July 15, 2001

            Goodbye, Yellowstone, hello Idaho Falls. As we were about to load up the car this morning it wouldn’t start. The AAA couple diagnosed the problem as a fuel pump and were not able to work on it on a Sunday. We’re hoping it will be fixed Monday morning and we can zoom out the 800 or so miles to Seattle to meet the women. Maddy and I have been rehearsing our airport reunion for months – it will be a great disappointment if it doesn’t happen this way. Mark rented a car and we drove the 80 or so miles out to Craters of the Moon Nat’lMonument. It encompasses about 100 square miles of dark basaltic volcanic features. We saw pahoehoe and aa lava, crater rims, and shield and spatter cones. The volcanism here was an older expression of the same hot spot that is currently active under Yellowstone. To get there we drove through a government atomic energy research preserve and through Arco, the “atomic city”, home to the first civilian nuclear power plant in the world. We saw 2 huge prototype reactors that were being developed for airplane use and then who- knows- what before President Kennedy squelched the project. We’re all hoping for good fortune from the automotive gods tomorrow. 

July 13, 2001

            Today was a great day. We have developed a Yellowstone routine- sleep late, breakfast, Visitor’s Center for information gathering, a 3-6 mile hike, late lunch, driving tour with smaller hikes, dinner, amphitheater presentation, writing, then maybe stargazing. Today’s hike was a 3 mile walk through a magnificent older forest, obviously untouched by the 1988 fires. The most remarkable feature was the huge volume of deadwood just waiting to burn. Unlike moist, temperate Eastern forests, those here have a very slow decay rate, which leads to large stores of dry deadwood. Jackson was asking to see a yellow bellied marmot as the trail followed rocky crags around the north shore of Lake Yellowstone. Just as we were about to return to the forest I made one last binocular scan which revealed the elusive prize!

            The afternoon drive/ hike was through the Old Faithful area with its associated geyser fields. We waited a half hour to see the Riverside geyser erupt. It was a much more intimate experience than jostling with the crowds at Old Faithful.

            Jackson had a great day, displaying good humor, energy and spirit. He even joked about his obsession with thermal features. 

July 12, 2001

             Today was a complex day. One of the great benefits of the trip is to pull Jackson up out of his daily life, to see the larger world.  First hand experience with places, people and routines that are novel stimulates learning and growth. There are firsthand encounters with the landscape and the wildlife that I see stretching his narrow concept of the world. Brief encounters with fellow travelers and workers along the way are helping to shape emerging notions of how to carry  life skills that are being worked on every day in our troupe. Thankfully, Mark is a master at collecting information, eliciting viewpoints and then processing variables to lay out the group’s options. By and large, we have done well in our decision making.

            To make our daily life run smoothly requires a host of mature traits. What happens if one doesn’t get exactly what one wants? What if it’s your turn to order or to chime in and you can’t decide? What happens if we end up doing what someone else wants to do? Are we gracious enough when the group yields to our specific needs and wants above anothers’? As adults we are accustomed to the complex behavioral calculations needed to achieve smooth group functioning. These practices are more difficult for kids.

            Yesterday Jackson was like Jeckyll and Hyde. At Yellowstone, we have begun in earnest the Camp Cronin workouts. Forced exercise, outside of natural play, have always been met by violent opposition from Jackson. The first few days he participated very reluctantly, requiring all manner of gentle coaxing/ lavish praise/ authoritarian ordering. Yesterday, after a 5 mile hike, Jacckson spurred us on to work out. He participated enthusiastically, and ran the .8 miles with good pace and steady breathing. It was a real breakthrough! I was very proud.

            Then later, during our early evening drive, he insisted we return to the mudpots, as he loves the thermal areas. We indulged him, against the wishes of some others, specifically Jamie. Jackson didn’t seem able to grasp the subtleties of what was going on. He did not show gratitude. Then, as we stopped along the way to look at bears, mere dots on the landscape, he was bored and he let us know it. After dinner and an amphitheater presentation, we drove out to a dark road to observe stars. We even saw M-31, the Andromeda galaxy. Jackson helped whip Jamie into a fear- induced frenzy, seeing phantom bison everywhere. They spent much of the time in the car crying. I know that he’s only ten and outside of the routine that he loves so well. I struggle with finding the line between pushing him too far and not working forcefully enough to shape him. Mark’s parenting style is much more aggressive. Jackson is receiving great benefit from this, as evidenced by yesterday’s workout. He wants to please Mark in his daily journal writing.

            Today was a day of triumphs and trials. I expect there will be more like it. I hope I have the wisdom to help my son navigate successfully the great complexities that characterize life as we know it.  

July 10, 2001- Annie’s birthday

            Today we made the drive from Cody, Wyo up into the Canyon Village I Yellowstone. We went north through Cook City, Montana. Once again, the ride was remarkable, winding through the Shoshone Nat’l Forest cresting at a mountain pass at about 9000 feet. The pass was studded with interpretive displays recounting the near escape of the Nez Perce from the bumbling cavalry around about 1870.

 The scenery nearly equaled yesterday’s drive through Custer State Park, with a herd of aout 100 bison blocking traffic and through the Bighorn Nat’l Forest with its 2.8 billion year old granite and geologic roadside signage describing the Paleozoic sedimentary deposits.

            We saw bison, deer, ravens, voles, black bear and nesting osprey on the drive into our cabin village. Our cabin is motel- like, with 2 queen beds, a full bath and maid service. The village has more amenities than many of the Western towns we’ve been through. I would have probably railed against this in a younger visit, but there seems to be some wisdom in clustering the human activity.

            The boys have been engaged in ongoing discussions/ debates over the value of nature and humanity’s role in protecting/ harming it. Two nights ago in Deadwood, S.D., a gambling town, Jackson displayed his pro- buffalo activism by using his butter knife to remove all bison- related items from the menu. Patrick has been eating bison burgers with glee. Jackson has taken to this rule- oriented park with ease, while Jamie’s education on matters of trail etiquette continues. We had another Camp Cronin workout, the second in a row, with calisthenics followed by a short run. Jackson is not at all happy about these, and Jamie runs hot and cold. Hopefully, the boys will take to these better as we do them more frequently.

July 7, 2001

            We rifled from Minneapolis all the way to the Badlands in S.D., where we spent 2 wild, fantastic days before coming here to the tourist town built up around Mt Rushmore. Although the massive carved heads make for quite a spectacle and the town of Keystone is almost quaint amongst the Western kitsh, nothing can compare to our experiences in the Badlands. We spent the first night in a strip motel up against the park in Interior, SD, population about 67 with 3 or 4 bars. We got out early, had our second consecutive “ big breakfast” as sought after by Jackson, and then established our 2 tent campsite in the Nat’l Park while Mark drove back to Wall to attempt to deal with the as- yet- unsolved “ Service Engine Soon” sign and to get an oil change. The boys and I made our way through the scorched landscape about a quarter mile to the Visitor’s Center. On the way we saw 2 killdeer engaged in  aggressive display behavior. At first we thought it was a mating ritual, but Mark later noticed a small clutch of eggs near one of the birds. Its protective display was impressive- wings fully spread, tail fanned, the bird let out a piercing squawk while marching pigeon- toed in place. We didn’t notice a second clutch – perhaps the second bird’s actions were diversionary. Jackson and Jamie were with me at the Visitor’s Center when we were told, in response to our inquiry about trails, that there were no trails. We were free to roam about along the impressive, spired  sedimentary wall that emerged from what at first seemed like the stark, treeless grasslands. Jackson and Jamie responded with  a gleeful disbelief, especially Jackson, that staunch believer in the rule of law. Now, 2 evenings removed, the freedom of the Badlands already appears to be gaining mythic status as the standard for the way things just ought to be. That first hike through the Badlands and then today’s smaller climbing forays along the “scenic loop” roadside were other- worldly. The boys scampered to find angles that would make lofty plateaus accessible, then they looked

down with fright before refining their descent technique upon the loose granular, eroding sediment. Every flat surface available teemed with prairie grasses, at a distance monotonous, but at close inspection varied and beautiful. We all gleamed with sweat and baked in the oppressive sun, like pieces of Indian pottery. Not 5 minutes into our first hike, Patrick and I heard, then saw, a timber rattler shake its tan- brown tail in warning before disappearing down its hole. There’s nothing like the scent of danger to swell up an experience.

            The night time, too, was filled with danger, spectacle and rejected Dinty Moore beef stew. Mark, Jamie, Jackson and I were treated to a lightning display by the angry prairie gods, making tent sleep impossible. The wind against the tent was totally foreign to me, one so used to wind as expressed by buffering trees. Only the sturdy tent stakes holding fast to the compressed baked earth kept our tents from fleeing like bizarre Kevlar tumbleweeds. Amidst all this I had to clean up 2 pools of rejected stewy vomit from the tent, with tools almost wholly unsuited to the task. I relished the opportunity to do so lovingly, tenderly, almost grateful that Annie wasn’t here to automatically take this role.

July 4, 2001

            We are now in Minneapolis, deserted due to the holiday. We arrived at about 1:30 AM, so the crew is hibernating while I do some laundry off of the lobby of our Holiday Inn  Express. We did a bee line from Batavia, home of the Fermilab, some 30 miles west of Chicago. Although the lab’s main displays were closed, the visit was well worth it, as we worked our way through a small interactive museum, stopped off briefly so I could explore the main office area, then wound our way through the property by auto. We got a god feel for the nature of a research campus. The main offices employed about 150 and there were satellite areas spread out over many square miles. There was some employee housing in renovated farmhouses surrounded by a restored prairie, complete with a small herd of bison. The campus center had an auditorium with active lecture and concert series. There was ample wildlife around the prairie and the cooling ponds set above the superconducting magnets. Of course the main attraction was the cyclotron particle accelerator with its associated detectors. Like the field of particle physics itself, the machinery was mostly opaque, both physically and intellectually. Still, the basics are accessible in a skeletal sort of way – as in most areas, it’s the details that separate the players from the spectators.

July 2, 2001

            First full day in Chicago has been great. We had a relaxing start, as J and I spoke with Annie, Maddy and Lainey while Mark and the boys attended church. Then we wound our way through the Taste of Chicago, which had Grant Park chock full of scores of restaurant booths. Had lunch- like fare on the way to the Shedd Aquarium. It was a top- notch facility- most notable were the well conceived and organized educational displays and the lack of overcrowdedness that plagues other aquaria. A display on the Amazon flood plain communities was layed out masterfully, with just the right mix of small detailed displays, larger overviews to provide context and broader tie in/ consequence pieces.

            We made our way along the lakefront to the Adler Planetarium. Highlights there included excellent interactive computer displays, a dark starlit mirrored entryway and a planetarium show on the big cosmological questions.

            We made our way back through the taste of Chicago to the hotel, where I’m now supervising the boys at the pool. Mark is doing Web planning and research with the concierge.

July 1, 2001

            “The road” seems a misnomer as I sit at the dataport in our five star Chicago hotel, courtesy of Mark and Priceline. I sit here marveling not primarily at the natural and cultural wonders that serve as the punctuation marks for our physical movement westward, but at the human wonders that make up this grizzly band of travelers. Jamie fiercely scribbling his journal entry with Mark gently coaching him to greater clarity with technique that would be the envy of any teacher, anywhere. Jackson and Patrick spending hours patiently querying each other with “yes/no” questions in attempts to solve those mind-twisting puzzlers that teachers use at the end of the year to kill time. Jamie and Jackson, at first against dinner at Dick’s, throwing themselves into the mood with reckless abandon, chanting at the waitress to “fermez la bouche”. Jamie and Jackson, determined to order the same drinks at every mini-mart and restaurant in some pre-pubescent pact of solidarity. Patrick, determined to order a unique drink at every stop, ever ready to declare his independence. Mark, moderating political discussions at every turn, on topics ranging from the first European settlements in the New World to the hot topic of George W’s intelligence. Jackson, struggling to escape, but smiling from ear-to-ear as he gets his first kiss, from the waitress at Dick’s. The great landscape unfolds around us, but the best treasures are right under our noses.

June 28, 2001

            Cooperstown was great. We stayed at a campground specializing in “ the baseball saturation experience” with grown men from New Jersey playing on a beautiful field. We had a sparse cabin. The Hall was fine, with the kids well behaved, dinner at an Italian restaurant where Jamie and Jackson were pleased to make a special order, fettuccine alfredo, only they had to make it with penne. In the AM we explored the ponds, finding green and wood frogs and an impressive mass of frog eggs – Jackson’s goals met and Jamie quite happy, too. Yesterday we motored about 5 hours through Buffalo to Niagara Falls. We stopped for lunch at the Anchor Bar, original home of Buffalo wings – fabulous and friendly, in a working part of town. The falls are magnificent, full of hands- on opportunities – the “Maid of the Mist” boat ride and the Wind in the Caves walk, which saw J and J in absolute glory on the hurricane deck, heads actually in the falls.

June 25, 2001

            So Jackson and I are rolling across Long Island Sound on the way to meet the rest of the Wild Boys. All seems anything but wild, as Jackson reads Tintin and I think about the past and the future. I haven’t thought much about the costs of this trip – not the monetary ones, but the others – until we had to leave Annie and Maddy this morning. Annie was stoic, but Maddy, of course, possesses no such self restraint and was at my side all morning, expressing her sadness in as many ways as she could. It’s a calm, beautiful day as we lumber in the John Henry. There’s even a pre-fab house aboard in 2 pieces. The guy with the big voice, big hair and Hawaiian shirt swills beer and plays video poker. The self proclaimed expert on cormorants isn’t. Everybody on board is wired in. If there’s a new chorus to “Rainy Day Woman” it’s “Everybody must get phoned…”