Observations on a Drive South

I always find myself wondering about my surroundings as I drive through the South. Of course, when all is said and done, I end up driving 26 hours one way to reach  my destinations in Arkansas and Texas... not to mention, that I do it with three kids and dog... and this time in a VW Jetta. Good times. And lots of time to consider too many things.

For instance, where do States get their inspiration for naming their cities and parks? I typically drive I-81 S through Maryland, West Virginia and Virginia and then hit I-40 across Tennessee. And let me tell you, there are plenty of things to ponder in the names. One name that always strikes me is "Hungry Mother State Park"... wow, really? If anything, I want to go just to know why it's called that. Look it up on Wikipedia. The answer is short and sweet, but why call it that? Why not Molly Marley State Park or Marley State Park? City, park, and street names that I find intriguing or slightly ridiculous are: Fort Defiance, Mud Pike, Bulls Gap, Crab Orchard, Long Hunter State Park, Pigeon Roost Road, Pig Branch Road, Dead Horse Lake Golf Course, Bucksnort, Palestine, Fairplay Cemetery, the originality of Texas roads named CO RD 2206 or whatever the number and the 'FM' roads in Texas (FM for Farm to Market and then a number), Hooks, Fate, Decatur (does every state have one of these?), and Vashti.

You can always tell a truck is from Texas whether you're in Virginia, Tennessee or Arkansas, by the color of the dirt (which is very fine and a sandy red-brown) and by the license plate. Other than the obvious 'TEXAS' written on the plate, the plate itself is inevitably smashed in the middle where the truck has run into a trailer hitch. I guess that's the way Texans get the trailer in the right place, just run into it.

The further south I go, the more conscious of my own Pennsylvania plates I become. I feel the urge to look over my shoulder frequently. As friendly as people in the South are, they can be suspicious of people from north of the Mason/Dixon. Can't imagine why...Which, by the way, NEVER take the first exit on I-40 in West Memphis after crossing the Mississippi, especially if you're a white girl traveling by herself with kids, a dog and driving a Volkswagon. Pretty sure I did a few illegal things to get out of there and to the safety of the highway.

At some point in my long drive across Tennessee, I know I will stop to refuel and I know I will be schooled at the pump on some ignorance the attendant thinks I have. Usually, the attendant will turn my pump off, making me go inside to beg and plead for it to be turned back on. "Ma'am, you are parked at the wrong pump. To get gas you have to move to another pump." "I don't want gas, I want diesel." "But ma'am, you can't put diesel in a car." "Trust me, I can. Please turn my pump back on." "You're going to tear up your car if you put diesel in it." "Then that's my business. Please turn on the pump." "Are you sure, ma'am?" "Look, I drive a VW TDI, which means turbo DIESEL injection. I means my car takes diesel." "Ma'am, they don't make cars that take diesel." "Yes, they do. You are more than welcome to come outside and look at the cap to my tank that says 'Diesel Fuel Only'." Then they either come outside and look at the cap or they look at me like I've completely gone nuts and turn the pump on. I cringe when I'm in Tennessee and driving a TDI.

It's a bit interesting to travel with two girls that are now potty-trained. Interesting because they only need to go when we are stuck in traffic or when I'm navigating my way through Winchester, Bristol, Knoxville, Nashville, Memphis, across the Mississippi, Little Rock, or Dallas. These are the only times when they claim they are dying from the need to go to the bathroom. Every. Single. Time. The above instance about the West Memphis exit is one of those cases. They COULD NOT wait until I got over the Mississippi. It's amazing. All those miles and hours between the big cities and they are good until I can get them to a decent exit, but once I can't pull over immediately, the morale in the car goes downhill fast.

"Sei Kein Frosch"

As we walked around the quaint town of Büdingen, Germany, it was quite clear the residents have a love of frogs. "Don't be a frog!" is a saying that goes back to the year 1522, the year Count Anton married Elisabeth of Wied. The legend goes that when the Count brought his bride back to Büdingen, she was delighted with the town and the residents and the feeling was returned. The couple were welcomed with banners, music and a festive banquet. As the evening progressed, the Count fell asleep and eventually so did Elisabeth. A little while later, the bride woke up to a chorus of croaking frogs. She immediately woke the Count and told him that either the frogs had to go or she would. The Count woke his Council and asked the people of Büdingen to remove all the frogs in town. By afternoon the next day, all the frogs had been captured and were in bundles in the market square. However, they were distraught at being captured and were much louder than ever. The people of Büdingen then decided to dump the frogs in the river, believing they would drown. This was the perfect solution. The Count and Elisabeth were invited to view the drowning of the frogs. The frogs were released into the river and were not seen again. Büdingen still boasts of being the most 'frog-free' town in Germany. The saying "Don't be a frog" refers to the frogs themselves because they had spoiled the coming of Elisabeth to their town. The residents of Büdingen are also referred to as "Fräääsch"... the frogs.

Garmisch-Partenkirchen Fresco Paintings

One of Garmisch-Partenkirchen's best attributes is the many murals on the buildings. Business, homes, churches... they are all painted, and it's done so well that sometimes you have to look closely to see if what you are looking at is real or has been painted. Some of the houses bear the dates of the original painting and the when it was updated. One said it had been painted in 1937 and then redone in 1974. The tradition of these frescoes is beautiful and the essence of Bavaria.

Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

    One of the greatest things about having friends in Germany is that when we are here, we are completely immersed in the language. It's fun to see Keith brush up on his skills, brush up on my own (though I'm much better with listening) and watch Evelynn try to figure it all out. She told me today that she's learning a lot of German. Well, maybe. She has now come up with her own language. One that is no where close to German or English. I find myself wanting to dive for cover when those who speak little English want me to explain what she just said. I understand her developmental need to express sounds, but hearing the two languages simultaneously has created a communication problem by itself.
    While in Germany, we would like to do as the Germans do. It's hard to do that when your child creates her own gobbledigook, and that's just about what it amounts to. We've somehow managed to get her to say 'Danke' and 'Tchuß' fairly often, but that's about it. It's probably overwhelming to suddenly be surrounded by a language she doesn't understand, but from my and Keith's perspective, that's when the learning is best.
    In the last four days, two of those days have been spent with friends who speak very little English. And I have begun to dream about German vocabulary and in my dreams I'm trying to translate what I'm dreaming. It's quite unusual and my brain hurts, but it's great for me. I wish Evelynn would be a little more serious about the language, but she is five. It's a completely new cultural experience for her. Now that she's caught up on sleep and more like herself she will stop making noise. Maybe. Meine Mädchen ist nicht so klein, aber Sie ist nur eine Kinder. (My girl is not so little, but she is still a child.) I hope she picks up a little more before we head home.

Planes, Snot and Sparkles

    Evelynn's first airplane trip went off without a hitch, and she loves it. I'm not too surprised by this considering Keith's love of airplanes. Evelynn literally can't wait to get back on the plane next week. She mentions it everytime she sees a plane in the sky. Take-off, which she calls 'blast off', went smoothly. I kind of expected her to be a little more excited about it. Once we were in the air and above the clouds, she asked if it was okay for her to go to sleep. Well, okay.
    We had a few bouts with turbulence and that's when she really perked up. Between the 'This is so much fun!' and the 'I'm so excited!' she was fairly calm. The only thing that freaked her out was flushing the toilet, which was quite loud and forceful. We had some issues as we began to descend. She couldn't get her ears to pop. We tried chewing gum and teaching her to hold her nose to release the pressure. It wasn't too successful until I held her nose for her and she covered my hand with snot when she blew too hard. I'm pretty sure it was laughter that cleared her head.
    Keith and Evelynn did sleep for a while. I really wanted to sleep while Evelynn was awake and then when she finally went to sleep, I was wide awake. So it goes when you're the mom. Oh, well... I logged too many awake hours for those two days. We arrived in Frankfurt at 6am on Thursday and we did our best to stay awake until bedtime. It's really the only way to get adjusted to the time change quickly. Evelynn has taken a bit longer to adjust, but she's just about there.
    Evelynn's excitement has never let up and the closer the plane got to Germany, the more questions she asked. The most important question was 'Does Germany sparkle?' That's what every five year old girl wants to know, right?
   

Life with One Child

    It's a positively surreal sensation to have three children and a dog one day and then just have one child the next. The two youngest girls and the dog have been packed off to Grandma and Grandpa's house and I'm left with the oldest. I have been mentally flopping between giddiness and melancholy since the day we parted ways. I know Caelan and McKenna are having a blast. I know that I am enjoying my time with Evelynn, too. But it's just plain weird.
    Evelynn still wants to share everything with her sisters (which is a gesture I'm pleased to see so deeply instilled in her). This sharing goes from food to hairbows to toys. Evelynn wants to save things she can't share. She's finally (after six days) realizing that she is the only one. She flops between giddiness and melancholy. "We can go into the store together? I don't have to ride in the cart? We don't have to have the extra long cart? We don't need diapers? We can go in to eat?..... But I want Caelan to have a hairbow, too. But that's McKenna's, I can't play with it. When Caelan comes home, she can eat that. I'm getting my hair cut? Yes! We can go to the library? We're going to the bookstore? Can I get Caelan a book? Caelan doesn't have this book. McKenna would think that's so cute."
    Things I've dreaded doing and things I'm constantly doing with the whole family home, have dwindled. Instead of two loads of laundry a day, I did three yesterday and I'm done. All the clothes are clean. My house is clean. Normally, I wash the dishes at least three times a day. I decided not to wash the dishes for two days. The sink was not even full when I did do them. If I want to go somewhere, we go. Usually it takes twenty minutes to get out the door. I have not picked up any toys in six days. Evelynn has cleaned her room every day. I have had a hundred more conversations with Evelynn than usual. She has no one else to talk to. And sometimes she talks to herself. We went on a bike ride. Evelynn had the entire bike trailer to herself. We've gone shopping. It's been too long since I've seen the inside of a dressing room. I have told Evelynn to be quiet three times in the last six days. I tend to say it a dozen times in one day. All in all, though, I miss the bustle. I feel lazy. It's amazing what two extra little bodies create in just cleaning and noise alone. So my house is too clean and far too quiet. I miss my babies and so does Evelynn.

Cross Country

    It's a good thing I love to drive and I know that I've put more miles on my kids than an average adult has under their belts. It's 1500 miles one way to my hometown and 1200 to my in-laws. Needless to say, Evelynn has logged at least 40,000 miles. Impressive, considering she just turned five. The trip we took last week was a quick two day journey, a mere 1460 miles. It was heavenly. With three kids, the dog, the luggage, and of course, myself, in the Jetta, we hit the road. Two 12 hour driving days loomed ahead of me. I looked forward to it and I dreaded it. The Jetta does not have a DVD player. And two of my children now need a bathroom break. This trip had the potential to be ugly despite going only half the distance.
    Surprisingly, however, the trip went off without too many set backs. I had intended on leaving the house by 6am, but it ended up being 6:30. This first set back being my own doing. Hey, a girl has to see the future queen of England at least get down the aisle. We somehow managed to stop every 2-3 hours after that. The girls had their pillows, blankets and one special toy apiece. I had easily accessible snacks and drinks, and a charged/loaded iPod. YES! Turns out that an iPod is just as good as a DVD player.
    With so much travel, I have found over the years that I get 'attached' to my fellow travelers. That there are other family travelers along the same stretch of highway can be comforting and a decent gauge of progress. I shared the road with a Jeep with a license plate that said "TEXN4EVR" (and yes, I loved that and would like to steal it for my own, but find myself married to someone not from Texas who would never allow it), a Kia SUV with the plate "PUGLUVR" (I'm not keen on pugs, but I have a sweet friend who is), and an extra large, dually Doge Ram four door truck (I follwed this family forever... at least 600 miles). And to top off the list, I shared the road with Lady Gaga. I'm personally not a fan, but it was hilarious to see other cars on the road slow down and the see all the cell phones out snapping pictures as they drove by. And, of course, I shamelessly joined the masses and whipped my phone out, too.
    There was one stretch of road, however, that threw my momentum out the window. About 7-8 hours down the road in southern Virginia, all traffic slowed down for what was posted as "road work". It was work, all right. Not paving or striping or what one thinks of with construction. The highway quickly became a parking lot. Not  from the the road work, but severe rubbernecking. It's one of those moments in life where time slows down and your mind feels numb as it tries to keep up with the intake of information from the eyes and to emotionally process those images. It has been years since I have seen tornado damage, but I have never seen it up so close before. The tops of trees were completely twisted off, hundreds of trailers from a truck stop littered the median and the shoulder of the road. One trailer rested heavily in the median, about 15 feet from me, battered and smashed.
    As I was processing the view from my side of the car, Evelynn asked "Mom, what are those people doing?" I looked out her window and was unable to talk for a moment. The emotional understanding became greater than the images. Homes had been levelled, others a dumping ground for the trailers across the street. These were homes and the families were searching through the rubble. For some homes, the structure was still visible. A few of the homes were left with the foundation. It was one of those moments as a parent, that I wanted to hide her eyes and not have to explain the images, but I knew there was no choice in this matter. We have talked about tornadoes (having spent some minutes in the basement the week before for one), but this was more real than anything I could have said. She understood the images and she began to understand the emotions of loss.
    With so many miles logged and thousands more in the future, there was bound to be a trip where there would be little I could do to prevent her from seeing some kind of devastation. I think we handled it well. We slowly moved on and put it behind us. For those of us on the road, it was a brief period of humbling reality, understanding that everything we know can fall apart in a matter of seconds. The remaining hours of travel went smoothly, but Evelynn revisited the conversation many times. It's hard enough for an adult to process and I'm glad that we've had open dialogue about it.