Trail blazing.

We went west out to San Francisco for the last American adventure.  When pioneers cut these trails in search of precious metals precious hope they knew they had reached the end of the line.  The point where the land meets the ocean, spouting plumes of fog over the hills marked the end of the discoveries of the New World and the beginning of what would truly become and American dream.

Visitors from the far ends of the world come with an unquenchable thirst to rent Mustang convertibles and cruise down the 101, in the hope that one cool breeze, or minute of the sun on their shoulders will create precisely the same feeling that pushed countless artists to create their California opuses.  We chase their dreams to understand more authentically.

In our cherry red Cadillac we are retracing trails well worn.  Down the coast to Monterrey and back into the chilled fog filled bowl of the Haight.  I can't imagine that much has changed in this place since the last revolution.

Making History.

We spent three weeks in Oklahoma, thinking that it would be more than enough.  We reminisced fondly over our wasted Oklahoma youths, debating the benefits of an adolescence with little distraction and never ending fields.  Those who have found their homes there have searched and nestled into happy lives and I feel privileged to peer into their successes.

The plains roll out in golden rod and wheat and I am thinking about my grandmother.  She was barely a teenager when she went to work as a dance instructor in the City.  The hand made cardboard inserts allowed her to put off buying new dance shoes until even they were worn through.  I imagine her walking, ignoring the pavement encroaching into her mules, to the job that never landed her fame, but did land her a young soldier named Earl.

Three weeks passed too quickly and I wonder if there is never enough time to exist in the past.