod?  The Fire Co.’s celebrates its 75^th anniversary in May and they’re looking for “family” shots of members for the program booklet.

“Sure,” I said.  I could see the picture in my mind – knew it was somewhere in the house.  And so I started to look.  Two and a half hours later I’d gone through over 15 albums and speed glanced at hundreds of loose photos.  The picture in my “mind’s eye” was nowhere to be found, but I did chance across one taken at least 25 years ago and a few others I pulled out for good measure. 

Neither the albums nor the loose photos were in chronological order so I jumped through the past 50 years or so, setting down the box of loose photos with my first grade picture to open an album and find Steven and me when we started dating, 13 years later. There were trips that spanned the last thirty years by planes, trains and automobiles.  I was heavy, then thin (more than I remember) and every size in between.  My hair was long, then short, poker straight and permed like wild a couple of times (again, more than I remember).  Abram passed from soccer games to school concerts and Steven flowed through fire company events and his paramedic career.

There used to be a dance you had with photos.  It started before an event or holiday, when you made sure you had enough film, batteries and flash cubes.  It wasn’t a cheap venture, so quite often the one receiving the “big” Christmas gift that year was tipped off to that fact when the camera was taken out to capture the “special moment”.   There were group shots where one person inevitably blinked or that family member who always managed to be talking to the person next to them during the shot.  Pictures were taken with a specific plan in mind of it being a future gift and always, always, there were promises to get “doubles” and share.  

When the roll was finished (and sometimes this would take months and you would have Christmas, a birthday or two and the following fourth of July on the same roll), you dropped it off to be developed at the little yellow capped Fotomat booth, an island unto itself in the middle of the plaza parking lot.  Like magic, in a few days you’d go back and from inside that amazingly little space, they’d hand over your pictures. I spent many days dreaming of growing up and working in that little booth, and really believed they somehow developed them in there!    

Growing up our family pictures weren’t put into albums; you’d stumble across a box of them, or open a desk drawer to find a few hundred of them.  When I got married, I put mine in albums and did so until the middle 90’s.  Soon I didn’t drop the film off to a store, but sent the roll by mail to be developed and the pictures (with doubles to be sent to my mom in Florida) were delivered to my doorstep.  I didn’t even feel the falter in my dance step.   

In the early 2000’s I got my first digital camera and pictures got downloaded on my computer and placed in albums in the “My Pictures” tab.  Rarely were any printed – they just got sent as an email attachment.  Then came Facebook and the ability to share with family and friends online.  The dance came to an end. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my digital camera.  I appreciate the ability to see a picture immediately and do a re-take until everyone is smiling and looks good.  I have thousands of pictures of remodeling the house, vacations and family events.  I love posting a quick snapshot on Facebook of Steven and I as we enjoy a glass of wine while cooking steaks. 

But still, I miss the dance.  I’ve never lost myself to strolling through my online albums for hours at a time like I did the other night with my albums and loose photos.  Those photos whirled me around ‘til I was near breathless.