the end of the journey, and the beginning of the next

I am here. The whole update thing fell apart a bit at the end there, but all is well 5345 miles after beginning the driving portion of this journey. I saw some truly beautiful places, and felt blessed to be able to spend a day or so with so many friends and relatives along the way.

T was upset that I didn’t go to Graceland when I was in Memphis, considering that it was the 25th anniversary of Elvis’s death and all, but really, Elvis — dead or alive — just doesn’t do it for me.

Monday the 12th was the longest driving day of all, timewise. I was curious to see the place I was born, since my family left there when I was all of 18 months old, so I planned my route to circle through a big regional park before swinging back down to my birthplace then most of the way across Kentucky. My map book deceived me again, letting me believe that it would be a mere side trip to visit the Land Between the Lakes, but it was a journey in and of itself. And at the end of it, there wasn’t much unique scenery in the park itself; it could have been any old park road winding through the trees. I didn’t even see any buffalo in the buffalo range.

The place of my birth was like any other middle-of-nowhere military town: pawn shops, fast food joints, scary-looking bars, military surplus stores, and lots of dust. Strangely like Wahiawa. Sadly, there had been some confusion as to when my arrival would be, so they had planned the parade and festival for Tuesday, and by their account I was there a day early. Not really wanting to stick around and partake in the funfest that is Oak Grove, Kentucky, I disappointed the entire town by telling them that they would have to have their Welcome Back Lori party without me, as I was pressing on to Lexington that afternoon.

The Kentucky parkway system is fantastic driving and apparently underused. It was smooth sailing the whole way with little traffic and lots of speed. If it weren’t for my forgetting about the time change in the middle of that fair state, I would have actually been early to H&W’s house. Alas. We all had a great time. W & I took a side trip to Berea, Kentucky on Tuesday. I have always wanted to go there for two reasons: (1) I spent most of my childhood in Berea, Ohio, and wanted to know what Berea, Kentucky, is like and (2) I’m an artsy-craftsy person and Berea, Kentucky, is an artsy-craftsy town, complete with artsy-craftsy shops and an artsy-craftsy college, appropriately named Berea College. I bought a few little things and had a little chat with a dulcimer maker.

Wednesday I made the switch over to E&D’s house, and had a great time there as well. We all saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding — highly recommended. E & I took a side trip to Shakertown on Thursday, where we poked around and took some pictures and then had a really good lunch. We bought a whole pie of their famous lemon variety to take home for dinner, but consensus was that it really was, well, kind of weird and not much to our collective liking. At least there was ice cream to take some of the bitter edge off.

Friday I left the fair town of Lexington, which I like very much, and headed for Cincinnati. I stayed with J and her parents, who were very welcoming despite my not having met them before. We people-watched at a trendy restaurant and a trendier bar on Friday, where I was reminded how much I never want to have to partake in the stereotypical singles scene. We had some truly excellent fish & chips at a pub in Newport, Kentucky, on Saturday and bought some Powerball tickets while we were there (didn’t win).

Sunday morning I drove through a bit of rain to Columbus, where I marveled at how much perfectly good stuff the infernal Campus Partners had knocked down in the name of “progress” around Ohio State and had a nice lunch with J (not the same J as above), before merging onto the bone-familiar stretch of I-71 that would take me home. The old joke that a friend sent me several months ago held: What are the four seasons in Ohio? Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter, and Construction. I don’t think that there has been a single summer in my entire driving existence that there hasn’t been major construction on at least part of that stretch of 71.

I cut off onto 83 — a new move since the family has shifted west — and laughed at the alpalcas on the farms on the way up. They’re such ungainly but cute creatures. I came through the newer part of Avon Lake into the older and caught my first glimpse of the lake, and it did feel like coming home. I loved Hawaii, the climate, the beaches, and especially my friends, but this feels right to be here now. Mom was of course happy to see me, although shockingly not too teary.

The past two days have been busy with me clearing all the stuff out of my car and trying to impose some order on it, doing laundry, seeing relatives, going through my mountain of mail, getting information on banks, figuring out where the post office is, and taking a preliminary run through a few neighborhoods to see what areas I might be able to afford a house in. It should all settle down a little by next week, I hope.