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Reading a newspaper column about a 50th high school reunion sounds as exciting as looking at a neighbor’s photographs from summer vacation.
“Wow, those are great. I’ve got to go.”
However, there must be something interesting or educational about a 2,557 mile sojourn through New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana and back to see family and friends. Maybe?
As we left Valencia County heading north, my goals seemed reasonable: have fun, don’t talk politics or say something stupid, pick up some “contraband,” seek a sign about retirement and return safely. No problem.
Head ʼem up, move ʼem out
Immediately there were frustrations. The rental car, more modern then I am used to, had a pushbutton start. It was cool but confusing. For the first time ever, I filled up the gas tank while the car was running, thinking it was turned off. Thankfully, no explosion.
Denver has given the family plenty of good memories, but, with apologies to “Gone With the Wind,” as God is my witness, I will never drive through Denver again! For more than 20 years, the road construction on I-25 through Colorado has been horrible, peaking in the Denver-metro area. With stop and go traffic, the tension is palpable. My wife, Patty, was clutching the door handle and constantly checking the side mirror. Thankfully, most of the drivers were considerate.
There were other traffic slowdowns. On the Standing Rock Reservation in South Dakota, we waited three times for a pilot car to navigate a road closure. While cooling our heels, there were nice conversations with two flagmen about the local scene and culture. Before long, it was back on the road.
Windshield time
With about 40 hours behind the wheel, 2,400 minutes, there was plenty of time to enjoy the scenery, with lots of “wow” moments.
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I’ll bet we said a variation of “how beautiful” more than 100 times, catching glimpses of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, traveling through Raton Pass and the Black Hills, the stunning badlands of Makoshika Park in my Montana hometown, and tracing the Missouri River and the path of Lewis, Clark and Sacagewa. Is there a more underrated part of American history than their expedition?
There were plenty of “look at that,” moments, too, when it came to wildlife. Buffalo, deer, lots of antelope, a mob of turkeys scurrying off the road at the sound of the car horn.
Signs, signs, everywhere signs
To break up the beauty and the beasts, there were plenty of signs to read. South Dakota tourist (trap) attraction Wall Drug had billboards starting a thousand miles away. As a child, Patty bought a “surprise” box at Wall Drug with nothing in it. Surprise!
Entering small towns, there were signs honoring local celebrities, high school champions or state walleye fishing records.
There were plenty of notices, even more than in New Mexico, for help wanted. We stayed at a hotel where the front office was at a nearby diner. One morning, an employee was checking people in the hotel, waiting tables and cooking all by herself. Help wanted, indeed.
Some states have official road signs marking fatal vehicle accidents. In New Mexico, descansos are often placed by family members and friends to honor loved ones. These are touching, heartfelt tributes. However, the markers used by the state of South Dakota are just the opposite, in my opinion.
These signs feature a prominent red X, accompanied by words saying, “X marks the spot. Think. Drive safely.” It’s insulting and callous to the victims and their families.
Dial me up
Sometimes during long stretches, we’d scan the radio searching for local flavor. It’s fun listening to small-town stations, like the ones Patty and I once worked at.
These days, automation and corporations rule the air waves, often zapping out personality and originality. That’s why it’s so much fun when you can dial up a Native program.
In a short span, we heard funny stories, a list of community events, and vintage country/western music. I used to make fun of the genre, but not anymore when hearing Charlie Pride, Patsy Cline, Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash.
Bada Bing Bars
As for the “contraband” mentioned earlier, I hauled six boxes of Old Dutch potato chips from the north country back home. They have long been my fave but can’t be found in New Mexico.
Patty gathered about two dozen Bing Bars, described by the candy confectioner as a “Midwestern favorite.”
Class of ‘75
As for the reunion, it was terrific, starting with food and beer at the shooting range. Guns were kept in storage, FYI.
It was three days filled with laughter, stories, music and more laughter. My buddy, Ron, played guitar with a local band as Patty gave me a two-step refresher on the dance floor.
Many of us would gather together and ask, “Who is that?” about the identity of a classmate. Several people said they knew it was me by my voice. One person could tell by my hair. That’s a new one.
Everyone was cheerful and excited to be together again. There were also several opportunities, including a lighting ceremony on the old bridge, to remember classmates no longer with us.
As our former librarian said, returning home helps us remember where we are from and what helped us become who we are. She added, “It keeps us grounded.” I agree.
Still, after nine days on the road I was anxious to get back to New Mexico. This unique, diverse, place has been my home for nearly twice as long as the state of my birth.
It has amazing attributes that shouldn’t be overlooked. How blessed to have great friends and great memories in both places. Can’t get much better than that.
