The Great American meditation
Two hands on the wheels two eyes on the road
Truck-stop sunsets and filling stations
That′s what you see when you’re always on the go

But I′m headed home
Colorado, I’m headed home
Colorado, I′m headed home

— Excerpt from Daniel Rodriquez’s, “Colorado”

I have to respectfully disagree with Daniel over the notion that taking those long highway treks are a meditation. When I meditate I try to clear my mind and the highway does not fit that bill. I think of a thousand things and with a nod to Gurdeep Pandher of the Yukon I try to use the tools that keep the thoughts positive. Mrs. Gulch tops the list of course, but those great hikes, reminiscing about family, canyons, flowers, trees, mountains, the big rivers in the Midwest, the wild rivers in the West, all creep into my head. Of course there’s the road trips with Mrs. Gulch starting that first summer when we moved into my VW Bus and the last trip where we followed the Colorado River from Rocky Mountain National Park to Moab.

Anyway, I logged 3,239 Google miles on the journey and visited 9 states. Hellchild was along for the long leg of the trip so there is yet another family road trip to log into long-term memory and chat about.

I took the collection of essays “Water Bodies: Love Letters to the Most Abundant Substance on Earth” along and it is one of the most inspiring reads the I’ve known. Laura Paskus’ introduction drew me in and the other authors and poets left me wanting more at the end.

One of the essays dealt with place and I believe Denver is that place for me. Four generations of my family have lived on the Northside since the end of the 19th Century. Gertie’s family gave up on dryland farming in Wyoming and Frank’s family moved down from Jamestown, likely with the collapse of the silver market beginning in 1893.

Frank told Gertie in 1906, “There’s been a terrible earthquake in San Francisco and they are paying top wages for workers. I will go out there and work and save for a year, and then we’ll be married.”

He returned in 1911 with no dough in his pockets. He did bring back his memories of hopping trains and the Northwest’s forests and rivers. They finally tied the knot.