And now as I write this I'm in a suburb of Nashville, in a Starbucks next to the only REI in Tennessee, where I just bought a new tent. I really like my ultralight double rainbow, but I finally realized that while traveling by car, I might as well get a decent car tent. So I just splurged four hundred and fifty bucks on a REI Kingdom 6 tent. Plenty of room for the metal cot that I bought in Austin, and which I used on the beach when I was in Corpus Christi.
It's very uncanny to be back in Nashville. The last time I was here was in twenty four years ago during a cross country road trip with a friend of mine. We were in a car accident here and I barely escaped with my life.
I'm going to try to get out alive this time.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Six weeks into the trip
It has been almost six weeks since I left Fort Collins. I've always six weeks is about the time it really takes to get used to being in motion on the road. Maybe it's just hitting me now, how faraway my life before I left on the road now seems.
A month before that, I hadn't even known I was going to take this trip. But a letter arrived one afternoon with the unmistakable return address of the University of Texas. At first I just thought it was an alumni solicitation, but I noticed that below the address was typed the name of the chairman of the physics department, the same chairman as in 1989 when I first went to Austin.
It turned out to be an invitation to a banquet in honor of the recent retirees of the physics department, including my thesis advisor, Dr. William C. Schieve, whom I hadn't even known had retired. That's how out of touch I've been with that part of my life.
I immediately knew I had to go, so with a month's preparation I was back on the road, heading back to Texas for the first time since 2000, and to Austin for the first time since 1999.
I took three days to get down there, crossing the Colorado Eastern Plains just as I did in 1989, when I went down to Texas to flush out the residue of bad experiences in my final year in college in Oregon, and to start a brand new life. In so many ways, that restart was as successful as I could have hoped.
Ironically in recent years I've felt pulled back into the undergraduate experiences, and have felt as if I got stuck in the some of the same old emotions that needed clearning out. As I headed down towards the panhandle across the desolation of the plains, I wondered if I might evoke some of the same kind of renewal.
I went hiking in the Comanche National Grasslands on a hot afternoon, then cut across the tip of the Oklahoma panhandle. The minute I crossed the Texas border and saw the outline of the Lone Star State on the sign, I felt my soul lift and could feel the influence of so many bad emotions that gotten stuck in me begin to melt away, as if they immediately began to have diminishing influence on me. I'm not 24 years old anymore---that kind of abandoned unbounded optimistic renewal is just not something I can muster, I think. There is too much water under the bridge. But it felt as close to it as possible, for where I was at the time.
I stayed in the night in Amarillo and the next evening I was back in Austin. The next day I picked up my friend Arjendu, who shared my same advisor, and who is now a dean at Carleton College in Minnesota, with a ton of real responsibilities. Ironically he's a good friend of the current president of my undergraduate college in Oregon, who is a Carleton alumnus.
That night we went to the banquet at the alumni hall. Upon entering I was flooded with a barrage of memories of faces I'd somewhat forgotten, of the faculty members I used to see day in and day out.
On the front table at the reception were the name badges. I laughed when I saw them, because mine was all by itself in the corner, right next to Steven Weinberg. I told Arjendu it's not every day I see my name right next to Weinberg's. But the petty egotism of that moment was more than balanced by a wry poignancy at how little I've managed to accomplish.
My advisor did not know I was coming and it brought tears to his eyes when he saw me after so many years. It was a splendid occassion. All of us who were his students crowded around one table and we even got to stand up together as a testament to the fidelity of his former students.
I
A month before that, I hadn't even known I was going to take this trip. But a letter arrived one afternoon with the unmistakable return address of the University of Texas. At first I just thought it was an alumni solicitation, but I noticed that below the address was typed the name of the chairman of the physics department, the same chairman as in 1989 when I first went to Austin.
It turned out to be an invitation to a banquet in honor of the recent retirees of the physics department, including my thesis advisor, Dr. William C. Schieve, whom I hadn't even known had retired. That's how out of touch I've been with that part of my life.
I immediately knew I had to go, so with a month's preparation I was back on the road, heading back to Texas for the first time since 2000, and to Austin for the first time since 1999.
I took three days to get down there, crossing the Colorado Eastern Plains just as I did in 1989, when I went down to Texas to flush out the residue of bad experiences in my final year in college in Oregon, and to start a brand new life. In so many ways, that restart was as successful as I could have hoped.
Ironically in recent years I've felt pulled back into the undergraduate experiences, and have felt as if I got stuck in the some of the same old emotions that needed clearning out. As I headed down towards the panhandle across the desolation of the plains, I wondered if I might evoke some of the same kind of renewal.
I went hiking in the Comanche National Grasslands on a hot afternoon, then cut across the tip of the Oklahoma panhandle. The minute I crossed the Texas border and saw the outline of the Lone Star State on the sign, I felt my soul lift and could feel the influence of so many bad emotions that gotten stuck in me begin to melt away, as if they immediately began to have diminishing influence on me. I'm not 24 years old anymore---that kind of abandoned unbounded optimistic renewal is just not something I can muster, I think. There is too much water under the bridge. But it felt as close to it as possible, for where I was at the time.
I stayed in the night in Amarillo and the next evening I was back in Austin. The next day I picked up my friend Arjendu, who shared my same advisor, and who is now a dean at Carleton College in Minnesota, with a ton of real responsibilities. Ironically he's a good friend of the current president of my undergraduate college in Oregon, who is a Carleton alumnus.
That night we went to the banquet at the alumni hall. Upon entering I was flooded with a barrage of memories of faces I'd somewhat forgotten, of the faculty members I used to see day in and day out.
On the front table at the reception were the name badges. I laughed when I saw them, because mine was all by itself in the corner, right next to Steven Weinberg. I told Arjendu it's not every day I see my name right next to Weinberg's. But the petty egotism of that moment was more than balanced by a wry poignancy at how little I've managed to accomplish.
My advisor did not know I was coming and it brought tears to his eyes when he saw me after so many years. It was a splendid occassion. All of us who were his students crowded around one table and we even got to stand up together as a testament to the fidelity of his former students.
I
Goodbye Memphis
I finally left Memphis this morning. It was hard to say good-bye. I'd been there a little over two weeks, including one week all by myself at Greg's townhouse on Mud Island, in the delightful Harbortown development. I dogsitted Lou, walking him twice a day along the Mississippi and being in awe of the flow of the current every time I saw it.
It had been two and half years since I'd last been in Memphis and stayed him Greg and his two boys, of whom he shares custody with his wife. It's like a little male bachelor paradise when I there, and become one of the clan---like some kind of sit-com. But of course it's all coming to an end---or at least changing, at the end of June when Greg gets married to Caitlin, who currently lives in Omaha with her two teenage daughters. The women are all moving down to Memphis later this summer, and they will all live together. The Brady Bunch jokes have been flying around a lot. It will quite a change for them all. And alas, no more bachelor paradise.
Greg is about the most incredible host and friend I could possibly imagine having. I knew him in high school, but ironically he and I were not good friends until a couple years ago, when I had friended him on Facebook, along with half of my graduating class. When I was passing through Memphis in the fall of 2009, I contacted him, and he enthusiastically invited me. It was as if we were long-lost best friends. It was a nice balance to the loss of many old friends I've felt over the last few years.
This time, when I wasn't by myself dog-sitting while Greg was away on business, the four of us spent the time lounging watching television, going to trivia night at the nearby pizza place (we came in second place last night thanks partly to my knowledge of 1980's Country Music and the fact that Wyoming is the least populous state of the union).
I even got to get in some theater-going. Greg's older son Nate, who is in middle school at the Montessori school just across the street from their townhouse, was in a production of Shakespeare that was performed in the basement of St. Mary's (Episcopal) Cathedral (which has incredible stained glass, by the way). The production was performed by the middle schoolers and was called "Hamlet in their own words." It was essentially Hamlet but with the dialog transcribed into phrases and sentences by the kids themselves, interpreting it in modern language.
Ironically it was the second such highly adapted Hamlet performance I've seen in the past year, the other one being a spoofish repetoire of all of Shakespeare's plays performed in one night, in Forest Grove, Oregon.
Before the show in Memphis, I assumed it would be an abridged production of Hamlet, since it was done without scenery or costumes on a small stage. To my surprise, I induced from the first scene that there would little abridgement of the story.
In all fairness, the kids did a great job for this type of production. It was amazing on many levels, in fact, that they could pull it off. But in all fairness, it's hard to compete with the original poetic wording of the bard.
It had been two and half years since I'd last been in Memphis and stayed him Greg and his two boys, of whom he shares custody with his wife. It's like a little male bachelor paradise when I there, and become one of the clan---like some kind of sit-com. But of course it's all coming to an end---or at least changing, at the end of June when Greg gets married to Caitlin, who currently lives in Omaha with her two teenage daughters. The women are all moving down to Memphis later this summer, and they will all live together. The Brady Bunch jokes have been flying around a lot. It will quite a change for them all. And alas, no more bachelor paradise.
Greg is about the most incredible host and friend I could possibly imagine having. I knew him in high school, but ironically he and I were not good friends until a couple years ago, when I had friended him on Facebook, along with half of my graduating class. When I was passing through Memphis in the fall of 2009, I contacted him, and he enthusiastically invited me. It was as if we were long-lost best friends. It was a nice balance to the loss of many old friends I've felt over the last few years.
This time, when I wasn't by myself dog-sitting while Greg was away on business, the four of us spent the time lounging watching television, going to trivia night at the nearby pizza place (we came in second place last night thanks partly to my knowledge of 1980's Country Music and the fact that Wyoming is the least populous state of the union).
I even got to get in some theater-going. Greg's older son Nate, who is in middle school at the Montessori school just across the street from their townhouse, was in a production of Shakespeare that was performed in the basement of St. Mary's (Episcopal) Cathedral (which has incredible stained glass, by the way). The production was performed by the middle schoolers and was called "Hamlet in their own words." It was essentially Hamlet but with the dialog transcribed into phrases and sentences by the kids themselves, interpreting it in modern language.
Ironically it was the second such highly adapted Hamlet performance I've seen in the past year, the other one being a spoofish repetoire of all of Shakespeare's plays performed in one night, in Forest Grove, Oregon.
Before the show in Memphis, I assumed it would be an abridged production of Hamlet, since it was done without scenery or costumes on a small stage. To my surprise, I induced from the first scene that there would little abridgement of the story.
In all fairness, the kids did a great job for this type of production. It was amazing on many levels, in fact, that they could pull it off. But in all fairness, it's hard to compete with the original poetic wording of the bard.
Friday, May 25, 2012
St. Mary's Cathedral, Memphis
At Nate's graduation. I love stained glass.
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Sunday, May 6, 2012
Success in the dunes
Now let's see if she lasts the night in the wind off the Gulf---Mustang Island State Park.
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