Date: 2003-01-10
To: Here Come the Relations OR Go West, Young'un
Miles today: 0.0

Here Come the RelationsORGo West, Young'unJanuary 3rd through January 10thDistance: 13 milesElevation: None to speak ofMy theory is that the only expectation you should have of your family is that they will bury you when you die. Anything else you get from them should be treated as a lovely surprise for which you are truly grateful. (I'm sure my mother will tell me to delete this entry immediately, as she did when I wrote a nice analogy of hiking the AT and the Bataan Death March.) I drove south on Friday and Saturday, arriving in Memphis Saturday night, just in time to have dinner with my grandmother, aunt and uncle and feel the weight of their unapproving silence regarding my quitting my job and planning to hike alone. My grandmother asked, with all seriousness, if I had asked my mother's permission to do this. My uncle kept telling my 86-year-old grandmother about different ways I could be killed out there. My aunt just nodded silently at me with large, fearful eyes. I like them anyway. That over with, I drove all day on Sunday, except for a hiking break in the Ozarks near Fayetteville, Arkansas, to a tiny town in northeast Oklahoma, where my sister and her husband live. We had a lovely time. My sister doesn't ask questions like "who will protect you?" and "did you ask someone's permission?". These thoughts would never occur to her. On Monday, I spent the morning watching my sister teach high school math classes in Joplin, Missouri. We haven't seen each other except for the occasional holiday since 1986, so it was nice to see her in action.On Monday afternoon, I started driving again and made it all the way to Amarillo. I also managed to stop in Tulsa to walk for a couple of hours along the Arkansas River. It was Chicago cold there.   On Tuesday, I drove to Santa Rose State Park in New Mexico and walked around the lake for a few hours. I stopped at a Stuckey's to use the bathroom and buy a pecan log and a plastic horse. The management of Stuckey's was thoughtful enough to hang a large piece of paper on the door inside the stall of the women's restroom asking people to write down their New Year's Resolutions. Why can women be counted upon to bring writing utensils into the bathroom? I wonder if anyone went back to their car to get a pen, or perhaps borrowed a pen from a lady in the neighboring stall, to add their comments. I learned that many outsized heathen women frequent this particular Stuckey's, because most of the resolutions involved getting right with God and losing a few pounds. However, my favorite resolution read as follows: "Get this no good man off my back, final my parole, and leave New Mexico in my rearview mirror. So long suckers!". Amen, sister, Amen. I drove on to Santa Fe with renewed spirit and spent the evening with my friend Debs, planning my Australia/New Zealand trip. Wednesday - I arrived at my parent's house in Arizona, inventoried my stuff in the basement, briefed Dad on the equipment he would need when he joined me on the AT for a couple of days in March, and signed the legal bits that we all should have but I never did: will, financial and medical power of attorney, organ donation specification, etc. I saved a lot of money on this because I wrote the documents myself. It is good to be a lawyer. Thursday night I started the final leg of the road trip and spent the night in an over-priced Best Western in Needles, CA. Why does Needles smell like Vaseline? On Friday, I drove umpteen-thousand miles and hit San Francisco late at night. Hey, it's good to be back home again. I lived in SF for 4 years until the corporate machinery transferred me to Orange County, CA a year ago. I drove across the Bay Bridge through the city and up through the fog layer to Twin Peaks, a hill towering over the city, to the home of Andy and Russell, my very dear friends who have agreed to take me in until I start hiking. "I ain't homeless until I'm truckless."