by Robin Raygor Swimming Frank says we’ll be home by Christmas. I want to believe him. We’ve . 1 . 1started when we decided to see Niagara Falls. We never had a honeymoon because Frank was so busy with his job. I really don’t know very much about his job except that he was always going places and that he always had to wear a long coat, even in the summer. One day over breakfast Frank said “ Honey, I think we should see Niagara Falls.” I couldn’t believe it. We had never so much as gone to a movie together in eight years of marriage. I was a little nervous about the trip but it seemed important to Frank so I-didn’t say anything. The funny thing was, when we got to Niagara Falls, Frank didn’t seem that interested in it. He threw a cigarette over the edge but I noticed that he didn’t even watch it fall. Before I knew it he was back in the car looking at a map. He said he wanted to show me Lake Michigan. He marked our route on the map with a ball-point pen, putting a little heart with our names in it out in Lake Michigan. It was near the “ thumb” and it looked like Michigan was trying to get a grip on us. I thought maybe we would stop in Chicago for a day or two but Frank drove right on by it. It seemed like we hardly ever stopped. Sometimes, when he thought I wasn’t looking, Frank took these little white pills to keep awake. When he got really tired we’d pull into a motel but only for a few hours. Sometimes we’d stop just long enough for me to take a shower so I had to do a lot of my sleeping in the car. They have this place in Michigan where people come from miles around to feed these carp. The carp are so thick that birds are walking around on their backs. I wanted to feed them but Frank said we had to get going. I remember after that we went past a place where my parents took me smelting when I was about seven years old. The smelt all come up out of the big lake to spawn and people wait for them at night with nets. I remember there were fires along the shore and the water looked like black glass. It was cold and you been driving for as long as I can remember. could feel the wind off the lake. My father was worried about us going too near the water. He tied us to my mother’s waist by big braided ropes and made her stand way up on shore. My rope was scratchy and smelled like tar but it made me feel safe. My mother said that if I got carried away by the current I would be swept out into the big lake. She said it like the current could come up on shore and get me. I thought about telling Frank about it but he looked so intent on his driving. After Michigan we went further west. We saw Mount Rushmore for a few minutes and then went on to the Rockies. When we crossed the desert Frank seemed to relax a little. Once he even turned on the radio for a little while but we were a long way from any towns and couldn’t get any stations. When it got dark, Frank actually put his elbow out the window and drove with one hand. He didn’t smile exactly, but once in the moonlight, I saw his face kind of relax. The desert seemed like home to me somehow. Not like it was where I grew up in Michigan, but like I knew what things meant there. In the moonlight it looked like the top of the quilted bedspread I had as a girl. I imagined I was sliding under the desert as I drifted off to sleep. I dreamed that the desert animals all came up to me. The foxes, the mice, the owls, even the snakes and lizards. Their faces were pale but friendly in the moonlight. They wanted me to tell them something important. I did; I told them the most important things they had ever heard but after I woke up I couldn’t remember what I had said. Frank asked if I had been dreaming. I said “ no honey, I was just sleeping.” F J L rank takes his driving very seriously. He almost always has both hands on the wheel unless he’s smoking a cigarette. He drives exactly the speed limit and when you go around a curve that has its own speed limit sign, Frank slows down to that speed. At Yellowstone I didn’t expect to but we did see Old Faithful. It happened to be going off when we pulled up and Frank let me get out of the car to get a better look. People in the parking lot were talking about it being a wonder of nature. I thought it was sad, that water coming up over and over again and still having to go back underground and wait for another chance. I had always wanted to see Morning Glory Pool. When I was little, my parents gave me a little stereoscopic viewer and one of the first wheels I got was Yellowstone Park. It had the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and bears begging for food but the best picture was the deep blue depths of Morning Glory Pool. I had spent the whole morning thinking about how to tell Frank I wanted to see it and when it came time I just blurted it out. Frank said “ sure honey, if you really want to.” It was toward the back of a series of pools and I got pretty far from the car. It was a little smaller than I thought it would be but that didn’t spoil the effect. The pool was a little scary to look into, all that deep blue calling out to you. It got narrow at the bottom but then I thought maybe it’s just far away, like railroad tracks coming together in the distance. Maybe you could just keep on going down and it would be nice and warm and it would get dark but there would always be room for your arms. We got to the Grand Canyon just as the sun was coming up. Frank didn’t get out of the car but he told me to go have a look at it. It was much bigger than I expected and all the colors made me dizzy. It seemed like I could spread my arms and fly down into the canyon, banking around the towers of red rock like a condor. Looking over the edge I could feel myself dropping toward the floor of the canyon like a pearl in a bottle of shampoo. I wanted to stay longer but I knew Frank was getting impatient in the car. When we got to California Frank drove straight to the ocean. “Well honey,” he said “ this is the Pacific Ocean.” It was kind of a gray day and it looked like it might rain. Frank just sat there in the car looking out at the water like it was a fallen tree blocking the road. After a while, he got out the maps again. We had lots of maps. It seemed like every time we stopped for gas Frank would buy more maps. He’s talking about seeing the Mississippi now and I’d like that. All that water flowing into the Gulf and all those fish, swimming to stay in one place and never knowing what they’re going to do next. Maybe I could get into the water somehow and tell them about my trip. I’d like to be home for Christmas but I guess it’s up to Frank. Robin Raygor is a writer living in St. Paul. Constance Lowe is a visual artist who lives in Minneapolis and teaches at MCAD. Designer Gail Swanlund is a frequent contributor to the CSQ. Clinton St. Quarterly—Fall, 1989 25
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