Go West Young Man

Well, in perfect Bartling fashion, we got off to a bit of a late start. Teake's plan included us leaving sometime between 12 and 1. So, for us, 3:30 isn't so bad.

We had not even gotten off Minnesota Avenue before I was told what's what and how this was all going to go down.  Evidently, three unsolicited pieces of advice was two too many for less than one mile of road time. I used the, "But, I am your mom, and if I don't remind you who will?" He was having none of it. The great thing about Teake and me is that we have it out, and then we are done.  I reminded myself to put a cap on the "mom tongue" and he immediately started another conversation by making fun of me.

Here we go, packed up like the Clampetts, we have "loaded up the truck" and are heading to California. I tried to create new lyrics to the Beverly Hillbilly song inserting our own names and story, but when I asked Teake to join in, he said he had never seen the BH nor did he know their theme song.  I have failed as a mother.

I thought it would be a swell idea to stop and give a moment to all the South Dakota landmarks along the way. You know, remind us of our roots, appreciate the state's nuances and bid adieu. Unfortunately, when he refused to take a swing through Mitchell to view the Palace of Corn, I knew all grand illusions of soaking up prairie nostalgia were to be broken dreams.

Al's Oasis did call us in a like a siren of the plains. "Come, sit, eat a buffet, buy bad Native American kitsch!" United, we defied the temptation of cheap coffee, delicious pie and an absolutely perfect hat for my next trip for Belize. However, since I have been limited to two small carry-on bags and a purse for 3 weeks and coast to coast travel, I resisted the urge to purchase in lieu of traveling light.  Another tank of gas and a Kimball popcorn ball will tie us of til Rapid.

Why is it that I always am reminded of the majesty of South Dakota's geography each time I cross the Missouri? Spoiled must be the word.  I take the beauty of the flat fields and the breathtaking sunsets for granted. Yet, there is the paradox of tradition and ephemera each time the vehicle comes over the Chamberlain cliff. I reediscover the river is sill there yet the view is even more beautiful this time.

Teake and I pass the time sharing ear buds listening to his favorite tunes from The Band, Ray Charles, Cat Stevens and Al Greene. Between learning to walk and talk, I remember him making verbals for me to play Zepplin's Black Dog over and over.  He would bounce, hum and clap; he so badly wanted to let go of the chair and move independently to the beat. The only other option he would tolerate was War's Low Rider. I knew he was my old soul at 16 months. Here we are, 21 years later. Now we are holding on to each other as he takes his next nervous - yet excited - steps toward his new life in California.