At the end of June, my son and I set off on a 1,700-mile journey from Madison, Wis., to Seattle.
Traveling almost exclusively on Interstate 90, we completed the trip in two and a half days. Along the way, I couldn't help thinking of the literary voices who extolled the romance of traversing the continent, of experiencing the vastness and variety of America.
While our 21st century sojourn was consistent with the changes in our new century-ease, swiftness, comfort-some things about our land remained constant. The reminders of the past, the transformation of the present and the hope for the future shaped my reflections.
As we traveled across eastern Minnesota, we encountered images of the present and future. The fields were dotted with eerily futuristic wind turbines. While gazing at a cluster of them, we passed a curio shop along the road.
A small windmill stood by the store, and in a brief moment, the windmill and a wind turbine appeared in my direct line of vision, a commentary on our country's need for power.
We spent our first night in Mitchell, S.D., at a Holiday Inn Express (note the need for speed), one of the cleanest motels I have ever encountered, affirming my faith in people's pride in their products.
I ran early the next morning and discovered Dakota Wesleyan University.
As I ran through the pristine campus, I noted the McGovern Library, with a statue of the McGoverns at the entrance. I flashed back to the turbulence of the 1972 election, McGovern's failed candidacy and the seemingly endless war in Vietnam.
The present, I thought, also contains the past.
The vast, empty stretches of eastern Montana, home to Native American reservations, gave way to the Rocky Mountains.
We stayed the second night in Bozeman, home to Montana State University and a lively downtown. We ate at John Bozeman's Bistro, and agreed that it was the finest meal of the trip. Quality dining, I noted, is not restricted to big cities and big price tags.
Our brief trek through northern Idaho proved the worthiness of my son's turbo-charged Subaru WRX with all-wheel drive. At times I feared he was having too much fun weaving through mountain passes, but I reassured myself of his superior driving skills and the suitability of his vehicle to the challenging terrain.
We lunched in Coeur d'Alene at Hudson's Hamburgers, which serves hamburgers, cheeseburgers, soft drinks and pie. That's all -- no side dishes. The lunch counter was full, and we had to wait, but the wait was worth it.
This slice of Americana reminded me of the "Cheeseburger, cheeseburger" skit from "Saturday Night Live" in the John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd era. By the way, the burgers were fantastic!
When we arrived in Seattle, the physical journey ended and my reflection began. I thought of Walt Whitman's "Song of the Open Road," and the lines, "You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here,/I believe that much unseen is also here."
As my son embarks on a new chapter of his life's journey, so do I. Nearing the end of my teaching career, I, too, will soon take another journey. To travel is to seek, to experience, as Whitman writes later in the poem, "To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls."
The trip was long, but worth it. Father and son, seeing the land and seeking to know our continuing place in it.
Healy is English department chair at Dubuque Senior High School, adjunct professor at the University of Dubuque and author of "Becoming a Master Teacher: A Guide to a Successful Career in the Classroom," published by Hickory Grove Press.
