Road Trip Day 6: Childhood Roads

Back on the road this morning, giving my time in St. George a blessing after breakfast with my mother, I set out for California-- with a detour to Pine Valley, Utah, before I hopped back on the interstate.

Nestled in the tops of mountains @ 6,500 feet and just 32 mi. north of St. George, Pine Valley is a well-kept secret for vacationers and summer residents who like alpine beauty, small campgrounds and quiet small town appeal. It's temperature year round is about 20 degrees cooler than St. George. Mormons settled the valley in the late 1800's and built a church in 1868 which has been in continuous use since then. There are a few residents who stay year round, but the winters scare most sunbirds off. No schools or medical facilities exist, yet a small post office and general store general store have been there for decades. A cemetary, a restaurant and cafe added to that...and that's about it.

One of the earliest pictures of my father was of him as a 5 year old sporting over-alls and a straw hat in Pine Valley. His family would visit there during the summers. It was an all day trip for his family from St. George in a model T, filled with kids, provisions for several days and extra tires for the expected blowouts one would have enroute to and from the mountain paradise. When my dad grew older, hunting trips with all the males in the family brought food to their table. On occaision, my father would tell me that his memories of Pine Valley were what got him through the toughest times of the War; they were what kept him hanging in there when things were unusually grisly and bleak.

The road to Pine Valley climbs over 3,000 feet from St. George to its final destination. Redrock, sage and chaparral give way to several extinct volcanoes in Diamond Valley, progressing to cedars and lava flow in little town of Veyo, finally giving way to cedars, ponderosa and pinion pines with the metamorphic rock of the mountains that ring the valley. Signal Peak is the tallest of the Pine Valley Mountains at over 10,000 feet.

Enroute, I was surprised to find that much of what I experienced in my childhood had been built up in the last several years, both in roadway, new communities and homes. Hell, in some ways the road resembled a super highway compared to what I travelled in my childhood-- until I turned east at Central, UT for the last 8 miles. Here the road was well worn, as narrow as I ever remembered it to be, with cracks and small plants growing out of them.

"Now here's a road I remember", I thought as I breathed a sigh of relief.

Arriving in Pine Valley, I found it was a comfortable 75 degrees midday, green and even more beautiful than I had ever remembered it. Although there were new cabins built around the periphery of the town, the original homes were still there, folks were still taking care of their property and there were no cows grazing in the middle of town as they were when I was a child. My father had loved the peaceful, quiet energy of this place which was one of the reasons he retired here over 30 years ago, about the time I and my brother left for college.

I took a while to wind through the original town, stopping to look at 2 previous residences my parents had owned before selling them and moving to St. George just 6 months before my father's death. A few days earlier, my brother had mentioned that one of the several empty lots purchased by my father (actually owned now by my mother) would be just the right size for the 3 siblings to pull trailers on to in the summers and spend some vacation time there. He described the lot location to me as it had never been pointed out before. When I arrived there, I found it to be the same piece of ground I'd had recurring dreams about during the past year. I'd remember waking from the dreams thinking "Why am I dreaming about this part of town? Dad and Mom's property was north of this place." Now I know at the answer to at least the 1st part of my question. We'll see what follows.

I checked out old sledding runs, still intact, viewed the creek where my family pulled out 104 trout one summer and noted that the old ranger station had been turned into a visitor/history center. For old time's sake I stopped in at the General Store, bought an ice cream bar and continued up the Valley toward the resevoir where many memories were made with my family.

All too soon it was time to leave as I still had 6 hours to drive the desert to California, through Las Vegas and Death Valley. So I promised the Valley I would return, gave thanks and headed down the road.

I stopped at the Veyo Pie Shop, 1/2 way to I-15 to pick up a fresh, homemade peach pie for my daughter and her family in Cherry Valley, which was my final destination today. After giving a hug and a bottle of wine to my cousin Sharlene in St. George, I hopped on the interstate and headed toward the Virgin River Narrows, gateway to the Arizona Strip that I-15 crosses toward Vegas. The Narrows: from what I understand it cost $1000 a foot to complete in some places. Winding through spectacular rock and river, it's one of the most scenic pieces of highway in that region. I remember a story my dad told of taking our 1973 caddilac, setting the cruise control on 70 m.p.h. and "chirping the tires around the corners" going through the Narrows.

I stopped for gas in North Las Vegas and continued down the corridor that leads through the center of town and by the glittering Strip. I remember when my family travelled via rambler station wagon in the 60's on a road that went through the center of town, by the Frontier, Stardust and made a turn at a big pencil on the front of an office supply store on our way through and out of this town... LONG before the Interstate.

The desert was cooler today, only getting into the low 100's at the hottest. My Jeep did admirably, climbing thousands of feet up and down in the heat. The last climb was Cajon Pass in California, which descended into the Inland Empire. I-15 to I-215 to the 210 to the 10 to Cherry Valley. Warm hugs and little feet welcomed me to the home of my daughter, Ruthe and her family.

Road Trip Day 5: In Her Lifetime

Love is an ocean without shores. You have to jump in, never to come back...This isn't a path for cautious people.
--K Singh

Today is my mother's 91st birthday. She's requested it to be a low key day, as lots of family was here over the weekend and we started celebrating early with that big dinner 2 days ago. The big event of the day is that Chick, a very sweet neighbor and mother's "beau" is taking her and what remains of the family out to dinner this evening.

The day was slow, allowing a leisurely swim in the late morning with her at the clubhouse, followed by a nap and down time for the rest of us.

I marvel at what my mother has seen in her 91 years. Born in 1919 and raised in New Harmony, Utah, my mother's family travelled by horse and was the first to have a car and a radio. She remembers when the first telephone came in with operators, party lines and the like. When she entered Jr. High her family moved to St. George, a larger town about an hour down the road so she could continue school, She met my father when she was 15 and married him when she was 22, just as he was leaving for World War II. Accompanied by her parents, she took a train cross country to Muskogee, Oklahoma and they were married by a justice of the peace before he deployed.

Without TV, all the communications she would get were letters that were weeks old and newsreels at least that old, shown in the local theater. She tells of a certain newsreel that came into town and my father was spotted in a section. All the folks that came that day wanted to see Evan Pickett again and that section of the reel was played several times before continuing on.

Gratefully, my father returned from Germany, Italy, Africa, the South Pacific, and Korea-- I was born 10 years after my sister, after 4 miscarriages during the time they were overseas. She outlived him and has outlived most of her friends, which in my book takes a lot of courage, especially if your're in pain and your health is declining.

Later, air and space travel came in with records, television, cassette and video tapes, CD's and DVDs ,after that. Then the internet, cell phones, ipods and all the other wonders of modern day communication.

Back to the birthday.

We all had a nice dinner, came home for cake and ice cream, but had to depart soon for my sister's motel room where a time and a computer had been set up to visit with my son in Iraq via live video camera on "Skype". It was 11 at night and with a 9 hour time difference, David had just gotten up the next day, half a world away. Mother adores all her grandchildren, but he is probably the closest to her of all of them as he had stayed with his grandma when he was completing the first part of his college education at Dixie State College in St. George, Utah. Although living with her can be tough, David did an admirable job. It's a time both of them will never forget.

The video signal was a little fuzzy, but we heard and saw my son loud and clear and he was able to talk to all of us, especially my mother, for about 20 minutes. She was absolutely overjoyed at the opportunity and was wired late into the night, long after the visit ended.

"Well, did that make your day?", I asked when we were walking back to the car.

"Oh, it made my WHOLE LIFE!", she responded. I think her day ended with the best gift yet.

I hope she's still with us when he comes home in 11 months. It would make HIS year away, if she is.

Road Trip Day 4: Daily Practice

I'm in St. George for 2 more days and will leave the morning after my mother's 91st birthday.

Today was one of those days when my daily spiritual practice of meditating, setting my intention and reading a conscious thought in the morning really paid off. From the get-go, NOTHING panned out as planned. (And I must say it's been like that for at least a month now.) It was one of those days when there are two choices when something doesn't go as planned: Either thrash around, tormenting yourself and those you love by your antics OR just keep breathing, letting old expectations go....and create something new.

So OF COURSE the daily reminder I read was about staying in the NOW.

Lots of experts in the field of personal empowerment and consciousness remind us constantly that the point of power is in the present moment. Why? Because it's the point from which all future creation springs. If I want the best possible outcome for anything, how I live right now is influencing it.

The assignment for today from the book "Effortless Prosperity Book II" by Bijan Anjomi: "Acknowledge all good things that you have."

Bijan goes on to say: "Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life and opens us to receive abundance from everywhere. It turns what we have turns into enough, and more. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow..."
This practice of staying in the present and creating something even better than we presently experience is further described n the A.A. Big Book

"when I stopped living in the problem and began living the answer, the problem went away....."

Letting go of my expectations, staying in the present and focusing on the good stuff really made a difference today. I'm ending my day by acknowledging the power and gift of a conscious daily practice that makes my life so much easier on all levels!

Road Trip Day 3: Family

Finally! A day to chill out and be with family. (If "chillin" is possible in the 104 degree heat of the St. George red rocks....) Other than cooking a big birthday dinner with my sibs for my mother's 91st birthday, there was not much else to do. It was an opportunity to connect with Uncle Charlie's 2 children (both from different marriages), my cousins, Rick and Sharlene-- among the few invited dinner guests.

I have gratitude for growing up with cousins who I count as precious extended sisters and brothers. We spent holidays and summers together in Pine Valley and St. George, riding horses and hayracks, making treehouses, doing sleepovers, selling lemonade, hiking, backpacking and having experiences all too few children get to have these days. No computer games or TV there-- besides there were more fun things to do like riding in the jeep at night spotting deer, digging nightcrawlers for fishing the next day and walks to the general store for Big Sticks and ice cream. And of course all the great stories our aunts and uncles would tell about when THEY were children. When we grew up, we were there at each other's weddings, family reunions and continued visiting as aunts, uncles and grandparents aged.

Sharlene is the oldest of all of us. She expresseded over and over again how much she appreciated I and my sibs being there during this time of transition for her. There were a few unexpected disappointing events surrounding my uncle's passing which left her feeling more grateful for family that showed up in any form. She was also saddled with most of the completion of my Uncle's passing: the memorial, cleaning out his place and finalizing aspects of his will.

Sharlene's a lot like her dad both in independence and wit. While he was still with us, Uncle Charlie was walking up to Sharlene's front door via front porch one day and saw her caring for a stray cat with a warm blanket and food. He commented to her, "When I die, I want to come back as one of your cats." To which Sharlene replies "Dad, I spay and neuter".

The apple does not fall far from the tree. Such is Pickett wit.

A couple of weeks ago, my son David and I visited her after visiting my uncle for the last time. We walked out of his house, tearfully hugging each other each other, knowing we'd never see him again. We then went to Sharlene's to pay a visit. She knew David's deployment was near and shared with him a conversation she had with my father decades ago after he returned home from WWII.

"Uncle Evan" she asked. How did you make it through the War alive, when there were so many dangerous situations you were in?" To which my father responded:

"Every time I'd hear a voice say "Duck!", that's what I'd do and I learned to trust that voice."

Enough said.

Also during the same visit Sharlene shared some things about my grandmother being psychically gifted which saved both her and my grandfather's life at least once. My grandmother was also so psychically attuned and connected to my father that she knew when the invasion happeded, without being told. Sharlene said government authorities contacted her afterwards to find out how she knew.

All I can say to that is this: There is absolutely no substitute for knowing and trusting the intuition and the gut.

As for the the dinner today: we got out the silver and good china, cooked a fabulous batch of chicken cacciatore and retired downstairs afterward for music around the old piano which originally belonged to my mother's parents. Old favorites were offered on the viiolin, cello, mandolin, piano and voice-- even a favorite of my grandmother Ruthe: Mockingbird Hill.

Appreciation, hugs at the door ended our evening together. Another day in the Pickett extended family.

Road Trip Day 2: Uncle Charlie

I woke up this morning knowing it was going to be a long day. Jittery, high strung energy from completing the 10 hr. cross country drive late the night before had left me unable to fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning. Obeying the alarm clock, I piled out of bed, went into the kitchen where my brother had brewed a fresh pot of coffee and proceeded to do my best to wake up before the 10:00 rehearsal...prior to the memorial service in the early afternoon.

I come from an artsy family. My mother was a professional dancer, studying under Martha Graham and both my mother and late father came from families where talent in the arts were appreciated and fostered. With 2 siblings, one studied piano and voice, another violin and myself; the cello and other strings. The 3 of us have long been known to provide family gatherings with music and the occaision of my Uncle Charlie's memorial was no exception: we were asked weeks beforehand.

There were a few selections my sis arranged for the service but it was the first one we rehearsed which triggered a burst of tears when I began to play the opening strains of "Danny Boy".

"Sorry guys, I need a moment".

It was a favorite song of my uncle's and I also happened to play it at another farewell just 3 weeks earlier when the family had gathered at my place just days before my son's deployment to Iraq. After I played it at David's farewell, accompanied by my sister, she informed me that my grandmother (Charlie's mother) sang it in her lovely contralto voice for both my father and his 2 brothers before they went off to war.

God, what a loaded song.

The Ashokan Farewell was the last piece we rehearsed complimented by other selections which we were all generously complimented on after the beautiful and authentic memorial service.

My uncle was someone who personified "I Did it My Way" his entire life. Stubbornly independent, warm, brilliant, unruly, generous to a fault combined with a sting everyone respected, characterized his walk. He came from a family of voracous storytellers and unmatched wit. My memories of him began at an early age, with family vacations in beautiful Pine Valley, 32 miles north. He was there with my dad when I caught my first fish, laughed uproariously when I sported a supprised expression upon crossing cattle guards at high speed for the first time and the summer I was 12 years old said very genuinely, "You're turning into a beautiful woman, Lynds".

At his passing, his body was completely worn out but his mind was perfectly intact. I remember the visit David and I had paid just 2 weeks before. He was very weak, but still had it in him to compliment both of us in the fashion he had done his entire life. "Lyndsy, you look more beautiful than ever", was the last compliment he paid to me. He had a way of engaging a person in the first 10 seconds he was in their presence that showed his charisma and ability to put an entire room at ease.

His graveside service was complete with military honors-- the same that was accorded my father 13 years ago this very month. The flag was held over his ashes, then folded and presented to his daughter and son. In the 103 degree heat the 21 gun salute shattered what remained of my composure the way it did the day we buried my father. Tears fell for missing my dad...and more immediately, my uncle. All of it combined to simultaneously strike the sensitive, primal chords of a mother's heart-- for a son had just left for war.

What an effing loaded day.

The family gathering at Uncle Charlie's a couple of hours later was restorative for all-- we sent him out in grand style, just the way he would have wanted. Music, good food and drink, stories and hearty laughs abounded. The priceless gift of a supportive family once again connected, filled us all. My uncle was there...he was DEFINITELY there to see us through this day as well.

The day ended with my gratitude for the comittment of my family: who don't necessarily agree with each other all the time, but are always there to support each other through thick and thin, through all kinds of life changing events. Take the last year, for example. There with my daughter in April when my granddaughter, Aurora was born. Family showed up for my son David's graduation in May and again to celebrate my mother's 90th birthday in June. The holidays with the fam strengthened me at a difficult time personally. They came to see David off to Iraq and today for Uncle Charlie. In August my brother will turn 50 and we'll most likely descend on him to celebrate. Now, this may not the way every family decides to live with each other, but it sure works for me.

Especially today.

Road Trip : Travelling the Inner Terrain

Road trips are not only great fun but packed with all kinds of adventure-- both inside and out. Today's post is the first of a 12 day trip I just returned from. There was so much packed into each day, there was no time to write! So here is the entire event, starting with today as day 1.

DAY 1

I left on a road trip today that will total over 2000 miles. I had the option of flying and saving time but cancelled my tickets at the last minute and saved the fares for later. (...and no charge to cancel--God, I love Southwest Airlines). The 2 destinations could have been reached more quickly by flying but I opted for the slower, deeper adventure of the mile-by-mile experience of covering the distance on the ground. I had my Jeep checked yesterday and am good to go. It's been a faithful pony through Colorado winters, hauling hitched loads, car camping and much more.

There's something about getting behind the wheel and travelling through all kinds of physical terrain that allows me to cover the inner terrain of my soul. I've been itching to get out on the road for MONTHS-- I need to let the last several months, thick and fast with milestone events and changes-- sink into my cells. I want to sit in the driver's seat of my Jeep as the miles tick away on my odometer and let each mile inside sink into and sort through my life, relationships and all kinds of emotional and mental terrain. I will take my favorite music and use it....or not. Sometimes just the whir of the engine, rain against the windshield or gusts of desert wind hitting the side of my car are music enough.

My destination today is St. George, Utah, 639 miles away. Uncle Charlie's memorial is tomorrow. Just 2 weeks ago I made a whirlwind weekend visit there by plane to visit him when I got the news he was gravely ill. He passed 2 days after my visit. My travelling companion for that trip was my son, David ( a favorite grand-nephew of my uncle) who deployed to Iraq just 2 days after my uncle's passing. Lots of goodbyes experienced by David and I in the last few weeks. That's a story for another day.

So I climbed into my champagne colored pony, loaded with food and drink for the road (more convenient than having to stop when you're 112 miles from the nearest convenience store in the middle of the San Raphael Swell on I-70), suitcase, goodies for the family and stuff I've been saving to bring to my grandbabies in California, which is my final destination. (Yeah, getting Southwest to take a child's rocking chair and hobby horse in the belly of the plane would have been a no-go.) I surrounded my car with safety, said some words to Great Spirit and pulled out of the driveway.

I've discovered the power of intention in my life as a good foundation for any experience. Knowing what I want instead of merely letting life happen (or at least a combination of the two) on the road has been a pretty good recipe for being at peace and having a good time. (It also works really well every day I'm not on the road!) So this first day is rich with intentions of what I want to experience in the next 12 days. 1) Safety and my vehicle operating normally, 2) making good memories 3 )being centered and grounded on the road and with my relations and 4) the ability to craft wisdom and insight from each of the experiences I have on my journey.

It's about 10 hr. (with breaks) to St. George, UT. Packing along the extra stuff took more time and the garden had to be tended to before taking off. Leaving at 2 in the afternoon was not my intention, but oh well, here I am. Up, up up the continental divide, through Eisenhower tunnel at over 11,000 ft., down, then up over Vail pass at 10,600 is the first leg. Through Glenwood Canyon, following the Colorado river almost overflowing its banks into the desert to Grand Junction, Colorado and into the brilliantly colorful panoramas of the Utah desert completes the second section of the trip. The sun is sinking into the western horizon as I slide up and over the breathtaking Capitol Reef.

Around 9 p.m. I'm rolling out of Richfield, UT after a gas stop. It's late, I'm tired and I want to be done, but I've got 3 more hours in the dark on the road through the mountains. There's no cell phone coverage and coffee jisn't keeping me awake and alert anymore. So I bring up James Brown on the CD player. "ALL ABOARD...The Night Train" I sing along but renaming the cities in the song: "Denver, Colorado....Grand Junction, Colorado....Beaver, Utah....St. George Utah...."

I arrive at my mother's house at midnight. The key has been left out, the rest of the house is alseep with family that have come as many miles as I. I grab my suitcase and cello out of the Jeep, close the door to my bedroom and fall into bed.

Thank you Great Spirit, we've had a safe and good journey today.