Blog #1–Launched
This is my journey–
Day 1, Late February 2018
I drove yesterday from Central Oregon to the San Francisco East Bay. Bend to Walnut Creek. I hate driving in snow or ice and had a twelve hour window with neither, so I launched. Today the snow came to Central Oregon, as the weathergirl said it would. Today I am with my daughter, Amelia, and her S.O., Ryan, in a city without snow or ice, feeling very smug. Squeaked through that window.
I have outfitted my Honda CRV for a cross country trip from Oregon to Florida and back, all on a shoestring budget. Being a Clever American Woman, I have fashioned a bed from foam rubber and an electric carving knife, customizing the foam to lay as close to level as possible in an SUV where the back seat does not lay flat. (“Well, almost flat”, the salesman said). Duct taped all the padding pieces together, then sewed a cover for my tapered bed out of vinyl and ticking. I have bedding packed in the zippered bag that a comforter came in years ago. Clean sheets, feather pillow, down comforter… I’m not an animal.
I purchased a plastic chest of three drawers for my complete travel wardrobe. I certainly hope I am not invited to any State Dinners while on the East Coast. I rolled all my clothes to make the most of the space. I have a plastic container for my portable kitchen and another for camping supplies. My husband insisted I bring my big fattee Cabelas sleeping bag, because he knows it will be cold this time of year in Death Valley. I didn’t have room for the Yeti cooler, and it’s too heavy to move around anyway. So I have a funky old ice chest without a plug. It’ll be a pain in the ass to empty the melted ice out of every couple days, but there you have it. I’ve got my camera, my binoculars, my laptop and my phone. Extra camera batteries, chargers, toilet paper, yada yada yada. Anything I forgot–too late. I’m gone.
Last night, I crashed the 15th Annual Progressive Dinner on Dora Avenue, which is a short, dead-end street where Amelia and Ryan reside. I learned from the neighbors that their’s is the oldest neighborhood in Walnut Creek. Most of the houses are from the early 1900s–the majority have been improved upon, and the three we visited were charming. High ceilings, arched doorways, character in every room. And the food was fabulous. If you don’t know what a progressive dinner is, I will explain. It is not affiliated with any philosophical or political movement, despite it’s title. It is a dinner where each course is served at a new location. The kitchens are not licensed by the city or county, it’s old school trust on the menu here. You puts in yous nickel and you takes yous chances.
We started at Susan’s house for appetizers and cocktails. From there, we traveled across the street and down a few houses to Frank and Michelle’s for the main entrees and salads. And then on to Mike and Marian’s for desserts and coffee. (The cocktails seemed to travel with us). All of the neighbors contributed, and I was made to feel as welcome as if I lived there myself. People who had lived on Dora in years past and moved away came back tonight for this event.
It was a gregarious, happy event. It took a hour or so before I realized why this evening seemed so special: These people, (30-40 of them), were all laughing and talking, and not one of them was on a cell phone. In fact, I saw only one phone the entire evening and it was being used for photos of the gathering. All participants survived and the better for it. The proof was in the pudding…and the lemon bars and the cheesecake and the white chocolate dipped pretels…
I am in search of this America. I am looking for community. I want to find people who share meals and watch over each other’s homes. People who talk to each other face to face over backyard fences and out by the mailbox. It makes no difference where they live, who they know, or how much they have. No matter the differences between them, they are community.