The Final Post--Finally

It has taken me a long time to be in the right kind of reflective space to write this last post. I just wasn’t ready to end things up thoughtfully but having a week off has finally gotten me there.

This last post serves as a closing reflection on my move to California as it relates to my bike rides. Each time I ride I am struck by how many parallels there are between bike riding and the ways in which I have coped with this cross country move. I have listed four comparisons here and they chart my progress, from the silly little stuff like weather through the major challenges to finally getting more rooted.

1. The Weather. It seems that bike riding, like everything else here requires you to dress for every season simultaneously. Dressing appropriately in California has been a challenge for me all along, but here’s what happens when I ride my bike in the Oakland Hills: I start off with a light layer of long sleeves, feeling a little chilly. But after the first fifteen minutes of climbing I am sweating profusely and have to shed the layer. After another steep stretch I reach the top of the hill, relieved, and begin coasting down into a valley where the temperature drops twenty degrees and the sweat on my body begins to set in a deep chill. I pull over, put on two layers and keep coasting. A few minutes later I have turned on another road and am beginning another incline. And off the layers go…until the next major descent. What kills me is how quickly these microclimates can change in the Bay area, on a bike or not and how much planning it takes to get dressed appropriately. Alison and I have devoted whole shopping trips to finding perfect layering items. There is an art to dressing appropriately here, and I am still working on it.

2. Gears. So you may have gathered that riding in this area includes a few more hills than I’m used to. But since it’s hard to describe, I will share the way in which I have quantified these hills as a bike rider, by looking at how I use my gears. Here’s a quick tutorial for you non-riders: the front set of gears on a bike control 3 basic levels. The big ring creates the most resistance and allows you to go farther for every stroke of the pedal. The middle ring is somewhat easier but gives you less distance per stroke and the small gear is the one where you can pedal furiously and only move a few feet for your effort. This is the gear designed for hills.

In Boston when I rode I spent most of my time in the middle ring, since there were generally smaller, rolling hills, and few giant mountains to climb. I used the small ring to climb hills about 10% of my rides, but mostly didn’t have many major uphill challenges. And I think that is a decent comparison to my life there. If riding in the middle ring represents managing average ups and downs, not huge crises, that’s where I was most of the time. I had the comfort of routines like Musica Sacra, Tuesday/Sunday night dinner, Quad Cycles riding club and lots of people I loved all around. I didn’t feel like I was riding up hill all the time because I had plenty of support. The amount of time I had to be in the “little gear” was pretty slim.

In this new transition, on the other hand, it’s all hills, all the time. As I ride my bike in the Oakland Hills, I spend about 80% of my time in the smallest gear. I’m either climbing up at 6 mph (if you need a visual, most people walk faster) or I’m coasting down at 30 and there’s very little in between. Again, it’s a pretty apt comparison to my life, when even little challenges feel like bigger ones. From meeting new people all the time to needing a map to find the new drycleaner or hairdresser, it takes lots of effort just to do the regular stuff. I am spinning quickly, exerting a lot of energy, without covering a lot of distance. It takes enormous emotional stamina to be here and it has felt like I spend a lot more time crawling uphill and a lot less time on a flat easy path.

3. The Steepest Spot. On my regular ride, there are hills, and then there are HILLS. The first time I rode up the longest stretch, when Jeff was here visiting, I considered turning back. I had come up two miles already but the next part looked impossible. We stopped as I evaluated what lay in front of me and voiced my plan to coast back down. Jeff convinced me that I could ride so slowly that the bike was barely upright and still make it. I followed his advice and…made it up! And since then only one thing has kept me going through that spot: telling myself I can. It sounds silly and trite, sort of like The Little Engine, but that’s actually how I feel on that stretch of road. I repeat over and over to myself that I have done it before and can do it again. And I have to do this until I reach the top.

This parallel is pretty obvious. People have been telling me for years about the power of positive self talk and though I have tried it, never have I seen it so concretely applied as on this bike ride and this new part of my life. During disappointments, frustrating moments or grief about missing people, I have to tell myself that I can do it, I will be ok and that I have made it through lots of challenges before. And once it’s over, there’s bound to be the glory of coasting at 30 mph past gorgeous scenery.

4. Last one: Branching Out. Yesterday’s ride did mark a first for me. I branched out of my original route twice, for long stretches of time. I found a whole new way up the big hill, through neighborhoods on gorgeous narrow tree lined streets and I extended my ride on skyline drive by about eight miles. I saw even more breathtaking views and was exhilarated to see so many new possible routes.

In order to understand this parallel, you should know that when I first moved here, finding routines, such as a bike riding route, favorite grocery store, or new singing group, was crucial in order to feel settled. I am a woman of routines and in moments of uncertainty I cling to them with a vice-like grip.

So you can imagine my shock at feeling ready to branch out yesterday and begin exploring. Probably most people don’t need to wait eight months to do this, but I did and I think I am now officially ready to keep doing so. Instead of coping with new, I am ready to seek out new. This might include finally finding those gorgeous hiking spots, trying more restaurants, or actively meeting new people. It doesn’t mean that I am totally settled, just that I can finally let go a little, feeling comfortable in what I do know, and begin exploring. This is actually a relief; a sign that I am accessing the part of me that can be adventurous and get out there. Thank goodness.

So there you have it, my adjustment in California through metaphor. But the one piece here that is missing and has been a huge part of my process is the phone conversations, emails and love from friends far and wide. I must say this has really kept me afloat. I am grateful to have an incredible community of people that throw me emotional life preservers all the time, whether they know it or not. So again, I thank you.

And this post marks the end of my posts on this blog. Since my transition has been well documented, (and the blog neglected for months at a time) I am going to stop this form of communication. Thanks to so many of you that have read or teased me about doing this blog. It has been good to me, kept me in good spirits... and it has lived out its life.

Thanks for reading.

And for some bonus material, I am going to stick up a few other photos from the past three months.

(My Pops getting ready to leave)

(My cousin Alexa and some freshly painted nails)

(A German chocolate cake and one year older)

(The gorgeous bride, Tania with Rebecca and Phil)

(Jill on her first visit West!)

(Alison and I at our favorite bubble tea cafe--post tea)

By request

A few of my favorite photos my Dad has taken:

An Ode To My Father

A man of complex simplicity,
my father lives
with strict routines.

Every morning he cooks
the same breakfast:
2 eggs over medium, yolks broken
on a plate heated for 49 seconds,
cinnamon raisin english muffin,
toasted and drenched in butter.

He keeps track of medications with
great care, and logs them with a
color code, filling page after page.
The pills sit in shallow, silicone cups
on his desk, like little powdery life rafts
drifting to sea.

But the true management of his physical pain
comes from prayer and humor
both of which he uses in abundance
and which give him
grace and dignity
unlike anyone else I have seen.

Though he is largely
confined to his home,
my father has brought the world
to him.
His office
explodes
with color,
from his own photographs of
flowers in brilliant hues, cascading
from every corner.

Emerging from my father,
the Doctor,
is a writer and photographer;
one who
knows how to fill his world
with beauty and in turn
enriches the lives
of those around him.

Thank you, Poppa.
Love, Elizabeth

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

From my place to yours...

Apartment- again

I forgot a wall- and an important one. My dad has a relatively recent love of photography and has taken hundreds of beautiful pictures of flowers and learned how to edit them. Since I have a giant wall, I decided to fill it with some of his photos. My dad and Louise came up to help me string and hang them and here they are:


I love being able to display my dad's love of color and beauty. Seeing this everyday makes me smile.

#2 The Apartment

Ok, I have long since promised to post pictures of my apartment. The problem is that I would always tell myself that there was more that I was planning to do and I should wait until it was perfect. Well, I have finally given up any remaining hope that it will get perfect. There are, in fact, lots of things I still hope to do, like get more plants and a non-tippy coat rack. But here it is:

The living room and trusty rust colored couch. The chair on the right was my grandmother's and has been in storage waiting for me.

There are french doors and Louise helped me make curtains that were more opaque to separate the living room from bedroom. Next to the bookshelf is the spot for the future coat rack.

Love the stove. Love it.

And the bedroom. Lots of windows, and shutters! Haven't had those in an apartment before.

So, there it is. I hope to have another post before I close up shop so stay tuned.

#3: Singing

Ok, so I have lagged in my posting and it seems that interest may have also (understandably) lagged. So, I have 3 more posts in mind that will share other facets of my life here and then I will close up this shop. Today's topic: singing.

It took me a while to even think about joining a singing group. Leaving Musica Sacra was heart wrenchingly difficult and it almost felt like betrayal to join a new group. I realize this is somewhat irrational, but it was a way to cope with the loss of that amazing community.

However, my need to sing with other people soon overtook my other issues and I auditioned for a group called the International Orange Chorale. Still haven't gotten to the bottom of the name but it is a group of young singers (ages 24-35) who perform a variety of music, including work composed by singers in the group! Their mission is also to perform for free. This group definitely has a different vibe than any other I've been in (Does using the word vibe, actually qualify me as someone who lives out here?) but I do like it. It's younger, and doesn't have the publicity materials or fundraising capability of many Boston groups. But the members are certainly talented and it gets me singing.

We rehearse in San Francisco in the fifth floor of the opera house and enter in the back stage door.

It's amazing to hear and see the opera on the backstage screens as we come in. Last week there was a group of chorus members in costume for Mozart's The Magic Flute hanging around. And when we were asked to move out of our rehearsal space due to a miscommunication we ended up in a ballet studio. Crazy.

Our first concert was to perform a song composed by a former member, Jason Bush. He held a concert of work he composed at a Presbyterian church in San Francisco. These are performers of another piece warming up.

We have also performed in our director's master's thesis concert. Our winter concert is motets by Brahms, Poulenc, Durufle, Holst, and Bach and we will perform 11/30 and 12/2 in San Francisco. Anyone and everyone is welcome! I will be sending out my thoughts to Musica Sacra on 12/1 as they perform their winter concert.

So, beginning new routines...in some ways it feels good to try new things and begin to put down roots. And sometimes the routines trigger memories of all that I miss in Boston. It's a strange time as I try things out while attempting not to make comparisons. But little bits of acceptance trickle in when I'm not looking.

love to all.

Sleuth work

On a misty Friday night, Alison and I, unable to do anything else, decided to sit around my apartment swapping stories about our week, discussing our new jobs and lives here. The longer we sat, the less interested we were in going out for dinner which prompted us to decide to order pizza. Due to technical difficulties we ended up relying on, of all things, the phone book for a number. Little did we realize the joys this antiquated device would provide! One ad in particular sparked a great deal of laughter. This ad was a treasure trove of poor grammar and editing. (Tania--look sharp!) Like a Highlights magazine, "What is wrong with this picture?" we dove in looking for as many mistakes as possible. How many can you find? Winner gets a fun treat mailed from California.

I miss the Red Sox

I am determined that no matter where I live in this country, there is no fever like Red Sox fever. In Atlanta, as much as I liked the Braves (Greg Olson, Otis Nixon, and David Justice in particular) the fan presence ebbed and flowed. In the 80's the seats at Turner Field were practically free; video of the games showed entire sections were empty. As the Braves improved in the early 90's interest and tickets picked up, but come on now, these are fair weather fans. When I moved to Boston I quickly witnessed the deep sense of passion, loyalty and pain that accompanies every baseball season. And it seems to run in families, passed down like a treasured heirloom. I couldn't help but be attracted to it and wonder what makes Boston so different.

Tonight I discovered the Red Sox had won the AL East championship but I wished I had heard the buildup, on radio and t.v., at work, from my friends, at rehearsal. It's just not the same reading about the wins or even looking at pictures of them celebrating it. (Why on earth is Papelbon wearing what look to be bike shorts after the win?? Can anyone help me out here?)

I miss being in it, enveloped in it. One thing that unifies a city.
Really, it's brilliant.

Weather Woes

This morning, as my eyes fluttered open, I heard a strange noise coming from outside and peered out the window upon something for the first time since I have arrived: rain. In some ways it felt a little like when I went to college in Maine and saw snow falling outside. Although I knew it happened, I was surprised to see it just the same.

Prior to this, there has been no precipitation of any kind since I arrived in California. At first I didn't notice, just enjoying the sunny days. But eventually some of the ramifications of this lack of rain began to become clear. For one, my car gathered a layer of dust and dirt that was quite visible. I'm not much of a carwash-er, figuring that the '98 Sentra isn't really impressing anyone anyways, but the dirt began to bother me nonetheless. Second, the constant dry air gave me a bit of a sore throat for a while. I began closing my windows at night to try to preserve any moisture from cooking in my apartment and pondered buying a humidifier. Alison, who has been here since early June tells me this was her first rain shower too and someone from work told me there hasn't been real rain since April. How strange!

This rain business is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my weather woes here. I tell you I just can't figure it out. The first shocker came as I was unpacking my clothes and got to the two distinct parts of my wardrobe: Winter clothes and Summer clothes. Prior to now this clothing never coexisted, passing briefly in October and April. But when I arrived here in August and realized on my first trip into San Francisco that I needed a sweater and closed toed shoes I knew that those days were over. The old rituals of swapping wardrobes twice a year, hauling out the new season's clothes, rejoicing at the pieces I had forgotten but love, are over. And now, somehow, everything has to fit in my closet.

Alison, my fellow east coast refugee and I have spent hours upon hours discussing the weather and our inability to dress for it. I fear that my lack of understanding has been quite stressful at times, especially when I show up somewhere in grossly inappropriate clothing. The real challenge for me is not only the unpredictability but the extreme variation in temperature on any given day. There have been times when I arrive somewhere all bundled up only to sheepishly strip down to my tee shirt or I show up in sandals and a skirt and find myself shivering most of the day. I am learning that I need to be able to wear anything from a short sleeves to a sweater and jacket. It's sort of like being in a foreign country. I'll figure this all out, but until I do I may just look a little like an outsider.

Another start...and thanks giving

School has started! No waiting till after Labor Day round these parts, we're in full swing! Not only was last week my first week of school with kids, it was the first week of the school's existence. The Thursday before we had parent/student orientation and had almost 100% attendance. It was incredible looking out over all those faces and noticing that it was standing room only in our big hall. I was only missing two students out of 19 in my advisory group and everybody was nervous and excited. I chalk up a lot of the success of that first night to the priniciple's work developing the school because she so thoroughly involved parents and students in its creation. I think everyone there was proud of getting this thing off the ground.

Then our first day, which was remarkably smooth as we helped students get used to high school and adjust to a small school of 125 ninth graders. It's a pretty different kind of school experience. We even got a little press in the local paper.


Then on Thursday we went on an overnight trip to Stanford to kick off their high school career at a school dedicated to getting them ready for college. Thursday also happened to be my birthday and it was guaranteed to be busy all day long. It might not have been my first choice as far as birthday activities but there were some highlights. The kids in my advisory sang me happy birthday at the top of their lungs after lunch, one kid gave me chocolates and the staff had a cake and sang to me in whispers after the kids had been put in their rooms. Certainly an unusual and very memorable day.

My birthday was also filled with many phone messages, cards, gifts and expressions of love from people I love. It felt so good to have 11 messages at the end of that long day and to know that they were from all the amazing people I know from all over the country. I know this is sappy, (what do you expect?) but I just felt so lucky to have so many incredible friends and even though it's my first birthday on this coast I felt so loved and supported.

This weekend my friend Sharon, who has been living in San Diego for a few years and is moving to L.A. came up to visit. Sharon is a friend from high school, as is Alison, who lives here in Oakland so we all got to spend some time together. Sharon, by the way, is becoming famous. There was a lengthy article in the L.A. Times yesterday about her art work that will appear in a show in Santa Monica next weekend. The article is extremely complimentary and showcases her extroardinary talents. Check it out at: http://www.calendarlive.com/galleriesandmuseums/cl-ca-levy2sep02,0,3217256.story?coll=cl-art-features

In her spare time, Sharon also collaborated with Alison to make me a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. This was a favorite from when we were young and didn't let any occasion go by without this faithful dessert. (A shout out to Noelle, who we wish could have been here too!)


Then Saturday, Alison, Sharon, and my Dad and Louise and I all went out to dinner and ate fabulous food at A Cote in Rockridge. The waitress commented on our stunning off-white/green color combination.







And so, now I embark on week two of school and work on settling in some more. I am still tired from last week and hope I can continue to muster the strength for getting everything done. But I also feel lucky. To know wonderful souls and enjoy time with them, whether by phone, email or in person. This move has been ok because of my community that is still present even though I am far away. Maybe I am still high on yellow cake with chocolate frosting but I just feel pretty grateful. Love to all.

Second week, Second weekend

Ok, I'm a dork. And apparently so are the rest of my new coworkers. We decided to take a picture of ourselves in the ropes course gear during our retreat last week. What can I say?

Last week was week two of training, which included more large group introductions to project based learning and assessments. On Thursday the staff from my school went on an overnight retreat to Sonoma. We stayed at a retreat center and ate great organic food while doing activities that would help us work together more effectively. We have to work so closely to create the first year of the school that it's pretty important that we be able to do this well. So we did a variety of activities, one being this ropes course. My partner and I fell from one of the high elements very quickly, which was hard for me and I got to do some good reflecting about dealing with outcomes I don't like and being ok with them anyway. It was a good but long week ending with this trip. All thoughtful, all exhausting.

On Friday night and Saturday morning I got to see Marian and Mark, friends from Bates. On Saturday we checked out the Lake Merritt Farmers market and Marian gave it the a-ok.

The farmers market was really lovely--it was busy, sunny and there were samples at every table. The fruit was succulent and Marian and I were particularly taken by the small, sweet grapes. I spent Sunday afternoon with my Dad and Louise in Campbell. Louise and I went shopping for things I need in my apartment and my Dad and I looked at some old pictures together. It is bizzare just stopping by their house and we all commented on it Sunday. Where are the suitcases? Such a major shift.

So, those are all the practical updates.

I wrote in an email today, (and this was a serious realization,) that I feel busy all the time even though I am not actually busy all of the time. I think it's because I am internally busy soaking up new information and contending with all the little things like getting around town or finding my shoes. I guess this is what moves are like. This weekend I have a goal of getting things hung on the walls. I am eager to feel like this is really my home and I think that would help. OK, a final picture for this post: me and my Dad. I found this on Sunday and brought it back with me. It's one of my favorites.

Introductions

Whew! One week down. Finishing the first week of staff orientation feels like a serious accomplishment. Plus I have been negotiating with the boxes and clutter in my apartment. I have no pictures of anything work related but here's an update.

5 days total. 3 of them with homework assignments. 2 days comprised of an intense project and strict time deadlines with 4 people I just met. 46 other people to meet and talk to who are all new to the organization and, luckily, 2 days with only the 10 staff members I will be working closely with. All of this equals exhaustion. For those of you who don't have the particulars, I am working for a charter school that is 1 of 4 run by a non profit organization called Envision Schools. I fell in love with this organization upon my first read through of their website and when I interviewed in June, they hired me. The school that I am working at, in Hayward, is about to embark on it's first year; as Bob Weintraub, my old headmaster would say, it's first voyage. When I first learned this, a part of me couldn't believe the irony. Last year, two colleagues and I started a brand new special education program at Brookline High School, a feat that nearly drove us to the grave. Starting something brand new takes an enormous amount of energy and, while exciting, can take over your life. So, when I heard I'd be having a "first year" again with ONLY 9th GRADERS I had a bit of a hard time. However, I am now starting to feel that contagious excitement about all the possibilities of this place and I know that much of the getting ready has already been done. The staff and the principal I will be working with are great so I am looking ahead with a little more optimism.

Getting my apartment ready hit the back burner until the weekend. The place is still not ready to be photographed but Tania convinced me to put up one of my favorite windows.

And a view from another window.

Here are some shots of the neighborhood I took on a bike ride around town. This one is a Lutheran church down the street. Such different architecture!

Other streets...

I live in a part of Oakland called Lake Merritt. The lake is about a 20 minute walk away and there are a few streets of shops that I have frequented off one end of the lake.

Although I am enjoying the neighborhood, I am far from settled and I look forward to coming home to an apartment that is free of boxes. I feel like I teeter between the excitement of being here and all it's newness and the longing for a little familiarity. I think I am mostly in what Rebecca reminded me the other day is called the honeymoom period of moving somewhere. Everything is new and exciting and fullfilling. Over time this gives way to homesickness and eventually adjustment to the new place. Even before Rebecca reminded me of this phenomenon, I had been noticing my fear that sadness was lurking around the corner. I am trying to be balanced about everything, but really if everyone I know would like to visit in the next three months I would be ok with that. I am a very accomodating hostess!

So, with this, I must get back to reading the book we are discussing tomorrow. Love to everyone.

Movin' on in

On Friday, my Dad and Louise came up to Oakland to help me get the place ready for my belongings to arrive. My Dad, always prepared, brought a special chair for his back so he could take a break.

After much anguishing about the apartment hunt, I decided to go with one that my friend Alison had seen and was offered to me last Wednesday. This enabled me to get it ready and bring up furniture I have had stored at their house all before the movers arrive. Which is tomorrow. I haven't seen my belongings in about 2 1/2 weeks so I am excited about this. However, receiving my belongings isn't all I get to do tomorrow. I also get to have my first official day at work. What? you say. School in the beginning of August? Well, not school exactly but I am embarking on three weeks of training/planning before the actual start of school. No dull moments yet.

Final trip reflections

Alright, so before I move on to the updates about my real life, I need to wrap up a few things about the trip.

• Driving across the country is a great experience that I highly recommend. I have a totally new appreciation for how geographically, culturally and even liguistically diverse the country is. It sometimes makes we want to break out in horribly cheesy patriotic songs. Seeing brief snapshots of places in the rural areas to the cities was inspiring. I have a deeper bond with this place I live and I wouldn't trade that for anything.
  
  
• Travelling with someone who can make you laugh is invaluable. No matter how grumpy, anxious or exhausted I was, Katharine cracked me up. Once she made me laugh by pointing out that one of her antics would have made me laugh three days earlier when I still thought she was charming. When we realized that I became rather unweildy when I got hungry or missed a meal, Katharine looked at me sideways and annouced officially, "Three squares a day for you. No matter what we have to do to make it happen so you don't turn into Voldemort." Katharine helped me to pull out of my funks and laugh at myself, which in turn allowed me to be open to all the wonderful things the trip had to offer.
  
  
• I've said it over and over, but I think that something unexpected that I learned is that what's outside the window during the long drives is as much a part of the sightseeing as walking around different cities. Watching and appreciating the landscape was moving. Katharine and I often had very different experiences with what we were watching (I was hearing Hayden's "The Heavens are Telling the Glory of God..." while Katharine was pondering poverty cross culturally during our rainstorm.) And that is great. The scenery outside can prompt almost any kind of realization and allow one to lay out an issue and truly wrestle with it. And when that gets too tiring there's bound to be a trusty motel 6 around the corner.
  
  
• This road trip served an important purpose for me in this exact moment in my life. It provided a transition between Boston and California. Had I hopped on a plane after my teary goodbye and ended up in San Jose that afternoon, my system would have undergone a huge shock and I would have felt thrust into the stresses on this end. Instead I was able to spend several days journeying through the country before this life change, thinking about it and being fully distracted from it. Laughter and awe were two of the most powerful forces during my days and I needed that. I needed a separate trip to focus on, to enjoy and to help me believe that I was really, truly going to end up in California after all of the work and painful goodbyes that made it happen.
  
  
  

There is a final word I must say about our third beloved companion on the trip.

RIP TomTom

You served your fellow travelers well, never giving up when they veered off course, yelling incessantly when they took a bathroom break, recovering from heat stroke and refusing to complain when you were stuffed under the seat or in the glove compartment at every rest stop. There were signs something was wrong, such as when you tried to send us to the post office and we ended up in someone's yard or when you begged us to "turn around immediately" in the desert. It was all too much in the end and if you were half as tired as we were, we understand why you refused to turn on during our last day on the way to the airport. Your elusive menus and inability to recognize attractions such as the Grand Canyon or Graceland were quirks that we will miss dearly. You kept us on the course and we will search for the perfect fuzzy tennis shoes before we lay you to rest. Goodbye TomTom.

Final stats:

Distance covered: 4,152 miles
Number of GPS devices working by the end of the trip: 0
Plants alive at the end of the trip: 2/2 (!)
Number of chain restaurants eaten at: 4 (all local, mind you)
Number of Harry Potter books finished: 1
Number of times tears were shed due to laughing too hard: 3
Number of times we listened to "Jackson" by Johnny Cash: 8
Meals with vegetables in them: 4

All in all, a success.

From Green to Golden

So, I'm here and am finally recovering from the lack of sleep that has plagued me for so long. The road trip was more than I could have hoped for... a real transition out west but also an awe inspiring one. The terrain alone across the country is incredible, nevermind the sights. I thought I'd post a pictorial retrospective of the ground we covered.

1-3. The Blue Ridge Parkway, Virginia

4. The Mississippi River, Tennessee

5. Guthrie, Oklahoma (my sister's backyard)

6. Route 66, Oklahoma

7. Outside Amarillo, Texas

8. On the way to Albuquerque, New Mexico

9-12. On the way to Flagstaff, Arizona

13. Grand Canyon, Arizona

14-15. Nevada

16-17. Between Bakersfield and San Jose, California