September 18, 2001: a necessary journey
Emails from the road....
Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 19:15:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Kris Millering
Subject: {new zero} last night's entry
September 15, 2001
Iowa City, IA to Chamberlain, SD
Tonight, I'm in Chamberlain, also known as Central Bumfuck, South Dakota.
It is also known as "all of the local dialups are long distance", SD, so
tonight I'm offline and working locally.
I went the long way to South Dakota today; I had to stop in Pine Island to
return my grandfather's cooler. Last night, I said goodbye to Ragged
Robin, who I spent much of the last three days with. I sniffled a bit as
I walked into my hotel room after saying goodbye to her. I miss her
already.
I managed to put some old ghosts to rest this week, though. I managed to
reconfirm for myself that the Iowa City area is no longer home; I am a
stranger to it as it is a stranger to me. I will never be able to go
back. The Iowa City I grew up so much in no longer exists. It is hollow
at the core now, and most of the people I know who remain work at the
mall. The happy memories I have are just that-memories. The past. I
drove today, wondering that I feel content for the first time in a long
time. The past no longer reaches into the present, and a lot of the
longing I've been feeling is gone, as I've managed to finally convince
some of the darker corners of my brain that there's no going home again,
that I simply won't be able to step back into my old life.
Now, I want to be home. I want to smooch my cats and hug my friends
again. I feel like this drive home is a necessary journey, part of a
symbolic walk up aboveground from the underworld.
I saw my grandmother one last time today\, and had lunch with my
grandfather. He told me that this was a long drive to be making home, and
if he didn't have things going on this week, he'd come with me. I
breathed a small, quiet sigh of relief. Of all the things I regard as
unpleasant, spending three days in the company of my grandfather ranks up
near the top.
Of course, people are concerned because they think I'm normal. I'm not.
I like driving long distances by myself-much more than with other people.
I tire so much more easily with someone else in the car, needing to chat
about things. (Of course, I *have* had good road trips with other people.
I'm mostly thinking of my family here.)
So, I drove. After lunch, I really got on the road. My rental car is a
kicky little thing with nice acceleration, and it pretty much drives
itself with the cruise control on. I stopped at every rest area as a
matter of principle. I listened to my audiobook, avoiding the radio,
taking a break from the news. I hadn't had any idea that Minnesota was so
large, and I didn't make quite as much progress as I thought I would
across the bottom of the state today. I finally managed to get out of
Minnesota and into SD, hitting Mitchell about 7:30. After dinner, I
decided I wasn't done driving, and I drove another hour, getting into
Chamberlain at about nine.
I found a Best Western and checked in, talking to an old man who's
probably been smoking longer than I've been alive. I got the nicest $40
suite I've ever seen, because I came in so late. The hotel is ever so
slightly sketchy, but I'm only here one night.
So. Here I am in South Dakota. The news is terrible, the world has gone
mad, and I want to be home, where I can finally start to process
everything, and retreat into my house for a while, and think and grieve.
Twelve hours of driving tomorrow, maybe 14. I should be in Montana
tomorrow.
Night, all.
Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 19:58:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Kris Millering
Subject: {new zero} roadkill spotting
September 16, 2001
Chamberlain, SD, to Butte, Montana
8:30 pm
I amused myself today with roadkill identification. "Let's see...that's a
vole, that's a possom, oh, look! there's a porcupine! Mmmm, *sniff* that
would be fresh skunk, all right."
There is a kind of bleak poetry about this landscape, with its sky that
seems to have sheared the tops of the mountains flat.
I left Chamberlain at 8 am, and got into Butte at 8 pm Central time, a
13-hour driving day. It was really trather unremarkable, except for all
the horses (I like horses) and my quest for an A&W root beer float. which
I finally satisfied.
I managed to resist the temptation to stop at either Wall Drug or Mount
Rushmore. Whooshing past trucks, I went through Wyoming and on into
Montana. I had sort of forgotten how damned big Montana is. It's
just...huge. I drove and drove, stopping for gas every 200 miles (the car
gets 200 miles out of a half tank no matter what i'm doing--air
conditioning, cty driving, anything) and every so often to pee and/or eat.
Your usual roadtrip.
But roadkill spotting was fun. I went past something not even i could
identify, once. It was about as big as a deer, but the outline was
vaguely predatory. It had black fur, but it wsas mangled beyond
recognition.
I wonder, still, what it was. It looked for all the world like a big cat
of some sort.
So, tomorrow, home. I should get home about nine, or so, or maybe earlier
if I get going early.
I'm looking forward to seeing my kittycats and my friends again.
Night, all.
--Kris. whomping!
Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 16:37:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Kris Millering
Subject: {new zero} ...jiggety-jig
I have to admit, i was thinking about cheating.
I was even thinking about leaving.
I'd been casting my eyes eastward, idly checking out house prices,
thinking about maybe moving to someplace a little slower, a little more
empty. Just thinking. It wasn't a full-blown flirtation, just a twinkle
in th back of my mine. A "what if..."
So I went to visit. Just a fling, I promised myself. But I knew if I
loved it, i'd find a reason to get out the U-Haul and move right back into
the reigon I vacated a while back.
But when I was back there, I discovered yet again the reason I
left--though I like to visit, the culture is far to oppressive for me to
live there. And the weather. Oh, the weather.
I drove through eastern Washington today, through the arid rainshadow. It
looks like someone came along and stripped it flat, some giant hand
ripping up everything from hills that seem like they should be lushly
verdant. And in the distance, I saw it, poking its head arrogantly above
the horizon.
Mount Rainer. I was almost home.
And so I drove on, and on.
The dividing line between mountain and rainshadow is an abrupt one--maybe
three miles where it's obvious that the rain simply up and stops. And
when dry scrub gave way to tall pines, and the landscape turned ponderous,
and I came around a curve to see a blanket of cloud cradled in a valley,
spilling over the edges, I felt my heart lift. Almost there.
I drove through the cloud about a half hour later. Like the mists of the
underworld surrounding someone who's about to escape, I was suddenly
isolated from everything around me. Onwards and upwards, not looking
back.
And then North Bend came and everything was familiar again.
I arrived at the beginning of rush hour, so i came home and unloaded. i'm
going to go return the car tonight, but first...a nap.
I'm home.
YAY.
--Kris. CAUTION MEN WITH TOOLS.
