Dear Friends and Family:

Next to Colorado, Kentucky must be the closest place to heaven on earth. What a beautiful state! If my family and friends would go with me, I'd move there in a heartbeat.

Asbury College in Wilmore, Kentucky is lovely and quaint. The town is no bigger than a minute. There's a Subway Sandwich shop, a convenience store (with nickel ice-cream bars and pizza) and a country market across from the school. We saw a tiny police station and son Andy wondered if Barney Fife was on duty.

The people were friendly and warm which made it easier for me to leave my middle-son behind.  He'll do fine once he gets past the first few days of homesickness. We missed orientation which made it a little hard to "learn the ropes" but others jumped in to help which was a real blessing. We arrived in a downpour without an umbrella.

Did I mention downpour? Much to my delight (you know how I love the rain) we experienced several. The first storm I remember with clarity. We were just outside WaKeeney, Kansas. One second we were flying down the interstate, the next there was a terrible racket and I looked to see Andy's bicycle peeking in the rear window. It only took a few minutes to get it back on top . . . just enough time for Grandpa and Andy to get thoroughly soaked.

It was a normal trip, except for certain moments which could be defined as distinctive.  I mean on a scale of 1-10, with ten being normal and one being not, we hovered somewhere around 3.5.  We did the typical travel stuff - took naps, drank soda, and talked about a lot of things like our childhood, girls, deceased family members, theology, "bachelor laundry," . . . you get the picture. And, we asked status-quo questions: "Are we there yet? When are we going to eat? Okay who had the keys last? Can we find a bathroom soon?"

Unique to this trip was the frequent repetition which made for many moments of mirth.  We took turns between driving (a coveted position), sitting in the front and sitting in the back. We talked a LOT even though it was hard to hear what the other was saying. Grandma quipped, "Just call us Pete and Re-Pete."

My folks weren't the only ones with questionable hearing.  Andy and I (okay mostly me) found it necessary - on a recurrent basis - to ask, "What did you say?"

There was one time when I was really glad Andy asked. He looked momentarily befuddled then queried, "What did you just say Grandma?"

&quo t;I asked Grandpa if his legs hurt after riding all day."

Andy started laughing and said, "Oh, I thought you asked him if he was a eunuch after riding all day."

On the way back to Colorado, somewhere between Russell and Limon, Grandma accused Grandpa, "You're not listening!!" It was time to activate "The Emergency Finger System." Using the pointer finger only: Up and down meant yes; side-to-side meant no. Mom would ask a question. Dad couldn't hear. I would listen, then wiggle the finger and dad would shake his head accordingly. We had some very creative conversations.

I've been thinking you might be interested to hear that I learned five important lessons on our trip.

1. Time means little on a journey.  Time zones mean less. Who can remember if it's Colorado, Kansas or Kentucky time when your bone-dead tired? The clock is a fuzz, if you can see it at all. There is a better, more reliable indicator to know when to call it a night: when you see Golden Arches where there are none, and trucks which do not exist, it's time.

And, if someone sincerely asks (as they did on OUR trip) why you didn't stop at the Denny's Restaurant we'd just gone by to book a room, it's PAST time. Don't laugh at them. Don't let them behind the wheel either unless you really don't mind sleeping in a booth.

2. In the beginning fatigue will occur primarily in the evening. However, by day four it will be your constant companion. When the waitress looks at you oddly because you just ordered a burger over medium, don't take it personally.

3. Culture shock is inevitable as you venture further south. Knowing that is half the battle.
When the waitress says she's going to get you fresh Ketchup, don't anticipate a tasty, homemade concoction. She simply means that she will be returning with a bottle which has not been opened.

Don't expect the ladies to tag along if you ask, "You guys want to go to Applebee's?" In the south He + She= Y'all. "You guys" refers only to the guys.
Need a suntan? Ask a local. Who needs sand and surf when you've got the back of a pickup truck in a Wal-Mart parking lot? Andy just shook his head and laughed, "I just saw the most red-necked thing. . ." His determination not to poke good-natured fun at southerners lasted until day three, then he threw caution to the wind, "This is too good to pass up!"

4. Expand your horizons. You're going to meet a lot of people; take time to get acquainted. There are many fine folk in the world. Missouri Granny was not one of them.

I met her at a Rest Area. Think of Granny from the famed "Beverly Hillbillies" television show.  Got it? Except for a few minor differences, they could have been sisters. She may have been a smidgen younger though it was hard to tell. She had a strong southern accent, a booming voice, and the strength of a truck-driver in her good arm. She dressed her petite frame in high tops, a fou-fou skirt (I don't know what else to call it) and a non-descript blouse. A drab little hat perched on top her head.

Granny' d had a stroke somewhere along the line. Her right arm hung loosely at her side and she shuffled as she walked. It didn't take a logistician to figure out we were going to reach the Travel Center door at the same time. Her husband, a grumpy old fellow, was helping her. Until they made it I inside, I moseyed on over to oooh and ahhh over some dead flowers by the entrance.  I made my entrance soon after and promptly wished I never had.

You know, sometimes it's best to just leave well enough alone. My mercy gift kicked in and I was anxious to help. I waited close by while Grumpy turned to the right and into the men's room. Missouri Granny headed for the door in the middle. With her left arm she gave that door a mighty pull. WHAM. It slammed back against the wall.

Seeing no usable commodes in the storage closet she backed out and headed for the door marked "Women." I reached for the handle to open the door for her, then just as quickly backed away.

&quo t;Aah kin do it!" she barked. "Aah've had me three strokes, but this erm and this lag STILL work."

She went in just as Grumpy came out. "Whatsa goin' on?" He glared and I swallowed.

"Ummm, she's fine. Just went in the wrong door."

&quo t;Your jean skirt, your orange blouse and (pause)YOUR NYLONS and YOUR BRA!"

Yup, we made us some memories and learned us some lessons.

Oh, did I thank y'all for prayin'?    &n bsp;  

;Ronda Knuth