Catching Up

It's been a while since I posted, in part due to poor Internet service and partly because I'd immersed myself in the Missoula Colony -- a gathering of playwrights in Missoula, Montana, where I had a play presented, attended workshops and readings of other writers' work, networked with theatre peeps from across the USA, and overall had an exciting and supportive experience. Because it's trendy, the weeklong workshop featured only women writers, directors and theatre-makers, so for me, it was doubly inspiring. Plus, I did some great writing while I was there (and imbibed some tasty local brews, too). Good reasons to live in the moment and not blog about it. That said, here's a photo of me with my director and cast of Controlled Burn.

We left Missoula on Monday morning heading east again to arrive by Tuesday afternoon in Killdeer, North Dakota, where John is facilitating a meeting of the local ambulance service, which is challenged by increased call volume due to the influx of people in this oil-rich area. On the way, we stopped for coffee in Miles City, Montana.

And we had lunch on the roadside in the Theodore Roosevelt National Park in the North Dakota Badlands. 

  I had hoped to see the bison herds, but sadly, like the Montana trout, they eluded me.

However, we did see wild horses on the ridgeline.

As we drove through the Bakken oil reserve, you could see miles of wide-open green farmland that is now being "fracked" and drilled.

Notice the old farmhouse on the left next to the drilling machinery.

On the Blackfoot

This is the view of the Blackfoot River from our campsite. 

Now called Russell Gates Recreation area, it also happens to be the site where Lewis and Clark made camp in July 1806, when they had nowhere to go but east following their arrival at the Pacific. Apparently, they covered 31 miles on the day they camped here, afraid for their safety because of local Indians and grizzlies and worried that their horses would go mad from all the mosquitoes. Fortunately for us, our screen tent and teardrop combination has kept us safe from all intruders. 

We've been camping and fishing for a few days in this remarkably picturesque part of Montana, where the views are jaw-dropping and the trout are, well, elusive. The only fish we've eaten frankly is tuna from a can. That said, the Blackfoot is a stupendous site, running 132 miles from the Continental Divide to the confluence of the Clark Fork River in Missoula. We've fished several places along its banks, as well as on a few of the local lakes.

In true River Runs Through It fashion, John likes to wade when he's fishing.

We caught a couple of small perch in this lake.

Some fishing holes are more remote than others. 

This guy was wondering what we were doing on his road.

We were wondering how he got out of the fenced pasture.

Little Big Horn

En route to Helena, we stopped at Little Big Horn, the site of the historic battle of the Great Sioux War known as Custer's Last Stand. This national park site memorializes the major battle fought on June 25, 1876 between Lakota, Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians against the US Army. The Indians, led by Sitting Bull, were fighting to preserve their traditional way of life as semi-nomadic buffalo hunters. The Army, led by Gen. George Armstrong Custer and Maj. Marcus Reno, was carrying out the Grant administration's instructions to relocate the Indians to reservations. More than 300 soldiers and some 100 Indian warriors died on the battlefield that day.

My great grand-father Jacob Joseph Simon served in the Ninth Infantry, Company K, in the Indian Wars, and supported the troops that fought here. Family lore tells the story that Jacob was supposed to be at Little Big Horn, but he arrived late. Not exactly true -- his company was stationed at Camp Robinson in Nebraska at this time -- but this historic site still gives me a glimpse into my family's history.

Here's a US Army uniform similar to that which Jacob Simon wore during his service from 1873-1878. Jacob Simon would have worn this uniform when he participated in the Second Powder River Expedition that raided a Sioux Village on the Powder River in 1876. It's a sobering legacy of national strife worth remembering.

Part of the memorial to the Native Americans who fought and died for their freedom.

The names of the soldiers who died here are engraved in this memorial on the top of Last Stand Hill. The bodies are buried beneath it in a mass grave.

Wyoming and Montana

Here we are in my favorite region: the Big Sky country of Wyoming and Montana. The weather is clearing up and we're hoping for several days of driving back roads, camping and fishing before I have to be in Missoula for a week of development on a new play at Missoula Writers' Colony.

The drive westward was head-on into the wind, which meant we had to feed our horses more often. Fortunately, gas in this area is running only about $3.60/gallon.

 The magnificent scenery. I get to take photos while John drives.

Our campsite on the Tongue River Reservoir in Decker, Montana.

Thunder Valley Dragway

After baseball, what could be more American than car racing? After our outing with the Sioux City Explorers, we drove north to catch the IHRA drag racing at Thunder Valley Dragway in Parker, South Dakota. The drag strip sits amidst corns fields and is a bit off the beaten path in a town of about 1,000 people southwest of Sioux Falls. We arrived to find dozens of racers and enthusiasts in RVs, trucks, campers, four-wheelers, and trailers of all sorts camped on site for a weekend of motorized competition.

The drag strip is one-quarter mile asphalt with an incline that slows the cars after they reach the finish. This is a view from behind the starting line. The races featured stock cars, super stock, top fuel and motorcycles. The best performers cover the quarter-mile in under 10 seconds and at speeds of upwards of 150 mph.

A young driver gets ready.

There's a lot of excitement in the line-up lanes as drivers ready their cars.

And they're off...

Check out the black car doing a wheelie at the start.

I walked the back lot incognito.

While John pondered this "greased lightening"oldie.

Trek Americana

Much of our journey through America's heartland has followed the Lewis and Clark trail. Meriweather Lewis and William Clark were commissioned by Thomas Jefferson to find a route through the newly acquired Louisiana Territory in 1804. They set out from St. Louis and followed the Missouri River northwest through what is now Kansas City, Omaha, Sioux City and Chamberlain, South Dakota, before heading into North Dakota and across Montana. We picked up the trail in Independence/Kansas City on July 4.

The Missouri River

In Omaha, we stopped at a monument to Sergeant Charles Floyd (Serjt. Floyd), who was the only one of Lewis and Clark's 40-man expedition to die during the trip. After dying from what appears to be appendicitis, he was buried on a bluff overlooking the Missouri. Lewis and Clark named the area Floyd River and Floyd Bluff in his honor. The cedar post which marked his grave was replaced in 1901 by an imposing 100 ft. sandstone obelisk, but the view remains spectacular.

Down the road from Floyd Bluff is a minor league baseball park, where we spent the evening watching the Wichita Wingnuts defeat the Sioux City Explorers, 2-0.

The weather was hot and muggy, but the beer was cold (note the teardrop trailer on the packaging of Single-Wide IPA), and the air-conditioned Walmart across the street turned out to be a good place to cool off after the game.

Walmart has proven to be a bright beacon of respite on this trip, as the company's policy is to allow weary truckers and travelers to spend the night in their parking lots. Many Walmarts are open 24 hours, and the bathrooms are clean and the clerks friendly. It's almost hard to believe that only 210 years after Lewis and Clark first traversed the continent, Walmart may, in fact, be their legacy -- the new true blue heart of America.

Independence Day

If you could be anywhere in the USA on July 4th, where would you be? Independence, Missouri, of course! That's where we are, celebrating the holiday with roadside picnics, a visit with Harry Truman, a good ol' campout and KC-style BBQ and fireworks. Here's our first stop of the day: breakfast in a shopping center parking lot.

Along the way, we shared the roads with some Mennonites near Seymour, Missouri. Apparently, these are the most conservative of all the Amish in America, so there was no way the driver would smile for me. Even the horse had blinders on.

We reached Independence by lunchtime, just in time for our second picnic of the day in front of the Harry Truman Presidential Museum and Library. Note the beer and the liberty bell. That's how we celebrate America on the road.

The museum is much like Truman: stolid, understated and plain. It houses a wealth of historic materials about his family life, as well as the challenges he faced at the peak of World War II, and the dark period of post-war recovery and early Cold War foreign policies.

The former president, his wife, Bess, and his daughter, Margaret, and son-in-law are buried in the museum's courtyard. For me, though, Harry Truman was alive and well -- and talkative! Here's a few pix of our lively conversation in the foyer of the museum.

We discussed foreign policy, how he made the decision to drop the atom bombs on Japan, the election against Dewey and his failed efforts to pass a national health care act. He seems to approve of Obama.

Happy Independence Day!

Boiled P-nuts

We had a fabulous time in Florida, thanks to the hospitality of Susi Westfall and her team at CityWrights, to Len and Rita in Boca and Carrie and Carlos in Anna Maria. I'm excited to have finally made it to Summer Shorts, which has welcomed my plays for two years now, as well as to have swam in the Gulf of Mexico and ridden on a wave runner -- all firsts for me, and all memorable moments.

Sadly, our time in Florida ended on Tuesday, when we began the inevitable trek westward once again. As you can see from our map (yes, we still use a paper atlas, as well as Siri and our cell phones), we drove to Miami on the east coast and back north on the west coast, traveling as far as Tifton, Georgia, before heading west into Alabama. But we didn't leave Georgia without partaking in the fine southern tradition of boiled peanuts at Mark's Farm Stand. Of course, local peaches, tomatoes, corn, melons, honey, Americana and mosquitoes were also in abundant supply.

Yes, boiled peanuts looks like roaches, but they taste like edamame -- they're boiled in a salty, vinegary brine that softens them and confirms their identity as a legume, not a nut.

Georgia peaches are indeed sweet and yummy.

We drove to Montgomery on the Jefferson Davis Highway while listening to NPR on the 50th anniversary of LBJ's signing of the Civil Rights Act. As we passed through many towns that still felt segregated by economics, we couldn't help but ponder how far we still have to go to create a nation where all men and women are created and treated as equals.

Wednesday evening took us from Montgomery to Tuscaloosa, where Justin and Katie are living. We fought hell in the form of lightening and thunder and high water to get there, driving straight into yet another massive storm cell. It was so bad we had to pull over at a gas station to wait it out. But when a power outage thrust the station into pitch black darkness, we hit the road again. It was a treacherous and scary journey, but we obviously made it. Seeing Justin and Katie was a great reward the next morning. 

We left Tuscaloosa on Thursday and drove to Tupelo and then to Memphis, where we crossed the Mississippi River.

We saw five state lines in one day today: Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas and Missouri -- all beautiful, yet all different, from flat farmland to the rolling hills of the southern Ozarks. We've also met some really nice people, like Bill Mears, the collision mechanic from Harrison, Arkansas, one of the many folks who have stopped by to look at the teardrop. 

Tonight, we're sleeping in a Walmart parking lot in southern Missouri. Life, it seems, can be very beautiful here on the eve of Independence Day in the heartland.