When I told friends and co-workers that I was visiting Nebraska, they all shook there heads and wondered why. Apparently it didn't sounds exotic enough, didn't quite fit in with my other excursions to places like Mozambique or Mexico City. But I had a good reason to visit and I had a great time.
Michael grew up in a small Nebraska town, went to the university in Lincoln and still has family out there. It seemed to me he had been putting the visit off for some time, always saying the weather would be better in April, or there would be more to see in September. But the planets aligned and now we would be visiting for Halloween.
The trip didn't start off too well because we we're planning to fly to Omaha via Denver (no non-stop flights from anywhere in California to anywhere in Nebraska) when an early snow storm plowed into the Mile-High City. So we switched to transiting through Las Vegas, which didn't fare much better because we missed the first connection to Omaha and the second one was three hours later and still passed through Denver. But by this time, the airport was fully operational and the flights were pretty wide open. So now I ended up leaving a sunny and warm Los Angeles, transiting, a dry and cold Las Vegas, then a snowy and wintry Denver, only to arrive in a foggy and damp Omaha. It was after 9 and we still had a little over an hour's drive to Michael's sister's house in Lincoln.
We left Omaha and were quickly on quiet and dark Interstate 80 headed west past rolling farms and pastureland. There really wasn't anything to see because the fog was thick in certain stretches and then it was just plain dark elsewhere. Otherwise it was uneventful and we rolled into Lincoln just before 11pm. Michael's mother, Jo, was there as well delivering a new dog to his sister and her family. Jo had a light dinner waiting for us, which was quickly devoured after hugs and greetings.
After a shaky start to the trip, things really took off. We met up with several of Michael's college friends, had a great lunch, toured the magnificent state capitol ("third finest," some might say) building, and sipped fresh coffee. After my road trip from Chicago to Seattle one Summer, I was rudely aware of the fact that good coffee can be very hard to come by in the United States if you aren't near an ocean. Then the temperature began to climb and everyone became excited about 6o degree days in October. We had dinner at a wonderful Greek restaurant with ample vegetarian and vegan options. With everyone drinking wine, eating full meals and sharing desserts, the total was less than half what a similar meal would have cost in California. And I was treated to a stunning Nebraska sunset with orange and pink hues that shifted as clouds drifted by. The scene seemed to wrap around me and encompass nearly the entire sky.
The next day, we drove around Lincoln, staring at beautiful old brick homes that cost a hundred thousand dollars and were in tony parts of the city. But even more of a treat for me were the beautiful fall leaves that seemed to shine and sparkle to me. Bright yellows and shimmering oranges were glistening on long tree branches, or they were scattered in a perfect arrangement on the grass and sidewalks. It was really my first time seeing fall foliage in all its glory and I wasn't disappointed one bit. Normally this time of year would mean: warm days and cold nights, or dry Santa Ana winds parching the California landscape. But here is was the last brilliant display of color before the bleak and white winter cast a long shadow over the entire state.
On Halloween, we didn't have any plans but were invited to a party. It was Vickie, one of Michael's friends from college, her husband and their neighbor. All three were dressed up for the occasion and we were not. So we drove off into the dark Nebraska night to look for this party that ended up being way on the outskirts of town. The house was new and big and nice. It was decorated much like a party might be on that show "The Office," as Michael noticed. And like a party on TV, there was hardly anyone there and it was quiet with bad lighting. It was also one of those parties where you just want to take a peek and see if it might be fun, but it wasn't. So rather than turn around and walk out, I headed for the kitchen where all the alcohol was. Everyone was keeping to themselves, or was sequestered into small groups chatting and ignoring everyone else. When someone asked what my costume was, I said that I was a Concerned Parent. Michael just told everyone that he was from L.A. "Is that your costume?" people would ask. After a long hour or two, we headed back to Lincoln and swung by a club where everyone was dressed up and waiting outside to get in. Vickie was dressed in her pajamas with a cup of coffee and called herself a Blogger, while her husband wore a plaid shirt and carried around an ax. The neighbor put together a convincing Wolverine outfit from X-Men, complete with sharp metal protrusions from his hand. Whereas, I was still the Concerned Parent, and the humor was lost on everyone but me. It was busy at the club and everyone was dancing and laughing and running about. It reminded me of a club anywhere with no destination in particular. With no one from our group in the mood to dance, we headed out and went to bed shortly after one.
Sunday we left after breakfast to drive to Norfolk and see Michael's father and his family. We quickly left the city on a warm afternoon, the highway getting narrower and the cornfields growing larger and beginning to encompass the horizon. It was more hilly than I expected and the highways not as flat as I'd been told. "That's what western Nebraska look like," all the locals had said. We drove through towns like Prague and Dodge, with scarcely more than 300 people living in these tiny towns. It was Sunday and everything was closed, but I imagined that a Thursday didn't look anymore inviting. Lincoln seemed like a metropolis at this point.
Driving into Stanton, where Michael grew up, the town was closer to a thousand people but it was still small and quaint. There were large yards wrapping around old homes with no fences or walls. Trees near here had less leaves than down in Lincoln, which was only about three hours away. We had a nice lunch at the only open restaurant in downtown, where the owner new Michael's mother and had great things to say about her. They were closing as they had just finished serving brunch, but in true Midwest fashion, they didn't turn us away, rather they rustled up more food and invited us to stay for awhile. The whole time they wanted to chat and make us feel welcome, which they did to a great extent.
Michael's great aunt is 94 and lives alone in Stanton. She was relaxing in the afternoon with her glass of white zinfandel and invited us in for a drink. After her husband passed away, she started to travel. She went on cruises and safaris and generally tried to see the world and stay active. She asked us about our trip, about what was happening with the whole "gay marriage" thing in the country and how everyone was doing. I had met her once before when she was visiting Los Angeles to see her grandson (Michael's cousin). We had taken her to the Disney Concert Hall to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic and afterwards she was excited to hang out at a swanky downtown bar with all the young kids. Not having any relatives at her age still around, it was great to spend time with Aunt Lois.
From there it was a short drive to Norfolk, where we met Michael's father and then went out to dinner with his whole family. His father has two sons from his second marriage, each son is married and has one baby. It was great to meet everyone. They were all from Nebraska or thereabouts and hadn't really been to the West Coast at all. The idea of never seeing the Pacific Ocean or California, the desert, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Redwood trees, or the Sierra Nevadas is always intriguing to me. I never take for granted the beauty and diversity of living out west and I always think its important for everyone to see. Everyone said they would like to come visit California and later when we went back to the house to hang out and chat, the wives were inquisitive about life out in Los Angeles. I suppose it does seem somewhat alluring and intriguing when you haven't been there. These days everyone seem to love it or hate it and there is very little gray area on the matter. When they asked me about my thoughts on Nebraska, I talked about how quiet and beautiful everything was. The roads were never crowded, everything was pretty close, nothing seemed to cost as much and everyone was friendly. (I didn't talk about how white everyone was.) Almost more than that, I am fascinated by the homes in the Midwest. I'm amazed how everyone has a basement and how most are almost another house! They are huge. You enter someone's house and its nice and everything seems comfortable. Then you go to the basement and its basically a clone of the upstairs, but a little more relaxed, a little more homey and less formal. And that's good because you then get a sense of the person. Plus, you need somewhere to run when the tornado is headed your way. Everyone in the family has to collect something, and the basement is often the display forum for all the treasures you have amassed. I don't want a basement.
Next day we drove back to Lincoln and stopped in Wayne along the way. Its a small college town with about 5000 people and we figured they would have a decent coffee or espresso cafe; they didn't. The only other option was McDonalds, which ended up being a mistake. Odd, because I seem to remember getting their coffee in a pinch another time I was on the road and it held up better. Otherwise the drive back was scenic and pleasant.
The last day we stopped by Vickie's office before we left Lincoln. She works for a non-profit organization that gives out grants for art-related issues. Anyway, the building was designed by the Chinese architect I.M. Pei, whom I really like. Strange to see that he had a building in Lincoln, but it fit into the compact downtown area quite well and was elegantly muted with large glass panels providing nice views. There is also a three story open atrium on the ground floor which is airy and allows trees to grow inside. I expect its especially comfortable on blustery winter days when its bright blue and below freezing, or when the wind won't stop blowing snow all over creating some condition called a "white out" which I have never experienced. It sounds like a Midwest thing.
Back on the interstate headed to Omaha, we had lunch and walked around the revitalized downtown. Then we stopped at a cafe and had one last cup before heading to the airport. Flying out of Omaha on Southwest, we recognized the flight attendant and she recognized us. We had met a few years ago during a wine tasting weekend in Sonoma. She was quick to drop off several alcohol minis in our laps to make the flight go faster. It worked!
