Through Heaven and Hell, in 5 Days

Five days in the car, just me and the dog. Sounds like the archetype of a roadtrip movie, filled with wacky adventures, excitement and danger...We headed for the left coast on Saturday, June 16th, after a teary eyed good-bye at my mom's house. (Driving to mom's added about three hours to that day's driving time, but with the prospect of days in the car, three hours seemed a little less daunting). All this occured after finishing up at work and hurriedly packing my meger belongings from the apartment, (mostly cloths and a few bits of memorobilia).

Day 1: After driving through the beautiful blue ridge mountains and the exquisite Kentucky horse and bourbon country, I decided to stay just outside of Lexington for the evening. This day was decidely uneventful, not even an opportunity really to reflect on the last few weeks and the many stressors in the Lewis family.

Day 2: My policy has been to avoid "I" states as much as possible. America has so many states beginning with the letter "I" and very few of them hold any sort of interest for me. Just outside of St. Lois (still in Indiana), my car overheated. This had occured one other time, as I was commuting back and forth to mom's house during the funeral arrangements for dad. The last time this happened, I called Saturn of Raleigh, explained the symptoms and they assured me it was probably just a radiator cap on loose, or something to that effect. Welll seeing as how it didn't occur again, I tended to believe the mechanic from Raleigh. In Indiana. the car overheated due to the sweltering ninety-five degree heat, further adding to my disdain of "I" states. I say sweltering because although the heat may be more severe in Raleigh, the difference is that this part of Indiana offers very little in the form of shade trees. My car cooled down enough to pull over in Jellico, Indiana in the late afternoon. The Saturn dealership was not open on Sunday, so I got a hotel room and waited for Monday morning to roll around. Keiko entertained herself by sitting in front of the hotel air conditioning. I decided to go to the movies to get cooled off and fill the time. I saw "Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer" Uggggg. The best thing to be said is that it was better than the first Fantastic 4 movie (talk about damned with faint praise).

Day 3: I drove the car to the South County Saturn dealership (just south of St. Lois). Jim, the service manager, was very helpful and eager to help me get back on the road. He had an excellent sense of humor (of course this always translates to mean he politely laughed at my jokes). After an hour and a mere $35, I was on my way. It appears that my car was not overheating, rather that during my last service, Saturn of Raleigh overfilled my transmission fluid by 2 1/2 quarts and the fluid was coming out through the overflow tube once the trnasmission reached a certain temperature. Yes, I was furious with Saturn of Raleigh, mainly for making me stay in an "I" state much longer than I ever intended. My detour into South County also meant that I missed the St. Lois arch. From there it was on to Kansas City. Is there a midwestern city not under construction? After entering Kansas, the rain started pouring down. For the next 3-4 hours, rain continued to pour in a deluge as we crawled along trying to get to the other side of this farming state. After the storms, the blue skies of Kansas were shining through. Cumulus clouds were spread throughout the sky, really just little whisps of marshmallow fluff. I found the true axis of evil, as I passed a town announcing the boyhood home of Senators Alan Specter and Bob Dole. I was fooled by skyscrapers off in the distance clustered together forming what I thought was a city. Upon getting closer, it was clear that these were gi-normous grain silos towering on the plains. Kansas was so flat, I felt as if I could see the Welcome to Colorodo sign even from mile marker 300. The drive was punctuated by anti-abortion signs and churches rising above the fields of corn and wheat. The power lines and roads were stretching on forever. If Indiana was hell, then Kansas felt like the endless monotony of pergatory. One could smell the scent of clean living and the occassional road-kill skunk. The signs were fun to read in this state. One sign in Colby announced the largest barn in Kansas, another announced the largest prairie dog - with more time, I would've liked to verify these claims. I've always been fascinated by these claims to fame but must always take these signs at their word because of my reluctance to actually pay money to see for myself (although I did pay a buck to see Hurley the world's biggest pig, at the NC state fair - the only thing I can remember about Hurley was that his scrotum was as large as a person's head and that he was parked next to the rib shack - unfortunate). Eventually, purgatory was at an end and Colorado loomed large. The topography of Coloroda was not much different in this part of Colorado but there was more buildings and signs. As I drove along the Colorado hillside, I listened to Rachmoninoff CDs, given to me as a going away present from the grumpiest bus driver at Green Elementary. This guy hated me until I told him I was going to the Opera a few months ago. As a classical music officianado, Mr. Joe took it upon himself to educate me on some of the classics. Rachmoninoff was a poor choice for the topography of Colorado. The rolling hills paled to the dramatic offerings of this classical composer. None-the-less, the music and countryside were both beautiful.

From the middle of Kansas on, signs announced the imminent arrival of Limon. Maybe there was more to Limon than just five motels, a few gas stations, and a few scattered fast food joints. But did this small weigh station deserve the mileage countdown the same as Denver? Let's just say, "The build up was a bit big!" I stayed the night in Limon none-the-less.

Day 4: Owing to crossing a few different time zones, I was up in time to see the sun rise from the East. One gets the sense of the planet turning as the sun dips over the horizon in the west the night before and rises in the east in the morning. From limon, it was time to hit Denver. The only thing I can say about Denver is "Ugggggg". Denver had all the traffic of any large city but I got the sense that Denver was trying to still be a small cowboy town. Just outside of Denver, I stopped at Starbucks for the worst, impersonal service I have received (that is saying something from a Starbucks). I could not leave the traffic and headache of Denver with more haste. After a few turn arounds because of yet more construction, I drove North to finally hit I-80. A family was posing at the welcome to Wyoming sign. I tried to fathom the scenario that led to a family posing at the Welcome to Wyoming sign but couldn't get past the obvious questions? Who? Why? What the...? As I drove on, I enjoyed the multitudes of wind powered generators (wind is a resource never in short supply in this area). The fields were dotted with cattle and of all things, camels. Yes, folks, camels grazing in the middle of Wyoming. Again...Who? Why? What the...? I also passed another claim to fame: "Buford Wyoming, the Smallest Town in the Nation. Population 1" (with free wireless). Soon after, the highest point on I-80, where a Lincoln statue sits (odd but true, as I'm not sure Lincoln ever made it to Wyoming...).

At midday, I crossed the continental divide (the place where rain water has to decide whether to make the trek to the Pacific Ocean or the Atlantic Ocean). From here on out, all I had to do was follow the water to my new home.

Soon after, I arrived at Dixie's house in Salt Lake City, Utah. Dixie is a high school friend and someone I've never had the opportunity to get to know beyond acquaintences. It turns out, after spending a few hours together, we have much in common and I for one enjoyed the evening immensely. I met her kids, but her husband Tom was out of town as he is the guitar player for Donnie Osmond's band. Dixie is a person who seems to radiate an inner light built upon the belief that everyone is basically good and most everything will work out for the best. It's hard not to love that in a person. Dixie forced me to go on a mini rock climbing excursion. The climbing up was fun, the climbing down was a bit more treacherous. The scenery in Utah was absolutely beautiful.

Day 5: Up early and on to the west coast. Past the Great Salt Lake and into the endless desert. The lake seems to continue on forever with little vegetation surrounding this remenant from an ancient sea. Just past this sea is the Bonneville salt flats. I can understand how the world speed record was recorded here, as just passing I had the desire to make a left and put the pedal to the metal. There is virtually nothing to hit. The Nevada border came upon me quickly in this no man's land, and just past the border, ironically, is a Mandalay Bay hotel and Casino. It is odd to me to put a bay at the edge of an ancient dried up sea, but I'm sure the irony is lost on the hotel proprietors. Nevada was nothing but desert hills. Reno came soon enough as there were few places to stop and by this time, I was ready to be done with my five day sojourn. After hitting the desert, the Welcome to California came as a long awaited beacon. One enters California and soon is inducted into the most beautiful country imagined. The trees and mountains were almost cathedral like in their grandeur. The Lake Tahoe area was magnificent. With my windows open and my CD blaring, I felt as if I had reached Nirvana, a little slice of heaven. Even Keiko, my trusted K-9 companion, lifted her head from the pillow to smell the redwoods and fresh air. A quick jaunt from the foothills and I was near Sacramento...and traffic beyond belief. My euphoria came to a screeching halt as the realities of living in a heavily congested area came to the fore front. Between Sacramento and Berkeley, the traffic was punctuated by fits of speeding along at a lightening pace, only to be halted in a traffic jam.

Eventually braving the bay area, I got to Paul and Liz's house. I was frazzled, tired, road weary, and dirty, but I was there, safely. Five days alone on the road, one can get tired of one's own company. It was great to have Paul, Liz, Rusty and the boys to come home to. The newest California chapter starts. Exciting? Somewhat. A little scary? Certainly. Everything changes after five days and 3,000 miles. This country is a broad expanse with pockets of heaven (Lake Tahoe), hell (Indiana) and even purgatory (all of Kansas and much of the midwest I suspect). I think driving across country is a trip everyone should take, perhaps not with the hurried frenzy I experienced but with taking the time to see the World's biggest gopher and the boyhood home of Bob Dole.

Eulogy for Dad (11/15/33-6/5/07)

On June 5, 2007, my father passed away at the age of 73. He had a heart attack while napping at his home in Goldsboro, North Carolina. This was sudden but not entirely a surprise. Dad had surgery just last December in which he had a pacemaker placed in his chest. He was doing very well and was in better health than he had been in a few years. Following is the extended version of the eulogy I delivered at his funeral. I tried to capture my dad as he was; brash, funny, and irreverant:

"I read the obituary of Francis J. Lewis and did not recognize the deceased. Not that the author wasn’t accurate about my father. He was in the military, he loved bowling and golf, and he received several medals. This is all true and all great accomplishments but nowhere the measure of the man I knew.

First, I need to apologize in advance to those who expected me to speak with reverence about a pious man. Anyone that knew Frank, knew that he would’ve hated this type of eulogy. So I intend to share a few memories, tell a dirty joke, do an impression of my mom, say a few cuss words, and lightly offend a few people, including the minister and my mother I’m sure. By the way, don’t feel obligated to laugh at any of the jokes, I never did for dad’s terrible jokes either.

Dad did those great things in the military that are mentioned in the obituary but he often did them after a night of heavy drinking and smoking. He was much like every other military cowboy out there, flying planes in dangerous situations, living life on the edge, and coming home to a wife and kids left to pick up the pieces. Perhaps the greatest testament to his resolve is the day he gave up smoking. It was just a day as any other while we were still young. He was a true asshole for about a month, snapping at everyone and everything, and then continued on with his life as if he had never smoked to begin with. I tell you this to help you understand that he had his flaws like anyone else but he always considered himself a work in progress.

Dad really loved his family. He was married to Anna for 47 years, that’s longer than a life sentence. He often used to say, “You know what I did with my first German 50 cent piece?…I married her.” Dad was definitely the “Pull My finger” type of joker. Anna would always say “Oh, Frank! Dats not funny” secretly enjoying the joke at her own expense.

The two of them didn’t have an easy road. Dad married into a ready-made family. He dragged his ever growing family from military base to military base always popping in just briefly as he flew off to another mission. This was particularly hard on his German wife with four kids. Being discharged from the air force was difficult but I think it would’ve been more difficult for him to remain and be forced to take a desk job because of a heart condition. Through the tough times and the good times, mom and dad cried, laughed, fought, sacrificed and loved.

I don’t remember much about those early years but I do know the values from these military years are instilled in all of the Lewis’. The responsibility to one’s community wherever it may be, the value of hard work and sacrifice for the greater good, the appreciation of travel and broadening one’s perspective, and the importance of family even when they screw up. These things all came at a price but these values guide each of us in some way.

Growing up with dad wasn’t always easy. I’m not sure if it was on purpose or because of circumstances but dad really forced independence on each of us. To this day it is difficult for me to accept assistance with almost anything. Dad, at least to me, had the concept of tough love down pretty good. He never gave me anything I didn’t absolutely need. Everything had to be worked for…When I wanted to go off to college, he said, “We probably can afford to send a doctor or lawyer off to college.” I said I wanted to be a teacher. “Well, the military may be a good way to pay for that,” was his response. Today I look back at that through the eyes of a wiser forty year old. I say this not to point out that he could be a tough old buzzard but that his intent was to make me work for what I really wanted and that it was time to stand on my own, I know he had to stand on his own from early on.

Honestly, I hardly recognize the man his grandchildren call papa. That man spends money on the grandkids as if it were water and allows the grandkids to get away with just about murder. Many a times, my siblings and I looked at this man as if he were a stranger as he spoiled the grandkids to a point beyond excessive. It was nice to see this generosity from dad. Don’t get me wrong, dad loved playing with his own kids. He used to call Billy ‘Little manny’ and me ‘The disturbed professor’ as he would shadow box with us.

Unfortunately the grandkids will never know the man who had to work nights to ensure the house payments were made and food was on the table, who had to sacrifice going to the circus early in his marriage because he only had enough money for mom and Issy to go, or who ensured even after his passing his wife is cared for.


I’ve had lots of accomplishments in my life. Perhaps my greatest accomplishment came on my father’s 70th birthday. After having had a great meal and as we were all sitting around the fire pit making jokes, mostly at mom’s expense, telling stories about growing up, monumental fights, old grudges and those sorts of wounds only a family can laugh about, this man of few words turned to me and said, “No one in our whole family has ever been a doctor. I’m really proud of you.” Of course I laughed it off saying that I don’t have my doctorate yet, and I have a long way to go. Really, no job, no degree, no accomplishment has made me feel more proud than those few simple words. He was the kind of dad that you always wanted to please but never knew if you were pleasing him. I’ll never forget that moment, it’s emblazoned in my memory and my wish for my brothers and sisters is that they have had a similar experience with this quiet philosopher.

Dad collected baseball cards. I think he really enjoyed watching baseball in his youth so he tries to collect players from the Philadelphia Phillies around that time as well as lots of modern players. Although dad played football, I would rather think of him as the fourth batter in a baseball lineup. He wasn’t one of the first three batters, those batters that are all flash and panache. Rather, he was the clean up batter, always counted on for at least a single, often surprising everyone with a homerun. We’ll all miss him, those who have loved his faults, his accomplishments, and his humor. I entreat you to remember him, not in a suit in a coffin, something he would’ve been uncomfortable with at best, rather as the man with a 1950’s haircut slicked back with vasoline, never changed, a cheap watch with a tiger print band, and a shirt with a few stains from lunch on it. I know that’s how I’ll remember him."

Dad will be buried in Arlington National Cemetary at the end of this month. Thank you to all those people who came to the funeral, made food for the family, sent cards, sent flowers, called, and provided condolences and support. I not only loved my dad but I genuinely liked him too. Thank you so much for helping me honor his memory.

The Yin and Yang of Raleigh

As my departure date draws near, I'm hard pressed to ignore the many things I'll miss in North Carolina. With the Yin comes the Yang, not the opposite rather the balance. The Yang are all those things I'll not miss. This list does not include specific people I'll miss because that list is too long.

Things I'll Miss in NC...

Lighted Church Signs; "Call 911, This Church is on Fire for the Lord!"
Running into someone I know almost everwhere in Raleigh (even when I'm making a complete ass of myself).
Friday evening beers with my group of miscreants, misfits, and fascinating conversationalists.
Rarely waiting in line for restaurants or movies.
UNC, Chapel Hill in the fall.
Trees, Trees and more Trees.
Long walks through Umstead park.

Affordable housing. (Affordable everything)
Elderly southern women with gentility and grace complimented by a hard-as-nails will (truly women to be admired and feared).
My 30's (I'm 'chanting' for a decade in my 40's at least as exciting).
Fireflies and Caroleena's slam poem about fireflies, both are now synonymous in my mind.
Politeness from even strangers on the street.
Roadside graveyards.

Outdoor concerts (symphony, Art Museum Concerts, etc.)
My school.

Things I'll Not Miss...

W Stickers, especially in Fuquay-Varina
"Have a Blessed Day"
Humidity to make even the most dessicated corpse sweat a little.
North Raleigh mini-vans with soccer moms on cell phones driving like bats-outta-hell because Brittany or Candice with an 'i' has to go to cheerleading practice.
Omnipresent religious intolerance.
Homophobia in even the most liberal pockets of Raleigh.
Maintaing households on two seperate coasts.
"Family friendly" restaurants.
Nascar (I know Nascar is everywhere but I'll not miss living in the heart of Nascar country).

Feel free to post comments and add your own favorites or rants in the comments section.