Utah

Year of First Visit – 1995

Point of Entry – I-15 near St. George

There's probably no state more different from where I live than the state of Utah. Yet there is probably no place (besides places that I've lived) where I feel more at home.

The bulk of my Utah time has been spent in the Southwest corner of the state. Zion National Park is in my top 5 favorite places on the planet (others include Yosemite, Manhattan, San Francisco, and Disney World). And, depending on my mood, it usually ranks #1. I have days that I long to return and absorb all that it is.

Bryce Canyon is a treat, too, especially with my eldest being named Bryce. My kids think Knab was the model for “Peach Springs” in the movie “Cars.” The beautiful waters of Lake Powell set me to dreaming of houseboating there.

And though I'd like to explore much more of the state, like the northern mountains and the LDS Geneology Library, pulling off I-15 at highway 9 near Hurricane makes me feel like I've finally arrived home again.

Texas

Year of First Visit – 1993

Point of Entry – Houston Hobby Airport

“Life's too short not to live as a Texan” says the magnet on my fridge. I got it in a welcome basked of goodies from the women's group at our church not too long after we moved into our house in Houston and I tested that statement out for about 5 years when I lived there.

Before first visiting The Lone Star State for job interviews, I'd heard that everything's bigger in Texas. From day one there I found that to be partially true. The part I hadn't heard is that things aren't just big, they're also brand spanking new.

I taught is a school system so big and growing that the question was “How many new schools are opening this year?” It was a wild switch from the “Can we keep it open one more year before declining enrollment forces us to close?” situations I'd been a part of in other states.

I bought my first house in Texas. Though modest by Houston standards, we were its first owners and it was bigger than pretty much anyone else's in the family. And our “yard of the month” held a pool, 2 decks, an arbor, 9 trees, over 30 bushes, and still had lots of open green St. Augustine to cut (one year growing so fast that we had to cut it 3 times per week).

Our firstborn nearly immediately mandated a big, new van to haul him around.

We enjoyed the big sites in the area, ranging from Space Center Houston to the cowboy restaurants in Bandara, from the LBJ Library in Austin to the GHWBush Library in College Station, the flat dry plains of West Texas to the Riverwalk in San Antonio and Moody Gardens on the beaches of Galveston.

That bigness rubbed off on my spirit and let me dream big of what could be ---- new and growing ministries under Interstate 45 and the possibilities that I might do things that have big(er) impact on the world than what I was already doing.

And though I left my big new house and yard in Houston for a 100+ year old tiny rowhouse in Baltimore and my job at big new school for one at a little dilapidated storefront church, the knowledge of big and new that is deep in the heart of all Texans, native and transplanted, kept me looking for the possible and reaching for the impossible.

And if that's what it means to have a piece of Texas in me, then life truly is to short not to live as a Texan.

Tennessee

Year of First Visit – 1998

Point of Entry – I-24 near Chattanooga

It was a dark November night we traversed I-40 on our way home from the Youth Specialties conference in Nashville.  With every seat in the Suburban filled, we settled in for the overnight drive.

One passenger had trouble with the concept of silence.  If we didn't know this before the trip south, we definitely knew it before we headed home.

As the other passengers quieted down for the night, she kept going and going.  At one point, when no one  was responding, she simply filled the silence by saying, "Squirrel . . .  Squirrel . . .  Squirrel . . . " over and over until she came up with something else to say.

I've had less strange memories in Tennessee as well ----

-Touring Nashville.

-A family vacation in Great Smokey Mountain National Park.

-A retreat at Falls Creek Falls.

-The Dream Year conference in Nashville.

Then there was the rental car agent at BNA who noted that they didn't have any of the 4-door economy-barely-a-car cars available to fill my reservation and wondered if it would be OK to substitute a 2-door instead.  I was by myself so that was a non-issue to me.

By "2-door" he meant "Camero."

And though I thoroughly enjoyed my sweet ride during that rental and have great memories from Tennessee, somehow when I'm there I can still hear a faint echo ------

Squirrel

Squirrel

Squirrel

South Dakota

Year of First Visit – 2009

Point of Entry – I-90 near Rapid City

My life changed the instant I crossed into South Dakota.  My wife had visited more states than I.  I'd been catching up for years and even took some business trips to states she hadn't been.  When we touched down in Denver earlier that week we'd come to a tie in the number of states visited.  And she'd been to South Dakota before but I hadn't.

So as we rolled into the state I officially became the member of the family who'd visited the most states.  When I told the kids, they rolled their eyes and got back to the books they were reading.

We only visited South Dakota a couple days and wasn't be able to see everything we wanted.  We did Mount Rushmore (I liked the mountain but the displays around it would have fit better on the National Mall in DC and seemed out of place in the Black Hills), Jewel Cave, and the Badlands.

We'd seen on NPS.gov about the Minuteman Missile sited.  It seemed out of the zone for the kind of places we like to see but thought that, since we were staying very near it and not knowing if we'd be back in the area, we should reserve tickets for the tour.  It ended up being one of the most fascenating tours we've taken.

And of course we stopped in at Wall Drug.  This capitol of roadside attractions was surprisingly well done and was actually worth poking around for a while.  The buffalo burgers and "Free Ice Water" were a treat as well.

My being the king of the state count only lasted a couple of years as my wife and I had to share the title after our summer trip two years later.  But for a while, at least, I was king of the hill.  It seems appropriate that a place famous for men's faces carved in a mountaintop bestowed that title on me.

South Carolina

Year of First Visit – 2000

Point of Entry – I-95 at South of the Border near Dillon

Perhaps I should have taken the roadside abomination at the North/South Carolina line on I-95 as an oman predicting that weird things would seem to happen to me in South Carolina.

On one trip home from Florida we pulled in to the Econolodge for the night.  We figured we'd have dinner, swim with the kids in the pool, and get a good night's rest for the drive ahead.  Once we walked next door to the Sizzler for dinner a massive storm darkened the sky.  The torrents during short walk back to our room drenched us and only a fence distinguished the pool from the parking lot.

We all got showered, changed, and in bed.  It was then that we noticed light coming from under the curtains.  With the sky so dark we'd lost track of time.  The sun had now come back out.  We were all in bed for the night and it was almost 7:30 p.m.

While on a southbound Amtrak through the state we were awakened by a phone call.  Our home's burglar alarm had been tripped and the police were on the way.

We stopped at Congaree National Park on January 1, 2010, as a part of a Christmas vacation.  We never expected that many of the boardwalk trails would be underwater from flooding.  (Even so, it was still a neat place to see.)

But back to the North Carolina border, where else can I stand atop a giant sombrero?  I guess a few weird experiences are some welcome relief from the monotony that is travel along the eastern seaboard.

Rhode Island

Year of First Visit – 1999
Point of Entry – Green Airport (Providence)

The vast majority of my time and memories of Rhode Island at at the airport in Providence. I've flown in and out of there a few times for work meetings in southern Massachusetts so Rhode Island was my gateway to southern New England.

Pennsylvania

Year of First Visit – 1997
Point of Entry – Philadelphia International Airport

Unusually sweltering temperatures made was a bit more than we had anticipated when we arrived at the campground. Though we were living in Texas, the indoors are well air conditioned there while this Pennsylvania campground afforded us to sweat at the great outdoors.

The pool soon lured us to seek some relief. We set our towels on the patio furniture and headed for the water. We simultaneously stepped in and simultaneously screeched as we stepped back out. The water was colder than anything in the Lone Star State.

Over the years we've spent the night in several locations in the state. Each time we've gone for a swim in the hotels' pools, we found that they are all set at the same temperature. Now, no matter what land we are in, when we find chilly water we refer to it as a "Pennsylvania Pool."

Of course, I've done more in Pennsylvania than simply attempting to swim. I've been to historic sites like Gettysburg, Constitution Hall, and the Liberty Bell. Few places I've been have helped me connect with history as completely as have the sites of Pennsylvania.

And if I were to list the most significant spiritual experiences of my life so far, Pennsylvania hosted a disproportionate number of them, especially considering that I've never lived there. Who I am today was greatly shaped by events in the Keystone State.

So for me, Pennsylvania is the place where the water is cold and where I can still expect to swim in the deep end.

Oregon

Year of First Visit – 2007
Point of Entry – Portland International Airport

Oregon is another state whose memories for me started with a layover in the airport. Along with the requisite Starbucks and other standard airport fare, our terminal had a Powells in it. Used books at the airport? This was definitely a place for me to return to.

A couple years later we did, though not to the airport. And like that bookstore, Oregon had some wonderful things that seemed a bit out of place.

Like a spectacular waterfall --- along the freeway.
Like open flatlands --- with giant volcanoes rising out of them.
Like a stunning, giant, deep lake --- on top of an old volcano.
Like people bicycling --- on the Interstate.
Like a lecture at Fort Clatsop --- on the Battle of Baltimore.

Even the road we were on one Sunday afternoon was a bit out of place. We were on a newly opened bypass about which our GPS knew nothing. My kids squealed and laughed as the poor thing tried to tell us how to navigate across open fields.

Yes, much of what I remember of Oregon seems a bit out of place. But I'm one who loves sweet surprises so Oregon's memories are all real treats.

Oklahoma

Year of First Visit – 1993
Point of Entry – Will Rogers Airport (Oklahoma City)

Some people wouldn't count my first two visits to Oklahoma as being legitimate. The first was in Oklahoma City on a flight to Texas and the second was a few days later in Tulsa on a flight home from Texas. We didn't get off either plane.

So even if you dispute our original stake in the Sooner State, they did mark us for further Oklahoma travels. For on that trip to Texas via Oklahoma my wife and I both got our first "real" jobs.

Just a couple months later my wife, my mother-in-law, and I buckled ourselves into the cab of the U-Haul and, car in tow, drove through Oklahoma on our move. That was the first of several trips across the state. I don't remember the name of the town we spent the night in but, like our first stops in the state, we were filled with anticipation of the future.

So you're free to question the legitimacy of my first claim to Oklahoma. That's how it worked for the folks in the state's land rush, too. Like them, I know what I claim and I plan on holding onto it.

Ohio

Year of First Visit – 1987
Point of Entry – I-75 near Toledo

As my coworkers and I checked in to our hotel in suburban Cleveland that late November, the desk clerk gave us an exasperated, "Why are you here?!?!?"

"Business," we answered.

"Oh. That explains it. Nobody comes here this time of year without a reason."

The gloomy early winter gray drizzle even had the folks in the hospitality industry questioning our arrival in Ohio.

Not all of my Ohio memories are dismal and gray. They are made up of an odd combination of "Thru" and "To."

I-75 from Toledo to the Ohio River was my first experience in the Buckeye State. We were on our way to visit family who lived near the southern tip of Illinois so that was the most direct route.

Once living on the East Coast, the Ohio Turnpike (which, by the way, is the highway voted "easiest to drive" by members of my immediate family) became a regular through route from the Pennsylvania line to Toledo.

Separate from almost all these road trips, though, was a series of trips, mostly flights, to the Cleveland area.

In the early 2000s, my employer realigned our field and Cleveland became a central meeting point. This was especially handy for getting meeting space since we had historic sites and facilities in the area. For a few years I had an annual trek to gray and dismal Cleveland for week of gray and dismal meetings.

I've been back to that same site for meetings and retreats in the spring when the trees are in bloom and in the early fall when the leaves were at peak color. I've taken family and some work interns there in the summertime and experienced wonderful gardens in bloom.

And though I've been "thru" and "to" Ohio many times, I've got some places I've been near but not visited. That checklist includes places like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Cuyahoga Valley National Park. I'd also like to catch a baseball game in Cleveland and in Cincinnati.

So even if the folks checking me in to my next Ohio hotel don't know, I have good reasons to go back for a visit.

North Carolina

Year of First Visit – 1999
Point of Entry – Great Smokey Mountains National Park

After our hike we got into the car and drove across the state line just to be sure. All indicators said that we'd crossed into North Carolina while hiking in Great Smokey Mountains National Park but there were no "Welcome to North Carolina" signs along the trails.

Since then I've been to North Carolina many times, mostly traveling I-95 on the way to and from Florida. I've also crossed the state on I-85 and via Amtrak.  I've as had a couple of layovers at Charlotte-Douglas as well.

On one of those trips we were headed north on January 2 after a Christmas break in South Florida. We pulled into the outlet center in Smithfield to stretch our legs. We ended up stretching our wallet, too, as we stuffed our rented Prius with bargains on some necessary wardrobe updates. We were back on the road in under 90 minutes.

For many years we've collected refrigerator magnets of the touristy places we visit. Some friends visited the Outer Banks and brought us a magnet featuring the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. Therefore, North Carolina has the distinction of being the only state featured on our fridge with a picture of a site we haven't seen. I guess we'll need to drive back across the state line just to be sure to we see what's there.

New York

Year of First Visit – 1998
Point of Entry – George Washington Memorial Bridge

Wow! Some people actually get to live here!



That's what I was surprised to hear coming out of my mouth one time when crossing the bridge from New Jersey to NYC. That's part of my feeling toward much of the entire state of New York.



New York City, especially Manhattan, is one of my favorite places on the planet. Memories of family vacations, business trips, and community development training all melt together into a wonderful collage of ----

--The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
--Touring city parks in preparation for redevelopment of our own Olmsted-designed green space.
--Subways the way they're meant to be.
--The best meal I've ever eaten (Thanksgiving 1998 at Carmines on Amsterdam).
--Seeing the Today Show live.
--The view of and from the Statue of Liberty both before and after 911.
--My toddler's temper tantrum atop the Empire State Building.
--Our friend's apartment which featured 2 full inches of kitchen counter top.
--My daughter hiding from the performers at Ellen's Stardust.

And the UN. And Roosevelt Island. And the Top of the Rock. And going backstage at NBC. And Aida on Broadway. And. And. And. And. And.



Yes, New York City has more memories per square inch than any place I've been or could even imagine. But New York certainly isn't limited to the city.



From Niagara Falls to the Hudson River Valley I have memories spread across the state.



Of those, my favorites are probably found in Hyde Park. The summer homes of the Vanderbilts and Roosevelts, along with the FDR Presidential Library and Museum, hold a special place in my heart. In fact, my long-term readers might recall that visiting Elenore Roosevelt's home there is what led to my starting to blog.



I still haven't made it to Cooperstown but it's on my "A" list of place to see. Of course, you don't have to ask me twice to go back to New York City, either.

So I hope and plan to return to New York again and again and again and create more memories with the people who actually get to live there.

New Mexico

Year of First Visit – 1995
Point of Entry – I-10 near LasCruces

I remember New Mexico not looking like the pictures. Not better than the pix. Not worse than the pix. Just different.

Of course, I didn't get to the places I'd like to visit. We traveled through both the north and the south paths through the state (I-10 and I-40) with several stops along the way. That just didn't take me to the places I wanted to go.

Carlsbad Caverns
White Sands
Santa Fe
Four Corners

And I'd like to go to Truth or Consequences. My grandmother's brother settled there for health reasons after WWII so I have family in the area who I never met.

So for for now most of my New Mexico memories are yet to be written. And I know they'll look different from the pix in my mind.

New Jersey

Year of First Visit – 1993
Point of Entry – Bridge near Washington’s Crossing

I first arrived in New Jersey by surprise.

Our flight was late into Philadelphia on our way to Deer Park Campgrounds in New Hope, Pennsylvania. A friend was driving the van with us plus travelers from Missouri and Florida to the campgrounds. Because our flight was delayed we’d all missed the camp's dinner that night. The driver hung a right by Washington’s Crossing and took a very narrow bridge into New Jersey to go to a diner there.

I found other surprises in New Jersey as well. On our first drive to New York City, we took the Turnpike and found ourselves on the “double double” north of exit 8. I wasn’t quite ready for where the highway shifts in Newark and found opposing lanes on both my left and right.

I was surprised when I found the Princeton area to be quite beautiful. Many of the other places in the state I've visited were rather bland looking, but when I went up to spend a day with a friend who was there for a few weeks of training I was most pleasantly surprised at the beauty of the area.

I even surprised myself when the family and I ended up in Atlantic City. Who knew that someplace could be vibrantly tackier and spiritually darker than Las Vegas? It was good to get on the Cape May/Lewes ferry and head home.

I’m hoping to have some additional New Jersey memories to add to the list. Most notably, I want to take the kids up to Edison’s historic site. Don’t be surprised to see me there again soon.

New Hampshire

Year of First Visit – 2011
Point of Entry – I-95 near Seabrook

New Hampshire currently stands as the only state I've been to without actually stopping in it. My first trip there was on a drive from Boston to Maine. My second trip there, ten days later, was on a drive from New Brunswick to Boston. Though we planned to stop in New Hampshire for a break in our drive, we were out of the state before we had a chance to.

My son missed his first trip to New Hampshire. He nodded off in the car around Salem, Massachusetts, and woke up near Kennebunkport. On the trip back he made it a point to stay away through the Granite State.

Now, some might judge and scoff me for counting these quick drives through as having "been to" this state. I figure I was there long enough to live the irony of my EZPass to taking my money for the privilege of being in the state whose motto is Live Free or Die, then it more than counts.

Nevada

Year of First Visit – 1995
Point of Entry – Hoover Dam

A white Lincoln with a navy blue faux soft top.

That was how I arrived in Nevada the first time I traveled there. And each entrance into Nevada seems to be packed with visual memories.



Like approaching the state line from California in I-15. There in the middle of the Mojave with the rental car's thermostat reading 121, we saw a green hew in the distance. Yes, the grass is greener (actually, it's the only place with even a little grass) when you cross into Nevada with golf courses and resort-style hotels and casinos marking the state line.

Crossing into Nevada from Death Valley in California made me feel like I was in the movies. The long, straight, stunningly desolate road radiating heat at sunset with the full moon rising ahead of me was made for Hollywood.



And what can compare with landing at McCarran on a crystal clear desert night? The neon of the strip is at its most iridescent with the hundreds of miles of pitch-black desolation surrounding it.

Of course, those entrances weren't exactly what they appeared to be. It was my in-law's Lincoln and my wife and I had been riding with them in it since Houston. The green burst along I-15 melts quickly into the desert sands. The movie set is actually a long, long drive back to someplace with a restaurant and hotel. And the landing in Vegas is but the start of a long layover in a crowded airport.



Yes, Nevada has been a great place to make an entrance. And it's been a place where reality, lurking just below the surface, cuts through a bit of its grandness. A harsh desert and its tempting mirages define my Nevada memories.

Nebraska

Year of First Visit – 1979
Point of Entry – I-80 near Omaha

It's perhaps a testament to my small-town upbringing that my formative memories of Nebraska are urban and cosmopolitan.

I've always been attracted to big cities. By the time I was nine I'd been around Detroit and Kansas City a couple of times. We'd driven through a few others, though mostly via the outer freeways through the surrounding sprawl.



But my brother started graduate school at UNO and that meant going to Omaha for a visit. We drove through downtown. His apartment was near the city center so we actually stayed in the city.

We took Dodge Street out to Westroads Mall. I had never experienced anything like either of them.

Yes, for me Nebraska was cutting edge urban life. Had I written the Broadway musical, the song would have been Everything's Up To Date in East Nebraska!

A couple years later my brother took a job nearly half way across the state in Ord. I remember pulling off the main road (which had corn growing right up to the white line marking the shoulder)and walking into a restaurant for lunch on our way there. We could tell everyone was looking at us a little funny while we read the menus. Few minutes later a woman at the table next to us leaned over and said, "No one else here will ask, but we're all wondering who you are and where you're headed."



We were in Ord for its festival celebrating the 100th anniversary of its founding. Included was an Antique Car Show at which my parents saw a car just like the one they used to have. We're all glad they're now called "classic" car shows rather than labeling the vehicles as "antique."

My wife and I went to Bellevue for a job interview and we later had an interview in central Kansas which meant a drive back through Nebraska to our apartment in Iowa. Other than that, I didn't return to Nebraska for nearly 20 years.

On that trip we were driving from the South Dakota Badlands to Denver. We had a leisurely Sunday drive through the western part of the state that day, including a stopover at Scotts Bluff.



Urban or rural, recent or distant, all my memories of Nebraska are pleasant. Pleasant people. Pleasant places. Pleasant times. I can see how someone could lead a most contented life there.

Montana

Year of First Visit – 2007
Point of Entry – I-90 near Lookout Pass

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," said Dorothy to her little dog as she looked at the wonders of Oz. I felt similarly foreign when in Montana.



Most of my Montana memories are from Glacier National Park. The main reason for being in that region was to visit Yellowstone but we started our adventure with several days in Glacier. The mountains. The lakes. The waterfalls. The trails. The lodges. The wildlife. The park became an instant favorite, and a return trip to it comes on my travel planning radar every year.



We also knew quite clearly that we weren't on the East Coast anymore on the drive from Glacier to Yellowstone. A significant portion of the main highway toward Helena was under construction. For mile after mile, we found ourselves traveling across a gravel road where highway used to be and, presumably, would be again.

Even with the construction I remembered something: I enjoy a good drive. I used to drive for fun, but living on the East Coast turned that love affair into a bad, dysfunctional marriage. I'd gone from loving the road to dreading and avoiding it. Driving Montana rekindled that romance.



On our way back to Spokane to fly home we stopped to stretch our legs at Grant-Kohrs Ranch. We thought an hour there would be a nice quick way to break up the drive. But the place caught our spirits and the National Park Service rangers and volunteers were so captivating that we overstayed. We reluctantly left knowing there was much more to see and do.



Much like Dorothy, I new that my time there would need to come to an end. For though Montana was magical, it's not a place I could live for very long. And though I had to do more than just click my heals three times and wish really hard, there is no place like home.

And there's no place like Montana, either.

Missouri

Year of First Visit – 1976
Point of Entry – I-270 near St. Louis

I’ve traveled to and from Missouri more than any other state. Several reasons have factored into that.

1. My brother went to college in Parkville so we took him to school, attended graduation, etc., during his three years there.

2. My other brother got his first job after college in Independence so I traveled to visit him and his wife.



3. I also went to college in Parkville so that naturally included many trips back and forth between there and my home base in Michigan.

4. My church denomination headquarters is Independence so I’ve made many trips for events and training opportunities.

5. My wife was raised there so visiting my in-laws means going to Missouri.

6. My employer of nearly 14 years was headquartered in Missouri so it was the destination of many business trips.

7. Over the years I’ve had several flights layovers in both Kansas City and St. Louis.

With all those reasons and all those trips it’s easy to see that I have a giant conglomeration of memories of the state. If I tried to draw meaning from this mosaic, I would have to simply say that Missouri memories are tied to first steps.



It was my destination when I first ventured out of the state of Michigan. It was the first place I traveled to by plane and the first place I flew to alone. It was the first place I got to visit a sibling and the first time I got to travel with someone other than my parents. It was the first place I lived on my own (almost alone, anyway, in a college dorm). It’s the first place I understood the concepts of sacred spaces and pilgrimages and the first place I ever made a business trip to.

Pretty much everything I’ve done in Missouri I’ve done again. I’ve done them in bigger ways. I’ve done them in better ways. I’ve done them in different places. But they all started there.



If I hadn’t taken that first flight alone to Missouri I wouldn’t have been as ready to later fly alone to Europe. If I hadn’t made a spiritual pilgrimage to Missouri I wouldn’t have been as ready to take a pilgrimage to the desert later in life. Had I not moved out on my own to Missouri I would not have been as ready to move out to more distant or foreign places.

Missouri has been a good, solid, first step for so many other things in life that came my way. Thank you, Missouri, for being willing to “Show Me” the first steps on my journeys.

Mississippi

Year of First Visit – 1998
Point of Entry – I-59 near Picayune

I don’t have too many memories of Mississippi. I was only there once, and it was only for a few hours as we drove through the state on our move from Texas to Maryland.

I remember as we crossed the border that my wife told how one of her colleagues at Carver High School had a job as a teenager to dress in a hoop dress and stand along the highway at the border and wave to the incoming tourists.

I remember the state seeming a bit more desolate that I had anticipated. I knew it would be pretty rural, the route we took was especially sparsely populated.

One of my few regrets from when we live in Texas was that we never made it over to Mississippi to see the historic sites at Natchez. If I ever end up back in Mississippi, that’s the place I’d like to go.

Minnesota

Year of First Visit – 1979
Point of Entry – I-90 near LaCrosse

So far, I’ve been to Minnesota exactly once, and it was when I was 9 years old.

I remember it having a stunning entry as we crossed the Mississippi from Wisconsin. We were caravanning to Iowa to take my brother to start college there. I think that’s the stop where I got to get out of the family’s Ford and into the bucket seats of my brother’s Chevette. We drove into the sunset then stayed in a motel there that night.

It wasn’t long after we got up the next morning that we were in Iowa. That’s the sum total of my Minnesota memories.

Michigan

Year of First Visit – 1969
Point of Entry – Alpena General Hospital

My Michigan memories aren’t so much about the lakes, Mackinac Island, Meijer Gardens, or The Henry Ford. Those are great places but that’s not what Michigan is about for me.



Since I lived there full time for my first 18 years then summers and holidays until I married, my memories could all be about early years or daily life in a simpler time and place. And though these are there and are very much included right along with the tourist locations they aren’t at the heart of my Michigan memories.

This really hit me a year or so ago when I took my kids up to the part of the state where I grew up. “Here’s where my Aunt Katey lived,” I said as we drove to see another relative. Of course, we’d already been past the houses I’d lived in and by where other friends and relatives still lived. At that point my son said, “This trip is just like visiting a family tree.”



Yes, for me Michigan means family. It’s where my whole clan started. It’s where I go to visit my parents and most of my siblings and their families. It’s where my “they’re like family” friends live. It’s where there are some of the very few people in this world who both knew me as a child and know me as an adult. It’s where I can go to a couple different churches and know that the folks there would remember me and make the years since I was last there inconsequential.



Taking my kids to Mackinac Island was about seeing the sites. But it was also about taking them to a place where everyone else in the family had been. And though only the three of us were there that day, they gained a broader vocabulary of experience in my family.

So I have to go back to Detroit, or Port Huron, or Alpena, Mackinaw, Flint, Saginaw, Kalamazoo, Gaylord, Petoskey, Grand Rapids, Boyne City, Ann Arbor, Dowagiac, Oscoda, "the Soo," or one of the many other places in Michigan once in a while, even when it’s just a quick trip in a daydream. Because spending time in Michigan, no matter where I am, is spending time with family.



Even if I never go back inside its borders, wherever family happens for me I’m in Michigan.

Massachusetts

Year of First Visit – 1999
Point of Entry – I-195 near Providence

I was the last one to arrive at the staff gathering. My flight there departed Baltimore after dark, though it was mid-November so it wasn't late at all.



I was working the swing shift so my body was used to going to sleep around 2 a.m. When we pulled up to the dormitory style housing around 10 p.m., everyone else was already in bed and I couldn't find a room where I could turn on a light and read without waking everyone up.



So my first memories of Massachusetts involved me walking the dark, abandoned, chilly streets of Onset trying to wind down in order to get to bed.



That walk set the pattern for my Massachusetts memories with a series of great walks:

-Walking the freedom trail through Boston.
-Walking by the shore on Cape Cod.
-Walking the fascinating streets of Lowell.
-Walking back in time at Plimoth Plantation.
-Walking through the early 60s at the JFK Library and Museum.



There are lots of other walks, big and small, that I'd like to take in Massachusetts. I look forward to going back to stroll the state again.

Maryland

Year of First Visit -- 1998
Point of Entry --- BWI

Partly because of its size and partly because of how long I've lived there, I've seen a higher percentage of the State of Maryland than any other.



Living in inner-city Baltimore's Pigtown neighborhood, I've gotten to know it and much of the rest of the city, both the tourist and "nice" areas and the parts they don't feature in the travel brochures, very well.



Like locals, we've taken lots of opportunities to "Go Downey Ocean" to visit Ocean City and explore the Eastern Shore. From Kent County to the Virginia line, from Assateague Island to the Bay Bridge I've covered the Eastern Shore.



Of course, out west I've visited Antietam battlefield and Catoctin Mountain along with Cumberland, Frederick, Hagerstown, and points in between. (The only county in Maryland I haven't visited (yet!) is Garrett.)



Naturally, calling Central Maryland home for so long had brought memories from Port Deposit to College Station, with lots of time at Camden Yards and Ft. McHenry. I've biked the C&O Trail, climbed the engines at the B&O Railroad Museum, explored the old Hampton and Mount Clair plantations, and paddled a dragon boat at the Inner Harbor. I even got to be at the very last event at the US Airways Arena before they tore it down.



I have so many memories of great places to visit. But, most of my Maryland memories are tied to daily living. Maryland is in the backdrop for the very ordinary memories of raising kids, working hard on the job, life's delights, and life's tragedies. Maryland has graciously hosted us for all.



And though I know which areas of the state say "BUHL-duh-mor" and which say "BAWL-mer" and can accurately ask, "Ow bout dem O's?" I'm still not local enough to do crab cakes.



Maryland, you've hosted so much of my life. You've provided a great context for my memories of regular life right along side innumerable memories of places and events that only you could give.

Thanks, Hon!

Maine

Year of First Visit -- 2011
Point of Entry -- I-95 near Portsmouth

It was in Maine that my kids discovered that they liked Chinese food. Not lobster, mind you, not sea food, but Chinese food.



On the first evening we were in Maine we strolled the streets of Bar Harbor, seeing the sites as we wound down from our travels and looked for a place to eat. The menu of a Chinese restaurant caught our eyes. My wife and I immediately scrolled through it looking for "American Fare" for our kids so as not to start the vacation with over-dramatized facial contortions of pain and disgust. The kids, however, set aside their normal response to this particular ethnic cuisine and announced a different plan.

"We want Chinese food tonight!" was their mutual exclamation. And by the end of the meal they both wanted to come back the next night, too.



In between we climbed mountains (Cadillac by car, Bubble by foot), sailed along the coast, hiked wooded and coastal trails, and otherwise thoroughly enjoyed Acadia National Park.

We were surprised with the hotel's delightfully warm outdoor pool despite the chilly, damp air. The kids were equally surprised at how icy cold the sea water was on the beach at sunset.



And though we didn't go back for Chinese food the next night, we did indulge in it one more time before leaving Maine for Canada.

Louisiana

Year of First Visit -- 1993
Point of Entry -- I-10 near Beaumont

We needed a chance to get out of town for a few hours one Saturday afternoon not long after moving to Texas so we decided to go exploring. 90 miles later we found ourselves near the Louisiana line and decided to venture across it just to say that we'd been there.

We stayed on I-10 until we saw an exit for the town of Iowa. Since Iowa was the state we'd left to move to Texas we decided to turn around there and head back toward home.

The only other time I was in Louisiana was on the drive when we moved from Houston to Baltimore. We'd left our house in the late afternoon once the movers had cleared out the house and headed east. We spent the night in Lake Charles and hit the road early the next morning.

Kentucky

Year of First Visit – 1977
Point of Entry – Near Paducah

I’ve only had Kentucky in small doses. I’ve “gone into Paducah” a couple time with family who live on the Illinois side of the river. I also had a most beautiful drive one afternoon between Cincinnati and Louisville.

I hope someday to get back in the Bluegrass State. Actually, the correct word is “under” as Mammoth Cave National Park is on my “A-List” of places to visit.

Kansas

Year of First Visit – 1976
Point of Entry – Metro North Kansas City

We made a wrong turn. The “Welcome to Kansas” sign was affirmation that we should have gone the other way.



It wasn’t that bad; the place we were headed was on the Missouri/Kansas state line.

Other trips to Kansas started out almost accidentally, too. A professor in college happened upon a great BBQ place just across the river from our college and, though not a big BBQ fan until this place converted me, we went there nearly every Wednesday during my college years and still ship their sauce back east each time we run low.



I picked up a card off the “Help Wanted” board at school one day and, though the position was a long shot, I found myself spending a summer living in Missouri and working in Kansas.



I was told that I wouldn’t enjoy driving across Kansas as I headed back and forth between Missouri and Texas. Yet, though I wasn’t supposed to, I enjoyed each crossing of the Flint Hills as I pondered the courage and strength (mental and physical) of those who crossed them in Conestoga wagons.



My sister-in-law got married in central Kansas. My family flew to Missouri on Friday night, arriving after dark and going straight to bed. Up and on the road before sunrise on Saturday, our first daylight came just after Lawrence. It was such a dramatically different scene from inner-city Baltimore where we had last seen daylight that we felt like we had accidentally stepped through some kind of time/space warp and were now in a different universe all together.

Though I’ve spent many days in Kansas, I’ve never spent the night there. Even so, I’m glad some wrong turns lead me to wake up to Kansas.