About 14-years ago, my
youngest daughter, Verity, and I went on a father/daughter bonding trip. We had a wonderful time together. From 10 thru 20 September, Donald and I
retraced part of that previous trip.
Time and finances dictated that we could not complete the entire trip
that my daughter and I did, but the shorter distance could neither prevent the
recall of those past fond memories nor prevent the creation of new ones.
As I write this “story”, I
am attempting not to make it a travelogue but to restrict myself to writing
about the experiences and feelings involved.
First, I will start with the summary; 10-days and 3,160 miles driving a
car (no matter how comfortable) is way too much butt time in said car. Having dispensed with that memory, I am
passing around a few of the many photographs I took on the trip. It has been said many times that a photograph
is worth a thousand words, so by passing these around I am saving myself
thousands of words and many pages of paper.
The trip beginning was
delayed several hours when Donald’s cat, Parker, noticed the cat carrier and
hid from us. Once we finally got her
into the carrier and to the cat “hotel”, it was time for a late lunch. We managed to get to Douglas, Wyoming the
first night. At this point, Donald and I
were still excited to be on our way. For
me traveling is no fun unless one is sharing it with another.
When we arrived at the
Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument, the weather had turned cool and
windy. Donald was excited as he had
never been there. The wind dampened his
enthusiasm. I did not know that the
entire battlefield was a National Cemetery.
Many improvements had been made since the last time I was there. For Donald, it was his first time and he was
moved emotionally. I have long ago
recovered from feeling the great sadness that the battle created in its
aftermath. However, I moved from sadness
to little feeling to happiness when I discovered that not only were there
markers to show where the soldiers fell but markers showing where the Indian
warriors fell. There is also a marker to
show where the cavalry horses are all buried.
The best feeling of happiness came to me when I saw the monument erected
commemorating the Indian’s side of the story.
EBR-1 is a historic site
that relatively few people visit because it is out of the way for past and
present security and safety purposes.
This is the site of the world’s first nuclear power plant. Verity and I took the tour when we were
there. Donald and I got there on the 12th
and tours were stopped for the season on September 1st. I was very disappointed because I wanted to
“show” Donald something most people will not get to see. Donald appeared unimpressed with the building
façade which dampened my joy in being there.
Except for the wind, we enjoyed looking at the two prototype nuclear
powered jet engines on display outside the EBR-1 building for obvious reasons.
At Craters of the Moon, we
did not go walking along any of the trails into the lava beds. The last time I did that, I tripped on an
outcropping and cut my palm on some lava I grabbed to prevent a fall. We also did not climb the Inferno Cinder
Cone. The last time I did, I got
volcanic dust in my throat which took three months to heal. I did not want either Donald or I to go
through that. Donald did spot Mickey
Mouse at a different roadside stop.
At Twin Falls, Idaho, we
spotted a golf course with an ominous looking hole inside the Snake River
canyon. It was awesome to see in situ.
Continuing on to Nevada, we
spent about an hour in historic Virginia City.
I have been enamored of the Tahoe, Carson City, Virginia City area since
I moved there in 1958. Donald not so
much. He mostly liked the old
architecture of the buildings and streets, but did not appreciate going in some
of the famous saloons such as: The Silver Queen or the Bucket of Blood.
The Silver Queen saloon is
famous for the floor to ceiling portrait of a lady whose formal gown is inlaid
with silver dollars and her jewelry is composed of small gold coins. She is a very impressive sight.
After leaving Virginia City,
I began to get more excited as we approached Lake Tahoe. First, we had to complete our symbolic trip
across the Great Basin by stopping at Mormon Station in Genoa located at the
foot of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
There is a statue there to “Snowshoe” Thompson. He carried the mail over Carson Pass to Placerville,
California from 1856 to 1876 in the winter. Contrary to his nickname “snowshoe”, he did
not use the American version. Instead,
he used the Norwegian version which we call cross-country “skis”.
Donald and I finally arrived
in the Tahoe Basin via the Kingsbury Grade, a pioneer toll-road. We passed between several casinos, which
thrilled Donald but I was used to the sight.
I was mostly excited to attend my 50th high school reunion.
Over the next 4-days, Donald
and I attended four reunion events: the meet and greet, class dinner, a tour of
our old high school and the new South Tahoe High School. You can see about the school by watching an 8
½ minute segment of the Larry King show (16 Jan 2016) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ki-_4fYpANg
The same week we were there
it was announced that the high school was named 7th most beautiful
campus in California. My sense of pride
did go up. I am pretty sure Donald
agreed with the evaluation.
During the tour, another
member of our class of ’66, was inducted to the Wall of Fame. Bob Regan composes songs and lyrics for the
Nashville crowd. The other member of the
wall from our class is one of my two high school friends, Ray Hoff, whom I
refer to as the rocket scientist. He
worked in the space program building satellites until he retired.
I was not shy in high
school, but I did keep a low profile, or so I thought. I was amazed at just how many of my
classmates actually remembered me. That
was another ego boost. At the class
dinner, I learned that some of my classmates were up to quite a few
hijinks. I guess that is why our class
was given the moniker “The Rebels”.
I know Donald had a great
time, when not confined to a car seat, and now he has many new happy
memories. I also have happy memories of
traveling with Donald and the reunion. I
only hope we can keep them for a long time into the future.
© 10 Sep 2016
I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale
and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to
turning 8 years old in 1956, I was sent to live with my grandparents on their
farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents
divorced.
When united with my mother and stepfather two years later
in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California,
graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force,
I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until
her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001
terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be
therapeutic.
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