Introducing the O’Kardias

They’re the ones on the left – although it’s all a matter of perspective.  We wrangle, us Kardias, about this “O’Kardia” designation – just what makes one “other?”

I guess it starts with the question of just what makes a Kardia in the first place.  As far as we know, there are six of us in existence, brought into being through a shared history.  Joe and Gabe are the originals – born into this world as Kardias.  The rest of us gathered around them and each other, the making of family.

And one of the things this extended family does together is cavort, at least this particular collection of us.  When we can find a weekend free, Joe and I join forces with Patti and Gabe and set our sights on adventure.  So, it’s only fair to include them in this blog.  Waterparks, zoos, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame…I’ve got some catching up to do, especially since another weekend wandering is in the making.

But for now the purpose is to use the power of blogging to set the record straight on this O’Kardia thing (as long as I’m the one writing, it’s them), and to give you just a glimpse of what it’s like to travel with these two boys:

3745 miles…

…Arizona to Ann Arbor, the scenic route.  Amazing.  This is just a short post to say that we made it – there are still stories to tell of our last few days and nights, not to mention the “best of” feature that Joe and I will be compiling.  And Thursday night we compare stories and pictures with the other cavorting Kardias (affectionately referred to as the O’Kardias, although it’s an on-going family fight about which ones of us are really “other”) – Patti and Gabe Kardia made nearly the exact same trip just a month ago (planned totally independently of ours – the universe is a weird place sometimes).

The overlaps are already disconcerting, from arriving late last night to find momentos that we hadn’t bought but that were from all the places we visited to learning from their tales this morning that our late night drive from Yellowstone to Cody in the dark meant we missed what has been billed as the “52 most scenic miles in America.”  Darn!  I guess we’ll just have to do this again!

Duluth

Well, Wisconsin and Michigan will have to wait.  Today was just one of those slow days all day long – we left the campground later, drove slower, and ran into construction delays and Minneapolis rush hour.  That leaves us nearly 500 miles to drive tomorrow, but that will just have to be.

Here’s what kept us distracted this morning at the campground:

The videos are even better, but I haven’t figured out that level of technology here to enable showing those.

And then this was a stop I had to make along the way:

The petroglyphs on a rock ridge in the middle of native prairie, surrounded by corn fields, were simply mesmerizing.  Created by a wide range of tribes across thousands and thousands of years, this was definitely a place of power.

I have no pictures of the more than two hours (or was it three – it becomes such a blur) it took to wend our way through Minneapolis amidst detours, traffic jams, and construction delays.  But I have great memories of working with Joe and the map to find alternate routes, and alternates to the alternates, and back-up plans even for those.  It did give us an experience of the city of lakes that we wouldn’t have had otherwise.

It was also a great demonstration of unbendable intent.  No matter the blocks, slow downs, twists or turns, there was no doubt in our mind that we were getting through to the other side – we just had to keep finding a way.  And with no preconceived notions about how that should happen, each new moment was just a discovery, with no reason for stress, worry, or frustration.

A great reminder for all the other journeys of life.

Many Landscapes

I’m sitting in the cool morning breezes in Jackson, MN, this laptop on the picnic table, my cappacino beside me (thanks again, Naide, for the amazing milk frother from Italy!), freshly showered (first one in I won’t admit how many days), enjoying being 45.

Joe and I went to a drive-in movie theater in an Iowa corn field last night  to see the Harry Potter movie.  We had checked the movie times back in Mitchell, SD, (a couple of hours west of here) when the Corn Palace turned out to be far less interesting than all the many wonders we’d seen to date.  But that one would have meant hanging out in town for an hour.  I wasn’t sure I had it in my to keep driving, but I made Joe promise to talk to me (instead of reading or being on his computer which is his norm), and the miles sailed on by.  The reward was the flyer at kamper registration (yes, another KOA – how else do you think I could be blogging?) for the drive-in.  And the guy at the ticket booth gave me a free popcorn to add to the celebration.

We’re finding that our attentions go in cycles on this trip.  Two days ago we loved everything we saw.  Yesterday, most of it felt like a bust.  Some of that comes from the nature of what we were seeing – or, rather, the lack of nature.  Wall Drug is interesting in its own way, but too big of a contrast to being surrounded by a herd a buffalo for us to have much interest in it.  But also at play was the reality that we can only sustain an outward attention so long – eventually we just need to go inward and enjoy that landscape for awhile.  Given that, even the Badlands were not particularly riveting.  (But I do still think they’re cool.)

With that in mind, here are a few of the internal sights I’ve seen…
…spending a summer in the Black Hills as a mine tour guide
…writing a book about the entry of women into the mining world in the 1970s (yes, that mining tour really did have an effect)
…cultivating a client list of people across the country and then taking a road trip 3-4 times a year to see them all (doing the in between work with them over the phone)
…painting a portrait of this moment in the KOA bathroom:  nine Native American teenagers on their way to their first SunDance, blow drying and curling their hair, putting on their make-up, surrounded by five young Amish sisters, the younger ones just waiting for their turns in the stalls, but the adolescent among them watching intently
…driving on my own back to Arizona – wondering what route I’ll take, what there will be to see, and what it will be like to do all this without Joe

At the moment the key difference in doing this without Joe would be not listening to a whiney grumpy teenager who isn’t interested in taking a shower now that he’s all up and dressed.  (“Why didn’t you remind me before I got dressed?!?”)  Another blessing of this trip is the ongoing opportunity to explore and develop that key parenting line that is always a work in progress:  when do I just get to say so and when are we in a moment of negotiation between two individuals with their own ideas, needs, and possibilities.

With the shower, it’s easy – and to his credit he made it through his grumpiness and is now off getting clean (thankfully!).  But with a road trip where nothing is a given except the ending point and date, we’ve had lots of moments to discover the benefits and challenges of being in this thing together.  And for that I’m very grateful.  I definitely needed to update my software to be ready for Parenting v 14.11:  high school.

Today is Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan – whooee.  Hopefully tonight we sleep in the Porcupine Mountains.  But who knows – Joe and I will figure it out as we go.

A is for Antelope…

…abundantly found
B is for buffalo
roaming around…

Joe and I have completed the whole alphabet (Z is for Zion, the zenith of all) although there’s likely much more we’ll see yet.  (Free ice water still to come at Wall Drug.)  Since our last post, though (and our last internet access), we’ve had so many delights, we just had to commit them to, well, to letters.  (What else?)

Ok, I’ve just spent 45 minutes figuring out how to get pictures included in this post (and the one before) – happy now?  Now I just need to stay awake long enough to add the verbal details…

So, here’s what’s been happening since our last kamping experience.  (Yes, we’re at another KOA tonight – this one in Hot Springs, SD.)

The Grand Tetons were grand, but, well, they were so far away!  After the in-your-face overwhelming beauty of Zion, Joe and I both had a bit of a hard time fully appreciating them. If there had been time to hike, it might have been another matter, but driving through they were just, well, nice.

At first Yellowstone threatened to be a disappointment as well – the parking lot of Old Faithful was massive and filled to the brim with cars and RVs and people.  And the viewing platform was just so tame, a huge circle of people just sitting and waiting…even the event itself was smaller, shorter, less mesmerizing than I had anticipated.

But from there we saw bubbling mud and wild colors and beautiful canyons and waterfalls and a magnificent elk, and the reality of walking around on an active volcano with all its geothermal effects really began to sink in, and yeah, we were glad to be there.

We stayed late and drove out of the park in the dark, finding our way to Cody, WY, after 11 p.m.  We’ve since learned we still could have found a campsite somewhere, but being new to this system we grabbed a cheap hotel (and an indoor private shower, but no internet).

Devils Tower was amazing – the core of a volcano revealed in all its glory, reaching up to spirit.  Did you know that the name has little or no roots in the actual names used by the native people who know it as sacred?  All of their stories and names refer to the medecine of the bear.  Plus, it was a typo that left out the original apostrophe – one of those errors that lives on in infamy.

Last night we stayed in a national forest campground in the Black Hills – quiet and lovely and serene.  Joe walked down to the nearby lake to read and found himself face to face with a buck.  I think that same one, with three does, came and visited me a little while later.

Today has been all the delights of the Black Hills area – Custer State Park wildlife loop; Needles Highway; Sylvan Lake (it’s all still wonderful, Shar); a dinner of buffalo, elk, and beef; Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Mountain, and a tour of a gold mine – one of the more interesting tours I’ve taken.  If it weren’t past 1 a.m. now I’d give you all the details…but they’ll have to wait.  Except for this:  did you know these are the oldest mountains in the world?

And also this – I talked to a man who worked at 8,000 feet down in the mine, following in the steps of  his father.  (He was the hot dog vendor now – the mine closed in 2002 when the price of gold dropped to $200 and it was too expensive to mine gold at this altitude).  At 8,000 feet the walls of the mine are 137 degrees, although the ventilation system keeps it in the 80s and 90s.  But my favorite part of his tale was how he and his father fell in love with mining because of the feeling of being surrounded by the earth, embraced by it.  He laughed a little self-consciously as he told me, trying to explain it.  “It must be the warmth, you know?”  But you could see in his eyes, it was more than the temperature.

Here’s a picture of what Joe has looked like the whole time – he’s borrowed a fancy digital camera from one of his middle school teachers and is having a blast with it (thanks, Joe G!).  The man in the background is just funny.

And here’s a little artifact from Jackson Hole, WY – we didn’t stop to inquire, so I don’t know how many antlers went into creating this.  But we passed at least two others just like it.

Tomorrow is the Badlands, Wall Drug, and the Corn Palace…life is good.  Stay tuned…

Kamping

After 11 hours of driving today, I wanted to be sure we had a place to sleep – so when we crossed into Wyoming I called  the KOA in Jackson Hole.  They would be open for arrivals until 10 p.m., a timing we would just barely be making, and they had one tent camping spot left.  $40 assured us it would be waiting for us.

Now we sit in our tent in front of our computers, fully connected to the world wide web and the like.  Can you believe it?  KOA camping is such a host of contradictions – from the very tiny spot we have, squeezed in

The view outside our tent window

between our vehicle and the one next to us, to the lovely sound of the rushing river not 10 feet away from where our pillows lay.  I’m glad we’re here for only one night, but also I’m glad we’re here.

Last night was stories of family and a fluffy bed and a home cooked meal prepared by my father’s sister, Louella.  She and her husband, Don, live in a lovely house overlooking Saint George, UT, and they were gracious hosts.  We joined them for breakfast as well, so it was 10:30 this morning before our road adventures began.

So then we faced the question:  hoof it for Yellowstone, or see a bit of Utah along the way.  Thankfully, we chose the latter – Zion was so amazing I can’t imagine not having seen it.  Of course, I’d probably be saying the same thing about Bryce if we’d taken that detour as well, but that was where we drew the line.  Yet, the rest of Utah and Wyoming did not disappoint – this country is just stunning.  And the pictures are now here.

As for the song Joe sang about how in love he was with the scenery, that you will just have to imagine.  It was delightful.

Less delightful were the bugs along the Hoback River as we drove the last hour or so tonight.  Literally, they sounded like rain on the windshield, a constant pitter patter that cut visibility by at least half.  The windshield wipers decreased it further, turning the bug gut dots into long smears.  Their multitude greeted us as well when we stopped at the one gas station we found where we could cleanse them away.  Thankfully, they were not also waiting here for us at the cam…I mean, kampsite, and we were able to raise the tent in relative peace.

Now I’m ready to stop acting like I’m at a hotel and snuggle in with my flashlight, a good book, and the sounds of water.  After, of course, I go use the flush toilets and see if there’s anything that needs buying at the gift shop.

Joe and Diana are at it Again!

Ok, all you travelling fans – tonight is the eve of another cavort!  In the early a.m. hours tomorrow we pack up the truck and head cross country from Arizona to Michigan, with intent to see Old Faithful, the Corn Palace, Yoopers, and other sights only to be seen in the good ol’ US of A.

Our wheels will be in motion July 18-27 and we anticipate crossing state lines through 9 states and at least 4 national parks.  This time we’ll have a tent thrown in the bed of the truck and be looking for small towns rather than the big cities.  We’ve got 14 hours of the BBC Lord of the Rings radio play to listen to, as well as other audio treats.  And we have a camera – two of them! – so we may even go beyond words in this blog.

We will leave Scottsdale to its 115 degree weather as we head to our first stop:  a family visit in Saint George, UT (where the forecast tells us it will be a refreshing 110 degrees).  Then on to Wyoming, although it’s likely that Zion and/or Bryce will lure us in along the way.

So, stay tuned!  The fun is just beginning (fun as in getting a 14-year-old out the door at 7 a.m. when his favorite bedtime is way too close to that time…)

Best of Texas, Kardia-style

3030 miles (at 23.5 mpg), five cities, six hotels, no pictures, eight blog entries, ten souvenirs, two riverboat rides, four astronaut movies, four fast food meals, four meals at restaurants, five food purchases from street vendors (all on the same night), endless snacking out of the cooler and backseat food supplies, eleven stops for gas…it was a good trip. And thanks to Christmas cash from family members, and the hotel discount from Laurie, the hotel costs were covered. Kisses to all of you.

Here are more highlights:

Worst value for the money: the Wiglee souvenir (meant to magically move, Joe swore it involved no strings – but, alas, it does; plus it fell apart pretty quickly)

Best value for the money: First Night Austin, hands down

Best hotel: the Sheraton Suites in Houston (not under construction like most of the others, plus the wonderful gift of having a door we could close and be in separate rooms – we didn’t make a lot of use of it, but it was welcome after being with each other 24/7)

Best hotel lobby decor: Westin in Houston – elegant, simple, relaxing

Best room design: San Antonio Sheraton Gunter Hotel (except for the fact that the blowers were right outside the room and LOUD! Joe liked their white noise but it drove me crazy. But the room was beautiful.)

Best meal: that one in Dallas with ribs, sausage, and quail – and a great bowl of chili to boot

Biggest unanticipated cost: that the parking fees at every hotel meant it cost nearly as much for the truck to rest as it did for a person

Biggest splurge: the bicycle cart ride back to the hotel from new years eve in Austin

Most touristy thing we did: the Alamo (runner-up: two boat rides along the Riverwalk
(Giving San Antonio the most touristy award overall)

Weirdest place we went:
Good weird – First Night Austin
Weird weird – Casino El Camino bar/restaurant in Austin
(Proving that Austin is indeed “keeping it weird”)

Most educational experience: Space Center Houston (Runner-up:  all those episodes of Mythbusters we watched)

Most explosions: many back-to-back episodes of “Destroyed in Seconds” on the Discovery channel; Runner-up: watching many blast-offs at the Space Center

Best hangman word:
Hardest – firework
Most interesting – pull my finger

Weather highlights: Warmest day: 80 degrees; Coldest day: 38 degrees (both in Dallas, two days apart from each other); Most humidity: 95% (Houston)

Worst in-room hotel coffee: Austin Sheraton (Maxwell House! The rest were Starbucks.)

Best lobby to hang out in (sunny, pretty, interesting people): Austin Sheraton

Best street food: steak and cheese meat pies (Joe); black bean tamale (Diana – Joe’s the one who ate it but I had a bite, and am still salivating as I write this)

Best gas price: $1.35/gallon; Worst gas price: $1.75/gallon (although I drove past higher)

Longest drive: 17 hours, leaving the Dallas airport at noon and getting into my own bed in Phoenix at 5 a.m.

Best souvenir: fiber optic lamp (Joe); postcards, beads from First Night Austin, crystal points Joe found at a tourist shop, all now part of my decor (Diana)

Best freeze dried food: strawberries

Best moment: riding in the snake skeleton (Joe); having Joe tell me how great his childhood memories are going to be (right after he rode in the snake skeleton) (Diana)

Best realization: that Joe’s best moment was one I wasn’t a part of (I was guarding our place at the bridge railing for the fireworks and so didn’t see it at all) and yet even as he grows up and goes off and has more of his own independent experiences, there are still ways to deeply and satisfyingly share our lives

If you’ve been reading along, stay tuned. We’re home from Texas, but something tells me there will be more journey stories to tell…

Houston, We Have More Than a Problem

If you ever have the chance to go to Space Center Houston, go.  From a strictly practical point of view, it’s the best designed educational/entertainment/tourist experience I’ve ever been to – the displays, the interactivity, the layout…a truly satisfying, interesting, and inspiring way to spend a day.  We had a four and a half hour drive that evening to get from Houston to Dallas, and still we stayed and stayed.

Space Center Houston immerses you in a fascinating intersection of history, present, and the future revealing insights about human nature and capacity that speak to why and how we live these lives of ours.  You don’t have to want to travel to Mars yourself to appreciate the ingenuity, determination, humility, excellence, and spirit that makes up the complexity of the space program.

The stories that get our attention – the ones that I myself gravitate toward as well – are the ones where things did not go well:  Apollo 13, the Challenger, Columbia.  Therein lie the movies, and the memories that get seared in our brains.  Like any disasters, they are points of reckoning and transition where we learn the limits of what we have accomplished as well as the substance of what carries us beyond.

But surrounding and embedded within each problem is truly a staggering amount of success.  That realization came home to me as I surveyed the vastness of the details and individuals and ideas that come together to make space travel possible.  From presidential decrees and the advent of liquid fuel as a propellant to the intricate design of cables and toilets and gloves to the language and symbols used to describe and understand this quest, there is a gathering together of vision and intelligence and possibility that is astounding.

At its largest level, it is a testimony to the breadth and depth of relationship in balance with the power of the individual.  In order to risk and explore space, every detail shines out in its unique and vital significance – and yet it is only in the union of those pieces that the journey is made.  A clear image of this is an astronaut getting “installed” in a space suit – at one level, only the astronaut is making that step, and yet that one vulnerable human being is clearly so intricately and intimately connected within a human web of intent, care, and commitment.

I felt like Joe and I spent the day being sponges, soaking up the richness that was there in such abundance.  On the drive to Dallas we ate freeze dried strawberries and just let it all sink in. I don’t even know yet  what struck him as most significant – it was kind of like scuba diving where you are too immersed in the experience to be able to actually discuss it with your companions.  And my own integration is just beginning to reveal itself to me.

Texan Heroes, and Mine

Texas has the biggest freestanding statue of an American figure.  (Go figure.)  Sam Houston stands ghostly against the dark night, looking for all the world as if he’s walking down the center of I-45 until you get close enough to see that, no, he’s only standing by the side of the road.  (The world’s biggest hitchhiker?)

Good ol’ Sam beat Santa Anna – the bad guy in the Alamo story.  Do you know the Alamo story?  You remember the Alamo, of course – everyone remembers the Alamo!  It would be difficult to grow up in the US and not somewhere have been commanded to do so. But I’ll admit my Yankee ignorance:  I had no idea what I was remembering it for.

Texans, though, they’ve got this story down.  Everywhere you look there are streets and cities  named Houston and Crockett and Travis and Bowie.  (No, not the rock star.)  And big statues and monuments.  And parks and universities.  Those heroes are everywhere.  Texans know how to REMEMBER!

Well, it turns out they’re not the only ones.  Joe remembered the Alamo.  Not just as some vague phrase, like me, but the story, in detail.  In fact, when I tried to drag him over to the orator who was telling the story of those fateful days when so many Texans died he protested, “Mom!  I can tell you it better than he can.”  And it turns out he was right.  All through the grounds and as we walked back to the hotel, Joe regaled me with the history of the Alamo – Santa Anna’s rise to power, followed by his exile, followed by Mexico wooing him back so that he could do bad things like the Alamo.  How women and children were spared, in part to be the messengers of Santa Anna’s victory.  How Travis was a better leader than Bowie (who turned things over to Travis due to illness). How what’s called the Bowie knife isn’t really modeled after the real knife Bowie used.  I was amazed.

The statue I’m ready to build now is to Joe Griffith, my Joe’s social studies teacher for the past two and half years.  He’s impressed me before.  He’s committed and creative, and he inspires the kids to get in there and really engage with the details, bringing them to life in re-enactments, debates, and discussions.  And he refuses to ever tell the kids his own political leanings – the mark of a truly great teacher in my book, one whose first and only priority is to get the kids to think for themselves.

While I’m at it, I’d be happy to build two Joe statues – because I’m pretty impressed with my kid, too.  Curious, funny, intelligent, interested in the world, and willing to meet me in the middle of nowhere (or at least what once was nowhere on our mental maps) for no other reason than to have a bit of adventure.  And he makes a darn good tour guide, too.