The Fifty States: Hawaii to Maryland

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Continuing my record of impressions of the fifty states, based on a lifelong journey that ended in early October in South Dakota.

Hawaii: My sister lived there for years, but I didn’t bother to go until 2000. I spent a week tooling around Honolulu and the North Shore. In a word: bo-ring. I’ve never been a lay-on-the-beach-sipping-Mai-Tais kind of guy. As someone who finds strolling through Grand Central Station at rush hour a relaxing experience, it’s only natural that I would find tropical locales wanting. The beaches and the mountains were pretty; the food weak; the arts scene non-existent. Not my kind of place. I will say that the USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor was a very memorable experience.

Idaho: Three trips, two to Coeur D’Alene and one to Pocatello. The Idaho panhandle is quite beautiful. The white supremacists must have been hiding on my trips because I never saw any indication they existed. Not a lot of diversity in this state, however. Coeur D’Alene is a lovely town that needs to upgrade its restaurant and performing arts scenes. Pocatello has a rather dowdy downtown and stunningly blue skies. I hear Moscow is the place to go for music, so I’ll probably drive over in the next couple of years.

Illinois: Numerous trips to Chicago and environs, plus one drive through Southern Illinois. Chicago is a world unto itself, a vibrant and diverse metropolis with a great big city feel. My first walk through the city happened right after I got out of college and remains one of my favorite memories. I was walking up Michigan Avenue immersing myself in the sights and sounds and people when an old man with a Central European accent noticed my ga-ga expression, stopped and said, “It’s life!” and flung his arm out as if he were introducing me to the city. The Chicago Art Institute is a great museum, and yes, I did Wrigley but I liked Fenway better. Southern Illinois is farmland that has no connection to Chicago except they’re contained by lines on a map.

Indiana: As you may have divined from Ringing True, I spent a lot of time in Evansville—an entire winter, to be exact. I was doing a leadership training program for a company there and wound up living in a cabin on the CEO’s estate from January through March. At the time, my home was in San Francisco, so Evansville was a major culture shock. The one place downtown that served espresso was only open 10 to 2 weekdays. The restaurants were all American bland, even the Italian and Chinese places. What they called sourdough bread was white bread flavored with vinegar. In spite of that, I grew to love the place, a “place that time forgot.” The people were friendly without being excessively demonstrative and liked their uncomplicated lives and predictable schedules with Friday night pizza and beer. The Ohio River approached flood stage while I was there, a pretty impressive display of hydraulic power. Took some side trips to New Harmony and Newburgh; both are very pleasant little towns. The thing I remember most is going to the grocery stores at 7 pm and finding them almost totally deserted. Where were the Hoosiers? At the basketball court, of course! Towards the end of my visit I got tickets to a basketball game, a meaningless matchup between two college teams with losing records who had no chance of going to the Big Dance. That didn’t matter to the Hoosiers—once the referee tossed the ball over the opposing jumpers the place transformed into bedlam. A white-haired grandmother sitting next to me knitting before the game morphed into a screaming demon, shouting at the referees and jumping three feet into the air when her team scored. I am absolutely convinced she would not have hesitated to attack an opposing player with her knitting needles had she been sitting courtside. Basketball is religion to a Hoosier and high school basketball scores are usually the lead story on the late night news.

Iowa: Traversed the state in the 80’s, stopping in Davenport, Iowa City and Des Moines. My overwhelming impression is the color white: white buildings, white people surrounded by corn fields. The best thing that happened to me was meeting one woman who wound up as a pen pal for several years and another who followed me all the way to California to test my sexual prowess.

Kansas: Visited earlier this year, driving through Eastern Kansas. Omnipresent Christianity. Dropped in on Fort Scott and left wondering why they bothered to make it a historical site. Kansas didn’t leave much of an impression and I have no reason to go back at present.

Kentucky: Spent a week in Louisville attending a training course. All I remember is how frigging cold it was and that during my stay, manhole covers kept exploding and flying into the air for some reason.

Louisiana: We vacationed in New Orleans pre-Katrina. I gained five pounds during my stay. New Orleans and Las Vegas are really the only two places in America where people can still let go. The French Quarter is a kick and has excellent shopping. Sure, it’s a bit touristy in spots, but the tourists are having a good time like everyone else. The Garden District, with homes that have somehow survived years of humidity and the unrelenting pressure of tree roots, is a must-see. We cleared the dance floor one night in a Bourbon Street bar while dancing to a cover band doing Lynyrd Skynyrd tunes . . . my love and I get pretty intense on the dance floor. Sort of like fucking with our clothes on, standing up.

Maine: Spent four days in bed & breakfasts on a New England fall trip. Portland is a pretty cool city, but I found the rest of the state wanting in terms of hospitality and warmth. Stayed in Bar Harbor, Ogunquit and another place whose name escapes me. Traveled over from Vermont and New Hampshire and found a town called Rumford that looked lovely from inside the car but once you left your hermetically sealed environment the horrid smell of a paper mill knocked you on your ass.

Maryland: Two visits to Baltimore. The first was part of a D. C. trip; I wanted to see the Orioles. On the second trip, I happened to arrive on a day when the city was the hottest place on the planet. It was extraordinarily frustrating to stand next to the water at Harborview and not feel one scintilla of relief. As such, I don’t have firm impression of either Baltimore or Maryland except I know I will never go there in the summer again.

Photo Credit: © N.l | Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos

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3 thoughts on “The Fifty States: Hawaii to Maryland

  1. Agree with some, do not with some others.
    Chicgago? Good italian food, great architecture, the art institute better than MOMA. Except for Hopper’s boulevard of broken dreams; that screaming ugly oversized baroque golden frame!?! Really???
    And Hawaii combines that hang loose west-coast american way of life without its through too many plastic surgery uniformed Barbie-doll lookalikes and their unbearable shallowness of the empty-hearted, with true spiritual depth resulting from cultural understanding mutual respect and knowledge usually associated with old mediterranean cultures. And if You take Your time, as I was lucky enough to have had the chance to do a couple of times, the stories, music, tattoos are just as artsy as anything gathering dust in museums around the world. Only that in Hawaii it breaths! It lives! It loves!
    so, Aloha nui loa, Robert (( \m/ ))

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