I was 15 years old the summer I covered America’s western half in a bus with 20 other teens from around the state of Kansas. We started our trip from Mission, Kansas and within 3 weeks we had hit Nebraska, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and finally, back to Kansas. We slept in Church basements in our sleeping bags, shopped along the road for picnic food to consume in State Parks along our route, and ate breakfast every morning in little cafes along the way. I don’t remember much about evening activities, I’m sure we had fun. What I do remember is falling in love with everything American Indian. By the time our bus entered the 4 Corners area in the Southwest, I wanted stay forever. I have to say, that was one of the most amazing times of my life.

When you are 15, or at least when you were 15 in the 1950s, you didn’t have a concept of America’s history before 1776! Suddenly, there I was, standing where the Pueblo Indians began building their world ten millennia ago.

Chaco Canyon , Mesa Verde and the New Mexico dessert floor are memories I will keep the rest of my life; they have not faded over the last 50 years.

Have you ever taken a trip to the National Parks in America’s Southwest? Have you felt the pressure against your chest change as you walk to the edge of the Grand Canyon? Have you ever looked out over the Hoodoos of Bryce Canyon? How about Zion National Park for a great hiking experience? If your answer is “no”, let me tell you, you have missed out on a major part of the United States!

When I married Arch, we discovered we both had a love for road trips and National Parks. It was 5 years ago this month that we made our last road trip. Arch had been diagnosed with cancer and he wanted one more tour of our favorite part of America. We had become used to packing the car for 3 week-long road trips. We could pull it together and hit the highway within 24 hours. When he completed his radiation and first round of chemotherapy, the doctors encouraged us to take the time to enjoy each other and the parks one more time.

The first time we went to the Grand Canyon, Arch was as overwhelmed as much as I was. He had scoffed at my desire to go, said he had seen it. When I asked when, he said he had flown over it hundreds of times! It was then my turn to scoff! Flew over it! At 30,000 feet! Ha!

To say he was overwhelmed might be understating his reaction. He stood and smiled every few yards as we walked along the edge.

 With Arch’s health being a major issue, I asked him to be seated on a park bench by the edge while I walked down a trail for a short distance to get some photographs. When I returned, PANIC! No Arch! I ran back and forth like a crazed person, calling his name. Finally, I heard “I’m down here.” DOWN HERE! WHERE DOWN HERE? I peered over the edge and my darling 78 year old daring fighter pilot had climbed down the canyon edge and was sitting on a rock outcropping, maybe 12 to 15 feet below enjoying the view. What a smile he had on his face! His climb back up took both of us pulling and pushing....we are lucky we didn't end up at the bottom of Grand Canyon.... the hard way!

I think his favorite National Park was Bryce with all of those crazy Hoodoos. They struck Arch as very funny, he loved them. It was downright cold there that day, very windy, but we braved the elements and spent as much time as we could, stopping at every viewing point for as long as we could handle the temperature. We didn’t pack parkas for the trip, it was May!

As I spent time in those beautiful natural miracles, I realized they were the playgrounds, hunting grounds, home to early American Indians. Long ago, at the end of the Ice Age, the Paleo-indians hunted among the magnificent hoodoos of Bryce Canyon. Puzzle pieces of ancient artifacts have been gathered leading scientists to believe that the Ancestral Puebloan (Anasazi) Indians lived in the Bryce Canyon vicinity over 2000 years ago. It is thought that they entered the area to harvest pine nuts and hunt rabbits, but the environment there was harsh and other places offered a better life. Bryce Canyon was established as a National Park in 1928.
This love of our National Parks, my fascination with the Anasazi Indians, and the memories Arch and I made on our trips, have turned my painting in a new direction. I would be excited about it, but I’m still researching, still experimenting. Excitement won’t come until I am sure of myself, more directed. One thing I will say about this new style and medium….it sure is different than all of my previous paintings! With luck, I will have really new stuff for Art in the Vines in June!