Summary and Closing Thoughts

Thanks guys. Mean it.

Rodney here, writing from the study of my temporary quarters in Falls Church, VA. I am sipping a glass of wine from the Fess Parker winery in Los Olivos, CA, as close as it gets to “local” from my former home in Simi Valley.  I start work and the next life-chapter tomorrow in downtown Washington DC.

My closing thoughts are quite simple.  Please indulge me with a grenache-syrah-mourvedre stained memory lane:

The Mission.  Acceptance by Clark, Matt, and Mana’o. Picking up Clark at LAX and having a few beers before shutting the door at the Residence Inn Westlake Village. The first hotel caffeine and breakfast of the trip.  Turning on our GPS unit, “Sheila,” for the first time and having her take a non-traditional route to Palm Springs.  Lunch with American hero Rich B. at his palatial, gorgeous, resort-like desert home.

Desert and cactus.  Questions about Gila monsters.  A car pulled by the side of the freeway, with what appeared to be people…napping…with hands behind their heads under an overpass.  Arrival at Matt’s and a demonstration of his Blu-Ray projection Home Theater (I felt I was in the church with Clint Eastwood during the opening scenes of Grand Torino).  Dinner with the Perez family.  Travel to Kanab.

A nice encounter with the State Police of Utah, with a friendly admonishment to slow down under 77 mph.  He had also asked for proof of insurance – current insurance I have, but the document in the glove compartment said it expired a few days earlier.  Oops but no worries as the nice officer said nothing.  Grabbing the last room at the best hotel in Kanab, the Holiday Inn Express, and watching the people behind me in line get turned away.  No parking because the Model-T Ford Club of San Diego took all the spots with their beautiful antiques.  Breakfast in Kanab with the wholesome ones, and almost missing coffee service which was hidden in a corner of the room.  Hmm, the beer really is 3.2% ABV here.

End Act One.

Gorgeous Bryce Canyon.  Little People filming in a Big World .  We just drink in the majesty of God’s creation, which looks in parts like a nature-made Angkor Wat.

Discussions on Battlestar Galactica.  Trek.  More Galactica.  Star Wars.  Then guess what?  Galactica.  We wonder about what Kara Thrace was…did that thread just kind of drop?  Saul Tighe: best executive officer ever represented on film, played by a great Canadian actor Michael Hogan, and our favorite BSG character.  Impressions, quotes, jargon, man-talk.

Confessions from Rodney that he has had No Game.  Chorus from the car saying they don’t either.  I actually suspect that Matt and Clark have more than they let on.

Rest stops.  Bathrooms.  Gasoline.  Trash disposal. Windshield squeegies.  Burgers/Arby’s, and many, many curly-fries.  Coke zero, Pepsi Max, Gatorade, water, chewing gum, almonds.  Side trips to Circle Ks.  Cruise control.

The mountains of Colorado.  Elevation.  Arriving at the MacLennans horribly late, but troopers they are, they fed us and entertained us magnificently.  Pictures of Kent, Clark, and me from college.  Why was I staring at blank walls so much and at such proximity?  Hmm.  An amused Mana’o.  Gila monster question resolved:  it is a myth.

Rocky Mountains from afar, then Kansas, which looks just like Ireland…a place I’ve never visited but heck, my imagination says this is what it would look like.  Dang there are are lot of bugs here and they all sound like rain hitting my windshield.  Wheat.  Wheat.  Wheat.  The dour, taciturn, Swiss-like people of Colby KS, self-proclaimed oasis of the plains (meh.)  Oh  look:  wheat.  Sheila takes us via Lawrence KS and KU to Leawood.  End Act One.

Fiesta, Filipino food, more old photos (why did my mom dress me in suits so young?), reunions and reminiscing.  Family.  My father and grandmother’s gravesite, which I discovered by feel and distant memory.  The old family house, with its beautiful backyard Japanese gardens now overgrown with neglect and weeds, the facade of the house no longer a Tokyo aesthetic.  Off to Indiana, via St. Louis’s arch, crossing the Mississippi and through Illinois via a roundabout way courtesy of Sheila.

Evans Farm.  It’s good to know farmhouse hospitality known worldwide and eons old, still exists.  Beautiful themed gardens.  Corn and wind energy growing rapidly on acres of fields.  Snacks, homemade pickles, and the best damn black raspberries we’ve ever had.  Wish we could have stayed longer.

Chicago = urban civilization.  Our hotel, the Marriott, on a truly magnificent mile…too good for us but we’ll take it on reward points thank you very much.  Old friends, one not seen for over 30 years, but felt like home again.  Especially over a world famous Giordano’s stuffed pizza as seen on Food Network!  One more beer, he says, and well, that was plenty.  Steam cleaned bathrooms at 0100 hrs.

Greeted by dorks (i.e., us) wielding MacBooks in the Marriott lobby, composing hangover haikus and trying not to hear the conference breakout sessions at the next table.  A quick stroll to the Navy Pier and a view of Lake Michigan, a four-masted schooner, and shirtless un-beautiful people walking the streets.  We missed the free acoustic concert by Better than Ezra near the Chicago Tribune and WGN hqs.  Why is a sculpture of American Gothic here too?

End Act Two.

Thunderstorms, a satellite-less Sheila, delays us a bit but no worries…nothing ahead for us but South Bend and Cleveland.  Touchdown Jesus and a walk around Notre Dame Stadium.  Then checking in the beautiful downtown Cleveland Residence Inn.  Matt skilfully executes a beautiful 47-point turn to fit into the world’s smallest parking space.  Dinner at the Winking Lizard.  Drinks afterwards at the Irish pub down the street.

Walking to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Interminable.  Had to take a break at a CVS where a 3-inch roach said hello.  It was not afraid of us.  Hall of Fame was AWESOME – Guitars from all the greats, numerous exhibits, films.  Very disappointed that Fangboner was not inducted on our arrival, however.  Eerily, we saw Michael Jackson’s glove and various costumes (Thriller, et al).  and all this before word of his hospitalization and eventual death was forthcoming.  Just as eerily, we discussed Billy Mays quite a bit.  Anyway….

Canton aka “Guangdong” Ohio.  Pro Football Hall of Fame – just as AWESOME.  Clark was the only one who could throw a spiral and hit the WR targets.

We note the “international destinations” we have visited on our route, among them:  Morocco (Indiana), Medina, Angola, Canton et al.

Pittsburgh – not much happened here. Just a baseball game and dinner, really.  Ok, I do remember a really close and exciting baseball game.  And caipirinhas at the tapas place afterwards.  Some advice and wisdom for Mana’o…such as it is from three balding middle-aged men.  There may have been some conversation with the table across from us, and a trip later to a Latin nightclub, where they told Clark and me to remove our baseball caps.  Please do not swing around the pole.

We’re so close we can taste it.  No free breakfast at the hotel, so Rodney makes do with the Subway across the street.  We drive with intent, only 4 hours from our destination.  How the hell did we end up in West Virginia?  Well, we were only there for about 20 minutes then all was well in the world.  Our first Maryland license plate – we’re getting close!  Our first DC plate…then a Virginia plate.  Hancock, MD marks the crossing of the Mason-Dixon line and our arrival in the American South (technically).  The radio stations soon start to become familiar.  Our welcoming committee came out in droves for us on the beltway…yes, traffic.  It feels more oppressive than LA’s for some reason.

At home, my wife and kids greet us all with enthusiasm, beer, cheese, bread, and dried Italian meats.  Gail you are the BEST.  Mom is there as well, happy to see me, and our dear friend Stacie as well (I worked with her at The Walt Disney Company, and she is the best they EVER had).  Notwithstanding an hour-long conference call that rudely interrupted my vacation, I felt good.

Bottom line: it was all I ever imagined and more.  I got to know Clark, Matt, and Mana’o on an even deeper level and the journey will cement what we had before into lifelong relationships.  I will never forget the trip, and more important, the generosity, camaraderie, laughs, and jokes of the road.

To Clark, Matt, and Mana’o, my deepest gratitude to you for the trip of a lifetime.  You’ve shown me the value and meaning of friendship.

End Act Three.  Cue music.

Objects in Mirror…

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." -- Lao Tzu

Right, so it’s time to put the trip to rest. True, I woke up this morning and suddenly found myself back in the van. But that was work, not traveling. While I was waiting for Rodney this morning in the cell phone lot at Dulles (hey, I hang out in airport cell phone lots…OK, there I admit it), I tried to tally up the miles. Based on our Google Maps directions, we traveled close to 3,500 miles. Of course, we missed the twine ball bit in Kansas (again, no remorse felt), but we added those miles on again when we got lost in Illinois, a seemingly impossible feat we accomplished with great ease. And while I tried to keep Lao Tzu’s words in my mind during the trip, I must admit that by the end, I was intent on arriving. And now even more intent on arriving back in Boston to see my lovely wife and daughter. Let me just say that the trip was great. Rod and I haven’t spent that much time together since college. It’s amazing when you can pick up again with friends like Rod, and it’s as if all the intervening years vanish. I want to thank him for the invite, and for seeing eye-to-eye on one important question. Both of us would choose Saul Tighe over Commander Riker as XO any day. So say we all.

It was also great to see Kent, Jenn and their wonderful family, and to really get a sense of Rodneyboy’s past in Kansas City. I’m doubly glad we got to make a stop, however brief, in Indiana to see my folks. Chicago looked great, Cleveland not so much. There was extreme, and warranted, disappontment at learning Fangboner has once again been passed over for induction into the rock-n-roll Hall of Fame. But that was offset by getting to see a close professional baseball game from a great, free seat right along the third base line (thanks to Jeff Waggett, who nearly joined us on this trip).

It was great to meet Matt, and to provide a “safe space” for his tango with a pole at the Bossa Nova night club in Pittsburgh. That’s a sentence you don’t get to type very often. Let me revel in that for a moment.  Aaahhhhh….

Mana’o, Rodney’s nephew, was a good sport, and put up with a lot of silly man-talk, both around him and at him. Two-a-day football practices will seem like child’s play in comparison.

I will avoid any grand sweeping statements about the meaning of this trip. This isn’t Hollywood, although the trip did start there. It was, in the end, just four dudes in a mini-van, driving 3,500 miles, accompanied only by an Australian accented GPS named Karen, and the sound of the bugs hitting the windshield.

The Way of the Way

Matt aka @loungecreature here. We’ve reached our destination of Arlington, VA, and I’ll be flying home to Phoenix later this afternoon. This trip was well timed for me to get away from everything–literally–and find a bit of clarity with some occasional haziness mixed in. It was great to renew and deepen my friendship with Rodney, learning where he came from and where he’s going. I also made a new friend and found a comedy writing partner in Clark, a man of great forbearance and good humor.

I also learned a lot about our country in seeing parts of it I had never visited. I saw economic hardship in Cleveland and appreciated for the first time how this country can feed the world as we drove for days through just a small part of the farm fields I usually fly over while reading a book. I’m glad I came.

Chicago. Our Kind of Town

Before Cleveland we had a blast in Chicago.  Meeting old friends Michelle and Sharon, eating Giordano’s stuffed pizza, walking around this beautiful city.  Clark frolicked with children and Matt was interviewed by Bob Newhart.  Check it out:

"Yes, I very much enjoyed hiking the Appalachians."

Move it kids, come on!!

Cleveland

The Residence Inn downtown is a classy place, and this is no overstatement.  It is built in a old building, perhaps an historic one, and Marriott has worked to preserve many features of the time.  Check out the main hallway:

Do not adjust your picture. This is a Residence Inn. No joke.

The room is huge with 20 foot ceilings.    I think each room probably has individual character.  For example, we noted a placard outside one guest room that said “Caution: step up into the room.”

So, as I tweeted this morning, Clark stirred first as he is wont to do and left the room.  I followed him to the breakfast room, again in search of coffee.  Here is the breakfast room:

Beautiful stained glass skylights.

Breakfast was eggs, sausage, coffee, and a healthy dose of local Fox news.  No offense to local morning show anchors, but the breakfast consensus was that we love our jobs and would never take theirs.  No thanks.  The clincher for me was the four hosts sitting on a couch grooving, snapping fingers, and singing along to Wham!’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-go together with guest Miss Ohio.  Who then got on stage to sing opera.

Stay classy, Cleveland, as Ron Burgundy would say.

Today we are going to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton.  Tonight, a Pittsburgh Pirates game against Cleveland, but we’ll watch it in Pittsburgh.

- RF

Behold, the ravages of time…

The Evans Heritage Farm

Evans Heritage Farm -- established 1868

Clark here. My turn now to give you a small glimpse of the landscape, and the people, who were instrumental in shaping me. Yesterday, we made a stop in Oxford, IN (Home of Dan Patch) to visit my parents, Bob and Betty Boyd (that’s them on the left in the picture). My mother’s maiden name is Evans, and her father, my grandfather, farmed this land for more than 50 years. Now, my parents live in the farmhouse, parts of which are more than 100 years old. The farm itself was established in 1868, which makes it a Hoosier Homestead Farm. Hence the blue plaque in the photo. They very graciously welcomed four weary travelers with cold drinks, great food and a heapin’ helpin’ of Hoosier hospitality. Yes, I love alliteration. I spent alot of my early years running around this farm, and watching my grandfather moan with disgust while listening to the Cubs lose yet another game on his small transistor radio. Although I now live in one of the most densely populated areas of the United States (Boston), there’s still something of the flatlander in me, and there always will be. Thanks Mom and Dad. We wish we could’ve stayed longer.

Hangover Haiku…

In the interest of fostering even more haiku goodness, I’ve used my Boddington’s fueled vegetative state, and the mind-numbing conversation of the Marriott hotel lobby, to craft a poem.

Wretched alcohol.
Conference breakout near me.
These men’s days? Numbered.

Perhaps not my best effort, but I’ve only had one cup of coffee this morning.

Guest Haiku!!

Our Kansas-inspired haiku (wow, how often do you get to type that sentence?) in turn inspired a couple of our readers (all three of them) to send in some of their own works. For those of you who missed it, here was our effort:

Bugs strike my windshield.
Their bodies burst like ripe grapes.
It sounds much like rain.

We were especially proud of the bursting like ripe grapes image. No huge surprise there. Reader Jeff Waggett responds:

Bug green Rorschach test
Asks, who watches the watchmen?
Windshield volunteers.

We especially appreciate that Jeff managed to get Rorschach into a haiku. You simply don’t see that every day. “Windshield Volunteers,” we reckon, is not a bad name for a band, or at least an album title (we’re thinking sophomore effort from a band that will ultimately never sign a major record deal). In your head, you’ve already designed the cover art. Unpleasant, much like the music contained therein, doubtless.

And then Broomfield’s finest gross haiku-writer (and grillmeister) Kent MacLennan sent us this:

Bird nests in back yard.
Babies fall out near the grill.
Yummy fowl kebabs.

Glad I went with the steak a few nights ago, pal. Not saying anything, I’m just saying.

Coming Home

Rodney here. We just left Leawood, KS, a beautiful suburb of the Greater Kansas City area. On behalf of Clark, Matt, and Mana’o, I want to express our deepest gratitude and appreciation for Dr. Rolando and Mrs. Amy Mesina for hosting us at their house [read: palace.] Just to give you a flavor for their hospitality, when we rounded the bend onto their cul-de-sac, we saw at least half a dozen cars parked out front; Mrs. Mesina ran out to greet us; and when we entered the house: fiesta.

So, also, thanks to everyone who came out to greet us from Kansas City: Christina, Michael, the Micianos, everyone. We felt so special. Thank you all. To Uncle Rolly and Tita Amy and all the Mesinas – I love you – you have been family to me and always will be.

Bottom line I felt at home, and that’s what this post is about. I’ve moved a little bit over the years: Leawood, Wichita, West Des Moines, Quincy IL, Washington DC, Arlington VA, Alexandria, Hong Kong, Burbank/Simi Valley. But despite the fact that I’ve been away from Leawood for 17 years, I never felt so welcome, loved, and involved, starting from the visit to the Mesinas, to the brief pilgrimage this morning to my father’s and grandmother’s grave, to seeing the McDonald’s on 103rd St that used to feed me as a child, to driving past the old Faraon house. This is where home is. I’m from Kansas.

RIP Dad 1927-1992. I miss you.