cute dog

Mr. Handsome in Akron
December 3, 2013

Dogs, attention deficit, and the vanishing Pop Tart: a theory

A person’s attention can only be divided so far before any further split is pointless. In this way we are more like Pop Tarts than most of us care to think.
When I was a little girl my brother and I liked to make our Pop Tarts last by breaking them in two and eating the smaller piece, then breaking the remaining piece in two and eating the smaller piece, and so on. Two things in this exercise were always true: First, no matter how hard you tried to split a Pop Tart evenly, one side was always going to be larger, and second, eventually you give up and shove the whole thing in your mouth.
The digital age has done this to our brains. When we had only print media, we could absorb radio without much sweat, and later when there was television we made room for that too. Our reading time shrank, but it was still there. When the Internet “happened” we had to break ourselves into even smaller pieces to absorb the new thing. Then it got worse—because the Internet was not just one thing, but instead a platform for many things. So now, we have had to break our attention into pieces to take on Facebook, Blogs, Twitter, good sites we like to check in on, the New York Times now and then, Pinterest, and a little surfing to see what else is new.
Our brains are now smashed into fractions; in Pop Tart land, it’s time to shove our brains into our mouths.
With this in mind I’ve learned a few things about writing for the digital media on my road trip.
tech gadgets 2
Lesson #1: Dogs and guns rule. If I put Colby into my Facebook news feed, it will get more attention than any picture of me ever will. Unless, that is, it’s a picture of me with a shotgun; my shotgun-toting status update drew more comments than any other…so far.
Lesson #2: People like clicky stuff. By this I mean fun clicky stuff, certainly not annoying pop-up type “click to make it go away” stuff. I put up a few versions of a road trip map that got attention. I think deep down we are all looking to recapture the feeling we had as very small children when we for the first time we got a toy that responded in some way to our touch, as if we were in command. For small children today, the Internet IS that experience, but for big, old kids like myself, the internet recreates the sensation of “gee whiz.”

Lesson #3: Get to the point immediately, and keep the whole thing short. Not proud of that knowledge, simply possess it. And so I’ll say no more. If you have read to the end, you are an angel; leave a comment please!

October 21, 2013

No More Sleeping Around!

IMG_2444My wanderlust is almost shameful. I desire nothing less than to try every town on the map, and Colby doesn’t mind too much, so long as I feed him wherever we go, and so far I always have.

Here is a list of places I’ve slept since Sept. 8: St. Johnsville, NY; Buffalo, NY—Motel 6, Silo City, Best Western; Allegheny National Forest; Oil Creek, Pa., Family Campground; Washington, Pa., KOA; Monroeville (Pittsburgh) Holiday Inn; Akron, Ohio; Rockford, Ill., Comfort Inn, Candlewood Suites; Mark Twain Caves Campground, Hannibal, Mo.; Columbia, Mo., in a real house; Hickory Haven Campground, Keokuk, Iowa; Milwaukee; NYC; Utica, N.Y.; back to NYC; back to Milwaukee; Lasalle, Ill.; Sullivan, Ill.

This reminds me of learning that Magic Johnson had slept with more than a thousand women; I always wondered how many days or years he spread that across. I mean, in 20 years, a tally of 1,000 women is not quite so epic for a guy who is clearly not shy. But fitting 1,000 into one highly active year? That would be madness.

A road trip can feel a little chaotic like that and it is time, I think, to consider a new strategy of campsite fidelity. Monog-campy.  How unlike the amped-up dash of Kerouac, moving the same way he typed—one long, taped-together sheet of paper threading through the typewriter, letting the words roll on and on like the road he traveled down with his stimulant-fueled consorts.

But let’s be real human beings for a moment. Remember: Each time Scampers such as  Colby and I move, it involves four basic steps:

  1. selecting a new destination, which means poring over maps and checking event calendars online and reading the reviews of campgrounds, plotting a course, making a reservation…
  2. Breaking down camp and hitching up the trailer, which I’m getting pretty good at but which still takes me at least five tries before the ball lines up right under the hitch (I’ve learned that the scamp is light enough for me to pull or shove it the final inch, though),
  3. Getting to the new place, and
  4. Setting up camp again.

I have decided to set up camp where I am for awhile, detach the trailer, and dash out for some day trips. It will be easier. And truthfully, it would be better for Colby, who is a creature of routines, and likes to feel grounded, I think. Every time I start to pack the car again, the look on his fuzzy face says, “really?”

I shouldn’t expose the boy to my geographic infidelities. We will sit. Stay.

September 17, 2013

Reasons for a Road Trip

Like Steinbeck, when he famously traveled the country with his dog Charley, my dog Colby and I set out on a trip. But also like Steinbeck, we quickly found that we needed to take care of a few things first. Steinbeck wrote, in “Travels With Charley,” that when the travel bug bites and “a man” (it was 1961) wants to hit the road, “the victim must find himself a good and sufficient reason for going.” Of course, someone imbued with the degree of wanderlust that Steinbeck and Charley and Colby and me are imbued with does not really need to put the reason into words, it’s just a thing that we long to do and given any opportunity, we will do it. But I have one good word to suffice: Sabbatical. I’ve been given a year of my life to pursue a few dreams with the security of knowing my job awaits when I return.

Earlier versions of my adventures did not end so well, because when I tried this before, within about a day of being alone on the road I was lonely, scared, and confused. In 1989 my friend known as Madeline told me at the Bozeman, Montana, airport as she stepped onto the tarmac to leave me there, “You stay on the road as long as you can.” Go have adventures, go see the world, go find whatever the hell you’re trying to find that is making you too crazy to be with. But I was 24, and I did not have a dog, and I had not made myself a map and did not have a purpose and did not have a job waiting for me anywhere. In short, I was lost. There is a certain amount of being lost that is crucial to a road trip, but when it is out of proportion, the journey is doomed. And so in 1989, the day after Madeline left, I turned tail and started for home, which was New Jersey.

It is now–and I really can’t believe this–about 24 years later. I am twice the age I was when I seemed to have nothing but time. And for the first time in my life I really do have time, and along with that I have just enough money, and I have spent the past 24 years learning how to use it–the time, I mean; I try not to use the money too much. The purpose of my sabbatical is to explore America’s industrial ruins–cities that are past their glory days, and struggling to retain their identity, or remake it. (Golly; does that sound a little bit like a metaphor for me? Well, read on. We’ll see.) I need to learn to use the internet and social media as a journalist, which required having a focus, and dying cities is the subject I picked. Just is. Maybe that metaphor thing was at play in my mind (words of wisdom returned to me from the student I gave them to a couple years ago: “Does your narrator ‘want’ something? Of course she does…) But in any case, armed with this mission and inspired by Steinbeck (and a million thanks to Gail Howard, for handing me the book on CD before I left for a drive back in June), I decided to visit those places in one big, long swoop, in a trailer, with my dog at my side, to combine a personal adventure with that professional one.

Here are a few tips if you are thinking of embarking on a similar adventure:

  • Have a partner who is also a writer, and who will support you 100%–thank you, Suzanne Parker.
  • Be sure to thank the rest of your family because they helped, I’m sure; thanks, mom and pop.
  • Dogs make good companions, but any pet will do. A horse might come in handy.
  • Have a good reason to go, but be willing to change it once you get started; more on that later.
  • Be absolutely sure that you are fully prepared…because without planning, you’ll probably fail.