Here comes the summer...finally some poems I wrote from our cross country trip--I caught up with the family in Minnesota after they'd been on the road for a week, and then to South Dakota to visit our dear friends Rob and Jeanne Schwarz, who work on the Standing Rock Reservation (Rob as a priest, Jeanne as...everything...). You will note that the South Dakota poem comes with reference and photographic evidence of target practice, though it's hard to call it "practice" when I've never shot a gun before and am not eager to do so again. Kids were heroic, husband drove our hopelessly out-of-its-league-with-trailer Subaru wagon brilliantly. There was about 90 minutes in Montana when I drove it and I am not proud of the outcome so I'll leave it at that.
Some numbers:
Over 10,000 miles driven
Visited 8
National Parks, (or 7?)
Purchased 8 new tires
(five for the car, two plus a spare for the tent trailer), one clutch, one back windshield
One song on constant repeat: This Land is Your Land by Woody Guthrie (thanks, 3 1/2 year old A.)
And one best quote: “Your’uns problem
is y’uns ain’t from here” (Gary W., Hot Springs, NC, charitably observing that the choices that lead to the lost trailer in the woods were "misguided" rather than "[expletive deleted] stupid.").
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