LUCK BE A LADY

Ah …

Silence.

It’s six’o’clock in the morning and the usual wild hubbub of three frenetically happy children has been replaced by the gentle singsong of two sweetly waking birds.

It is a big day.

Sarah, William, and James are riding with Daddy for the first part of today’s seventy mile leg.  I’ll pick the boys up in Selkirk about twelve miles away then drive on another eighteen miles to Marianthal where we’ll wait for Sarah.

But for the moment I have an hour and fifteen precious minutes to myself.

What to do?

I eat a leisurely breakfast while reading a year old copy of "Better Homes and Gardens" and ponder the possibilities.

I try to get on-line to check my email without three little heads alternating their mutual “Can I get on the computer?” query.  In this lovely cottage there is no wifi, but I’ve had a bit of luck tapping into the unsecured networks of the houses around us.

No such luck this morning.

I attempt to call my voicemail and check messages in this signal deficient hamlet where “No Network Coverage” is about the only text message I’ve received for days.  Every so often, though, I can grab a stray edge of the cell service that seems to float overhead like an elusive jet stream; and touch base with my life back home.

No such luck this morning.

I do some yoga stretches to loosen up my 52-years-old-in-six-weeks back, which has out of the blue decided it doesn’t like sitting in the car for two or three hours a day.  Neither does it like lugging heavy bags to and from upper story walk-up motel rooms every day.  Nor does it like sleeping in beds that vary from rock hard to saggy soft every night.  For the past two weeks my yoga and Pilates classes have really paid off by giving me tools to help ease the stiffness at the start of each day.

No such luck this morning.

I drive over to the old water tower I spotted yesterday hoping to get some nice early morning shots for a photo study I’m working on.  A frail mist of clouds floats in an anemic blue pool of sky.  I’d wanted a bright expanse of cloudless azure to contrast with the ragged edges and dingy silver of the tower.  Ah, well.  Perhaps the similarity will actually create a more dramatic shot than the disparity I’d been envisioning.

No such luck this morning.

I shoot what I can and head back to the car with exactly forty-five minutes to go till I have to meet mi famiglia.  It's precisely enough time to have a leisurely drive to our meeting point, and then indulge in one of my secret pleasures.  Tweezing my eyebrows.  Yes, my favorite location for that grooming ritual is parked in a sunny spot with the car facing directly into the early day’s rays while I use the driver’s seat mirror to pluck any errant hairs.  And my shaggy brows are screaming for their toilette.

No such luck this morning.

The minivan’s self-locking system, which has never worked before, has decided to spontaneously repair itself this morning.  Perhaps it was because of the unaccustomed quiet in this town of 741 (according to the 2010 census).  Perhaps it was because of the tender loving care the car has received from me.  Perhaps Tribune, Kansas is some sort of Lourdes for motor vehicles.  Whatever the reason, it has done so with my keys and admittedly useless cell phone sitting on the front seat.  The nice man who stops to help tells me that the sheriff “should be here in a couple minutes.”

No such luck this morning.

Forty-five minutes later I thank the sheriff and finally get in the car.  The clock reprimands me.  Gene estimated they’d be traveling about eight miles an hour, so I may still have time to get ahead of them and film my three progeny on the road with their Dad.

No such luck this morning.

When I arrive at our proscribed meeting place, the children are in various phases of melting in the already blazing Great Plains sun.

“Where were you?”

“We’ve been waiting almost an hour!”

“Daddy was having vivid doom-filled fantasies.”  (Sarah loves to quote my blog back to me.)

“They went faster than I thought they would,” Gene told me after I explained what happened.

"How was it?" I ask.

“It was great!”

“We rode twelve miles!”

“We’ve never ridden that far.”

“I’m hot.”

“I’m tired.”

“I need water.”

"I need air conditioning."

“Do you have a snack?”

Ah …

Cacaphony.

Sometimes you don’t know how lucky you are until your luck runs out.

 

For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056

WOMAN TO WOMAN

Today I got to live out my future in animation.

And at least this time Disney didn’t kill off any parents, so I didn’t have to mourn my own demise.

Instead I watched that timeless battle between a mother who loves her children and does the invariably inadequate best she can for them, and a daughter on the cusp of womanhood who wants to find her own path in life without the encumbrance of someone else’s ideas.

As usual it led to botched spells, battles against evil, and life-changing self realization on both parts.

Ah … if only it were that easy.  In real life there is anger and hurt, judgment and recrimination, control and rebellion.  Finally, if we’re very lucky and very careful, there is communication and hard won reconciliation.  Then we get to repeat the whole cycle the next day.

I sat there in the dark with my own cusp of womanhood in the seat next to me and knew I was watching my fate as surely as the early worm knows it’s going to end up being regurgitated into a baby bird’s gullet.  And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

But I can delay it.

This trip has been the silver lining in the dark cloud of tweenaged angst.  Although there are still those hormonally induced emotional displays of anger wrapped in a strong sense of being misunderstood, as well as all the tears those emotions engender, there are so many more moments of willing openness touched by the last vestiges of childhood wonder and delight.

Sarah is indeed growing into a woman – I can see her body changing before my eyes; but it is the child in her who hugs me in delight as we watch a glorious sunset blooming over the desert, who reaches for my hand when we come upon a nest of baby birds, and who snuggles with me on those few mornings we can sleep in.

It is the child in her who travels in the back seat of the minivan oohing and ahhing as I call attention to the mountains outside our window, who wants me to tell her stories from my life as we drive through mile after mile of boringly similar scenery, and who shares a private look with me when the love of a daughter saves her mother in an animated movie.

But it is the adult in her who tells me how glad she is to be driving the back roads so she can really see the country, who apologizes when her emotions get the better of both of us, and who shares a private look with me when the love of a daughter saves her mother in an animated movie.

It is the adult in her who makes me a better woman.

Perhaps my fate isn’t so bad after all.

For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056

AN ORDINARY LIST OF EXTRAORDINARY EXPERIENCES

We wandered in the sand dunes of the Southern California desert

We saw the Saguaro cactus flowers during their once a year two-week bloom and watched the fruit bats feeding on their nectar

We soared above the mountains in the wicker basket of a hot air balloon

We soaked in the heated waters of a natural mineral hot spring

We got pelted by hail during the same soak

We walked through history in the Puebloan villages of Mesa Verde

We cheered on our favorite cowboys and cowgirls at a real Southwestern rodeo

We stood in four states at the same time at Four Corners, Utah/Arizona/Colorado/New Mexico

We stood next to a John Deere harvester with wheels bigger than Gene

We tracked dust devils

We swam in the Pacific Ocean

We hiked a mile down into the Grand Canyon

We bicycled on Route 66

We crossed the Rocky Mountains

We drove right through the end of a rainbow (sadly, no pot of gold awaited us)

We observed the graceful flight of rescued-from-the-brink-of-extinction California Condors

We got sworn in as Junior Rangers in two National Parks

We marveled at the beauty of Colorado’s Treasure Falls

We fed wild chipmunks right from our hands

We basked in a glorious sunset over the Grand Canyon

We laughed through the familiarity of a real country auction

We ate Navajo tacos, fry bread, vegetarian burgers, amazing homemade pies, and melt-in-your-mouth ribs from the back of a truck

We rooted on the contestants in a boot race

We got sprayed with water from a fire truck

We wondered at the magic of a double rainbow from the balcony of our cabin

We had a close encounter with an elk

We reunited with an old friend and met a newly found relation

We stayed in cheap motels, funky inns, National Park lodges, historic stage stops, and cabins

We met expatriot New Yorkers, New Jerseyites, Californians, Texans, Floridians, Australians, and Canadians


And we’re only one quarter of the way through this adventure!



For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056

REDEMPTION

We walked into the room and I held my breath waiting for the onslaught of whining.  Luckily, the kids were too caught up in the initial surprise of actually staying inside a National Park and in exploring the room to notice the lack of television right away.  By the time the TV issue arose they’d found the balcony overlooking the glorious hundred mile view of Mesa Verde (translation – Green Table) and the point was gratifyingly moot.

And the air conditioning? At 8,000 feet we were just grateful there was a heater!

We spent our first evening playing a cutthroat game of UNO, and our second watching a vicious lightning storm followed by an incredible double rainbow glowing in the rain-washed sunset.

Television.  We don’t need no stinkin’ television.



For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056

MAKING LEMONADE

I have a confession to make.  I haven’t told my husband or my kids, but I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.  And it’s all because of a previous mistake.

As I explained in my very first blog, I am a person who likes to plan.  Some (i.e.  my husband and children, my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, all my friends, well, you get the idea) might say over-plan.  But for some reason, or rather for very specific reasons also explained in my very first blog, with this trip I did the exact opposite.

Despite the fact that this is probably the single most complicated thing I’ll ever execute – much more so than my wedding or the countless other weddings and events I coordinated as the owner of a special events company; more so than two moves, one of which was with a toddler and infant twins; more so than the dreaded college application process that we'll be facing in a few years.  Despite my absolute knowledge of that truth, I waited till only a few weeks beforehand to really begin the preparation.

Yes, I had made reservations at the Grand Canyon; and I’m darn lucky I did because those rooms all opened for booking twenty-four months in advance and I snagged mine only eleven months before we were to pull into town.

And that’s where this saga of guilt, hasty atonement, misjudgment, and manipulation begins.

Most everything we do on this trip is a first, and more than likely an only.  As in “This is the only chance we’re going to have to walk on the sand dunes of the California desert.”  Or “This is the only time we’re going to bicycle on Route 66.”  Or more to the point “This is the only trip we’re going to make to the Grand Canyon.”  And my goal has been to make the most of it by not missing any opportunities.

I thought I had gotten a great room only one mile from the entrance to the park.  Yes, there were lodges in the park itself; but they were expensive, not to mention completely unvacant by the time I looked to make a reservation.  When we pulled into the Red Feather lodge, we loved it.  Although one of the least expensive hotels we’ll be staying in, it was also on the more luxurious side.

It was only when we reached Grand Canyon Village after a long day of hiking, saw the cabins and hotels there, and fully realized the unfettered twenty-four hour access those guests had to one of the seven natural wonders of the world, that my regret surfaced.  My family would have had an unforgettable experience if I had gotten myself together far enough in advance and booked one of those rooms.  Gene kept telling me that where we were was perfect, but in my heart I knew he was wrong.  Every time we went past them, my remorse deepened.

Then yesterday, I remembered it.  A way to make up for my mistake.  A way to give my family a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Saturday we would arrive at Cortez, the small Colorado town from which we’re going to explore Mesa Verde National Park.  We'd have a day off there to fully enjoy this amazing Pueblo site, and we were booked into a lovely mom-and-pop motel only ten miles from the entrance to the park.

Sound familiar?

Yeah, to me, too.

I immediately got on-line and went to the website of the glorious, but too expensive only hotel inside Mesa Verde National Park.  I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.  There are times to watch your budget, and times the experience is far more valuable than the extra $100 a night.

Holding my breath I went to the website that’s the only way to book a room and discovered that not only did they have a room available for us; but they now had a special deal running that included the tours we’d planned to take, and ultimately made the whole package less expensive than it would have been if we’d stayed at the mom-and-pop and bought the tours separately.

SCORE!!

I cancelled the mom-and-pop, snagged our once-in-a-lifetime room, and nursed my surprise like a goose sitting on a golden egg about to hatch into a platinum gosling.

Late last night I went back on the website to gloat over my great wisdom and glory in the gift I was giving my family.

That’s when I saw it.  Plain as day and repeated several times as if in warning to make sure everyone fully understood before they made their non-refundable reservations.

“Our rooms are perfectly designed to help you escape the stresses of daily life.  No television or air conditioning to distract you from the beauty of the nature around you.”

How many times had I read that before I made my non-refundable reservation?

"No television to distract you."  No television to distract three children with whom I’m spending 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

"No air conditioning to distract you."  Since when has air conditioning in the desert in the summer been a distraction?

And the only way to go back to the mom-and-pop was to lose the expensive full deposit of our two night stay.  In other words, it was impossible.  It was time for damage control – Mama style.

We’d already been talking about the fact that James and I were getting so many bloody noses because of the air conditioning.  Last night I had another one.  This morning I casually mentioned how nice it might be to stay in a hotel someplace quiet where we could sleep with the windows open and not get so dried out.  James heartily agreed.

Score one for Mama.

Today when we pulled into our latest motel, we were talking about watching our favorite vacation television show, “Cupcake Wars” and the fact that the next episode is coming up on Sunday.

“We’ll be in a new time zone,” James enthused.  “So it’ll be right during dinner.  Can we get our dinner and eat it in front of the television?  Pleeeease!”

You guessed it.  Sunday we’ll be in our fabulous TV-free hotel.

“We’ll have to see,” I responded.  “You know I don’t like to plan things around a television show.  And anyway if we ever miss it, we can watch it when they show it again.”

“They show it again?”

“Oh, yes.  One time during the week.  We just have to find out the day”

“Great.”

Score two for Mama.

“Like the time we’re staying in the cabin in Pueblo.”  I pushed my advantage by bringing up one of the places they’re most excited about.  “We’ll be there on a Sunday, and there’s no television in the cabin.  So we’ll have to watch on the second day.”

“No television?” piped in William in distress.

“Nope.  It’ll be just like when the power went out and we played games,” I countered quickly, following my disarmament strategy.  “I brought UNO and Scrabble, and a bunch of games you’ve never played before.”

“Cool!”

Score three for Mama.

No air conditioning.  No television.  No problem.

Once-in-a-lifetime, here we come!

For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056

AS AMERICAN AS ...

No, we didn’t have apple pie, but we did sit on the curb and watch a parade.  Granted it was a very short parade, maybe 10 floats and no bands; but it was enthusiastic and it was competitive. 

Most of the floats were celebrating the 100^th anniversary of Arizona’s statehood, and a good majority of them included squirting water.  No, not squirting.  That implies the cute little spray of water from an old-fashioned water pistol.  This was more spraying water, even gushing water.  Especially when it came from the fire trucks.  It was amusing to watch the adults step back from the curb while all the kids ran into the street begging to be soaked. 

But this wasn’t the slice of Americana that most touched me.  It was what happened after the parade when the entire town – along with the more intrepid tourists – threw a party.  And what a party it was! 

A double tent had been raised in the field behind the reviewing stand and the sounds of a rockin’ band blasted from it the minute the parade ended.  We wandered around the field trying to choose our lunch from an array of stands selling Navajo tacos, hot dogs, and, of course, that Southwestern staple, barbeque.

In the meantime, the kids knocked down cans with balls, threw beanbags into the holes in a handmade target, and each won a heat of the sack race.  I knew the woman running the race was a mom when she turned to me during the third run and said, “The other two have trophies already, right?”  Each time I look at the three cheap thumbs-up trophies now residing in my front seat cup holders, I send her a little thought of gratitude for her sensitivity in understanding how sibling rivalry that can intensify when you’re living in a minivan for two months. 

Probably the best part, though – aside from the delectable authentic barbeque – was the equally authentic auction where everyone knew everyone else and we heard exchanges like:

Auctioneer:  Forty, forty, do I hear fifty?  Fifty, fifty, I have fifty.  Karen is bidding against you, Darla, but her husband doesn’t look so happy about it.

Darla’s husband:  Keep bidding, Karen.

Auctioneer:  You heard him, Karen.

Once the auction and all its friendly outbidding ended, the band kicked it up and we rocked out while everyone shared the dripping slices left over from the watermelon eating contest.

It wasn’t the picture perfect Norman Rockwell's New England bunting-draped parade and fireworks we're used to on the Fourth of July.  In fact, the fire danger in this part of the country is extreme so fireworks are banned all over the southwest.

Instead it was the open heart of America celebrating itself and taking in the strangers in its midst in much the same way it has for generations.  And I’m so glad my children got to experience it.


For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056

HERDING CATS … ON BICYCLES

The Will Rogers Highway, The Great Diagonal Way, The Main Street of America, The Mother Road.

Whatever you choose to call it, Route 66 is arguably the most legendary piece of pavement in America (apologies to Broadway and Wall Street).  So it came as no surprise that Gene’s excitement at riding its famed blacktop would rub off on the kids.

After rising ridiculously early to backtrack to Ash Fork so Gene wouldn’t miss those 17 miles (see yesterday’s blog), the four of us headed back to our luxurious Motel 6 accommodations (see yesterday’s blog again) with plenty of the time for the Sarah, William and James to have a swim in the indoor pool before donning their Connor’s Army Ride Across America jerseys.

When Gene pulled into the hotel’s parking lot two hours later they all hopped on their bikes and, with various versions of “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” playing in their imaginations, they headed off to live out so many people’s fantasies.

I, of course, drove ahead to chronicle this historic moment in Connor family history.

As I filmed the four of them weaving their way through the morning tourist traffic I almost cried at the amazing memory they’ll have for the rest of their lives.  Then they passed me and all I heard was:

“Stay in a single line.”

“Stop at the stop sign.”

“Don’t ride next to each other.”

“Look before you ride across the street.”

“Single file!”

“Guys, pay attention to the cars.”

And I felt a moment of guilty but gleeful validation as Gene experienced for a half hour or so what I’m going through every day.

You see, there are three of them and there’s only one of me.  Controlling them when they’re excited and want to run off in three different directions is as difficult as keeping three cats in a straight line through a seafood market.  And on this trip they’re excited about something almost every day, so I spend a lot of my time herding cats.

Of course, I’m usually doing it on foot without cars whizzing by within inches of their pedaling legs so he was definitely getting short end of the stick.

I let myself spend a few moments zenning out while listening to my music on the radio, before gathering my kittens and heading off towards our next stop.


For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com

To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org

To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org

To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056