Ruthann and I just arrived back home from a jaunt up to
South Dakota to see Mt. Rushmore, a site both of us had longed to see since we
first heard about it in grade school.
I found it every bit as wonderful as I imagined.
We drove our trusty 2001 Honda CRV 3,027 total miles without
so much as a hiccup. Thank you, our Japanese engineer friends!
We entered and left six states counting our own. We stayed
in four motels and one historic hotel. We ate in a dozen restaurants ranging
from cheap fast food to pricey lah-dee-dah. We bought gas a dozen times at
roadside marts. We became two in a band of hundreds of tourists from all over
the world at various attractions. I estimate we had personal interactions with over
100 individuals who were strangers to us, and with only one exception, they
were friendly, eager to talk, gave off a happy appearance, and just generally
made you feel proud to be part of such a great people. Let me tell you about a few.
Jessica, the nursing
student
In
a restaurant in downtown Chadron, Nebraska, this young lady with a broad and
beautiful smile was as charming as she was efficient. A nursing student in her
third year of college, she was following in the footsteps of her mom who was
also a nurse. She was obviously focused on completing her education so she
could take her place. I was impressed that she chose a helping profession, and
she exuded contentment with her choice. Makes you feel good about the next
generation.
Anonymous Illinois young
couple with three small children
At
the Crazy Horse Memorial in the same vicinity as Mt. Rushmore, I asked the
father to snap a picture of Ruthann and me. They in turn asked if I’d do the
same. Immediately following an older guy and his wife stepped up and asked if
I’d take their picture. I asked where he was from and coincidentally they were
from Illinois, too (But they didn’t know the young couple. I asked.). It is
surely remarkable that we spontaneously trust a total stranger to be
responsible for such an important family memento.
The Mexican national
at the front desk of a motel
With
a big smile and an easy friendliness, speaking impeccable English with no
discernible accent, this young man asked where I was from, and I told him I was
the proud mayor of Fredericksburg, TX. He then asked who I was going to vote
for in the upcoming presidential election. He said when he becomes naturalized
he will vote for Obama. Thus began and ended an exchange between strangers
about one of the three things you’re never suppose to talk about with even the
best of friends.
Motorcycle guy and
wife who took our pic at geographic center in SD
The
geographic center of the US became Belle Forche, South Dakota, since the addition
of Alaska and Hawaii. We arrived at this secluded spot simultaneously with a
couple on a Harley-Davidson. Out of 300 million people in the US, we were the
only four at that site on that morning. They were dressed to fit the part,
tight-fitting “Harley” T-shirt with the sleeves cut out, black leather pants with
chains decorating it, imposing boots, and a doo-rag. When they saw us walking
up he asked if I’d like them to take a picture. “Sure,” I said. “I’m a
professional photographer,” he added. The picture, of course, turned out great.
Sabrina, the interior
design grad
Waiting
on us at a restaurant in Rapid City was this young lady, extremely friendly and
efficient. I asked her to tell us her story. She just graduated with a degree
in interior design, and was working two jobs awaiting her boyfriend to graduate
so they can get married. One job was waiting tables, and the other was as an
apprentice in her field. She probably makes less at two jobs than I do at one, yet she
reeked of contentment.
Hotel Desk Clerk who
told us our room was haunted
Cell
phone service was non-existent in western South Dakota, a feature of life, by
the way, that commended itself highly to me. We asked the desk clerk at the
hotel about using our room phone to call out long distance. She asked what room
we were in. “812,” I said. “Oh, you’re in the haunted room,” she replied. She
then chirpily tells us the story. Turns out that over the 80-year lifespan of
the hotel, 30 years apart, two women had hurled themselves out the window to
end their lives. Both did it from Room 812.
Couple from Wisconsin
Each
of the two nights we were in Rapid City, we enjoyed a pre-dinner libation
sitting outdoors on the street next to the pub attached to the hotel. The first
night a couple from Wisconsin sat at the table next to us. We had a
conversation about travel as easy as if they were old friends.
“Spit and Whittle”
group at the gas station in Lebanon, KS
The
previous geographical center of the US prior to Alaska and Hawaii was Lebanon,
Kansas. Since we stumbled on to the current spot and took a picture, we felt we
had to do so in Kansas, too, especially since it was on our way home. So as we
drove through Lebanon, a little burg not near anywhere else, we stopped to buy
gas. There was no credit card slot on the pump, so I went inside to dutifully
set down $40 cash as a deposit for a fill-up. Inside was a group of half a
dozen old overalls-clad farmers sitting in a half circle chewing over the
issues of the day. When I walked in they all went silent and stared. The good
ol’ boy behind the counter looked at the two $20’s and said, “You don’t need to
do that. Just fill ‘er up.” I did, and walked back in to pay. Again they sat
still and quiet as if posing for a portrait. I asked, “Have you fellas solved
the world’s problems yet?” They all broke their poses and laughed. “No, but it
ain’t noon yet,” one of them said. I responded, “I’ll bet there’s more wisdom
in this room than in all of the country east of the Mississippi.” Again they
laughed, and the proprietor said, “Sometimes there’s so much it fills this room
and bleeds over in to the mechanic’s bay.” Again they all laughed in a way of acknowledging that they
dare not take themselves or anything else too seriously. You just can’t make up
dialogue as good as what real people say.
In the final leg of our journey, we stayed over in Oklahoma
City and took in the National Memorial to the victims and survivors of the
bombing that took place at the Federal Building on 4/19/95. We arrived just at
dusk on a still, clear, full moon adorned evening, and my feelings are too deep
to simply insert an analysis as part of this posting. The Memorial and the
emotions it stirs deserve it’s own consecrated space even in my meager blog.
SUMMATION
This Sabbath Day has been good for fiddling with the photos
we shot on the trip and cogitating on the richness of this country. My early
assessment is that the thing I most gained from the vacation is perspective.
When an artist or photographer does his task well, the final
product reveals perfect, meaning unobtrusive perspective. In other words, perspective
is a blended yet essential component of the product, which in turn impresses us
though we may not know why. We
just take it in as a pretty picture or a moving painting. Perspective draws our
attention to the most important features. It brings in to focus the Main Thing,
that is, the raison d’etre of the
piece. As perspective in a picture or painting is necessary for it to be
effective, perspective in life is necessary for happiness.
When we get to feeling despondent or depressed, it is often
because our perspective is out of whack. We believe the lies we’re told. “Everything’s
going to hell in a hand basket. People are more selfish today than ever before.
Basic human decency has been lost forever. The values we used to hold dear have
evaporated. The bad guys are winning. Things will never be as good as they were
in [fill in a date or era here].”
False perspective comes over us subtly, but consistently and
in various forms. Watching or reading media news imposes a perspective upon us,
as does staying within a restricted group of coworkers or friends. Never
leaving home, no matter how wonderful our home is, will deleteriously limit our
perspective over time. If we never escape the bonds of our routine, then false
perspective can easily become the dominant outlook, making it easier to fall
into despair.
That’s why a great way to gain new (AKA proper) perspective
is to get out of town – far out of town – for a while. Seeing new sites and
intersecting with strangers’ lives is a great way to adjust perspective and
even acquire a jolt of inspiration.
Another thought hit me, too. As I moan and groan (literally
and figuratively) over the aging process running amok in my body at times, it’s
good to stop and think of the advantages, of which there are several. At the
top of the list is gaining perspective, which is impossible without aging.
Perspective provides a longer and broader view of things. Surely that’s why
people mellow out as they grow older, and why the oldest among us seem to be
the least agitated by the most agitating stuff. It’s gotta be because as the miles
add up on our personal odometer, the compensation is a better perspective, a root
of wisdom.
So I gained some needed perspective on this brief trip, and
it whetted my appetite to travel and gain even more. Thank God I live in a
country that has so much perspective to offer, and that it is freely
attainable.