We are back and recovered from our latest trip, and have a couple of weeks here before we again head out. We have a brief trip to Montana in early April, where all of Eileen Tokarski’s grandchildren (and their parents and step-parent) are gathering for an impromptu graveside memorial. As my oldest said, they’ve not really had a chance to “process” her passing, by which she means to say good-bye. Standing at a grave, which I don’t otherwise recommend, serves that purpose. It is a moving experience when done with the intent to create closure. The most effective means by which I’ve seen this ceremony work is by releasing helium balloons and watching them drift far away and out of sight. It is a powerful image guaranteed to produce tears.

Later in April we are going to Bellingham to visit Mom’s sole surviving sister, and from there to visit a cousin on Lopez Island out in the San Juan’s. This cousin, I am so pleased to report, recently was allowed to marry her spouse of many years – legally. I only knew of her, but not on a personal basis. I had read the book JFK and the Unspeakable, by James Douglass, and in the acknowledgements (who reads those?) found he had a Northwest connection, and then I saw my cousin’s name. It’s not a common name, but not that uncommon either, and I thought can it be? Months later I passed the question on to my aunt, and yes, I learned, this was my cousin. Later we had a long phone conversation, and she sent me an early draft of a stage play to advance the Doulglass work, and also some of his work on the MLK murder. I am excited at the prospect of spending time with them.

I so look forward to that trip. Everything is new and fresh when old eyes see new faces and places.

After Lopez, we are off to Portland for a week. We rented a condo in the downtown area, and will have some grand-kid/kid time. Portland in April is really kind of a nice place. We might even kayak the Willamette.

I know, you’re thinking who has time to travel like that? Not many. But then, in all these years before I’ve not had time or money to travel much, and so went on a journey of the mind. I just got back from wasting part of my Saturday on the impenetrable PW at the Intelligent Disconnection. All I ever did before I could travel was to make regular trips to the book store, and my whole world view changed. I did not mean for that to happen. I was the staid, boring, self-assured Catholic Republican that my parents had raised. But for that to happen to PW, one true thing has to sneak through his defenses and undermine his certitude. I don’t know what that one true thing might be. I only know that 1) he’s not looking, and 2) hasn’t stumbled yet.

The key to understanding this country and its intellectual culture is this: PW is protected from ever finding one true thing by intellectual hubris. Unless he stumbles on on one true thing, unless it jumps out from behind a tree and slaps him, he’s merely on his way to becoming yet another serious commentator on the important state of affairs in this world. He’ll know nothing, least of all that he knows nothing. Those kind of people write our important books and fill our TV screens. That’s why this country is so damned boring!

This has been a great trip. I can tell because it seems so long ago that we left home and yet it’s only been nine days. We landed in Atlanta, and from there saw the Great Smokies, Asheville, Charlestown, Savannah, and even stepped into Alabama so we could say we’ve been there. (Alabama, based on our quick fact-finding trip, is a large fireworks stand.) We are now in Bonita Springs, Florida.

So let’s find reason to travel and visit other parts of our land: These places exist in our minds, but seeing them in the flesh blends them into our commons. We’re not different. We all want the same things out of life. We are just in different geographical places. But we’re one people.

The armies of the north introduced total warfare down here, punishing civilians for merely being in the wrong place at that time. Atlanta was destroyed, but when Sherman got to Savannah, he thought it too beautiful to destroy. That city, above all others, stands out for us. It has charm unlike the others, cobbled streets on which stand old buildings that now house the same stupid gift shops and bars and restaurants as in every other city in the US. But with Savannah, I want a souvenir coffee cup to put on the shelf in my office.

Go figure.

Southern latitudes, Florida in particular, offer beauty, warm hospitality and friendly charm. Life on the gulf this time of year transcends mere relaxation. The warm breeze is a drug, the lush green landscape a comfortable down mattress. I can see living here and why it has drawn so many millions over the decades. We could be on the Mediterranean in the Middle Ages or the Black Sea in the time of Genghis Kahn. The vast majority of humans are near the salty breeze as they awake each day.

We’re in a gated community. Mexicans, Cubans and blacks tend to our needs. For that reason, I could not live here. Liberal guilt would ruin it for me.

USA Today (similar to “Pravda,” or an official American propaganda outlet), says

Crimea government called fake: Putin decries Ukraine’s leadership as illegitimate, but analysts say he’s got it backward.

The “analysts” are never identified, but I think I’ve got it figured out. They are deep in the bowels of State or the Executive, and are unidentified because that’s how we do “news” in the crazy imperialist country. Anonymous sources make it up, doe-eyed stenographers repeat it, their only job to make it sound officious.

Meanwhile, there is still no hint anywhere in any US propaganda outlet of the facts on the ground: The Russians did not “invade” Crimea. Troops have been there for decades, along with military hardware. It is all by agreement. Additionally, the coup d’état was carried out by neo-Nazi elements within Ukraine, long supported by CIA through NED. CIA itself was a blending of SS and OSS after World War II, given Carte Blanche by a doe-eyed Harry Truman, who would later call it his greatest mistake.

It’s ugly, but true, and so far from official US propaganda, and the doe-eyed attitudes of even sentient Americans, that it seems bizarre. But Bizarroworld is really USA today. That’s how crazy we are.

The US media, the most submissive in the industrial world, is simply lying about Ukraine, and in bold. But turn to the sports section – there they are very good, even burrowing and defiant. There we get actual reporting, even some journalism.

We are moving slowly through North Carolina today, on our way to Spartanburg, SC, eventually to the coast, but no timetable. We spent yesterday in Smoky Mountain National Park. It’s a good time to be there, just as with Yellowstone in spring. There are few tourists other than us.

I had heard of the Trail of Tears, when the US government drove the Cherokee off their land and over to Oklahoma. 4,000 died on that journey, perhaps in despair. What we took from them is a charming land of low, forested hills and mountain streams. Game was abundant, and life, as wilderness life goes, was easy.

We wandered around an old farm this morning, all of the out buildings still preserved. A family could live here on pigs and corn. It was hard work, and not much surplus went to market. It was perhaps nothing like Eastern Montana, where weather always held potential disaster in store. This land gives reason for optimism, and yields a different people.

And the people are nice – charming actually. Bearded men with nasal tone hold your attention, as it takes a little time just to drawl out short sentences. We spent fifteen minutes with Barry Higgs, visitor center guy. His family goes back to the 1700’s. He wants to get out west and see Montana and Colorado. His dad used to go to Twin Bridges every year to fish. I wanted to tell him not to bother, that he’ got is all here, but could not get a word in between his.

I just picked up the Un-Civil War, one of those ‘teacher never told you’ books. Should be fun, and who knows what is true? The events in the Ukraine are not even a week old, and all we got was lies. Can the Civil War be different?

So let’s finish here. Much ground to cover. This area is so much fun to get to know. Even just passing through, I am filled with warmth. It is a place that engenders a fondness that I will take home with me. Just thinking of it will bring back lovely memories. We must return someday.

Off on a new adventure tomorrow, this time the Southeast. We have an aunt and uncle south of Tampa, so we decided to fly into Atlanta and rent a car and just wander, their home the final destination. The trip will include Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, North and South Carolina, and finally, Florida and Bonita Springs.

Years ago we took our family (our five kids ranged in age from 13 on down) on a cross-country trip from Montana to Long Island. Going there I felt a need to schedule, to have a booked motel at every stop. One of those stops was Monroeville, PA, a suburb of Pittsburgh. My stereotype was steel mills, air pollution and devastated landscapes. We arrived late in the day, and the last part of the journey was through the beautiful forests of Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh is part of that, a beautiful city set in rolling hills.

The trip back was delightful – until we got to North Dakota and Eastern Montana, of course. (OK – I might have had a temper tantrum in the Eisenhower Expressway around Chicago.) We had learned how to travel with kids. Each morning we would get up very early, and I carried them one-by-one to the Dodge B300 van, the Blue Zoo. I had built a platform in the back so that between that and the seats there was enough flat space to accommodate all five of them asleep and still have a hold underneath for luggage. It was not safe, I know. One-by-one as they awoke we had an ice cold juice waiting for them, so that it would be a pleasant memory. Then we would stop for a late breakfast. I am not sure how pleasant those memories are for the kids, but we tried to make travel less grueling. In late afternoon, say 4 or 5 PM, we got off the road and found a motel with a swimming pool, and let them go to release all of their pent-up energies.

So the trip, the fact that we traveled, changed me and the way that I looked at Pittsburgh and the way that we should accommodate kids as we force them to sit in a small space for long periods of time.

(New Jersey was just as I imagined, a place that one has to endure on the way to somewhere else.)

It is always interesting to travel, to have formed notions about places and then to learn that those places are not at all what we imagine. In doing so, we open our eyes and ears and hearts. I think Mark Twain had something to say about that too.