RSS Feed

‘Travel’ Category

  1. To Write Again: A Return to the Sweet Life of Art Making

    February 21, 2013 by admin

    So. Days melt into days, and weeks into weeks. Across five states and two time zones, from a place that perpetually feels like summer back to a place where winter is in full force and (amen) the weather comes and goes in seasons. It has been a long road from southern California back to Kansas City, the challenges of moving with two young kids fierce and at times unrelenting. Yet we have pulled through it, and in all the chaos, things are beginning to make sense again.

    Finally, we are emerging into a new normal. We are putting down roots here fast and hard. Desperately, we want them to stick because if we’re honest, this life of mobility, of pulling up our lives every one to two years to begin again in a new place, is just plain tough. It was the life of adventure five years ago, when we were still relatively newly married and without kids. Now, with two little boys in tow, we simply crave to be settled. For the wellbeing of our kids. For the wellbeing of our family.

    As I write, the wind outside is fierce, hurling hard snow against the upstairs windows. My little Eli, who was born in sunny California just seven months ago, can’t take his eyes off of the mean white stuff. I finished nursing him this morning, and he lay his head on my shoulder and snuggled into me, quiet. That’s odd, I thought. And I said out loud, ”Why are you so quiet?”

    Then I saw why. His eyes were wide open, staring intently out the window at the onslaught of blizzard.

    Snow. Something completely new to him.

    As I ease myself back into these waters of a writing life, I feel more and more at home. To be honest, I don’t know where my work will take me next. We have started over yet again, in a new community, a new place. Ideas throw themselves at me ruthlessly, and I snatch at them as if trying to catch beautiful butterflies in a net, wanting to keep them, study them, turn them over in my hands and then release them into the world again.

    I revisit old essays, wonder why some of them have remained untouched deep in a folder for so long. But the answer comes quickly. Mothering. Family. Life.

    Most important right now is that we have weathered a stretch of tremendous transition and upheaval. In this new normal, this new place we so much long to call “home” for the long haul, I am writing again. And dang, it feels good.

    Category Creativity, Family, Home, Ideas, Inspiration, Life, Motherhood, Parenting, Place, Travel, Writing, Writing Life, Writing Process | Tags: ,,,,, | 5 Comments

  2. Putting Down and Pulling Up Roots

    January 8, 2013 by admin

    Pulling up roots hurts.

    It’s a reality we face every time we move, and we find ourselves facing that pain once again, as we prepare to move back across country from Los Angeles to Kansas City.

    The news came quickly, as it usually does. Christmas was three days away, and we were plunged into packing for a holiday road trip to Seattle. The road trip was adventure enough: a long drive up Interstate 5 through some spectacular country, stopping in cities we’d never visited and showing our two young boys a new slice of the world. The adventure only exponentially grew when the phone call came that my husband had been assigned to a new construction project back in the Midwest. They wanted him there mid-January.

    We took deep breaths, opted to continue our Christmas plans and deal with the details of the move when we returned. Our foundational attitude through the whole thing: Life is short.

    Now back in California, we relish the conversations with loved ones, lingering in the church parking lot for drawn-out goodbyes, gathering around our dinner table (the legendary piece of Purdue University furniture, a former lab table we bought for 50 bucks) for a final meal with friends, pounding down slices of lemon cake in the living room. We talk about home, where and what it looks like. I say if moving so much has taught me anything, it’s that “home” is not a question of where you find yourself but who you find yourself with. We talk about what it means to bloom, digging hard and fast into a community as soon as we settle into it, because lingering over tough goodbyes when it’s time to yank up those roots is so much more worth the pain than having no good-byes to say at all. One friend comments that it takes a lot of risk and courage to so wholeheartedly immerse yourself somewhere when you know that “somewhere” is not permanent. We say we have no choice; it’s simply what we must do.

    So now comes the tough week. The good-byes have started. The list-making is well underway. Among the book of lists are titles like, “Stuff to clean,” “People to call,” “Things to take with us.” Under the list, “Things to take with us” (identifying those items not to be handled by the moving company) is the ivy plant, which my mom gave to me 10 years ago following the death of my Uncle Ron. She clipped a budding green sprig from his casket at his funeral, rooted it in water and planted it in good soil. The thing has survived six moves and six states. The vines are strong and happy now, twisting and growing and sprouting new leaves all the time.

    All it takes is rich soil and some tender loving care.

    Those old roots are my inspiration now. As I anticipate the new soil we will soon be sinking ourselves into, I can only look forward with a bright anticipation. Back in the Midwest, we will reconnect with old friends, rekindle treasured relationships, and find new ways to immerse ourselves in the community we call home.

    Home. With my Bryan and my boys. There is no place like it, no matter where that place is.

    Category Family, Home, Inspiration, Life, Place, Travel, Writing | Tags: ,,,,,,, | 1 Comment

  3. How to Leave a Legacy

    August 28, 2012 by katemeadows

    The other night, I was talking to some friends of mine in our living room. My college roommate and her husband were visiting from Albuquerque, and the late evening had finally cooled off enough to that the house felt good and airy, not stifling of the day’s summer heat.

    Copyright 2011, Kate Meadows, Joshua Tree National Park.

    It was strange, the topic we had stumbled onto. We found ourselves in a conversation about dying doing what you loved.

    A brother of my friend’s co-worker had recently met this fate, drowning on one of the Great Lakes during a sailing outing. A wind had come up and tossed the life vests overboard. Not wanting to be out $25 – the cost of the life vests – he turned the boat around in the increasingly bad weather to retrieve them.

    That was the move that cost him his life.

    The irony is terrible, but that man is now lauded – celebrated in his death for dying doing what he loved. He will always be remembered for his passion: sailing.

    Weren’t that we all could be remembered that way, for claiming our life’s passion and running it out with abandon.

    And I ask: Why can’t we?

    It’s not that we will all die doing what we love.

    But we can, each of us, be remembered for our fierce love of something.

    That “something,” of course, is different for everyone. But that’s what makes the world such an intriguing study. It takes loves of many things to make the world go ‘round.

    For my friend’s co-worker’s brother, that fierce love was sailing.

    For my dad, it is snowmobiling.

    For me, it is writing.

    What love will you be remembered for? How are you living out that love today?

    Category Ideas, Inspiration, Life, Life Stories, Travel, Writing | Tags: ,,,,, | 2 Comments

  4. Trip Taking Part 2: The Journey

    June 1, 2012 by katemeadows

    “A journey is a person in itself. No two are alike. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.” –John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley

    I awoke on Saturday morning with no butterflies. I was calm, prepared as I could be for our trip up the Pacific Coast Highway (Route 1) – and I knew being prepared meant accepting the unknowns. Who knew if our toddler son would pitch a fit in the backseat after seven hours in the car? I wouldn’t worry about it unless or until it happened. Who knew if I would get carsick along the winding, ragged coast? I stuffed a Ziplock baggie full of ginger chews and vitamin B suckers (a pregnant woman’s friend), threw the baggie in the backpack, decided not to worry about it.

    California Pacific Coast, Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows.

    So many unknowns. The getaway could be daunting, if I let it.

    At the same time, weren’t the unknowns part of what made this trip so enticing? Seeing and experiencing new things?

    We headed out, flying down the 91 freeway and taking detours toward Route 1 – anything to avoid the almost-always traffic-jammed I-5 through LA. The sailing was smooth. We hit the PCH just south of Malibu, and began the long and crooked jaunt up the Pacific Coast.

    We talked about stereotypes, how the ritzy reputation of Malibu didn’t exactly line up with the scrimpy wood-and-metal apartments that lined the PCH and overlooked the ocean. We laughed at road signs – a fish restaurant advertising “Fried Nemo” for lunch, an ocean kayak rental company named Sea for Yourself. Will, our son, pointed out boats and airplanes from his throne in the backseat.

    We planned to make it to Hearst Castle, the former grounds of wealthy newspaper publisher William Randolph Hearst, in time for a late afternoon tour.

    We didn’t get there in time.

    We were too busy taking it slow up the coast, pausing when the moments seemed right, catching a leisurely lunch at the Summerland Beach Café. At the castle’s visitor’s center, upon learning that the last tour of the day had already taken place, we shrugged, gave the Little Man another penny to toss into a glistening fountain. Then, we crossed the highway and moseyed along a pier that offered perhaps one of the most breathtaking panoramic views of the castle anywhere. Young lovers made out on the white sand below us. My husband and I giggled – it could have been us 10 years ago (or even now, sans toddler in tow …).

    Another three miles up the road, we stopped at the Elephant Seal viewing area, and no kidding, enormous blobs of elephant seals – cackling, growling mammals – covered the stretch of beach. We laughed at their noises. Couldn’t help it. A volunteer patrolled the walkway to answer questions. We lingered with her, asking questions every few minutes. Will laughed with us and held onto the hood of his windbreaker tight.

    Elephant Seals on California’s Pacific Coast, Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows

    Further up the road was the place we would stay that first night – The Ragged Point Inn. We checked into the quaint room with a king-sized bed and private balcony that overlooked the ocean. We grabbed a bachelor-like cheap dinner at the mini mart (breakfast burritos, soup, Chef Boyardee), and arrived back at the room in time to watch the sun set over the ocean.

    “The sun looks like it’s just burning a hole in the ground,” my husband remarked as the last neon orange rays sank below the horizon. Flower petals on the lawn below us were the only remnants of a wedding that had taken place on the property earlier that day. We all slept together on the king-sized bed, our son scrunched between us in hot and contented sleep.

    The next morning, I awoke renewed and excited. I lay in the big bed thinking about life stories and how everyone’s experience on this globe is so different. What was the story of the Ragged Point Inn? The couple who was married here less than 24 hours ago? When was the Summerland Beach Café opened? And somewhere, knit into all of that, we certainly had our own story to tell – a Wyoming girl and an Indiana boy making their living as foreigners in California for a short time, now high up on the Pacific Coast experiencing the state in all its blazing glory.

    I could go on about all of the trip’s highlights: the awe-striking beauty and mystery of the Big Sur, waterfalls that plummet to the ocean, bunches of migrant workers still hard at fruit and vegetable picking in Steinbeck’s own town of Salinas.

    But I really don’t mean for this to be a travelogue. Here, I suppose, is my point:

    Sandy hill along Pacific Coast Highway, Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows

    Before we left, I had a long conversation with my mom about how I don’t enjoy or simply focus on “the journey” enough. I am too wrapped up in accomplishment, in achieving an end result to often appreciate the small blessed moments along the way.

    As I look back on our own trip, I can’t help but view it through the lens of that old cliché: Life is not about the destination; it’s about the journey. We never made it to Hearst Castle. But we saw gaggles of elephant seals splayed out for yards and yards along the beach. We didn’t explore much of Monterey Bay or make it to their world-class aquarium. But we saw some of the most breathtaking views of our lives from high up on the craggy ledge of the Pacific Coast. We didn’t dip our feet in the ocean, but we felt the cold spray of forest waterfalls on our faces – the result of stopping at roadside pullouts and exploring dirt ribbons of trail.

    I returned home feeling rejuvenated and, I will admit, a teensy bit proud of myself. Finally, I felt like I had given the journey – and not just the destination – the attention it was worth. Moment by moment up that long jagged highway, and even flying back down the Interstate toward home, I knew I was truly living.

    Sunset, Ragged Point Inn, Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows.

     

    “I like to sit in coffee shops and pass for a native,” Garrison Keilor, the radio personality behind A Prairie Home Companion recently said in an interview with the New York Times. “And so I’ve missed out on the Louvre, the Acropolis, the Roman catacombs, the Lincoln Memorial, because I didn’t want to be taken for a tourist … You set out lumbering down medieval streets, wander impulsively and let yourself get lost and stop for lunch and wander further. When you’re tired of being lost, you hail a cab. That’s a day well spent.”

    How will you spend YOUR day?

     

    Category Family, Inspiration, Life Stories, Nature, Outdoors, Place, Self-doubt, Travel, Writing, Writing Life | Tags: ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, | 6 Comments

  5. Trip Taking Part 1: A Planning Process

    May 31, 2012 by katemeadows

    I think it was beyond coincidence that I read blog posts by Astrid Bryce and Beth Westmark days before my growing family planned our own getaway on Memorial Day weekend.

    “When we are in our normal daily routine, we crave adventure,” Astrid wrote in her post, Transitioning between Adventure and Routine. “But we don’t want to pack for the trip. Once the thrill of the adventure is over, either still on the trip, or once home, we crave to be able to slip back into our normal routine. We don’t want to deal with the clean-up/catch-up. Why is the grass always greener on the other side? And why are transitions so hard?”

    Sign on pier near San Simeon, CA. Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows.

    I found myself nodding the whole way through. Why are transitions so hard, even if only for a few days?

    Then, this in a post by Beth Westmark, who had recently returned from her own trip across the American West: “It’s the planning before a trip that almost kills it. I’m not a happy-go-lucky trip planner. It’s my nature to over-engineer, to want to tie down every little detail, to fret about all the uncontrollable and unknowable elements that constitute an adventure.”

    A bit later, she says, “Did I ever tell you I’m a really fun gal?”

    Again I found myself nodding feverishly, hiding a smile because, dang, that’s me, too.

    I spent a good portion of last week annoyed with myself over the agony in trying to anticipate every little detail that this trip of ours would bring. My husband and I both felt it was time to leap – to do something spontaneous and adventurous with the four free days stretched out before us. California is a temporary stop for our family, as my husband, an engineer, has been assigned to a two-year power plant construction project in the southern part of the state. We want to experience as much of California as we can during our short time here, and our “bucket list” of places to explore in CA is long.

    Hearst Castle near San Simeon, CA. Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows.

    San Francisco. Death Valley. The Redwoods. Yosemite. Disneyland. Lego Land. (And hooray! We can scratch a couple of items off our list: The San Diego Zoo and Joshua Tree National Park. Following our three-day camp trip to Joshua Tree last November, I wrote an essay exploring the meaning of “Joshua Tree,” its relationship to the land, my relationship to the desert. I am still in the tweaking mode.)

    We were looking at a wide-open opportunity to take a leap into one of these many untapped adventures. Yet as I tried to ponder what that leap looked like, my belly churned with butterflies over all of the unknowns.

    How easy it is to fall into the trap of staying buttoned up in your comfort zone:

    -because you have a toddler

    -because you’re seven months pregnant

    -because planning a trip quickly becomes expensive

    Pacific Coast from Route 1, Copyright 2012, Bryan Meadows

    -because so many “what-ifs” creep in (what if said toddler doesn’t do well traveling? What if there is a problem with the hotel reservation we booked online? What if pregnant mama is too tired to move? [Insert your own "what if" here.] What if, what if.)

    Plans to drive to San Francisco and spend a couple of days wandering along and near the Golden Gate Bridge dissolved after a botched attempt to reserve a hotel room that would fit three people and didn’t charge $30 extra per day to park. Parking in a public lot and relying on the public transportation system to navigate our way through the city could have worked – yet the image of me carrying a bundle of hefty pillows in one arm (to accommodate that big belly when I sleep) and holding my toddler’s hand with the other while hubby lugged a single duffle bag into which we had “lightly” packed was a bit laughable. Midway through the trip planning, we struck it all together and started over with a new idea.

    Sunset at Ragged Point Inn, CA. Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows.

    Salinas, CA. The home of my favorite author and a favorite author of my husband’s, John Steinbeck.

    Almost instantly, as we started to revise our trip and think about what this four days could look like, I felt lighter, freer, like the air around me wasn’t quite so heavy.

    We would take our time driving up Route 1 along the California coast. We would stop when we wanted to, see whatever we felt like seeing, arrive at no specific time to our destination.

    Check in tomorrow (Friday 6/1) for Part 2: The Journey.

    Category Family, Inspiration, Nature, Outdoors, Place, Self-doubt, Travel, Writing | Tags: ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, | 3 Comments