Connecting on the Road

We're feeling a bit stressed trying to stay connected with friends and family while on our journey. Connected means taking time to stop at a library or cafe to use the free wi-fi to e-mail, send pictures and blog. Neither of these three seemingly essential activities contribute to the journey in itself. Writing about what we're experiencing is enriching our travel, but the self-attributed notion that we must be in contact is stymying. The process of shifting from the tangible experience to the virtual is surreal and disenchanting.

We've decided to give ourselves a maintenance day every four to five days. The postings will be back-dated and added when we're off the road. We think it's for the best and the writing will be better for it; not to mention Morgantina's blood pressure.

Chambersburg, PA joins the hundreds of other towns which have transformed their suburbs, highway hillsides, and outskirts into strip mall look-alikes. The homogeneity of these outposts are both disconcerting and undeniably useful. We hate them for their generic duplicity while we benefit from their familiarity and convenience. (Gandalf nod: "He loves and hates the ring as he loves and hates himself").

These town centers, super centers, market places, or whatever your local developer likes to call them, are plentiful and are standardizing the American landscape. For now, each time we pass a mega center we're disappointed and can't help feeling tricked somehow. In 1960 Steinbeck observed the following about the American city:

But now I have been through hundreds of towns and cities in every climate and against every kind of scenery, and of course they are all different, and the people have points of difference, but in some ways they are alike. American cities are like badger holes, ringed with trash - all of them - surrounded by piles of wrecked and rusting automobiles, and almost smothered with rubbish. Everything we use comes in boxes, cartons, bins, the so-called packaging we love so much. The mountain of things we throw away are much greater than things we use. In this, if in no other way, we can see the wild and reckless exuberance of our production, and waste seems to be the index.

However, what many downtowns can no longer do, either because of lack of will or ability, or because people who live in suburbs need or simply prefer the new outtowns, these uniform shopping centers can do. They provide a space to congregate, shop, and socialize. People of all walks and statehoods can come and be known or remain anonymous and feel just as they do the next state county over. Chances are, in this little big world of ours, Mr. Ryan Jones would never have spotted Pellew if Panera didn't offer free wi-fi and the immutable pick two combo. And, in the middle of all this sameness, in this earthtone cookie cutter eatery, they talked about old times on the USS Whidbey Island and their land-bound futures ahead.