Come full circle

After two weeks and almost 7,000 miles of driving, we returned safely to our starting point, my parents' home in Reisterstown, Maryland. Sadly, we said "goodbye" to the Town & Country. The agent noted that I could have washed it as he checked it in. Then, upon seeing the number of miles on the odometer, he asked, "Where did you go?!?"



Thanks for all your prayers, calls to check on us, and positive blog comments throughout this journey. Would I do it again? Considering how blessed we were throughout the journey from the weather, to lodging, to all the sites seen, and to all the angels we crossed our paths along the way, I'd have to pause...but finally say, "yes, I would." Actually it is because the trip has been such a joy for my parents and a unique experience for me at this time in my life that I'd be willing to do it again. Peace.

We took no photos today. Our focus was on covering the 650 miles between Memphis, TN and Roanoke, VA. Our lack of photos was not an indictment of Tennessee’s scenery. I appreciated seeing the dense green woods of the Tennessee forests which were a stark contrast to the terrain from our days in the western deserts. I knew how determined we were to reach our destination when no one suggested making a stop in Nashville to see the sites. We’ve visited several state capitals on this journey, but clearly no one minded skipping this one. Actually, I noticed that we were all fairly quiet for much of the drive. My father reeked havoc with the telemarketers who called (he forwarded their home number to his cell phone). My mother napped between magazine and newspaper articles. I kept myself alert and entertained with CD changes from various Motown artists, to Aretha, to the Dreamgirls soundtrack. After not quite 12 hours of driving and a very filling meal at the Country Cookin’ restaurant, we’re happily ensconced in our Roanoke hotel, resting and recharging for the last segment of the journey.

Tomorrow, we’ve got a relatively short 297 miles to cover to return to the Maryland homestead and the end of the Johnson Journey 2008. Let it go safely and quickly.

Gas Station Time Wharp

This is probably the only reason I'd consider time travel back to 1957! 25 cents a gallon! Those were the days.

Welcome to Arkansas!

An Arkansas state trooper officially welcomed us to Arkansas, the Natural state. About 5 miles into Arkansas, I noticed a state trooper on our tail. He followed us for several miles before pulling to the left of me and motioning for me to pull over. I was actually driving below the speed limit, so I knew speed wasn’t an issue. He approached the van on the passenger side, looked inside to see my father with the road atlas in his lap, and my mother sitting the back seat amidst assorted bags and luggage. He let us know that he was checking on us because he felt we were following a tractor trailer too closely. He asked me to walk with him back to his patrol car where he asked me various questions about our travel plans, vehicle ownership, identity, and employment. I believe he was sorely disappointed to learn that we were as we appeared—a family on vacation. When I mentioned that we had been traveling around the country since before the Memorial Day weekend, he expressed surprise that I could have that much time off. I shared with him that as a federal civil servant working for Congress, I’m entitled to a generous amount of vacation time. The officer and I shook hands, and he wished us safe travels. That, of course, was the external account of what happened. I’ll spare you the internal dialogue I was having (and the associated foul language).

Once we arrived at the Clinton Presidential Center in Little Rock, I put the highway incident behind me (as best I could) in order to absorb the beauty of the site and the wealth of information and artifacts presented. The library was very impressive. Bill pulled out all the stops to display his papers, gifts, and highlights of his presidency. The presentation put a positive (or at least minimally critical) spin on the events of his presidency including the Lewinsky situation. I was disappointed that I couldn’t enter the Oval office replica because I had every intention of having my picture taken at the president’s desk. Unlike Graceland which has Elvis’ jets parked outside, the Clinton library does not have a replica of Air Force One in the parking lot (another disappointment). Ultimately my mother got to achieve her goal of seeing another presidential library (my folks went to the Kennedy library last year). Now she’s trying to figure out what other presidential libraries can be easily visited. I’m voting for the Carter library, but I may be biased.

Little Rock’s Central High School was the other site on the day’s agenda. A new visitor center across the street from the school presents the story of the “Little Rock 9,” the nine black students who faced angry mobs to begin the integration of Little Rock’s schools in 1957. The exhibit with film footage, photographs, and interviews with the students and protesting white citizens was powerful and moving. Facing the school today with its imposing and majestic façade was intimidating without angry masses of people spewing words of hate and threat. I can’t begin to imagine the bravery of those nine students—even with National Guard escorts—entering the school and concentrating on school work. On another corner across from the school, a memorial park has been created with an exhibit of photographs from the many years of Central High’s history. The photographs depict how far race relations have progressed as Central High students from diverse backgrounds are shown studying, competing, and socializing together in the years since 1957. The school remains in operation with a student body of 2,700.

Also moving was a sculptural presentation on the grounds of the Arkansas Capitol building celebrating the courage of the Little Rock 9. On plaques circling the sculpture are quotes from each of those nine brave souls. All of them were touching but the one that stays with me the most was Minnijean Brown Trickey’s quote from Ghandi:

“We have to be the change we want to see in the world.”

We were up at 4 a.m! None of us slept well in Flagstaff. Perhaps our meal at Sizzlers didn’t agree with us. Whatever the reason, we were on I-40 heading east at 80 mph as the sun rose over the mountains in eastern Arizona. Beautiful! Dad started driving but was ready to resume his role as navigator/passenger with our first restroom stop. For the remainder of the day I blazed across Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and into Oklahoma. We covered about 860 miles with temperatures starting at 54 degrees in the morning and peaking at 108 degrees in Oklahoma. Oklahoma also greeted us with intense wind gusts that had the Town and Country rocking. The terrain offered very little to see. The same desert, more cows, and some times smelly fields of unidentifiable vegetation surrounded us on all sides. My father the historian kept himself entertained identifying remaining sections of historic Route 66. Yes, the drive was that exciting.

We arrived in Oklahoma City while still light enough to take in the Oklahoma City National Memorial & Museum, a moving tribute to the victims and survivors of the 1995 bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. The experience was so moving that I need to process it further before sharing it.

Good night.

Through the Desert--Bakerfield, Barstow and Beyond

Road across the Mojave desert--I have several

pictures from the desert that look exactly like this one.

Is it Monday? We’ve been on the road so long that we’ve lost track of the days. At dinner we recalled that last Monday was Memorial Day and we were in Denver. Now, a week later we’re in Flagstaff, Arizona. Today was our first day heading east. We left our hotel in Oakland, California this morning at 6:15 a.m. and after about 770 miles of driving we arrived at our hotel in Flagstaff at 6:30 p.m. We’re working our way back across the country via I-40. We’ve got a lot of highway yet to cover.

Today’s journey had to rank as the most dull of the trip so far. As we drove through central California, we played the very thrilling game of Guess What’s Growing in that Field! We passed field after field of orchards, grape vineyards, and other cow-manured fields awaiting seeds. When we didn’t have any plant life to identify, we played that other thrilling road game, Is That A Cow or a Sheep? When my father tried to figure out what one particular cow could have been eating in a field of rocks and dirt, I knew we had been in the car too long. Sadly, the cows and sheep gave us something to look at besides the endless desert. From Bakersfield to about 100 miles before Flagstaff, the scenery rarely changed. Desert. Short shrubs and cacti in the desert. A lone house or trailer. An abandoned car. A dry lake or riverbed. Sometimes the road curved and we crossed the occasional mountain, but mostly we saw nothing. We hoped passing Edwards Air Force Base would give us something to see, but no such luck. The entire area looks like a dirt runway, so what we could see of the base from the highway didn’t really stand out. It was hard keeping the van below 80 mph when there was so little to make me want to take my time. Let’s hope Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma have more to offer. I’ll let you know.

P.S. Near Barstow we so gassed up at $4.79! Since crossing into Arizona, gas has fallen below $4 a gallon.

I could leave my heart in...

San Francisco! My wallet, too! Yes, we made it to the city by the bay which completes the coast-to-coast aspect of our trip. This must be one of the most beautiful and expensive cities in the country. Catching our first glimpse of San Francisco (or “Frisco” as my dad likes to say) was exciting. Paying $6 an hour to park near Fishermans Wharf was something other than exciting. If you know my father, you know we didn’t leave the car parked long. After a few photos of Alcatraz and some souvenir shopping, we cut out. We had too much of the city to see during our 1 day visit.

We stumbled upon AT&T Field (home of the Giants), crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, crept through Chinatown, breezed through the Presidio, and snaked our way down Lombard St. After our trek through the downhill twists and turns of Lombard, we attempted to park on a steeply inclined street, but our Town and Country, the same van that crossed the Rockies, refused to back up a San Francisco hill to capture a parking space. Fortunately we found more palatable parking and hiked back up a block of Lombard to photograph others snaking down this famous Frisco landmark. (The many hills obviously help keep the San Franciscans in great shape. Everyone seemed to be running, biking, or hiking somewhere around the city.)

As we drove around San Francisco, particularly in the downtown area, we were struck by the numbers of people crowding the sidewalks. It seemed atypical of most cities’ downtown blocks to have so many folks strolling, shopping, or milling around on a Sunday afternoon. All those people meant parking was truly a premium. One lot cheerfully advertised a bargain rate of $3 an hour for parking (which was cheaper than the $5 & $6 an hour at most other lots). A few blocks away a gas station had the gall to charge $4.60 per gallon for unleaded regular. Yes, San Francisco can be more detrimental to a wallet than Las Vegas or Reno. But, it is also a city that captures the heart. As we toured I mentally reviewed my calendar trying to figure out when I can return.

We just finished a wonderful seafood dinner in Berkeley and briefly toured some of its neighborhoods and the University of California campus. Now we’re mentally and physically preparing ourselves to start heading east. We’ve got at least three long days of driving ahead of us with only a couple of sightseeing stops to make.

On the road again

A Brothers Johnson Reunion

Brothers: Alfred & Alvin Johnson

“I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy!” That’s what my Aunt Bernice exclaimed as my now 67 year old father walked through the front door to surprise his brother, Alfred. The major impetus for our trip, my father’s reunion with his brother Alfred, was about to occur. My cousin Alfreda, wanted to surprise her father with my father’s visit, so she took us to her parents’ house after we arrived in Sacramento without any advance warning.

Many have expressed shock that my father and his brother had not seen each other since their father’s funeral in 1960. To provide some context, my father has 19 siblings thanks to his very prolific father, Elkana Johnson. My grandfather had 13 children with his first wife and 7 children with his second. His first child was born in 1910 and his last child around 1954 so the circumstances and age ranges meant that the 20 offspring did not grow up together. Elkana’s death and funeral in February 1960 in Alabama was most likely the only time all of them were ever together (including both his ex-wife and widow). My father’s memories of his brother, Alfred, were from his childhood when Alfred and his wife, Bernice, lived nearby. Dad recalled that Bernice made wonderful brownies and other sweet confections, and Alfred, an avid fisherman, often came home with a bounty of fish for all to share. These memories are from 1947 to 1952. Uncle Alfred left Alabama in 1966 vowing to never return. He and his family moved to Sacramento and he kept his word. Until last year, my father didn’t have a phone number or address to contact his brother.

My uncle Alfred is now 85 years old and long retired from many years working for the Air Force. When my cousin Alfreda coaxed her father out of his bedroom with the request that he come meet a friend of hers, Uncle Alfred came into the room and stared at my father. We all waited. Finally, he smiled and said, “That’s Bud.” Bud is my father’s family nickname. Greetings, hugs, introductions, and laughs were exchanged. Uncle Alfred has been slowed by a stroke but he maneuvered well with his cane and clearly had his wits about him. He started telling stories of other Johnson siblings and we all learned about family members often mentioned but now gone. I learned that my grandfather, Elkana, was a carpenter and his comfort with wood and building continued through many of his offspring including Uncle Alfred, my father, my cousin Alfreda, and even me when inspired by HGTV. Uncle Alfred also enjoyed talking about fishing and yearns for the day when he can be on a local lake in his boat trying to hook the next big one! He enjoyed showing Dad and me his fishing equipment and talking about his boat. My father also a boat owner and frequent fisherman took pleasure in having this common hobby with his brother.

During our visit, I got to meet some of my Sacramento cousins and noted their resemblance to other Johnson family members. Whatever gene is responsible for our classic Johnson good looks must be a strong one because I think I’d know them to be family anywhere I saw them.

It was a day of memories that created new ones. Reuniting with (or meeting) Uncle Alfred and his family was worth the 3,000 miles of driving and all the twists and turns, ups and downs, of the many mountain crossings. May 31, 2008, was historic.

P.S. Gas here in the Sacramento area seems to consistently be in the $4.10 to $4.30 per gallon range.

Carson City, Nevada's historic capital

The Lake Tahoe excursion was so memorable that it overshadowed the very nice visit we had in Nevada’s capital city, Carson City. A quaint small town with gorgeous views of the surrounding mountains (the ones crossed to get to Lake Tahoe), Carson City impressed us with its historic Capitol building, beautiful governor’s mansion, and friendly citizens encountered at the local tourism bureau. We stumbled upon the tourist bureau following the sound of bells from the clock tower playing Old Man River on the 10 o’clock hour. The receptionist in the bureau explained that the clock bell plays a different love song at the top of each hour. (Is Old Man River a love song?) Anyway, she was very friendly and guided us to Carson City’s historic sites. We toured the Capitol although I couldn’t locate the governor’s office so I could peek in and say “hey.” I didn’t knock on the door of the governor’s mansion either even though it is located in a very ordinary residential neighborhood. However, with Governor Jim Gibbons embroiled in a tumultuous divorce and allegations of an affair with a local podiatrist’s wife, I don’t really think he needed any unexpected company. Now I can check Carson City off of my list of state capitals to visit. (Actually, I don’t have such a list but since we’ve seen three state capitals on the trip with a few more on our itinerary, perhaps I need to start a list.)

P.S. For those who care, we paid $3.86 per gallon for gas in Carson City today.

Climbing to the lake and connecting with kin

Wow! I wish everyone I know could take the drive up to Lake Tahoe from Carson City, Nevada. After touring some of the historic sites in Nevada’s capital city, we hit the road for Lake Tahoe. We’ve had our share of mountain driving this trip and going to the lake was no exception. Although the drive wasn’t much more than 20 miles, it seemed to go on forever has the road got steeper, the curves sharper, and the cliffs scarier. About 5 miles into our ascent, my mother asked if we had to come back the same way. Yes. My navigator, Dad, became very engrossed in the maps and GPS unit as I snaked our way up, around, and down the mountains. I kept a firm grip on the wheel and drove without care as to the speed of the other drivers. I’m sure those speed demons up and down the mountain drive that route daily. It was my first and likely only time so I was determined to live to tell about it. Fortunately, the view of Lake Tahoe was so stunning that I temporarily forgot about the return trip. Absolutely amazing. No picture could really capture it or translate how clear and crisp the air felt around the lake. I can understand why folks would want to live around it even though the commute up and down the mountain would make me reconsider such a residence. Once back on flat ground, my father, the jokester, tried to convince my mother that he’d forgotten something at the lake and needed to go back. She offered to wait in the McDonald’s in Carson City while we made a return trek. Needless to say, Dad quickly let her in on the joke.

Also memorable was meeting my dad’s nephew, Alfred, the Boomtown casino chef. We decided to show up at the casino for lunch, and as luck would have it, we only had to ask one person of Alfred’s whereabouts. Once his co-workers realized we were relatives, they made a point of finding him and bringing him to our table. We’d never seen him, yet one look and we knew he was family. He had the trademark Johnson good looks and bore a very strong resemblance to another of my and his fathers’ brothers. Our visit wasn’t long but we caught up much as we would at a family reunion. He also insisted that we eat for free which was a deal my frugal father couldn’t think of declining.

Reno has been good to us. We’ve been to a mountaintop, connected with an unknown relative, and lost a whopping $5. Now my mother wants to go shopping which could be more dangerous than any gambling binge. Wish us luck!

Road to Reno, the biggest little city in the world!

Over 3,000 miles. That’s how many miles we’ve put on the Town & Country since our departure from Maryland last Friday. We’re in Reno, Nevada right now just a few miles from the California border. Today, we’ll be taking in the beauty of Lake Tahoe.

The drive from Las Vegas to Reno yesterday took us through some of the most incredibly beautiful natural sites. The route on state highway 95 took us through a few small, isolated western towns but mostly we saw open plains surrounded by snow capped mountains. The road seemed endless. It stretched out for miles ahead of us with a few curves and elevations. We got excited as we encountered a town because there were so few people to see. We stopped in one road side store, Nevada Joe’s, which turned out to be the only store at that crossroads. I noticed a brothel behind the store, the Cherry Patch Ranch II. I guess the operation accommodates the 18 wheeler traffic or may be some of the military personnel stationed in the remote weapons testing sites covering much of the land on the east side of the highway. Based on what we saw in the other small towns between Las Vegas and Reno, any entertainment must be welcomed.

We hit Reno, the “biggest small town in the world,” just in time for the tow truck show! Yes, on display outside of the casinos were all types of gleaming tow trucks small and large, vintage and brand new. I’m sure we would have lingered longer around the spectacle if the temperature hadn’t dropped with the setting sun. As in Vegas, my father had to make his $1 donation to Reno’s casinos. The casinos here are older and in my opinion not as inviting as those in Las Vegas, so our gambling time wasn’t too long. Perhaps after our Lake Tahoe excursion, we’ll check out some more of what Reno has to offer. We recently found out that my father’s nephew actually works as a chef at the Boomtown Casino and Resort on the edge of town, so we’ll probably venture out there for a visit and meal.

Off we go!

Goodbye to the Palace

The Moulin Rouge was a hotel and casino operation

opened in the segregated Las Vegas of 1955 for

African-American patrons not welcome at the

other Vegas hotels. It also closed in 1955. The site

is now on the national historic register.

In the morning we'll be saying goodbye to the luxury of Caesars Palace. Throughout the day my mother kept repeating, "Thank God for this day." Yes, my folks enjoyed revisiting Vegas after 28 years. We walked, road the monorail, and drove to many of the sites along the Vegas Strip. My dad made his $1 donation to each of the casinos we visited via the first 25 cent slot machine he could find in each. My mother tried to scope out shopping opportunities and had us patiently waiting as she perused the racks at Nieman Marcus and Macy's. As we toured, my father videotaped many of the spectacles and provided what has to be a hysterical narration of all that he saw. By unanimous vote, the three of us proclaimed the luxurious Wynn hotel as our favorite. From its Ferrari/Maserati dealership to the picture perfect indoor flowers and trees, the Wynn is a lottery winner's fantasy come true. I guess we'll have to start playing our lucky numbers in order to stay there during our next visit. Until then, we've got wonderful memories, photos and video to chronicle was has been a joyous day.

As I mentioned in my first blog entry, one of the purposes of this cross country adventure is to take my father to visit his brother, Alfred, in Sacramento. They last saw each other in 1960 at their father's funeral. At dinner this evening, my father called his brother's daughter, Alfreda, in Sacramento to let them know we'll be in the area. He didn't want to let them know before now to avoid any stressful preparation on their part. Well, his niece was thrilled to the point of hysteria upon hearing his voice and news of our visit. Even over the phone, her excitement was contagious. We’re all excited (although my father is trying not to show it). As wonderful as our Las Vegas time has been, I truly believe Saturday will be the day we remember most from this trip.

5 a.m. wake up call coming so I’m down for the night. Peace.

LAS VEGAS!!!

After a 12 hour drive from Denver we're in Las Vegas. The drive was as much of an adventure as the gaming tables in the casinos. We left Denver in rain and started across the Rockies. The temperature dropped to 36 degrees and soon we not only saw snow on the ground and on the mountain tops, but we were driving through a snow shower! I was the designated driver as my father monitored the map and GPS system. Up and down and up and down we went. Climbing higher and higher, hitting curve after curve as I-70 found its way over and around mountains and the Colorado River. It was a definite relief to finally see flat ground and temperatures in the 50s. As we headed towards Grand Junction, Colorado, we were overwhelmed with the beauty of the terrain. The mountains in the distance had snow on their peaks, while the closer land was dry in shades of brown and read. No wild life to be seen. Crossing into Utah brought temperatures in the 80s and more desolate beauty and towns that were farther and farther apart. We fueled up without hesitation when highway signs warned that the next gas station would be 110 miles down the highway. It didn't matter that we paid about $4 per gallon. We had no choice. The remainder of the drive through Utah and into Nevada took us over and around more mountains. Lots of climbing and lots of curves. Gorgeous red rocks. A few cattle farms. Although we were speechless to describe the beauty of the country, we did wonder out loud how folks lived in the small, remote communities we occasionally passed.

After hours of driving through wide open spaces, the Las Vegas skyline in the distance was a welcome sight. When we weren't in the mountains, I maintained a steady 80 mph but the closer I got to Las Vegas, the faster I drove. It was almost like the Strip was pulling the van to it. Once on the Strip, I slowed to let my folks take it all in. Needless to say, it looks much different than it did in 1980. When we pulled into the driveway at Caesars Palace they were awestruck. Once inside, Dad moved on warp drive, darting around tourists and slot machines while Mom and I laughed and told him to slow down. I think he got overly excited. After settling into our room here at the Palace with the largest bathroom any of us have ever experienced at a hotel (I've not taken pictures of it yet), we ventured out onto the Strip for the Bellagio's fountain show and window shopping in Planet Hollywood's Miracle Mile. My mother gave me and Dad $2 each for the slot machines. When I won mine back with an additional 50 cents, I cashed out. Dad lost his and claimed that the slots in Caesars favored him more. He won 50 cents on a nickel slot machine in Caesars, so I guess he was right. However, Dad wasn't pleased to learn that tickets to Chers' show here at Caesars start at $250 and all the shows are sold out. Later he let us know that he didn't want to see Cher anyway. It's not like she is a real Vegas act like Tom Jones or Tony Orlando and Dawn!

We're up at the crack of dawn now to tackle Sin City by day. I don't think we'll lose any money gambling, but another lunch of $14 hamburgers could put a dent in our budget.

Finally a Mile High

I did Iowa and Nebraska a disservice in my last blog by minimizes the differences between these two jewels of the heartland. As we hit the highway leaving lovely Grand Island, NE this morning, we were struck by the number of cattle and other livestock operations we passed. One farm even had a camel in its stockades. With livestock comes not just visual diversity but a variety of scents as well. In short, the cows stink!

We’ve also marveled at the vastness of the farming enterprises. Fields stretch beyond what the eye can see with young plants sprouting from the darkest and richest soil imaginable. Large, pivoting sprinklers on wheels are stationed in the middle of the fields awaiting a dry spell. My yard could use just one of those contraptions although our water restrictions would prohibit its use.

We arrived in Denver by lunchtime, checked into our hotel, and took a self-guided tour of the Mile High City. Dad wanted to check out the stadiums—the Broncos’ Invesco Field at Mile High and the Rockies’ Coors Field. I wanted to check out Denver’s first predominantly black neighborhood, Five Points, where the Black American West Museum resides. The museum which celebrates African-American history in America’s western region, was closed for the Memorial holiday. Our tour confirmed my research that Five Points has had its challenges after years of social and economic blight, but the arrival of a light rail station has also brought the new construction and renovation of housing stock that announce a gentrification movement. My parents liked what they saw of Colorado’s Mile High City and I am certain they’ll enjoy the beauty of western Colorado as we traverse the Rocky Mountains in route to Las Vegas.

Final note--for those tracking fuel costs, we purchased gas for $3.90 per gallon in Nebraska for 89 octane with 10% ethanol. The mid-grade gas was cheaper than the $4.04 per gallon for regular grade (87 octane) probably because the regular grade doesn't have ethanol. Thankfully, our flex fuel Town and Country minivan can handle to the ethanol-augmented gas.

A few miles short of Mile High

What's the difference between Iowa and Nebraska? Nebraska has twice as many letters, so this photo of Nebraska could just as well be Iowa.

Greetings from Grand Island, Nebraska, a beautiful hamlet off of Interstate 80 about 5 hours from Denver. Our original plan was to drive from Chicago to Denver, but after the wedding festivities, we decided that we'd stop when we got tired. So, we're here in Grand Island. Don't ask me why a town in the plains of Nebraska would be called Grand Island.

Today's high while crossing the many corn and wheat fields of Iowa and Nebraska reached about 92 degrees. We encountered a brief thunderstorm in Moline, Illinois, after breakfast (yes, we're hitting all the hotspots). Otherwise, we've had clear, sunny and warm weather for our drive. In addition to the beautiful scenary, another bright spot in Nebraska has been the cheaper gas prices--$3.78--compared to the high of $4.10 we paid near Chicago. As today's designated driver I've also enjoyed Nebraska's 75 mph speed limit. No, the Town and Country isn't a hot rod, but it is a capable road cruiser. Next time I'm going to cross the country with Kenny Chesney. His accommodations look a bit more comfortable.

Going to the chapel

Today, Saturday, May 24, 2008, my cousin Justin married Lorita. What a wonderful day it has been! As a family, the Mullin/Crenshaw clan has had its share of trials, but on occasions and days like today, I realize just how blessed we are to be able to come together and celebrate each other's joys and triumphs. I think about my maternal grandparents, Dennis and Clara Mullin and all they must have dreamed for us as they lived their lives in Greenville, AL, and I know how proud and amazed they would be. Congratulations, Justin and Lorita!

Tomorrow, we're back on the road, headed for Denver, CO. Although my father thinks we're getting off to a late start, we're aiming to be on the road by 6 a.m. The wake up call comes at 5 a.m. so it's "good night" for today.

Our first leg--making it to Kankakee, IL

Day 1. 3 a.m. That's the time we woke up this morning, Friday, May 23rd. 3:50 a.m. That's the time we were leaving my parents' driveway in Maryland headed for I-70 west, then the Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois turnpikes. We spent about $20 in tolls, but that was one of our least expensive travel costs. Yes, the rumors of rapidly escalating fuel costs are true. $3.92 per gallon is what we paid for our first fuel stop in Ohio. $4.10 per gallon was the price awaiting us at our next fuel stop on the Indiana/Illinois border. I have a feeling we haven't seen our peak price.

We covered about 710 miles in our 12 hour drive to Kankakee. My dad and I split the driving fairly evenly while my mother napped, read, and pointed out sites from the backseat. The Town & Country's satellite radio and our CD collection have kept us entertained so far. [We really like the red Town & Country van my father arranged to get from Thrifty after daily visits to the rental car office trying to pick out and reserve his personal favorite.] The weather has been cooler than expected (mid 60's) but mostly sunny.

Tomorrow (Saturday) will be devoted to activities associated with my cousin Justin's wedding. We arrived here in Kankakee in time to witness the rehearsel and enjoy the subsequent dinner. Expect some wedding details and maybe some funny family moments from the occasion in my next entry.

I'm feeling my 3 a.m. wake up so I think it's time for bed. I need to be rested for the wedding activities.

Planning to cross the country

For three weeks in 1980, my parents and I traveled across the country (truly seeing the "USA in our Chevrolet"). It was definitely the most memorable family vacation we ever took. Since then, I've grown up, traveled near and far for business and pleasure via the airlines, and created many memories on my own and with dear friends. After a trip to Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon in September 2008 (two places I hadn't seen since that cross country journey 27 years prior), I had the idea that my parents should get to see the USA again. Since my father isn't fond of airplanes (he won't fly...period), the only way to cross the nation would be by car (or in this case, minivan). So, for Christmas I announced that my present to them would be a cross country journey to coincide with my cousin Justin's wedding in Illinois on May 24, 2008. With calendar and map in hand, the three of us, charted our course with plans to hit old and new spots as well as a stop in Sacramento, CA, to visit my father's brother, Alfred, whom we haven't seen in 40 years! I do believe we're in for another trip of a lifetime! Keep us in your prayers as we travel the nation's highways.