Crossing America - The Journey Begins . . .

As many of you know, recent circumstances have dictated a change in the Graves family lifestyle. Among the most dramatic of these changes is the need to uproot the clan and move from the east to the west coast in order to be closer to family. While I am sure that thousands of people move themselves for similar reasons each year, I doubt many have done so in quite the same fashion.

Picture the following in your mind's eye: two cars and a Uhaul trailer stuffed with our belongings transporting two adults, three children, five dogs, and two cats over a 3200 mile journey from Fredericksburg, Virginia to Grants Pass, Oregon. Six days and five nights later, through wind and rain and summer heat; after passing through thirteen states and three time zones, experiencing the best and worst of America's hotels and motels, we literally fell out of our vehicles and into the arms of parents/grandparents just glad to see us - or so they said at the time.

Along the way, several opportunities arose to observe bits and pieces of the country, it's people, as well as our own family interactions. What follows are a few quick snapshots:

- Driving Can Be a Tanning Experience: I don't know about the rest of you, but I prefer an unbalanced tan - and there's nothing like a long east-west drive to accomplish that fete. The left side of my face, left arm, and even my left knee are the deepest of golden browns. If I didn't look like I emerged from one of those Army testing sites from the 1950's, it would almost be chic . . .

- The Early Pioneers Were On To Something - As a historian, I have always admired the early settlers who crossed the continent in their Conestoga Wagons, braving the elements and unfriendly natives. I especially remember reading as a child about their frequent jettisoning of furniture, etc. when the need arose for a lighter load over some tortuous mountain pass or muddy trail. I was also ready to jettison some items from our vehicle along the way - not for a lighter load - but because the whining, barking, and meowing would occasionally rise to an unbearable crescendo. And that was just the kids . . .

- Gotta Love State Nicknames - I've never been big on nicknames, either for people or things, though I loved the recurring skit on Saturday Night Live with Rob Schneider as the office flak incessantly offering up nicknames for any colleague who wandered near his cubicle. However, during our trek I saw the validity and the fading appropriateness of the various monickers attached to the states we passed through. Among the most appropriate name we encountered was West Virginia's "The Mountain State". No doubt about it, after three hours of driving through one of John Denver's favorite locales, there was not a flat spot to be seen. Eerily, very few people either . . . Through Indiana I kept looking for a Hoosier, but without knowing what they looked like, they adroitly escaped my notice. I was vastly disappointed by at least one state - Nebraska. Driving along the entire length of what has to be one of the flattest states in the nation, I saw not one field of corn, let alone anyone "husking" some . . . Finally, my birthplace - California aka "The Golden State" doesn't seem so golden anymore. Between closed rest stops - usually avoided, but critical with the menagerie we were transporting - potholed roads, and just a general sense of slow decay in public works, the economy has taken its toll on California. Perhaps some consideration should be given to changing the state motto from "Eureka" - I have found it! to What the hell happened? - I'm a little weak on the Latin translation . . .

Of course, there was much more to our sojourn than simply tanning and discovering the occasional misdirected state name. Over the next few weeks, I hope to share more and to draw you even deeper into my experiences. I've always thought it easier to share one's pain than to suffer alone in silence . . .