Posts by Jonah

On the way to Holly’s tonight, we were listening to the soundtrack to That Thing You Do which led to Max telling Dennis he needed to be exposed to Jacob’s Trouble and how the best song is These Thousand Hills which we listened to all across Wyoming and how that was a fun road trip and shouldn’t we do that again sometime?

“Mount Rushmore!” I suggested.

“We can all chip in and allow four days and go, you want to?” said Max, “We could go week after next.”

“Uh, that’s in the middle of camp.”

So I dunno.I think Max is planning on being around for camp, which would be REALLY nice. We can use all the experienced counselors we can get.

Dang, I’ve got that stupid Thing You Do song stuck in my head now. You hear it like four times in the movie.

When we got home tonight, Max said, “I’m going to bed,” but then ran downstairs, ripping his shirt off. He ran back up a minute later, another shirt unbuttoned and sticking his handgun into a holster. He ran out the back door saying, “I’ll be back in a sec.” Dennis went running after him, then ran out the front door, since Max had run around to that side of the house. He came back in a minute. Then Max came back saying something like, “I’m back. Goodnight,” and going downstairs for good.

He heard something as we were coming in. Which is why he stood out in the driveway staring north instead of coming in and snapped, “It’s symbolic, Jonah,” when he wanted me to shut up so he could hear better.

They were right. I did hear the kids that morning, but I’m used to sleeping through noise. Eventually, I picked up my watch and looked at it. 8:00. I got up and started changing clothes as Tess told me through the closed slat doors what time it was and asked if I wanted to get up. I shoved everything back into my bag and saw Tess dragging her kids out the front door. “I’m going to get syrup for pancakes,” she said, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” I told her I didn’t know if I’d be there that long. Tiptoeing upstairs, it appeared like Margery and Katherine we’re still in bed, so I left a note with a black crayon I found on the table, grabbed my bag, and loaded it into the car.

I found my way back to the highway easily enough and headed east. But the road I was on dissolved into a regular street. I got some gas and was about to turn around when I saw a McDonalds further down. I was just going to get coffee, but the sign talked me into purchasing one of those hash brown things and an Egg McMuffin for only 55 cents! Except I ended up spending like three dollars. How did that happen?

Pouring half and half into the little spout thing of my styrofoam cup, I made my way back down the street and found a sign for the road north I was looking for. Soon I was out of Dallas and on my way to Wichita Falls, listening to the far reach of Dallas’ cool alternative station. That died far too soon, and I was left shuffling between a classic rock and mix station. Then those were gone too, and scan on my radio would flip all the way around the dial to come back to the only station it could reach–and a country one at that.

The road from Wichita Falls to Amarillo is very lonely, but beautiful that way. Heading down the highway with my cruise control set on 90, sitting cross legged in my seat and watching hypnotically for non-existent cops, I decided what I’d do for the rest of my life: live in a trailer, maybe run a few head of cattle or write, and operate a classical music station somewhere between Amarillo and Wichita Falls.

Amarillo offered relief, as I knew it would. It has a cool college station that plays alternative and… well… weird stuff. But it was gone too soon as well. I stopped in a little town for gas and a malt and onion rings at the Sonic. “Be careful,” said the man behind the gas counter as I left. Maybe he meant, “Be careful to pay attention to where you’re going.”

I kept looking at the road signs, knowing I needed to head west into New Mexico on 89. But the road signs kept saying 289. The towns I hit seemed to correspond with my map, but why didn’t the road say 89 anymore? Then, I realized I had failed to make a turn. It wouldn’t be too far toback track, or I could turn at the next town and go down then over. But 289 headed straight north into Oklahoma and then Colorado. Flipping to Colorado in my atlas, I found I could go north and then head west to Pueblo just fine. And I’ve never seen much of south east Colorado. There really isn’t much to see. It was emptier than the part of Texas I’d been through. It seemed to be a truck route. I passed them constantly, discovering the Toyota has a governor at 100, though I did manage to get it up to 105 going downhill.

Suddenly, the truck in front of me was stopped, so I put on my hazard and pulled up behind him. Truckers were getting out of their cabs, collecting, and chatting. After several minutes, I figured I might as well get a stretch. A big trucker in overalls and a beard came up from the rig behind me, “Alabama, huh?” “That’s right.” “Where you headed?” “Colorado Springs. Just graduated from college and heading out to stay with some friends.” He was hauling an escalator to Aspen from Texas. “So what’s going on here?” I asked him. “Construction. It’s like this all the time. Did you notice that whole line coming from the other direction back there?” “Yeah, I wondered what that was all about.” “They waited on the other side for an hour or so.” “An hour?” “Sometimes.”

It was less than an hour. The flagman waved his orange plastic, and we all got back into our vehicles. But we had to wait for the trucks coming the other direction to pass first. Then we got to go over the dirt and bumps of the lane not being currently built. “Don’t be in a hurry,” the trucker with the bib overalls told me, “These trucks can’t go so fast.” So I spent the next hundred miles driving at 30 miles under my usual speed and watching the radio scanner go all the way around without picking up anything except one country station. On AM.

In Lamar, I turned west as it started raining. I didn’t go as fast because the Arkansas River is accompanied by a string of little towns and hills that are hard to see around in order to pass people. Finally, I got to Pueblo and headed north on I-25. Then I was in Monument in no time.

The Bremers were seated around the dinner table when I arrived. Michele came to the door and gave me a hug. Eli jumped up and shouted, “Jonah! Demolition hug!” and we rushed toward each other arms outstretched, stopping just short of embracing. I sat down in the place Spirit vacated and helped myself to homemade pizza and salad. Max was on the phone with Stephanie Stone and had been, from what I gathered, for quite some time. Eli took me out to the henhouse to seethe ducklings, who we took swimming in the water tank and then gave flying lessons. Nicole walked in and was very surprised to see me. She had to go back home to get a phone call but promised to come back. I gave her my number and asked her to call home and tell my family I got there, since Max was still using this phone.

Max finally got off and greeted me with an awkward hug, declared he was tired, and went to bed. Eli and Nicole and I played a card game Nicole had learned recently but wasn’t sure of all the rules.

I had Justin’s room for the night since he hadn’t come back from college yet. I fell asleep curled up beneath a down comforter.

—This concludes Jonah’s Trek Out West. If you failed to receive parts one and two, transcripts are available upon request at [email protected]

Dodging the funnel clouds, we made it to the Galleria Mall in Dallas safely. The Russian shop was kinda cool, full of nesting dolls, Soviet uniform coats, and medals. Some of them were labeled, telling what they were for and “very rare” added. I laughed and wondered if they really were. How could the average American tell?

Katherine is a Russian addict. Back in her room, she had a map of Russia on one of her walls. I mentioned that, until recently, my room had been plastered with maps of Russia. “I sense a bond here,” joked Margery.

We sat down in the cafe area overlooking an ice skating rink and ordered borscht and a bunch of other things that looked interesting: crepes with meat and cottage cheese, potato dumplings, and cabbage rolls. I couldn’t remember the Russian name for all of them if I tried. Margery kept saying what a wonderful color the beets made the borscht. “I wish I hada skirt this color,” she said. I leaned forward to tip her bowl. “That’s two,” she pointed a warning finger at me before I got close enough to actually do anything destructive, while Mikey and Katherine laughed uproariously, “Yes, I think she’s definitely IPS material.”

I ordered hot tea with my meal. We all traded around so everyone could have a little of everything. While we were eating, I kept thinking about Anna Karenina and the food in that book. During the main course, Margery said, “This reminds me of Anna Karenina.” “Yes, I was thinking the same thing,” agreed Katherine. Mikey nodded.

I sipped at my third cup of tea before we left for the bookstore, where Katherine and Margery had arranged to meet some folks in their idea of a wild night out. “Are you sure it’s all right?” they kept asking me. I told them they could lock me in a bookstore, and I’d be happy the rest of my life. When we finally departed, Mikey asked me, “You’re coming away empty-handed?” “I don’t BUY books,” I told him, “I go to people’s houses and take what they’re giving away.”

Margery pulled out an umbrella and opened it. “I have an umbrella here if anyone wants to share,” she offered. “No, thanks,” I said, “I don’t believe in umbrellas.” “Somehow I didn’t think you were,” she responded, “Anyone who is traveling around the world…” “I haven’t gone YET.”

Tess, the mother of the house Katherine lives in, insisted I sleep on the couch downstairs that she’d already made up for me. Katherine warned me that the kids would wake me up at 6 something. “What time were you thinking of leaving?” “About eight.” “Eight?! You should have told us! We wouldn’t have kept you out so late!” It wasn’t even midnight. As It brushed my teeth up in Katherine’s bathroom, she asked, “Are you sure the kids won’t bother you in the morning? Are you sure the couch will be okay?” I offered assurance that I should be just fine and wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping at all. “I guess not, since you’re traveling around the world.” “I haven’t gone YET.”

—Stay tuned for another exciting episode of Jonah’s Trek Out West.

So here I am in Colorado.

Drove all the way from Longview to Dallas without listening to the radio. Driving quite fast. The weather was overcast, so it wasn’t hot. Stopped at a McDonalds for some coffee, since I was having a hard timekeeping from yawning.

Got to University of Dallas around ten. My appointment with Dr. Gregory,head of the Interdisciplinary Philosophic Studies (IPS), the PhD program I’m interested in, wasn’t till noon, so I went up to the graduate admissions office and introduced myself to the lady there I’d talked to. She asked me if I had any questions about the program. I told her I didn’t know enough to ask any so tell me everything. She gave me an application for admission, a catalog, and list of apartments in the area. She said the Braniff program (the one I’m interested in), if you’re accepted, covers full tuition. Once she had said just about all she had to say, I thanked her and left to go see if the head of the politics department was in.

On my way over, I saw Dr. Dougherty in the lobby. I went up andre-introduced myself, since I met him at the Symposium a few weeks ago. Then continued up to the politics department, but the head wasn’t there and wasn’t coming in. Instead I waited till Dr. Dougherty came up and talked to him. He had a lot to say about the program. He seems like a really great guy.

While we were talking, a guy, who had popped into the graduate admissions office while I was there, appeared in the doorway. His receding gum line was smiling broadly beneath his sandy bleached beard as he handed Dr.Dougherty an extra copy of his thesis with a vein bulging arm exuding from a blue scrubs top. “Come here,” he grinned at me with squinty eyes,”It’s lots of fun. There’s a tree,” he pointed at the wall, “on top of the hill. It needs someone to sit in it.” I told him I’d keep that in mind. “Especially at sunset. It’s really pretty at sunset.”

By then it was noon, so I went up a floor to the English department. Ayoung professor was talking about the Odyssey special on TV with a couple of students. They agreed it sucked. I told them I watched the X-files instead, and one of them asked me, “Oh, yeah? What happened?” “Mulder sho himself.”

The young looking professor tried to help me, saying Dr. Gregory is always on time. I waited a while, then went downstairs to look for Katherine. She was at the library counter checking out some books. She introduced me to Sister somebody behind the counter. Then we went out into the foyer. “I’m worried about Margery,” she said, “I was supposed to meet her here at noon.” I went up to tell the young looking professor I’d be back later, then Katherine and I went tromping around campus looking for her illusive friend. Katherine introduced me to just about everyone we met.

When she found out Margery had taken off for lunch, leaving her luggage in one of the offices and would be back before five, Katherine decided we needed to go to lunch. We wondered if Margery and Dr. Gregory had disappeared into the same black hole. Katherine took me to this soup and salad buffet place. I told her I’d had 2 years of Greek. “Do you have a car?” I do. “Well, then,” she said, “you’re all set to come to UD then, with Greek and a car.”

We came back to still no sign of either of them. Then Katherine gasped and said, “That’s Dr. Gregory coming through the door!” Turns out Dr.Gregory had put me down for 2, while I thought she said “noon.” She took me up to her office and told me more about the program. It’s made up of three areas, Literature, Politics, and Philosophy. Everyone in each field has to take a certain number of core courses, a modern and classical language, and then however many hours of electives in your field of study. She talked about how the students from each department bring a different way of viewing the text with them to the classroom. We got into a little discussion about Plato’s Republic. I told her I majored in poli sci with concentrations in English and ILS, which is basically philosophy. I’d be choosing Political Philosophy as my concentration in this program only because I had to make a choice. She told me that this program dealt with the liberal arts and a lot of theory, so I should be aware that it isn’t like other programs at other schools. I told her that’s what I wanted.

Katherine was outside talking to a couple of other IPS guys, who she introduced to me. Then it was back to the library and another introduction to a guy in the politics part of IPS. He said he loved it,that it wasn’t 100 percent perfect because nothing can be. When I said Iwas going to wait a year, he asked me what I was doing. “I’d like to travel around the world, but I don’t know how far I’ll get.”

Just then Margery walked in. “Hi,” she said coming up to me after being greeted by Katherine, “I’m the person you’ve been chasing around all day.” “She’s going to travel around the world,” Larry, the guy I’d been talking to, told her. “Really? Wow!” “Well, I haven’t done it yet.”

We picked up Margery’s luggage, and then I followed them back to the house where Katherine lives, where I was introduced to Tess, the young mother, and her three small children. The oldest told me I was an eagle. I said I thought I was an evil iguana. “No, Joanna is an eagle in The Rescuers Down Under.” Katherine took us upstairs to her room/floor. She’s doing her dissertation on suicide in Dostoevsky and Faulkner, soher room is strewn with novels on the subject. I picked up one by Walker Percy and started reading it while Katherine got me a Sprite, which I acquiesced to, “if it will make you feel better.”

After Margery had to make a few phone calls, we left for Mikey’s Apartment. Katherine told about using a plastic bag and a marker to alter the big sign on the side of the complex where she used to live from”NOW LEASING” to “NOW LEANING.” She had very few nice things to say about Tower Apartments. “The ground shifts here, so they get big cracks in them.

Mikey is moving, so he told us to go through the pile of books on thetable he was giving away. I gleaned a whole stack of way cool stuff. “Mikey? Are you SURE you’re throwing all this out?” Mike came out of the bathroom with his face covered in shaving cream. “Mike, this is Joanna.” “Hi.” “Hi. Yeah, any of those books.” “Ooo! Here’s The Prince!” I found a copy in one stack, “Every time I come to Dallas, I geta copy of The Prince.” “Here’s the Communist Manifesto,” said Katherine. “Oh! Can I have that!” She gave me a worried look, “I don’t know…” “You have to know to fight,” I said. She handed the book to me reluctantly. But then I didn’t leave without getting talked into an unpublished translation of another of Machiavelli’s writings by Dr. deAlverez. I even got a copy of Aristotle’s Nicomachian Ethics with English on one page and Greek on the other.

We piled into Katherine’s Mazda as it began to rain. “See they’ve got anew sign for Tower Apartments. It’s even got a tower in it.” “It doesn’t go out at the top,” said Margie, comparing the effigy to the real tower in the middle of campus. “It’s not as tall, either,” I jibed. Mike and Katherine burst into laughter as Katherine said, “Yes, I think she’s definitely IPS material.” Margie just pointed a warning finger at me and tried not to laugh.

“Those clouds look really green,” Mike noticed as we headed into traffic on the highway. “And that looks like funnel clouds over there.” The usually talkative Margie became very quiet. I urged Katherine to get closer so we could get a better look. Then the one cloud that looked like it was definitely becoming a tornado dissipated. “Well, that one didn’t do anything,” I commented, “But up ahead looks hopeful.”

—Installment One of Jonah’s trek out west is completed. Please stay tuned for the continuation of this adventure.Jonah

I haven’t had a real meal today. I ate three canned biscuits this morning at Karen’s apt. and then had cake and fruit at the “meeting of the elite,” as I have come to call our Wed. afternoon “class.”

Maybe I should eat something. I feel like I’ve had too much caffeine. I’m chewing my thumbnails to oblivion.. Maybe I should learn to sit and meditate. In fact, that would probably be a good idea.

Greg used to teach ballroom dancing. Which, I suppose, makes him Mr. Perfect. I’m not sure whether he likes to camp or not.

I was at Karen’s this morning because I spent the night at their apt. She talked me into going across the bay last night with her to hear her friend Dana’s concert. I made pesto at the apt. for her and Nicki, who just had an appendectomy last week and is walking kinda slow and having a hard time laughing. Then Greg came over, and we all went over to Fairhope to hear South’s choir. Paul met us all over at the Waffle House over there afterward. That’s what life is all about. Sitting around, drinking coffee and talking. At least, that’s when I’m happiest. Usually. I couldn’t decide what to get to eat, so I ordered a large O.J., coffee, and a chocolate milk. When we got back to the apt., Greg, Karen, and I stood outside and listened to Greg talk about philosophy and life and love. Love is what life is about, you know. We ARE. We exist. We “be.” God is BEING. God is also love. That’s the whole point of everything, to love. To love and be loved. That’s all there is. Everything else is just details. We can talk all we want to about lofty things or not so lofty ideals, but it all comes down to love. Only it gets so confusing sometimes.

I was in the backseat on the way back, thinking about…. something else… not really listening to Karen and Nicki and Greg discuss something. During a lull, Greg turned to me suddenly and demanded, “Why?!” “Because of hormones,” I said, answering the question within my own mind and figuring it wouldn’t be too far from what he was asking, since he’s a self-proclaimed pervert. He nodded slowly and then said, “Yeah, yeah, I guess it is.”

Karen made up the sofa with sheets and blankets for me, and I took out my contacts and laid down blind with my t-shirt and underwear on under the covers. She and Liz and I talked about the evening of philosophical discussion. “Nicki asked me,” Karen said, “‘Why do you and Joanna hang out with Greg?’ ‘I dunno.’ ‘Greg likes one of you,’ Nicki said, ‘and I’m gonna find out which one it is.'” We tried to determine what kinda chick Greg goes for. “Stupid,” said Karen. “But… who would he talk to?” I asked, knowing that Greg HAS to talk to something or somebody. “I think he’s more interested in sex,” said Karen. “Oh, he’s male,” observed Liz. I had to agree. Liz can’t stand the fact that ever sentence Greg utters slaughters the English language. Yet he’s far more widely read and much more intelligent than Karen or I.

He wanted to know where “Bitter Greg” came from. “Maynard,” Karen explained, “It was sort of a first impression thing, like ‘Genius Paul.'” “I don’t want to be ‘Bitter!'” Greg exclaimed back. “What DO you want to be called then?” I asked. “I dunno. How ’bout ‘Cowboy’?”

Last night was the first time Dana had met “Bitter Greg.” Karen thought he would piss her off because he annoys Paul too. “But, Paul likes Greg,” I said. Karen explained, “Yes, Paul likes Greg, but he annoys him at the same time. Just like Paul annoys Greg, but he likes Paul.”

I said “damn” last night in public. I’m feeling bad about it.

Liz and Karen said that Stephen had called me a freak once, which they found quite odd because he usually can’t find anyone admittedly odder than he is. Karen had spent the evening talking about how freaky Liz is, so when we got back, I immediately told Liz that we’d spent the evening talking about what a freak she is. Then Karen had to say that we’d decided EVERYONE was a freak so that she wouldn’t get upset. I didn’t care. I call Liz a freak all the time. I’ve been calling her a freak since first semester freshman year. She says that as long as I’m around, she doesn’t have to worry about looking odd, since there’s someone freakier than her.

I don’t know. I was thinking this past week that Karen and Greg might should get together. But… I think Karen deserves someone better. I mean, Greg’s a great guy and all, but… I dunno.. I tend to get protective of my female friends. I want them to marry Mr. Wonderfully-perfect-kind-gentle-protecting-gentlemanly-supporting non-jerks. Jerks are bad. Though, I have a feeling I’m going to be stuck with one, since I tend to be attracted to abrasive people. I think Karen is taller than Greg anyway. There just aren’t enough Mr. Rights in the world. Why is that? Why do men have to be such jerks?

Sunny called last night to talk to Karen about French and Wes, with whom she’d just had a huge fight. Wes is a poli sci major and a nice enough guy. Well, okay, he’s not nice enough. He makes a good classmate, but they fight too much to be together, in my opinion. I mean, if a couple fights a lot while they’re dating, how can they ever hope to achieve peace in their marriage? I know Sunny isn’t perfect, no one is, but… I dunno.. Maybe I should just chill and let people I know marry jerks.

I’m tired. Spring break is next week. My plan is to read Moby Dick and sleep. Wait, wasn’t that my goal for Christmas vacation?

As I was eating a biscuit in Karen’s kitchen this morning, I looked at the graduation memo on the door of the freezer. It was saying that women should wear dresses that are not longer than the robes, and to wear black shoes. And suddenly it hit me. My Converse High-tops are black! I could wear them to graduation!