Two days ago I wound my way down Highway 50 from South Lake Tahoe, and arrived in Oakland. Over the last week I logged 3000+ miles as I drove west from Vermont. There is much to contemplate as you travel across America, many observations are cliched but true: wide open spaces, flat, corn… There is also a deep sense of sadness that I feel crossing the plains and prairies. I think of the cultures and civilizations that flourished here for millennia, now gone or sidelined in their decline, and the great herds of buffalo now reduced to roadside attractions. The radio stations reported on the hawks’ drums beating for more war and the new iPhones before lapsing back into tired pop, classic rock, or derivative country and western hits.
I thought back to how I made this journey over ten years ago. My friend Mary and I, our pennies saved from restaurant work, heading out into the great unknown of adulthood. Then we had wandered north along Highway 90, heading south down into Colorado, and then eventually arriving in the Bay Area, wide eyed and dusty. This time I was directed. Heading straight along, stopping only for tornadoes and sleep, and to brew french press coffee (to the mystification of many a gas station cashier).
Now I have more of the world under my belt. My eyes are still wide, but less clouded with lingering adolescent fantasies. Now begins the search for an organization, company, nonprofit, or foundation that I can devote my energies to. The Bay is replete with energetic far-thinkers, and I am looking forward to meeting them all.