Our departure from Chicago was somehow delayed as we sat waiting for take-off in the warm plane. I was engrossed in my book. A wasp had flown up to my window and groomed itself for a while before flying off to more pleasant smells.
"FWEE PWANES, MOMMY! I SEE FWEE BWO PWANES!" Little Bub behind me shouted with glee as he pointed at three blue Southwest planes parked nearby. Bud was an energetic, loquacious five-year-old towhead behind me.
"Are they going to other airpawts, too?" he added. Bud's Mom was busy tending to her two children. Bud's loud enthusiasm awakened me from my trance. Bud's entire world for the 30 minutes we waited to take off evolved around all the in- and out-going planes; where they all going to the same place, how many more planes where there?
It took us nine minutes to fly from Chicago-Midway to Crown Point, IN, a distance of about 35 miles and 45 minutes by car. I saw the Chicago skyline rise up over the haze, then fade away as with it the circular Indiana shoreline came to view with its many oil refineries and steel mills. I could even see the famed Michican City steel mill in the distance, toward the horizon where Michian's shoreline takes an abrupt turn to the north. I could see the entire southern portion of Lake Michigan as the plane quickly turned south. This area was the area of my early childhood, before my life took an abrupt change for the restless vagabond I still seem to be.
I saw the outlines of Crown Point, Hebron and Lake Shafer before those, too disappeared. I saw the wind farm of Kerland. After that the towns were unrecognizable in the grid pattern of square miles and lush green farm fields. It was just three months ago that I drove those roads below me. Even from the air Indiana looks serene.
The flight path followed I-65 into Indianapolis where many passengers deplaned. Bud and his family stayed on, and another woman sat between me and the Dutch man.
Once we resumed our final leg into Baltimore the hills of Appalachia weren't too far behind. The sun was dropping low now and details blurred into dusk, but I managed to see the Alleghenies of Pennsylvania/West Virginia and Maryland come to life, those uniquely north-south running ridgelines interspersed with flat-topped mountains, roads, paths, and rivers snaking through the vallies. What was brown and tan back in the Southwest was now green, black and sprinkled with meandering waterways.
These are my beloved hills of the Appalachian trail, the trail that Kevin and I together would hike on long weekends. By the time we had left New Jersey in 2004, we had hiked from central Virginia to central Massachusetts. That passion had taken us three years.
Memories.
I didn't want the sun to set any further until I was safely on the ground. The Chesapeake Bay came into view, then the Harbor and then I was at the airport in a gentle drizzle. It was 7:20 when I stood at the baggage claim trying to call my sister but my cell phone received no reception. How was I going to find my way to her place, north of town? And where was everything inside the airport? All those times I was at BWI it was to drop off people, and not to fly in or out myself.
When I left the terminal for the rental car agency the sweltering humidity overcame me. Yes, I was definitely back East! The sun was ready to set low over the hills, quickly disappearing in the grey clouds.
The rental car agency was fast and efficient, although the customer representative, Lauren, was almost too sweet. I opted for the cheapest car --cheapest being relative with all the add-ons the company mounted on the final bill. My result was an Aveo with no CD player, which made the Spanish tapes I brought with me to listen to useless. "Compact" was it. The car was so small that more than my two carry-ons would have made the car cluttered.
I managed to quickly get on I-695 northbound. Although by now the skies were dark I had a sense of where I was going. Sedans in four lanes on either side of me all passed me going much faster, weaving in and out of lanes. This was typical East Coast traffic: people driving fast cars, driving recklessly, just to get to their destinations faster. This sort of driving never bothered me before, in fact, I found it infectious when I was here years ago, but now I've realized I'm more comfortable with overmedicated seniors driving RVs slowly in the fast lane. The angst of New Jersey had left me several years ago.
I have become a Southwestener.
Lauren was right: I would make it to Owings Mills, where my sister lives, in 30 minutes. A light drizzle fell as I drove around town. The town's mall was still open but few cars remained in the parking lot. Sidewalks were dark and void of human presence.
She was still at work but gave me directions to her house via cell phone, where her boyfriend was waiting for me. After all these years I finally got to meet the man in her life, Ed. Her house, a typical three-story townhouse, towered high with all the other townhouses squeezed into small plots. What grows vertically on the East grows horizontally out West. I prefer smaller homes on large plots, for gardens and orchards rather than furniture and structure.
Ed and I chatted for the entire time until Iris came home shortly afterwards. We talked the standard stuff; family affairs from years gone by. "You are so much like your sister!" he told me, which I hope was a compliment. The rescued yellow Lab Lucky whom they found injured in town a few years ago with a cracked jaw and broken leg, licked me on my face while the more spastic Corgi Baxter was more interested in sniffing me out.
But, despite all the joy of finally being back East, the three-hour time difference meant it was approaching midnight and both Ed and Iris needed to get up for work the next day. We promised to resume our visit on Monday, the day I'm back in the area after a weekend in DC. We will spend the time together all day before we all depart for different points early Tuesday morning.
Leo the black cat slept with me all night, purring and pawing me for "more hand." I was up late updating this blog and didn't get to sleep until almost 3am. Thunder rumbled in the distance and a soft rain fell. A good sleep would get me caught up with the time zone. Despite the hectic arrival it's nice to be back here.
"FWEE PWANES, MOMMY! I SEE FWEE BWO PWANES!" Little Bub behind me shouted with glee as he pointed at three blue Southwest planes parked nearby. Bud was an energetic, loquacious five-year-old towhead behind me.
"Are they going to other airpawts, too?" he added. Bud's Mom was busy tending to her two children. Bud's loud enthusiasm awakened me from my trance. Bud's entire world for the 30 minutes we waited to take off evolved around all the in- and out-going planes; where they all going to the same place, how many more planes where there?
It took us nine minutes to fly from Chicago-Midway to Crown Point, IN, a distance of about 35 miles and 45 minutes by car. I saw the Chicago skyline rise up over the haze, then fade away as with it the circular Indiana shoreline came to view with its many oil refineries and steel mills. I could even see the famed Michican City steel mill in the distance, toward the horizon where Michian's shoreline takes an abrupt turn to the north. I could see the entire southern portion of Lake Michigan as the plane quickly turned south. This area was the area of my early childhood, before my life took an abrupt change for the restless vagabond I still seem to be.
I saw the outlines of Crown Point, Hebron and Lake Shafer before those, too disappeared. I saw the wind farm of Kerland. After that the towns were unrecognizable in the grid pattern of square miles and lush green farm fields. It was just three months ago that I drove those roads below me. Even from the air Indiana looks serene.
The flight path followed I-65 into Indianapolis where many passengers deplaned. Bud and his family stayed on, and another woman sat between me and the Dutch man.
Once we resumed our final leg into Baltimore the hills of Appalachia weren't too far behind. The sun was dropping low now and details blurred into dusk, but I managed to see the Alleghenies of Pennsylvania/West Virginia and Maryland come to life, those uniquely north-south running ridgelines interspersed with flat-topped mountains, roads, paths, and rivers snaking through the vallies. What was brown and tan back in the Southwest was now green, black and sprinkled with meandering waterways.
These are my beloved hills of the Appalachian trail, the trail that Kevin and I together would hike on long weekends. By the time we had left New Jersey in 2004, we had hiked from central Virginia to central Massachusetts. That passion had taken us three years.
Memories.
I didn't want the sun to set any further until I was safely on the ground. The Chesapeake Bay came into view, then the Harbor and then I was at the airport in a gentle drizzle. It was 7:20 when I stood at the baggage claim trying to call my sister but my cell phone received no reception. How was I going to find my way to her place, north of town? And where was everything inside the airport? All those times I was at BWI it was to drop off people, and not to fly in or out myself.
When I left the terminal for the rental car agency the sweltering humidity overcame me. Yes, I was definitely back East! The sun was ready to set low over the hills, quickly disappearing in the grey clouds.
The rental car agency was fast and efficient, although the customer representative, Lauren, was almost too sweet. I opted for the cheapest car --cheapest being relative with all the add-ons the company mounted on the final bill. My result was an Aveo with no CD player, which made the Spanish tapes I brought with me to listen to useless. "Compact" was it. The car was so small that more than my two carry-ons would have made the car cluttered.
I managed to quickly get on I-695 northbound. Although by now the skies were dark I had a sense of where I was going. Sedans in four lanes on either side of me all passed me going much faster, weaving in and out of lanes. This was typical East Coast traffic: people driving fast cars, driving recklessly, just to get to their destinations faster. This sort of driving never bothered me before, in fact, I found it infectious when I was here years ago, but now I've realized I'm more comfortable with overmedicated seniors driving RVs slowly in the fast lane. The angst of New Jersey had left me several years ago.
I have become a Southwestener.
Lauren was right: I would make it to Owings Mills, where my sister lives, in 30 minutes. A light drizzle fell as I drove around town. The town's mall was still open but few cars remained in the parking lot. Sidewalks were dark and void of human presence.
She was still at work but gave me directions to her house via cell phone, where her boyfriend was waiting for me. After all these years I finally got to meet the man in her life, Ed. Her house, a typical three-story townhouse, towered high with all the other townhouses squeezed into small plots. What grows vertically on the East grows horizontally out West. I prefer smaller homes on large plots, for gardens and orchards rather than furniture and structure.
Ed and I chatted for the entire time until Iris came home shortly afterwards. We talked the standard stuff; family affairs from years gone by. "You are so much like your sister!" he told me, which I hope was a compliment. The rescued yellow Lab Lucky whom they found injured in town a few years ago with a cracked jaw and broken leg, licked me on my face while the more spastic Corgi Baxter was more interested in sniffing me out.
But, despite all the joy of finally being back East, the three-hour time difference meant it was approaching midnight and both Ed and Iris needed to get up for work the next day. We promised to resume our visit on Monday, the day I'm back in the area after a weekend in DC. We will spend the time together all day before we all depart for different points early Tuesday morning.
Leo the black cat slept with me all night, purring and pawing me for "more hand." I was up late updating this blog and didn't get to sleep until almost 3am. Thunder rumbled in the distance and a soft rain fell. A good sleep would get me caught up with the time zone. Despite the hectic arrival it's nice to be back here.
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