The Heartland

The Midwest is the Land of the Kum and Go. The name, Kum and Go, aside from its blatant sexual innuendo, which we, of course, find amusing, strikes a nerve with both Sarah and I. Neither of us are fans of “cute” misspellings for names of places. I don’t know, I just don’t think that “kwik marts” or the like are cute. But, beyond the cute misspellings, is the fact that, in the Kum and Go, the smallest size soft drink comes (or kums) in a 32-oz “kup,” which is, by no means small, and seems symbolic of one of America’s main failings. But, once we entered Kum and Go country, the “kum” jokes and the “kum kup” jokes were a near constant point of conversation and joking, to the point of actually making ourselves feel fairly uncomfortable. I shall spare the readers the details on the results of the ensuing calculations. Needless to say, put a mathematician and an engineer with perverted senses of humor together on a road trip, and things can take a turn rather easily into areas which should never be tread. We were, by the end of the trip, rather disgusted that the remaining “theme” of the road trip seemed to center itself on the topic of the Kum and Go.

But, as for the cleaner things, Minnesota and Iowa’s landscapes are beautiful. They are full of beautiful idyllic snow-covered farms that resonate with the soul and seem to stand as the image of the reason this part of the country is known as the Heartland. From Iowa, we went on to travel through Illinois and Indiana. We said goodbye to Sarah at Indianapolis, where she caught a flight back to New York. It was sad to see her go. Friends who will make a journey such as this one are special beyond words.

There were two main highlights of Illinois. One is the visitor’s center at Random Town, Illinois, which in this case, is Galesburg, Illinois. We stopped for a bathroom at the Galesburg, Illinois Visitor’s Center, which is contains exhibits dedicated to two of our nation’s presidents: Lincoln and Reagan. But, this was the best stop ever for a bathroom, because at the visitor’s center, the woman there gave us free coffee, Galesburg Illinois tote bags, and crayons and a Galesburg Illinois coloring book for Owen. The woman working at the center was extremely friendly and chatty. And, I learned from her, that back in her day, growing up in the Adirondacks, that she grew up calling, what the lower-48ers call a “snowmobile,” a “snowmachine,” which gave some sense of history to the Alaskan’s use of the latter term. For this friendliness, we felt somewhat obligated to purchase $8.50-worth of Galesburg, Illinois souvenirs, which included 2 sunglass cases that were actually needed, a tile magnet for Owen because of course with the accumulation of a 4-yr old’s refrigerator artwork, one can never have too many magnets, some postcards of a fire and train museum, and a Ronald Reagan coloring book, for Sarah’s mother, who is, by the way, a democrat.

The second main highlight of Illinois is something of a tradition from several road trips over the years to various destinations that passed through the same stretches of highway. It is the rituals involved in passing the town of Normal, Illinois. It is absolutely essential, when passing by Normal, Illinois, to loudly proclaim such things as “Well, that’s as close as I’m ever going to get to that!” or “Good thing we didn’t try to stop, because they’d take one look at us and never let us in!” It is probably important to note, that I have never made a road trip with any companion who has ever considered themselves to be even remotely “normal.”

Indiana and Ohio were where I first became really, really aware of the changing density of vehicles. In these places, there was a constant, steady stream of cars. To an Alaskan, this constitutes “traffic” and made me suddenly aware of the vast spaces, solitude, and freedoms that I have resigned myself to giving up for the next few years. It is actually not a very good feeling. The changes happened gradually and really creeped themselves in, from the vast stretches of the Alaska Highway, where hours would pass without seeing another vehicle on the road, to the appearance of a vehicle on the order of minutes in North Dakota, to the constant streams of vehicles in the southern places. Ironically, it is hard to believe sometimes that I spent a few summers commuting to jobs on the New Jersey Turnpike to such fabulous and exciting destinations as Port Newark, The World Trade Center, and the gem of them all, the Howland Hook Marine Terminal of Staten Island. As I said, Irony is a constant theme in my life.