Springfield, Springfield, it's a hell of a town: Marion's Newsletter # 3

Dear friends:

Hello and happy Lent. I'm sorry it's been such a long time since I wrote a newsletter; diary access problems, computer access problems, procrastination, laziness, you know how it is. I hope you are all doing OK and that you are less negligent about writing to me.

The exciting news is that I finally made it to a Springfield; two of them really. I spent part of a day in Springfield, Oregon, which is really part of Eugene. Then later I was driven through Springfield, Colorado while I was asleep. But that counts.

The other exciting news is that, after rereading Steinbeck's "Travels with Charlie", I have found good names for my instruments. The fiddle is Rocinante, after Don Quixote's horse and Steinbeck's truck. The bad guitar is Charlie, after Steinbeck's dog. I am still, however, without a name for the good guitar that had to stay home. Perhaps Cinderella?

As most of you know, I have had significant changes to my travel plans. I've divided the trip into two parts, returning to Canada for a two-month break in the middle to just let the killer bees come to me instead. Tomorrow I set out on part two: another two months in the US, then two months in Canada.

So we last left our hero in Seattle. From there I went to Long Beach, Washington, to see Mary, where I spent some time in the local small towns and on the beach, and toured a cranberry experimental farm.

Next, I made brief busking trips to Eugene, Oregon, and Spokane, Washington. I spent a day riding the bus aimlessly around Montana, and saw a sign on a church saying "Polka Mass 10:00am."

Then I went to Torrington (in remarkably underpopulated Wyoming) to visit Mary and family, including a very new grandson. I played at a couple of events with Mary's old-time fiddle association, and also tried some indoor busking at a coffeehouse, which was OK but not as much fun as the street. From there I went to Colorado, where I spent a day with Kat, who invited friends and family over for some fun song sharing.

From there I got on a bus thinking I would arrive in Las Vegas in the morning, but it turned out to be around midnight. I wasn't about to go wandering around Vegas in the middle of the night, so I stayed on the bus, getting to Los Angeles in the morning. I wasn't about to go wandering around LA in the middle of the day, so I made some calls and Laurel invited me to come up to the Chico area on short notice. I loved having my own little cabin on her hippie commune, and she took me to some house concerts and to another salmon run viewing spot.

From there I headed east again with some busking stops - Flagstaff, Arizona is a fine town - then went to Conifer, near Denver, Colorado, to visit Rex and his family. We went for a mountain drive up above the treeline, but I could also really feel the effects of elevation where their house was when I walked in the woods or climbed the stairs. Rex had booked a coffeehouse gig for us and we worked up a three hour set of folkie songs, which was fun and a learning experience for me. He also took me dinosaur hunting; we didn't see any live ones, but we found some bones and footprints.

I went down to Texas for a few days of bussing and busking - El Paso is my favourite American busking town so far. I have a habit of trying to identify the crops that I see along the road - who says I'm not using my degree in agriculture? - but there was a new one in Texas that stumped me for a while: the plants had these strange white blobs on them. But it did finally occur to me that I was in what's known as the land of cotton.

Next stop was La Veta, Colorado, to see Jay and his family, where I spent my birthday and American Thanksgiving (which is locally known as "Thanksgiving"). These charming people outfitted Rocinante with the smallest Pick Up the World pickup in the world (they are the CEOs of the world-famous Pick Up the World pickup world). You should all go buy one of these; if you don't have an instrument, they can also be used to amplify typewriters, pool tables, you name it.

Then westward ho again. In Tucson, Arizona, I attempted to use a public library and was not allowed in because I had Charlie with me. Why?, I asked. Heightened security, they said. Rocinante was OK - the 28 pound hiking pack was OK - but no guitars. Whoever can best explain this to me will be congratulated in the next newsletter and awarded with some sort of prize.

Next I went to Los Angeles - on purpose, believe it or not - to see Jill and Joel. It was great to see them and hear their choir concert, but except for a stroll on the beach, I felt out of place in LA - everywhere I went seemed either too good for me or too bad for me. Also, I got the flu and ended up spending a long time there with Jill looking after me and making me fresh ginger tea. I left Charlie there to be picked up again in the spring.

I have long had a theory that all towns and cities are really identical to each other and the fact that we like some more than others is simply a function of weather, level of personal health, and the first few people we happen to meet. However, as soon as I arrived in San Francisco - in the dark, in the rain, still kind of sick, and to a hostel bed where the last occupant had thoughtfully left me a bottle of codeine - I loved the place. So the new theory is that all places are identical, but we like them or not according to whether we expect to like them or not based on their reputations. That would account for my aversion to Los Angeles too.

Last stop was San Diego to see Amos, as well as his wife and friends and another Mudcat girl from England. It was a short visit but of very high quality. From there (ironically, the farthest possible point from Toronto in the US - excluding the freak states) I got on the bus back to Toronto.

As you may have gathered, I have abandoned all pretense of a linear progression through the country. I have a new philosophy of travel which is based on combining bus schedules, climate predictions, and circadian rhythmns. The result is that an itinerary that seems somewhat counterintuitive (Colorado to California to Colorado to Texas to Colorado to California to Canada...) really does make a kind of sense.

Since then... I briefly saw Katie, Shawn, Rick, and Heather while passing through Toronto. I went to Perth for Christmas (about two weeks before my backpack deigned to make an appearance) with parents and sisters etc., saw Angela, then went to spend a month and a half helping my sister in Nova Scotia look after her kids, where my education about dinosaurs continued.

So them's the highlights... I'll write sooner next time. Off to the south I go.

Love, Marion