Midpoint

Yesterday I hit the midpoint for Route 66. Unfortunately, I should have hit it the day before, but since much of the Route in New Mexico and Arizona is on the Interstate, I may make up for lost time. It has been interesting to see the progression of this journey in our history, as I progress through my own journey. My own perspectives have been changing too.

When I began, it was all about the kitsch and the romantic notions of Route 66. Illinois met that well, and Missouri continued a pretty fair amount of it too. I'm sure many travelers over those years so long ago set out with those kinds of thoughts too - of getting to the promised land of California. But as the days went on, and the landscape became more harsh and desolate, the romance disappeared. I am so very grateful to have a nice comfortable car with air conditioning. The bumps in the road don't seem so bad, and the oppressive heat and humidity can be kept outside. But those early travelers didn't have that advantage.

As I moved into Oklahoma and Texas, I really started to get an understanding of those who were using Route 66 to escape to a new life. The best stop by far to get an understanding of that was the Barbed Wire museum in McLean, Texas (believe it or not!) Anyone traveling Route 66 MUST make this a stop. The other museums along the way give good history and timelines, but the museum in McLean gives a real picture of the life these people were struggling with all along, and why they left.

There was one room filled with photos and stories from the Dust Bowl. I've heard bits and pieces in the past, but here I saw some of the reality. They had been struggling with drought for a while, but on Black Sunday, everyone thought the world was coming to an end - and in some ways it did. A huge cloud of black dust literally moved in and consumed their world. They could not see past their front doors, and for days visibility was limited. But not only were they buried in this cloud, they were literally buried in dust. Some of the photos showed houses half buried in mounds of dust (and we think snowstorms are bad... at least we know the snow will melt.) Tractors, cars, anything outside was buried in dust. Once they dug themselves out of their homes, there was nothing around them but a literal desert. There was no way to live... and many of the men left to find work, leaving the women and children to hold down the homefront but also leaving them with very little food and water. The pictures show just hopeless, emaciated women and children with dead eyes and not much life left in them.

So it was from this kind of hell that people turned to Route 66. They left with hopes that California would offer them life. But getting there would not be easy either. Countless families began living out of their cars in tent communities because they had no money to keep traveling. Over a half million people became homeless during that time. Today that number may be normal (sadly) but then, that was a huge percentage of the population.

Traveling the Route reflects a lot of that sorrow and tragedy. Today, the places that grew up and thrived on all those weary travelers are now dead too. As I've moved through Texas, the word I would use to describe the overall theme is "decay." While there are a few touristy places and refurbished gas stations, for the most part the remains of the past are simply dead and decaying skeletons of buildings. In Amarillo, Texas alone, I could have filled a camera with all the decay I saw. All that is new has just bypassed the old Route... perhaps hoping that if they don't see it they can forget it.

I know this entry sounds depressing, but it really has been an excellent experience for me. I've learned a lot about the resilience of people, and the ability to overcome - but I'm hoping that those old forgotten places of history do not die completely. There is so much to value, even in the old decaying skeletons of the past.