On Wednesday, my mother had surgery�minor, this time, which made for a refreshing change of pace�and for this I flew out to be with her as she went through the ordeal. This involved a protracted cross-country drive to the Mayo Clinic (and back), which provided us ample time to get to know each other�s eccentricities a little better. To clarify the point, it was a prime opportunity to get to know each other�s driving eccentricities a little better. Or, to quote my sister, �The only good part of the two of you on a road trip is that you can�t BOTH be behind the wheel.� Har har.
Fewer times in my life have I offered up so many frantic and fervent prayers to Jesus in such rapid succession�except for possibly on cross-country flights, when I spend five solid hours offering to join various monasteries or consecrating personal possessions to any number of saints�than on these trips. My mother has a nasty habit of accidentally swerving onto the shoulder of the highway when she, say, for example, tries to steer and eat ice cream with a spoon at the same time. Or when I say something like, �Oh, a cow,� and she cranes her neck around to have a look for herself and prove me wrong.
For the last twenty-five miles or so of our journey, we decided to take a route that was scenic, if isolated and rural. We also didn�t really bother to fill up the tank. Just to put your minds at ease, this story doesn�t end with a toothless banjo-player tying us to a tree and trying to decide which of us gets the privilege of being fed to his carnivorous and glandular prize hogs. Unfortunately, it does end with a small, furry woodland creature meeting its untimely end beneath the wheels of an American-made vehicle being operated by a hysterically shrieking mother and son team. Sadly, we�ve been softened by two (separate) lifetimes of cushy, slaughter-free city living, and are therefore woefully unequipped for the intrinsic brutalities of a late night country drive. In our defense, that raccoon faked right and then cut left as soon as my mother started to veer around him. Anyway, we felt horrified and guilty, and kept debating whether or not we should turn around, until we felt SO guilty that we HAD to turn around. When we got back to where it was lying on the center line, we accidentally drove right past it and had to turn around again. Only this time, THE BODY HAD MOVED.
I�m not making that up. Haunted zombie raccoon fucking MOVED across to the shoulder of the road. And not in a �still alive but suffering terribly and dragging itself along� kind of way, either. It was quite dead. Believe me.
I have found that as beautiful and serene as the rural Midwest is�and let me just tell you that it really is unparalleled in many respects for its rolling farmlands and wildernesses as yet untouched by the soulless and pervasive claws of Wal-Mart�I am just not cut out to live there for any extended length of time. Not for lack of culture, per se. I mean, it�s not like I require a Shinto temple and espresso machine within a two-block radius of my favorite designer clothier (a ten-minute drive would be sufficient). But because I just plain don�t fit in. Based on visual surveys conducted in the many service stations at which we stopped for provisions along the way, I have realized that my standard dress is incompatible with rural Midwestern living in two respects. My wardrobe has too many sleeves, and not enough items that say �Harley Davidson� on them.
In any case, we�ve made it back safe and sound to my mother�s place. Our stay in Minnesota was, while brief, nonetheless interesting. We were upgraded to the Executive Suite, which meant two king-sized beds with about six pillows each, a huge kitchen (with whole coffee beans AND a grinder!), and additional pieces of furniture that people hardly ever find uses for in their actual homes. The other nice thing about Rochester is that all the buildings in the city center are connected by a subterranean walkway that helps you circumvent the unpleasant eventuality of coming into contact with any of that �outdoors� stuff you sometimes hear about.
Then again, so does driving.
Your Trivia Fact For The Week: The first drive-in theater was built in Camden, New Jersey I�m Watching: The Cosby Show. I�ve missed it so much. I�m Reading: I read Catering to Nobody by Diane Mott Davidson, on Mister Zero�s recommendation, and just finished Bill Bryson�s I�m a Stranger Here Myself. Lots of reading on this trip!