It’s A “Fur” Piece
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From there to here. I’m not sure
what sparked my curiosity, but from Havre in Montana to Etzatlan in Jalisco,
Mexico, the distance is 2449.9 miles. That mileage does not take into
consideration any deviation from the route: no searching for a better hotel or
non-franchise-plastic-food eatery, no side-trips to see friends or relatives
close to the route.
Imagine a human automaton, hands
glued to the steering wheel, eyes on the road, single-mindedly moving forward,
only forward. Such a one might conceivable collapse on my doorstep emaciated
from lack of food and sleep deprived. Any way you slice the distance pie, 24449.9
miles is a “fur” piece.
But, if you’ve a mind for
exploration and adventure, if you are willing to add miles and time to the
trip, the drive can be an incredible experience. Add a weekend visit with Uncle
Jack and Aunt Mable in Denver, a side trip to the Grand Canyon, why not, and a
jog to Houston, once the flood waters have receded, to visit that old school
chum you haven’t seen in forty years. Now we’re talking a real trip.
Once you cross the border, I guarantee you’ll want to spend a
couple days in Monterey. Better drive the pick-up truck. You’ll see plenty of
un-resistible roadside treasures.
If you are not up for a road trip,
you might fly. Airplanes are not as much fun as a cross-country drive, but if
you are on a time budget, a plane will get you here quickly. I’ve made more
than one flight without as much as a word to my seatmate. But on my last trip I
met Rodrigo and we chatted from LA to Guadalajara.
My newest friend Rodrigo is a recent
graduate in film and photography and had been in Los Angeles for a “shoot”. He
invited me to let him know when I’d be in Guadalajara and he’d be pleased to
show me around. Not empty words. This young man meant it. He likes people and
has learned that each new acquaintance expands one’s life.
Older friends, both in age and
length of friendship, Crin and Kathy, fly home to Victoria tomorrow. We’ve
never lived in close proximity until this past year when we became next-door
neighbors. Cousin Nancie from Sedro Woolley, Washington, arrives in two weeks. Distance
is what we make of it.
The technological world being what
it is today, keeping in touch on a regular basis is made easy. A mere fifty
years ago, in my family, long-distance telephone was used only for announcing a
death in the family. In fact, fifty years ago, I lived on a ranch south of
Dodson with no telephone service. Today, if I were so inclined, I could let you
know each time I belched.
I need to know if my friend Dan in
Houston (I really do have a friend in Houston.) is safe.
I’m overdue for a
long “visit” with Vidya in Port Townsend, Washington. She’s one of my friends
with whom it always feels like we just saw each other a few minutes ago.
I’ll let Lola in Idaho know that I
tried a quick and easy “Mexican pie” made with corn tortilla shells, bottom and
top, instead of pie crust. Lola is allergic to wheat flour. This is not a
traditional dish though a Mexican friend gave me the idea. I used apples,
pecans, brown sugar and cinnamon for the filling, baked it like an ordinary pie
and it is delicious. Imagine this Mexican pie with blueberries!
My friend Cheryl from Tillamook,
Oregon is having a medical procedure. Our email group of gals who grew up and
graduated together are all waiting to hear her news.
Much as I want to, miles mean I can’t
simply walk cross the back yard and have coffee with you, my Montana, Oregon,
Texas, Colorado, England et al neighbor. We can still exchange everyday news.
When is the last time you had coffee with your next-door neighbor? It’s not
that far.
The longest distance cannot be
computed by miles. The longest distance between two hearts is silence.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
August 31,
2017
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