Letters to Old Friends

Dear Friends-
Thanks for letting me visit. All of you, it's been great. As Cox said, old friends are way more fun than new friends. Not to belittle new friends, since I'm driving westward again and hoping to make some rather quickly, or it's going to be a lonely winter. No, new friends are fun, but there is something about the ease of old friendships that is just good for the soul. You don't even need to make new jokes, you can laugh at the old ones. So easy. And so good. Especially if your old friends are as funny as mine. Really, I laugh hardest with you guys, and I love that.

It's been fun to peak in on everybody's new lives, snooping around your apartments, sleeping on your couches, meeting your new friends. Lawyer clothes, brooklyn apartments, doctorate degrees, salaried jobs, and expecting engagements? Oh my. Our lives have diverged in so many ways since our friendships were rooted in their native physical spaces- it's fascinating. Who would have ever thought that'd we'd be the people we are today, where we are today? And that I'd still show up to visit, all these years later? Are we still growing up? growing away? growing apart in space and time perhaps, but still, with a friendship that transcends all that? Plenty of friends have fallen by the wayside, obviously, casualties of forward progress, but I love that ours have somehow hung on. Tended to by phone calls and emails, or just hibernating somewhere deep underground like those old photo albums in a box in the basement, ready to resurrect when the lazarus moment arrives, hardly any rust to speak of.

I'm sorry to be so sentimental. It's just me, in my head, these last 3,000 miles back to the desert, and I miss you all already. I love that I just really like who you've all grown up into since we parted ways, it's inspiring. If you would all just decide to move together somewhere, then I could finally stop wandering and settle down there forever. It'd be great, it wouldn't even matter where, I mean, I might even move to Kansas for you guys. I know there would be a good ultimate team, once we got there.

Except then I'd have no one to visit. And that would be sad too. Visits are fun. Especially to Las Vegas this winter. You know you want to come. You can visit my real life, meet my plants and the mountains, and there's room for two in my tent!

So thanks again, everyone, for opening your lives and your cities and your new friends and your couches to me this month. It was so good for my soul. Here's a sad story- I was really lonely this summer, working in near silence on the tussock tundra, and it was unsettling to feel that way- new, unfamiliar feelings I struggled to name. I just wanted to give up and go home, I guess. And then I realised that I was longing for "home," a place I don't really have anymore, since my friends seem to have wind dispersed these recent years. But I'm not brave enough to build a new home just yet, not ready to be rooted. But this month, I burned through too many fossil fuels to call myself an environmentalist anymore, and did a lot of visiting. A record amount of visiting. And I realised that home isn't a place, it's people, and I still have all of those people, all over the place. And that's pretty good. A sad story with a happy ending. (See jill, I can name lots of feelings)

Saudades,

Kate

City Survival Skills

So this is my 5th day in NYC. I haven't even been that lost yet (knock, knock). I have concluded several important things:

1. I am a terrible tourist- I only lasted about 5 minutes in time square before I had to escape, and I didn't go to any museums.
2. Thank Goodness for city parks. I've been hiding away my time in some of the city's best parks, including the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Especially their taxonomically inclined vegetable garden. Love.
3. It's far better to follow my friends around their real lives here than to do the tourist thing. It makes me feel like I probably could live here for a few years to get this journalism career kickstarted.
4. Visiting everyone's cool houses/apartments makes me want to unpack and live somewhere again. Bring it on- Boulder City!
5. This Columbia program is looking better and better. I'm going to class this afternoon. Wish me luck!

2,455 miles down

My journey so far

Perhaps I shouldn't have reread A Fool's Progress last week. Heading eastward, homeward, from the desert to the hills of Appalachia, visiting long lost friends and reflecting on my life along the way, as Abbey does the same, has probably made me way too introspective and added illusions of granduer to my "journey." I like to think that my trip is, unlike Abbey's, is much more of a beginning than an ending. But, it's nice to think of this road trip as a journey, instead of just a really long drive, and Abbey's certainly inspiring in that sense.

So I picked up Henry Lightcap's last hurrah from Kathy and Elliot's shelves in Denver, since I had some time to kill. Hazel the Honda decided to break her two front axels and blow an oil leak in a gasket, resulting in a few days at the mechanic and a serious blow to my budget. It's hard to live in your car when your car is in the shop. I think she overheard my musings about maybe wanting to buy a truck...and got a little upset. And now that I've blown my savings on repairs, she's got her way, and is probably here to stay for awhile.

When I finally hit the road again, I made a quick trip up to Boulder to visit Hillary in her new incarnation as a college kid. Damn, that makes me feel old. But, we had a fun time walking around town and catching up, before I hit the road late, bound for a place to sleep in western kansas. Damn, I've said it before and I'll have to say it again, Kansas is huge. Huge, and not very exciting.

But I did find a hill!! That's right, a hill in Kansas. It's in Wilson Lake State Park, about 5 miles off the interstate, a few hours east of the restarea where I woke up. I went to the park for a much needed run, hoping to steal a campground shower afterwords. But alas, when I got there, the rangers were closing down the bathrooms for the season. Terrible timing. But, the lake was lovely and deserted. So after my run, I took a swim and washed my hair at the boat dock. Lovely.

The scenery got more and more familiar as I drove. The endlessly flat farmland gave way to forests, and then rolling rural farms. It's pretty, in it's own way, to be heading home again. I had an excellent time with Ande in St. Louis and Cox in Indianapolis. They'll both be lawyers within the year. What a crazy idea. But, it was fun to catch up with my long-lost-lawyer friends, we laughed about old stories, new gossip, big plans, and Sarah Palin.

I hit the road again to meet Nat in Louisville. I napped and ran around a lovely city park until he got off work, and we left for a weekend in the Red River Gorge. I'm just learning to climb and he's just learning to lead, so I think we made a good pair. We camped in the woods (trees!!!) and the fall colors are just starting to show. Beautiful. I've missed oaks and maples. Two days on the rocks killed my arms (man- I haven't been this sore in awhile) but it was great fun. I scared myself and impressed myself and realised that this is something I really want to get better at.

Sore as hell, I left Nat to head home. As the scenery became more and more familiar, I thought of Abbey's line about home. "Home is where you go when you probably shouldn't" he said, as Henry Lightcap retreats, battered and nearly defeated, through his past, back to his family. It's always wierd to be home, but I like it. For a visit. The days have gone quickly, bike rides with mom and dad, dinner with a high school friend, packing and unpacking, rearranging my life in the honda, sitting here at the old coffee shop, watching as kids I used to babysit, now college students, come in and out. Okay- just two- but it makes me feel old nonetheless.

I hit the road again tomorrow, off to Nancy and Phil's, then to watch Emily's team play some ultimate, and hang out in pittsburgh. Then grandma, and New York, and then down to Virginia. Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself again. It's the journey, not the destination, right?