50, TAKE ME THERE

No, I'm not talking about age 50. I'm still climbing uphill and hopelessly hoping for traffic along the way. 50 here is 50 states, and like my co-worker Rick who had been to each and every star represented on Old Glory, I, too, longed to set foot on every member of the united.

How do I love thee, let me count the states: Illinois, Michigan, Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Maryland, Delaware, Virginia, Georgia, Alabama, Mississipi, Louisiana, Nevada, Arizona, California, and of course, Florida. That's 22. 28 more to go.

I could have been to Washington. When we arrived here and I was wandering like a little boy lost, my childhood chum J offered to give me a little change of scenery, a little company, a little refuge, and lots of beer - all expenses paid to and from Tacoma - but before we came to a final date I got a call for a job interview. Washington trip was washed out, and J was probably all the wiser and a plane ticket richer for it.

I could have been to South Carolina. One springtime and we were at Savannah experiencing the midnight between good and evil, we had a spur of the moment plan to cross the bridge at Savannah River and head to Charleston the following morning. One other person had a spur of the moment plan of his own, and it was to steal the license plate of my car. I was so upset and afraid to roam farther away from my turf without any identifying mark on my car, and so we cancelled the trip and headed back home.

I could have been to Wyoming. Ten summers ago my sister brought the idea of spending one week of that summer in the area of the Grand Teton, living the life of cowboys and cowgirls - horses, ranches, babyback ribs and all - for the amount of $1,000.00. I told my sister I'd rather fulfill my fantasy of living the life of Native American first (Lakota Sioux, preferrably), and so I passed, even if the stronger truth for my passing was that I have no $1,000.00 then. Then as now.

I could have been to Texas. But when I learned from my brother-in-law that I have to drive a U-haul from Houston to Ft. Lauderdale, I feigned some kind of sickness. I can't remember what, but I think I told him I had a cold. Or was schizophrenic or something.

Finally, I could have been to Kansas and Oklahoma. Years ago I was sending a kid from Monterrey, Mexico to school pursuant to my favorite Church-based charity; part of this program was a pilgrimage from Kansas to Monterrey, and as benefactor I got a personal invite from the head of the organization to join the fun. When I realized later that the journey was on foot, I thought, my foot! there's no way I can do it. I passed, which was better than passing out had I summoned my machismo and joined the brouhaha.

Still, there are states I can't wait to visit.

There is New Mexico for its blue skies and Carlsbad caverns.

Montana, for its sweeping expanse.

Iowa, for its covered bridges.

Arkansas, for the Ozarks.

Vermont, for fall foliage and Baptist Churches.

Idaho, for Snake River and prospects of flyfishing.

23, here I come!