The Life in My Years

An anthology of life

A chapter in an occasional series of posts documenting an autumn 2021 road trip through the Midwest.

Throughout the years that I’ve been blogging, I’ve often searched for new blogs to follow. Maybe I was looking for something in my areas of interest; history, photography or politics. Maybe it was a search for new ideas, new approaches, or new formats. Or maybe I’d just stumbled on to something that intrigued me, something completely out of my normal area of interest.

Somehow I found Susan Richardson’s, Stories From the Edge of Blindness, in which she documents her struggles and successes in dealing with Retinitis Pigmentosa. The blog so captivated me that I went back to her archives, starting from the beginning and trying to catch up as her story continued. I think I covered eight years worth of posts in a few months.

Eden Baylee. I think I found her blog in the comments section of Yeah Another Blogger. A published author, Eden’s blog includes a regular Music Monday and an occasional 800 Word Story in which she collaborates on a short piece of fiction with author Bill Kirton on a topic that they apparently pull out of a hat – or somewhere else. It amazes me that they can do that.

She also has written about social and political issues that have personally touched her. I wish she would write more of those.

She has, as she says in her bio, a dry sense of humor and a penchant for profanity, and I love both. Whether she likes it or not, she’s become my writing mentor. She gained my undying affection when she called Neil Young a wanker. We’ve since become good friends and confidants.

I’ve met two bloggers in person.

Michael Scandling, publishes the AMAGA Photography Blog. His minimalist and impressionist seascapes are mesmerizing.

I met Martin Fredericks in Fargo, North Dakota. He publishes IV Words, a blog about climate change and our current and worsening environmental crisis. It’s an eye opening site, that can be at times frightening and at other times, inspirational.

There are too many other bloggers to mention here in the body of this post who I’ve read and have been following. I’ve included those at the end of this post.

And then there are the others. The posts that I’ve stumbled upon and that have, as the saying goes, “wowed” me. I’ll read a piece, and find that it’s months or even years old. And so I search for the newest post.

I click on the heading to refresh the site to a new post and it comes up with the old post.

Is that all there is? What happened? Did the writer lose interest? Move on to write another blog on another platform? Or is it something worse?

This great work stopped in midstream. Gone with not so much as a friendly “goodbye” or a brusque, “I’m done with this shit.”

It’s like the sign on the shop window, Back in 10 minutes. When did the clock start? A minute ago? Fifteen minutes ago? Yesterday?

It’s frustrating and disappointing.

Good blogs shouldn’t fade away into nothing, they should have a series finale and damn it, they should have a climax.

And that is what this post is.

It’s been ages since I’ve posted anything and there’s a reason for that.

I’m writing this in room 208 of the Quality Inn, in Grayson, Kentucky, just 30 minutes from the West Virginia state line.

After Cora and Lexi and I returned from our May/June road trip I got hit with a malaise. I lost interest in keeping up with the things that I should’ve been doing around the house.

The doldrums actually started to hit me as our road trip was winding down. By the time that we got to Hood River, Oregon, I was starting to get the “we’re going to be home soon” blues.

That road trip was often exhausting and sometimes trying, like the time I thought Lexi had broken her leg, or the time Google sent us on a wild goose chase in the desert.

Cora and I will never forget the filthy, disgusting motel in Missoula, Montana. It was the one that banned Lexi from entering the motel through the front door. I wanted to tell the desk clerk that Lexi could take a dump in his filthy lobby and it would represent a marked improvement.

Still it was like nothing we’d done before – and I needed more. Not just more but, MORE, something on a grander and more exciting scale.

Cora was perfectly ready to get home and Lexi was probably ecstatic about being able to romp in her backyard again. I wasn’t at all satisfied.

It was during the final leg of that trip, that I asked Cora if she would mind if I took another road trip, on my own, through the Midwest. She gave me her blessing but probably had no idea what she was giving me permission to do.

I aimed for the week after Labor Day, when kids would be back in school and there would be fewer travelers on the road.

It was going to be great blog material.

And then just before leaving I thought that it could be book material.

I know, it’s been done. John Steinbeck did it in Travels With Charley, although since then it’s been revealed that parts of the book are fictional. Even Steinbeck’s son called bullshit on certain sections.

William Least Heat Moon did it in his book, Blue Highways, the epic travel journal of a man who lost his job and his wife at about the same time and decided to get in his truck and go. I mean, that’s what I would do.

I’m certain that a few thousand others, both writers and hacks, have also taken a crack at the long road trip narrative. Some have succeeded and most have failed. I’m told that’s the way it is with trying to write a book and I figure that it’s better than even odds that I’ll end up with the hacks. But, as the man said, “nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Today marks the end of my fifth week. I flew into Omaha, Nebraska, on September 10th and have driven through parts of Iowa, Nebraska, Minnesota, North Dakota, Michigan, Wisconsin, Indiana, West Virginia and now here I am, room 208 of the Quality Inn, Grayson, Kentucky.

I’m going to Milan, Indiana tomorrow and then two days in Goshen. I have to stop by the Indiana Dunes because I promised a couple in New Harmony, Indiana that I would do so. In fact I’m going to take a photo of it and send it to them.

At times I forget what day it is. One day I accidentally made a reservation for the wrong two days in Lansing, Iowa. I got it figured out soon enough that the owner was able to book another guest and I wasn’t out any money.

I’ve already lost track of some of the places that I’ve been.

There’ve been many days when I got lost and found myself pulled off the road next to a cornfield, looking at the map, scratching my bald head and uttering a, “Where in the fuck did I go wrong? Where in the hell am I?”

Sometimes sheer shithouse luck has me back on course.

I’ve been using a voice recorder, taking notes in a journal, and of course, I’ve been taking photographs, with both camera and phone.

Early on I was putting together posts, unrelated to this trip, to publish on my blog. It was taking time, adding to fatigue and causing a fair amount of unneeded stress.

Everything seemed to be going fine until one afternoon when I was on my way to Duluth, Minnesota, from Eveleth, Minnesota. I stopped and went to erase a single entry on my recorder and accidentally erased everything. Every – fucking – thing.

I was despondent. I’d already backed up some of the material in Google Docs or in my hand written journal. The rest was gone.

The deleted material included a long conversation that I’d had with blogger, and now author, Martin Fredericks. I’d stopped to have lunch with him in Fargo, North Dakota.

I was anxious to learn from him what it’s like to be a liberal in a blood red state. Not just a liberal, but, to add an enhancement to the crime, a tree hugging liberal. It was excellent material for a book. It was, up to that point, the crown jewel – and it was gone.

On my way through Duluth, to my final stop of the day in Mondovi, Wisconsin I called Cora and told her what happened.

“I’m coming home. I just don’t have the heart for this anymore. It was a dumb idea. I’m too old for this shit anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll make my way back to Omaha and book a flight.”

That night, I exchanged texts with Eden and she started easing me back from the ledge, though I still had only one foot back in the window. Over the course of a day or two she’s pulled me back in and shut the window.

The next day, while driving about the Wisconsin dairyland, I thought things through. I would have to ask Cora for an extension.

That afternoon I was lost in the alphabet soup of the letter designated Wisconsin county road system, looking for a little town called Whitehall when I got phone service and called Cora.

As I drove and we talked I stumbled on to Whitehall. I parked in the lot of the stout, stocky, Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church.

Every town in Wisconsin has at least one Lutheran church. Sometimes an extra one or more. You never know when an extra might come in handy.

We talked about the usual random things. How was I doing? How was she doing? Did she call the contractor? Was I being safe?

Finally I took a deep breath.
“I’ll be back by your birthday.”
“My birthday is Halloween.”
“I know. I just need to see this through.”
“If something happens that you need my help with or if you just want me to come back, say the word and I’ll make my way back to Omaha and fly back.”

We said goodbye.

I sensed some sadness in her goodbye. She seemed hurt and I felt like a shit heel.

I sat in the parking lot for a bit, wiped a tear and still wondered whether or not I should just cut it short and go home.

I was feeling tired. Tired of lonely days, days when I’ve missed Cora terribly. Days when I’d had enough of lugging a suitcase around. Tired of eating canned chili or ramen for dinner or stopping to make a sandwich, stopping along the way from somewhere headed towards somewhere else.

After erasing my recording I made the decision that I couldn’t serve two masters and I decided to put this blog on hiatus. At this point I have no plans to document this trip on my blog. I just want to concentrate on putting this into a book.

This trip, and my impressions are only the barest of bones that will need to be fleshed out when I return. I’m not certain if I’ll resume the blog while trying to put a book together.

I’d originally decided to jump off of Facebook for the duration of the trip or longer but I realized that Facebook is how Cora travels with me. So I reactivated Facebook a day after I’d deactivated it.

After this post, I may come up with one more post, based on some reflections that I’d had as I drove away from the Field of Dreams ballpark in Dyersville, Iowa.

I still have a lot of material left from my spring road trip that is yet to be published so I’m looking at this post as more of a season finale than a series finale.

Tonight marks the end of five weeks on the road. On the 22nd of October I get back on a plane for home.

Today I drove through the hollers of Appalachia, in West Virginia. As usual I got lost one or two times and Google Girl got lost as well, having lost her data connection. I don’t yell at Google Girl the way I used to. I used to abuse her terribly.

A few weeks back I was walking through the Quincy Mine ruins in Northern, Michigan and I was carrying my phone in my pocket. When I got back and started the map guidance, the instructions were delivered in some different tongue. Turned out that while my phone was in my pocket the settings had changed.

I knew what languages it wasn’t. It wasn’t Spanish, Italian, French, German, Japanese, Korean, or Chinese. The problem was, I didn’t know what it was and, worse than that, I didn’t know how to change it back. Even the voice was different.

I struggled with this interloper for two days until I figured out how to bring my Google Girl back.

When she was back I promised her that I would never cuss at her or call her vile names again. And I’ve kept that promise. Even if she has screwed me a couple times and taken me on the long, unscenic route.

So with Google Girl lost today, I turned to driving until I could come to a town that could help me get my bearings on the map.

Crum, West Virginia, isn’t much more than a collection of ramshackle homes, double wides and trailers. And a Baptist Church of course. Every town in the hollers seems to have at least one Baptist Church and sometimes two or more. A self respecting holler can never have enough Baptist Churches.

Crum also has a post office and I’d never have known that Crum was Crum without the name on the Post Office. I found where I was on the map and how to get to a major town from where I was.

I climbed out of the hollers and lo and behold the road ended up in a city. I had no idea what city I was in but I could tell by the signs and banners that it was the hometown of Marshall University, the school made famous in film.

I stopped to get something to eat. While walking I tried to find something that would tell me where in the hell I was besides the hometown of Marshall.

Cora was on the phone.
“Where are you?”

That had become the oft asked question.

“Hell if I know. It’s the town where Marshall University is. You know, the movie?”

“I can’t remember.”

Well, I could place the movie but not the town and the sorry thing about that was that I was walking through its very streets. I finally found out the the easy way – by asking someone.

“Huntington,” I told Cora. “Huntington, West Virginia.”

“You’re in West Virginia?”

“Been driving through it all morning. “

After lunch I walked to the bank of the Ohio River to relax for a bit. This is what I wrote in my journal.

Huntington has a riverside park and a river walk, as every self respecting town next to a river should.

The park, following the course of the placid Ohio, is a long stretch of green, shaded in places with trees. The park has two paths, benches, picnic tables and swinging loveseats, like the ones you see on a porch. People come to walk their dogs, walk their kids or just walk themselves. They jog, practice martial arts, read, or, as in my case, enjoy the peace.

I had come for just a quick look but I decided to stay longer. I find peace near the water and at that very moment I needed a good dose of peace. At home I might be at the ocean but in a pinch, this pinch for instance, the Ohio River would do just fine.

It occurred to me that I was marking five weeks done, with one left to go.

It also occurred to me that this marked the farthest east and south that I would go. Henceforth I would be going north and west till Omaha where I would get on a plane and go home.

I looked in front of me, across the river to Ohio, at the custom built A-frame houses. Behind me was Huntington and behind Huntington was the abject poverty of the hollers.

I thought about the ridiculous irony. The people in those A-frames and the people in the hollers, people separated by a few miles but living in different worlds, voted for the same guy for president. How does that work?

The people in Huntington? College town so that was probably a split. Or maybe Biden squeaked by.

I thought about how the trip had failed in regards to politics. I really wanted to talk to locals about politics but with the general mood…

It took me five weeks to get here.

At the other extreme, the northern extreme, I’d been to Copper Harbor, Michigan, just about as far north as I could go in the Continental United States without swimming to the middle of Lake Superior where the big lake becomes Canada.

The humidity and sun had made me drowsy and I wanted to go home to take a nap. But something held me there by the river. I knew that the moment I rose from that bench and put the river behind me, I would be starting home, marking the beginning of the end of my journey.

I’d hit the halfway point in time two weeks prior, but that didn’t affect me so. This time I felt a melancholy. There were times when I was exhausted, other times aggravated and every day I missed my family and my dog.

Now I was already starting to miss this journey. It was like reading the last few pages of the book you never want to put down. The author blessed you with characters who had become your friends. You were their confidant and you never wanted to part ways with them, but you also knew that the dwindling pages meant that your days together were numbered.

On the drive back to the motel in Grayson, I thought about what was behind me. I couldn’t even remember the names of some of the towns I’d laid my head in.

I remembered Montevideo in Minnesota, but that was only because it shared the name with the city in Uruguay. I couldn’t remember the town that I stayed in between Escanaba and Copper Harbor, the one where the nearest grocery store was 14 miles down the road.

But I did remember some of the people.

There was Francis, in Lansing, Iowa who was building a riverside shrine to honor his wife.

There was the couple at the Field of Dreams ballpark who let me play catch with them so that I could say that I had “a catch,” at that field.

There was Sue, in Upper Michigan, who was learning the motel business on the fly after her niece was badly injured in an auto accident.

And of course there was Jim in New Harmony, Indiana who I spoke with for the better part of an afternoon. We sat on the porch of his rooming house and watched the rain pour and the lightning flash.

Jim told me that William Least Heat Moon, the author of Blue Highways, finished his journey there in New Harmony.
“Right down there near the old bridge.”

It dawned on me that maybe it would be appropriate to write my final journal entry in Omaha at the bank of the Missouri River.

Below are a few photos from the journey.

Mississippi River near Lansing, Iowa.

Heron, Sunrise on the Mississippi

A road less travelled. Saxeville, Wisconsin

Bridge over the Fox River, Green Bay, Wisconsin

Swan. New Harmony, Indiana.

West Union Bridge, Indiana


Athens, Wisconsin

Plumbago Lake, Michigan

Thank you to the readers, the regular, the occasional and the ones who read one or two posts and then moved on.

Thank you to the bloggers who have inspired me and entertained me. I’ve been remiss in reading posts because I’ve just been too immersed in driving, writing and trying to catch a few moments of TV in order to mindlessly unwind.

Below is a list of bloggers who I’ve been following or have followed me.

Eden Baylee

Martin Frederick’s
IV Words – The Progressive Perspective

Stories From the Edge of Blindness
In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

Yeah, Another Blogger
An Arts-Filled, Tasty And Sometimes-Loopy Jaunt Through Life

Travel With Me: Travel Snapshots From Toonsarah

AMAGA Photography Blog
Words about pictures by Michael Scandling

It’s Complicated
Trying to Understand My Nikon D7100

…i choose this…

T Ibara Photo
一枚の写真は一千語に匹敵する/A picture is worth a thousand words



Following the Path to the Past

looking through the lens


The Observation Post
mistermuse, half-poet and half-wit

30 PLANET EARTH groups will be showcased in this blog



Clear Air Turbulence
For Navigating Fear & Commanding Life

Anne the Vegan


Cee’s Photo Challenges

My Black and White World
Photography And Lifestyle

Mavimet’s Weblog
Mavis’ blog about pets and life including Africa

It’s written by Casey

Lex and Neek
Journeys into Fun

Hettie’s Reflections
On family history, parenting, education, social issues and more


A Literary Bent
All about books, the people who write them, sell them and read them…reviews and news, travel and photography.

Audrey Driscoll’s Blog

peace of life today

Nes Felicio Photography

Notes From the Underground

Simplicity on the Road

Robby Robin’s Journey
Reflections of an inquiring retiree …

The World Is A Book…

Big Blue Mouth
poems of whimsy and optimism

42 thoughts on “Catching Up and Closing Shop

  1. Hettie D. says:

    Oh… yes, I was wondering what is going on and why I haven’t seen any new posts for so long! I can only imagine how it feels with erased recording! I mean, I can physically feel the pain …

    Thank you for the pictures :). They are stunningly beautiful…. and yea, Illinois is Midwest, too 🙂

    1. Paulie says:

      Hi Hettie, I am shamefully late in responding. Thank you for all the comments you’ve left during the life of this blog, which will likely continue, once I’m in some sort of rhythm with a book. Yes, Illinois is in the Midwest. I spent some time in Springfield at some of the Lincoln sites. I also spent a night in the emergency room in a hospital in Bloomington.

  2. Jane Fritz says:

    I will miss you, your observations, and your marvel writing, Paulie. You never do things by halves, do you?! When you publish your book, I hope you’ll let your blogging friends know. The warmest of wishes for success in this venture, and in the adventure we call life.

    1. Paulie says:

      Hi Jane, I am shamefully late in some of my responses and I apologize. Since the start I’ve appreciated your comments and your thought provoking site. I will indeed let my blogging friends know about a book, if I manage to get published. I guess I should actually start writing shouldn’t I?
      Thank you again. Best to you.

      1. Jane Fritz says:

        Thanks so much for your kind words, Paul. Yes, that’s a very valid point; starting to write WILL help move your highly-anticipated book along! And stay dry while you’re getting started, that’s a lot of rain you’re suddenly getting. Take care.

  3. johnlmalone says:

    a moving post; you’re moved me to post on Big Blue Mouth again which I tend to neglect; and thanks for including it —

    1. Paulie says:

      I am horribly late in responding to your comment and for that I apologize. Thank you for commenting and reading over the years. And by all means, keep your Big Blue Mouth open.

  4. Great photos, Paulie! You’re on quite the journey. I read Blue Highways twice and still think about it; I can see why you are thinking of writing a book. I can also understand why you want to put the blog on hold. I often find blogging (meaning reading and commenting as well as writing) to be somewhat stressful.
    Good luck with your projects!

    1. Paulie says:

      Hello Audrey, I apologize for being so late in responding. Blue Highways is a wonderful book. That I ended up in New Harmony where the author ended his journey seemed to me a favorable indication that maybe I’m destined to write a book about a long road trip. Or maybe it’s the delusions of an old fool. Who knows?
      Thank you for reading and following for all these years. It is much appreciated.


  5. mistermuse says:

    Beautiful pix. The West Union covered bridge is, as I recall, in Parke County, Indiana, which at one time had (and probably still has) the most covered bridges (over 30) of any county in America. Decades ago, I photographed them all, including West Union, which I’m glad to see is still standing.

    P.S. Thanks for including my blog in your listings. I’ve just published my latest post, if you’re interested.

    1. Paulie says:

      My sincere apologies for the late response. The West Union Bridge is indeed in Parke County. I happened to be in Parke County when they were having their annual covered bridge festival. I didn’t see all of the bridges but I did see a fair number. The organizers provided a map showing all of the bridges and many of the historic cemeteries. I think I visited more of the cemeteries than bridges. I always find them to be fascinating.
      Thank you so much for following, reading and commenting.

  6. David says:

    Wishing you peace and tranquility, and all the best.

    1. Paulie says:

      My deepest apologies for not responding sooner David. Thank you so much for visiting and commenting. And I have to say, I think that you long ago learned to understand that Nikon. Your work is exquisite.


  7. Anonymous says:

    Great pics Paul! Can’t wait to hear more details about the trip when you get back.

    1. Paulie says:

      Thank you. Ummm, I guess I’ll give you the details. But since you’re anonymous I’ll never quite know.


  8. nesfelicio says:

    Beautiful photos and a touching post. May you find the destination you are looking for and continue to find life in your years along the way.

  9. Hello Paulie,
    Thank you for your update, as always with beautiful images and thoughtful and thought-provoking writing. While I am sad to hear this news, I completely understand and respect your decision to move away from blogging. Likewise, when you publish your book I sincerely hope you’ll let us know. (I am honored you included my little blog in your list – thank you.)
    Most of all, we hope you and Cora continue to take care, stay healthy and happy.
    All best wishes always from Japan,

    1. Paulie says:

      Takami, Firstly I sincerely apologize for my late response to your comment. If I get something published, the blogging community will indeed be among the first to know. Thank you as always for the kind words and for your comments over the years.
      I believe that once I have a writing routine settled, I will be blogging again, possibly in the form of snippets from my book work.
      I wish you all the best.

      1. Thank you Paul, for your reply. Please do continue to take care and stay safe.

  10. Paul,
    Six weeks is a long time to sail the Blue Highways alone without dropping your anchor in the familiarity of home waters. I’m glad you reached out to Eden Baylee who reeled you back in. Water may be a peacemaker but I think people are also essential for you to find your center.
    When you find yourself back in San Pablo Bay near the Pacific coast, I trust you will find your new compass heading and follow it with the same passion I have seen in “life in my years”. Life is a journey, not a destination. If we allow it, our ride can take unexpected turns which renew us. I’ll be waiting for that next “turn in your phrase”.
    Oh, and thanks for the glossary of bloggers, which I will sample. I am honored to be counted among them.

    1. Paulie says:

      Stewart, First of all I am deeply sorry for not having responded to your comment and those of others in a more timely manner.

      The day after I returned to the Bay Area I didn’t have to go looking for water. It found me in the form of a storm the likes we haven’t seen in decades. That’s a good thing for us here in the west.

      Thank you for following and commenting. We have communicated, offline as they say, via email and I hope that we can continue to do so.

      I greatly enjoy your writing. The way that you phrased your comment to my post is an excellent example of your talent. Maybe it is you who should be putting together a book.

      In any event, I hope that we can keep in touch. Once you take the teardrop for another long journey don’t forget Northern California and let me know. I would be honored to visit with you.


  11. mavimet says:

    I’ve enjoyed reading your blog Paulie and your travels reminded me of my very long drive when I was just 18 years old. I covered much of both Canada and the USA by myself, but there were no personal computers or cell phones back then – just snail mail to correspond with friends & family back home. I will check out the bloggers that you have been following.

  12. Always enjoy your posts and I smiled when you said you were in Iowa again. Enjoy the rest of the journey and a book sounds like a great idea, you have a way with words. 😊 The photos are an added bonus, I miss seeing the colors of fall. 🍂🍁

  13. A thougtful story and wonderful pictures this post contains, Paul! I’m afraid I too have the gruesome experience of loosing an entire trip worth of spoken notes. The heart and spirit does sink into your shoes, yes. I wish you all the best with writing your book. I hope to learn about it when it is finished. And when some day feel you like picking up this blog again, I’ll be happy to continue being a follower.

  14. Happy homecoming! Unlike travelling, it’s not for the softies. 🙂 I only found your blog recently, during your Route 66 phase. You might come back here. This here is a journey too, after all.

  15. Hey, Paulie:

    One of the minor curses of being human, I think, at least for restless souls. On the road, thinking of home; back home, a creeping longing for the road.

    Wonderful post, and not just because of the shout out. No one’s ever labeled anything I’ve ever uttered as “crown jewel” material before, and it’s not bloody likely I’ll ever receive such high praise again. For what it’s worth, I’ll be more than happy to get on the horn and say it all over again if you want. I understand if not; sometimes it’s just unsatisfying, unsatisfactory – if not downright disappointing – to try to reclaim what’s lost. Anyway, thank you for your kind words. And we’ll never be able to recreate the irony of having lunch in downtown Fargo, N.D., telling me you’re anxious to speak to “the locals” wherever you go, having a couple sit down at the outdoor table next to us and learning they were from… California. The odds were astronomical.

    The best part was getting to meet you, and envying your ability to hit the road for your extended trip. Envy, good? Yes, since I can’t do it myself, thinking of you doing it was almost as good, at least for now. As for the road-trip book, if anyone can pull it off you can.

    All the best, my friend.


    1. Paulie says:

      Martin, So sorry for the late response. Okay, so I still think your material was the crown jewel so there’s the praise once again.

      I suppose that we learn from our mistakes and I was much more careful after that disaster.

      Your blog has been the push that I’ve needed to be more aware of climate change. It’s an important thing that you’re doing. My daughter in law is part of a grass roots lobbying group that is working on the issue of climate change and I’ve forwarded to her a link to your blog.

      I think that our own conversation would be an important piece of any book that I put together and I’ll get in touch with you, as they say, offline about maybe doing a Zoom type thing if you’re up for it. Since party lines are a thing of the past I doubt that we’ll be surprised by Californians listening in, I remember some of what they said.

      Keep fighting the good fight Martin. As a former coworker once said, you’re doing God’s work.


  16. I am going to miss you, especially your beautiful photos and your dry humor. Maybe the bug to blog will occasionally bite. Please let us know when your book is published.

    1. Paulie says:

      Marie, Sorry about the late response. I’m flying home tomorrow, and today in Omaha I have no new destination. So today I can catch up on responses.
      Thank you for following, reading and commenting.
      I think I’ll probably be blogging again, sooner rather than later, though not so frequently.
      Thank you for reading, following and commenting.

  17. Scott Blake says:

    The trip probably would turn out better as a book than a blog. Your occasional difficulties with Google Girl made me recall a few myself which made me switch to Waze. So far Ms.Waze hasn’t let me down, English accent and all.

    Crum, West Virginia, what a town name. If I had $100 for every time it’s been referred to as Crummy, I’d be richer than Croesus. So many town names seem to have been created just for the jokes they can inspire. Jackson County in Oregon has several, the most common being Central Point often called Central Pointless.

    It’s probably just as well that your intention of talking with people about politics didn’t pan out. A trip such as you have taken is such a splendid concept turned into reality that it would be a shame to mar it with political talk. It would be rough enough talking with the hardcore Baptists in West Virginia.

    What you wrote in your journal about realizing the trip was almost done, missing the journey which had become akin to a book with favorite characters, and the melancholy is a good sign that overall it had been a good journey. Your comments about sitting with Jim in New Harmony during a lightning and rain storm perfectly captured the Midwest. I get the feeling that of all the places you stayed, New Harmony was one where you could have stayed another day or two. It would almost be a shame not to have encountered such a storm. Even better would be a lightning storm because they’re so common there and relatively rare on the West Coast.

    Happy trails for the rest of your trip!

    1. Paulie says:

      Scott, Sorry for the late response. Today I have a free day in Omaha and tomorrow it’s back home. I’ll be glad to be home but I must say this has been addicting. I already miss not having a new place down the road.
      Politics. I really wanted to include that. I have to say that I was apprehensive about it and maybe that’s all that needs to be said. It’s so toxic that we’re afraid to talk about it.
      There was Crum. There were places that I wanted to visit just for the hell of it, like Hell, Michigan and Hell’s Half Acre in Kentucky.
      I’m going back just in time. The frost warnings are out here and it is getting Midwest cold.

  18. floweringink says:

    Paul, I will of course miss reading you, but more than that I am excited for you. What has struck me most about your writing, is the honesty and bravery with which you tell your story. Since the first post of yours that I read, I sensed in you a need to experience things wholly, to delve in and not just stand at arms length or casually observe. Your words and your photographs have transported me again and again to new places, ways of seeing and feeling. I am so glad to know you and grateful for your generosity to me and my work over the years. I am one who has made the disappearing act into an art form, but please know you can always reach out. I am just an email away. I know your book is going to be magnificent, insightful and all heart. My best to you, Paul. I wish you a fruitful journey.

  19. KDKH says:

    I think a book is an incredible idea! Enjoy getting it all down and serving it up to the world sounds good.

    1. Paulie says:

      Thank you. This is all going to be new territory for me. Sorry about the late response. I’m flying home tomorrow, and today in Omaha I have no new destination. So today I can catch up on responses.
      Thank you for following, reading and commenting.


      1. KDKH says:

        Safe travels and best wishes on your book.

  20. Toonsarah says:

    I don’t know what to say. Firstly, obviously, I’ll miss your posts. Selfishly I wish you planned to blog all of this trip, as the snippets you offer us here (and the marvellous photos) are intriguing to say the least. But I understand completely that you can’t properly write both book and blog at the same time, so I wish you well for the book and hope you’ll come back to post when it’s finished, so I can read that instead 🙂

    Secondly, I sympathise with your erasure disaster. In the past I’ve erased a long report I’d almost finished writing so I can sort-of imagine how you felt at the moment when you realised what you’d done. I do hope enough of it lodged in the memory long enough to be salvageable.

    Thirdly, thanks so much for including me in that list of bloggers you follow. In gratitude I will be sure to check out at least a few of the others.

    And lastly, please don’t abandon blogging totally – maybe pop in here to share how things are, however brief the post? And as I said, at the very least, to let us know when the book is available to read!

    Good luck with everything, and I hope to see you around. Oh, and PS, thanks for the earlier inspiration for our possible Rte 66 trip next year 😀

    1. Paulie says:

      Hello Sarah, Sorry about the late response. I’m flying home tomorrow, and today in Omaha I have no new destination. So today I can catch up on responses.
      I have two journals full of notes and some material already in Docs and a few hours of recordings so I think/hope that I’m covered.
      I think it’s likely that I will post again on things various, maybe some snippets of what I’m working on for the book.
      I hope you do make it back to Route 66. In Illinois I was actually able to catch another stretch of Route 66. If you haven’t been to Pontiac on the Mother Road, try to include it. A nice museum and many murals.
      If you’re on Route 66 in Arizona, visit Two Guns but read up on the story before you go. It is almost to strange to believe. And watch for snakes.
      Thank you for following, reading and commenting.

  21. M.B. Henry says:

    I will miss your posts very much, as I do read them all even if I’m not always able to comment. But I also understand what it takes to write a book, especially when half of your material gets deleted 🙁 🙁 🙁 I hope the rest of it goes well, the photos from your journey are breathtaking, and I hope to see you again on here sometime. If you’re ever by the Indiana Dunes again, I live quite close to there, feel free to look me up 🙂 Best of luck with everything!

    1. Paulie says:

      Thank you M.B. Sorry about the late response. I’m flying home tomorrow, and today in Omaha I have no new destination. So today I can catch up on responses. Indiana Dunes. Alas I didn’t get to see it. There was a road closure and so I got on the highway figuring that the next exit would bypass the closure. Maybe it does. I’ll never know because I got swept up in the melee that goes towards Chicago. I’ve driven some crazy metropolitan freeways before, the SF Bay Area, L.A., New York City and Boston but that stretch leading towards Chicago was about the most harrowing one I can recall.
      Once I get back home I’ll be back to reading your blog.
      Thank you for your reading and commenting.

  22. eden baylee says:

    Nothing like being late to the party, huh? Sorry for being so negligent. Glad we have other ways to stay connected if not via your blog.
    Thanks for the mentions. And I think any friend would’ve told you to keep going on your trip when you wanted to pack it in initially. Travelling is hard even when it’s enjoyable, and it’s easier to envision being home with all the familiar comforts. I’m so glad you continued on your merry way. You have had an amazing adventure.

    I know you’ve had major challenges … just retaining your notes and pictures and recordings, and perhaps this was a test — from whom, I don’t know. Thing is, you persevered, and all the angst and the many times you said ‘fuck it’ adds to the story. All the emotions from one end of the spectrum to the other are what enriches your experience and make it different from another’s, even if you’ve travelled a similar path.

    I can’t wait to read the book, and if your blog has to go on hiatus for it, then so be it.

    If you can do both, that’s great too as it’s a way of keeping the lines of communication with your readers open. Your blog can be a gateway to your publishing, and it will serve as a marketing tool too.

    Either way, the literary world awaits.


    1. Paulie says:

      And so I’m late to the party in my response.
      Sitting down to write a book, literally the sitting down part, has been a challenge. Getting away from noise and physical distractions is hard enough but the day to day drama of life sometimes smothers thought and creativity. I’ve wanted on a few occasions to say fuck it to the book idea but I’ve read enough about and by published authors that the fuck its are par for the course. And so he persists.
      As I mentioned offline I’m strongly considering resuming the blog. I think it’s going to be beneficial in maintaining some sharpness to continue to write for a readership and work to expand that readership.
      Thank you always my friend for your support, your inspiration and for grabbing me by the shirttails and saying in effect, “Do you really want to do that?”

  23. Prior... says:

    best wishes on your book – and you are wise to pause the blog because the energy and focus must be on the manuscript –
    and I hope you find the encouragement you need at all times because thee can be so many setbacks and trials during the book process – and so don’t give in – bring it to completion even if you have to modify and adjust the output.
    peace to you

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