last day of my last summer vacation.

Well, I guess this is the point where I start sputtering out as far as updating this regularly. Being away from the DC coach and spending sporadic amounts of time on the Boise coach may have something to do with it. It was a lovely vacation, going out West, something I hope I can do again in the future. While the Midwest holds its own grand geography, the Great Lakes being the prime example, you just won't find the same concentration of magnitude and sprawl of proportions as you do in the West. I have been to the Southwestern US as a kid, Northern California as a preteen, and the Northwest twice as a young adult, and each area and time hits me in a different way. This time, I thought more about the giant rivers, glaciers, and volcanoes that came millions of years before to shape what we drove and hiked through. My cousin grant had the statistics, which I neither remember nor wish to look up, but regardless, it is awesome.

One of the major highlights was climbing my first mountain, Middle Sister at 10,056 feet. Being a cautious lowlander, the altitude and loose rocks nearly kicked my ass, but the view! We could see Mt. St Helens 100 miles away! On the back we sledded down on the snow banks, which was both painful and purposeful, getting Grant and I back to base camp and on our way to getting lost in the woods, for an hour!
Another thought that kept revisiting my mind was the romance and reality of "how the West was won," and the general developments in 19th century America and Manifest Destiny. With all the artifacts left to be hung at restaurants and sold at antique stores, and the overall spirit of domination and striving to establish Western civilization in the Western frontier, I would have to agree with other critics that the pioneers were ultimately of the same stock and mind as those they left in the East, and not a new breed of American developed to shape our collective consciousness for the better. There is a great sense of American myth there, in the people, in the land, in the celebrated imagery and heroes. My mother has always taken an interest in it, especially in Native American culture, and I have never really understood the intrigue of it until this visit. When Helen and I went to the Sawtooth Music Festival in Stanley, I could hear in the honky tonk music of Jeremiah James the tradition of the cowboy poet, and the inspiration that comes from being in such physical majesty and struggling with the highs and lows of society, an outlaw. How can there be so many Western movies and books? Why is country still relevant? Why so many kids with toy guns and chaps? Easy, with the romance of the Sheriff, the loner, the outlaw, and the one who adopts the ways of the Indians, there is plenty of fodder for timeless themes of drama and human introspection. The really good ones have the guts to question the whole drive to be in the West in the first place. Why didn't I consider it before?

Now I am back in DC, in a new apartment, sleeping on my roommate's futon. I miss the dry heat and the scenery, but I ride public transit as a trade-off. I start work tomorrow, and I don't think I am failing anyone when they ask me if I am nervous/excited and I say no. I can only hope I can transition gracefully from summer vacay to the working week. Who knows when I will do it again.