from Two, Two, Two Points of View: HR in black, LA in teal
Prologue: In mid-spring of 2026, a couple of West-Coast Andersons proposed a family reunion that summer. Instead of meeting near where most of the descendants live, John and Dale chose an ancestral cemetery in Paris, Idaho. Here’s an account of our journey there.
Tue, 07-28 In Silver City, New Mexico, high up on a mountain near the Gila forest, weather appeared remarkably calm. After the previous night’s amazing electrical storm we saw come from afar east—a shelf of lightning, with much drama and noise—the morning felt rather placid. When the storm arrived overhead, thunder boomed with huge mile-long electric bolts. Never had I seen such a thing! I didn’t want to leave this stunning monsoon season, but perhaps some meteorological excitement would greet our return.
We packed the car and prepared our pet doves for the days ahead with extra feed and water. Bundled up Foxie, our fur-baby, to stay the week with friend SueT and her dog Xep, who agreed to check in on birds and water the garden every few days if it doesn’t rain.
Wed, 07-29 69°, winds N 1 – 2 miles per hour, 63% relative humidity, dew point 56°, barometric pressure steady at 30.10″, mostly clear, 21-mile visibility, no cloud ceiling, 5:45a. Beat the alarm by mere seconds. Lina reported wakefulness since 3:30. Sweating already. Remembered last-minute items such as gin. Just missed the nearly full Buck Moon setting behind Boston Hill, our historic mining district. Panic gave way to calm acceptance that no prep can be perfect.
Away we went W on US 180 with yours truly steering the first 100 miles. Every vista looked brown through my sunglasses. Up in the high country, five to ten percent of pine trees appeared yellow, perhaps from drought. Crossed into Arizona at Alpine and left our clocks in daylight time. Enjoyed a genuine sarsaparilla, which tasted much like normal root beer.
On the road by 9a. Beautiful drive through forest and red rock Navajo country. During Howie’s driving, I had a bout of double vision that took a few long minutes to subside. What the heck???!!! Extra electricity bouncing through the atmosphere from all the rain and lightning? Otherwise a pleasant start to our journey.
L drove next through lava fields near St John’s, staying on US 191 the rest of the day. I could not sleep along the bumpity road through Apache lands. I resumed at Sanders, noting distinctive Navajo facial features: strong cheekbones, deep brown complexion. Took a brief wrong turn in Ganado; a billboard near Chenile honored code talkers. Clouds burgeoned to big storms on our left.
L breezed along at Many Farms and had to brake and dodge three fearless hounds. Sudden deceleration required a stop to reposition our cargo. She got us to The Beehive State. Windblown and weary, we stretched at Twin Rocks in Bluff and bought art cards at that Trading Post.
Lots of rain and lightning accompanied us into Monticello. There awaited our reserved lodging at Atomic Blue Motor Inn with every quirkiness from its marketing true. Front desk young woman recommended dinner at Gustavo’s, where we beheld numerous raindrops on large windows. Some splattered inside, wetting our table a bit. Mexican food, yes, in ample portions, but no queso.
Arrived in Monticello, UT, by 7p. Our cute little retro motel came charming and clean. After dinner, on the way back to the motel, an exquisite full rainbow arched opposite a beautiful sunset. Beauty abounds all around. Fell asleep by 9pm all the way till morning. A good first leg.
Unpacked enough for evening. Browsed email and websites on laptop. Previewed next day’s itinerary. Brought breakfast kit inside. Found whole experience delightful. Crashed early with full bellies. 448 miles that day.
Thur, 7-30 Monticello, Utah. 62°, W 2 – 4 mph, 55%, dew point 46°, 30.04″ and falling, clear skies, 11-mile visibility, cc none, 5:57a. In the ultra-nostalgic Atomic Blue Motor Inn, room 116. Made coffee for my companion, who tried to return to bed after learning that “seven-thirty” meant date, not time. Cool daddy-o place. Dainty desk measured three feet wide by two feet deep with a shelf above that held a touch lamp. One-piece bucket chair glowed orange beneath me.
Partly cloudy forecast. Atomic Blue provided everything we needed: good night’s sleep, coffee, morning shower, yogurt breakfast. Goal: arrive at Garden City, Utah, on the banks of Bear Lake by 7p for picnic dinner with family in the park.
Filled tank. I piloted to bustling Moab and bought the recreation atlas that I craved. Colorado River offered canoeing, rafting, and lots more. Zoomed past Moab Under Canvas, where we’d rented a tepee years ago. Picked a wide place in the road W of Green River to trade driving.
Napped until Provo where L drove in circles searching in vain for her college domiciles, now replaced by apartments. Felt nauseous. Made do with an acai smoothie, then took the wheel. I-15 vexed with congestion and banality. Switched again in Brigham City. Windy way along Logan River delighted despite two one-lane closures. Gazed down at spectacular Bear Lake, then descended to it.
Stopped in Provo to try to relive some old memories of places I lived when I attended college there in the early 1970s. Hopeless. Everything was different. Huge ugly apartments displaced pleasant little old houses where I lived with other students. The university grounds appeared unrecognizable.
Confusion reigned in Garden City until we found Heritage Park, where met the reunion’s initial gathering. On a picnic table I put a big family tree painting I made; family members glued their names on cut-out leaves to the tree. We said our hellos and introductions to many we’d never met.
Dusk: stayed on good ol’ US 89 to Paris, Idaho. Arrived at the Pied Piper in the pitch dark. Had to call to ask Sharon Smith, our host, to turn on a light. There! One of the area’s largest pipe organs greeted us in the front space. Sharon showed us kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom and expounded on area history. She and Linda shared astounding similarities: birthplace (China Lake, California) and university (BYU). Moved in most stuff. Slow-slow wi-fi put kibosh on using laptop, but phone received 5G. Settled in amidst welcoming surroundings with great gratitude. Shy daughter and look-alike lodger kept to themselves. No breakfast, apparently—just one B. Slept at last. 438 miles today.
Fri, 07-31 Paris, Idaho. 49°, NNW 1 – 3, 100%, dew point 45°, 30.10″ and falling, clear skies, 9-mile visibility, cc none, 6:49a. In the Pied Piper upstairs bedroom, I sat at a two-foot deep niche on a low chair under a dim lamp. L wrote, propped up on the bed. Slept pretty well despite the bed’s coffin position (feet towards door). Both our phones needed charging with our only transformer. Downstairs, I performed my morning exercises in the organ hall. With coffee unavailable in the kitchen, I snuck a quick demitasse outside.
Awoke to cooing pigeons that morning. Looking out the window of our two-story room, I saw horses in a field and a big, old scenic barn. Learned of a charming pastry shop two blocks from Sharon’s. We dressed and walked there for breakfast and tried to preorder donuts for the family gathering. Alas, the owners said they only serve what they make each morning, then close up shop. The couple hailed from Albuquerque; her bedazzling acrylic paintings filled the walls.
We requested coffee and donuts for our breakfast and marveled at the local crowd standing in a line behind us. Nephew Chris and partner Jamain joined us just in time to get delicacies for themselves. We enjoyed a nice leisurely repast together, making plans for a few local hiking adventures. Those donuts tasted pretty yummy! I picked up a loaf of sourdough to share at our upcoming big family dinner.
Sharon kindly invited the family to see her home organ and arranged for the 1889 Paris Tabernacle to open for us later. She also told us of a close-by campground with a spring at the top that provides all the water for the town. How lucky they are!
Regrouped and drove to Paris City Cemetery. A pop-up provided shade for many seats and standees. One member after another testified various bits of these ancestors’ lives and times. A Presbyterian-raised Pythagorean animist, I found the Mormon worldview curious. A lovely ceremony followed family introductions, as we hadn’t seen each other for many years. Some of us older folks shared memories and tales. Thomas Minson and Catherine Ward and a second wife and baby, who both died in childbirth, all rested next to each other. Catherine mothered Eliza, our common ancestor, my great grandmother. Thomas and Catherine both immigrated from England.
As a toddler, I remember rocking with an older Eliza, side by side on a patio swing while she warmed her knees with stockings rolled down to her ankles. I felt amazement that that vision still resides in my brain. I can remember other things from my grandparents home in those days: my teenaged aunts, romps with cousins through the walnut orchards, getting filthy from head to toe, climbing trees, and falling among the wild grasses of the orchard. Cousins galore made us a huge family. Great aunts, daughters of Eliza, lived next door and at the top of the hill, and my own aunts and uncles and cousins gathered for holidays.
Numerous relatives ambled over to hear the mighty pipe organ. Sharon demonstrated and elucidated. Incrediburgable!
Toured the historic Tabernacle with one Mr. Cook in his white shirt and black tie. He laughed when I jested “Hear about the skunk who went to church? He had his own pew,” and our guide pledged to steal the joke.
After examining the city museum, we rode with Chris and Jamain across the Bear River Canal to Montpelier for lunch at Rooster’s Grazing. Bought screwdrivers and leftover containers at Second Time Around thrift store. Went home to rest.
After rising from a much-needed nap, we hung out in a nearby rented house with brother Tommy and clan, who trekked all the way from South Carolina. His daughter Stacy came with her son and another niece, Shay, and her four children. We chatted for a long time, reminiscing about our father and grandfather, Eliza’s son. I learned lots, some funny, some sad, around my father’s escapades. We heard much family lore over the years of Grandfather Tom’s foibles. Every family claims its rascals! And my grandmother Jenelle was the angel.
Motored in the darkening dusk up to Paris Springs Campground for another go at my leftover queso fries and a much-anticipated IPA. Grand tall trees there. We found a picnic table among them in the beautiful quiet calm campground. We could hear a babbling stream nearby in the evening hush. We originally wanted to camp, but found no sign of this place online. With the scent of pine wafting on the breeze, we slowly relished our repast as all that life surrounded us.
Returned home and visited with Sharon, who studied English at BYU, where she met her husband. Family photos of their seven children lovingly displayed on the walls. Sharon spoke with fondness of their accomplishments as adults. Looks like they created a fun family life there. We learned that husband Kelvin, now passed, built the home to house the biggest organ in Utah—even bigger than that at Salt Lake or in Paris. That was his thing: organs. He died at age 62, cancer. Sharon presented as cheerful, friendly, interesting, and amazing.
Tired and more tired, I nonetheless forced self into into the shower for a shampoo. Yay! Crawled into sack pondering all of life’s twisty turns.
Sat, 08-01 Paris, ID. 50° SE 2 – 4, 79%, dew point 42°, 29.99″ and falling, clear, 9-mile visibility, cc none, 7:25a. Happy August! Second and final dawn here in the organ house. Felt refreshed. The lodger at last spoke a couple words: good and okay. L busied downstairs. Glad for kindnesses and connections and my curious mind, but holiness I can do without. Shop already closed, so no more donuts. Obtained more ice from swell-gal Sharon. Ate Life and granola. Finished cow milk. Packed, loaded, said goodbye.
Low tire pressure warning light vexed. No air at town’s only convenience store, but a Fix-A-Flat brought backup. Met Dale, Chris, Jamain, Jen, and Jessica at Paris Springs trailhead. Hiked 300 yards to fountainhead of freshness—lots of it. Wow!
Drove five miles with J up to Ice Caves and saw all ages rappelling. Tommy and Company also showed up. Felt real cool inside with a hunk of glacier lingering.
Later, sitting in the front seat back to Garden City, Chris enjoyed my music mix. Mike’s Apple Grocery charged high prices for kombucha, Red Bull, cookies, garlic butter, etc. Tourist haven big-time. Dale in condo made famous quesadillas with almond flour tortillas. Girls and boys and gr’ups devoured the entire sourdough loaf. One daughter looked fair-haired, the other brunette. Attempted nap on couch as others came and went.
Followed Dale to Rendezvous Beach at S end of Bear Lake. Andersons occupied a big pavilion by parking lot and dark green pop-ups on shore. I dismayed at loud generator nearby and the confusion of jet skis, plastic everything, people desperate for amusement.
After many morning adventures, we met for lunch around 2:00 at Rendezvous Beach on Bear Lake. We played in the lake, visited. I waded out to chest high and gabbed with brother Dale. Heard stories of daughters Jennifer and Jessica—both beloved, charming young women—and their progress in college and plans for the future. While alive, my mother adored them and tended to them when they were young. She would be so proud of them now. We all enjoyed a wonderful potluck of BBQ, potato salad, slaw, salad, fruits—everything delicious and plentiful. I made the rounds, able to hold delicious conversations, catching up with my sister Charlene, brother Richard and sister-in-law Annette, and my niece Shay with her amazing children, Wes, Lucy, Parker, and Jake.
Headed out 6-ish after hugs and kisses and sweet goodbyes. We always need more time. A pretty drive showed green and wholesome vistas through Idaho, Wyoming, and then Utah. Our route encompassed scenic countryside, skipping the cities. We drove only a few hours to Coalville, spending the night in a deluxe hotel.
Crossed briefly into the Cowboy State to fill tank in Evanston. Descended back to Utah and found lodging in the only nice hotel in town. Hefted three arm loads of belongings up elevator. Munched Cheetos and rice cakes and guzzled IPA. Reserved Cortez as our next night.
Sun, 08-02 Coalville, UT. 56°, NW 2 – 4, 30%, dew point 24°, 29.7″ and falling, mostly clear, 9-mi visibility, cc none, 7:30a. In a Holiday Hills Best Western room 310 overlooking ye super slab. Facing E, we could see our vehicle from up there. Made packet coffee, added gourmet instant, did yog-ups, etc. Solid, broad continuous counter joined desk, chest, microwave, and fridge. L sat in an expansive wingéd comfy chair beneath a circular lamp. Road racket penetrated double glass sliding window. Good rest. Comfort Bay toilet paper! Breakfast: cold eggs, sausage, Tabasco, juice, hash browns.
Forecast high of 92°. Best Western quite nice. Comfy, modern, very clean, high class! But for all that luxury, I found the breakfast inedible. Glad, though, for a good night’s sleep behind me.
Out of there with L as first driver. Mountains and valleys and lakes and streams included Bridal Veil Falls. Again she got us through Provo and on to points S.
T’was deja vu, driving to long time friend Patty’s place in Milburn, but for the cypress tree-row landmark now missing, replaced with a line of buildings. It used to be a lovely, scenic drive from Provo when I lived there. Once inside the gate, we hiked around the overgrown grounds, empty for years with no tenants, except for annual visits from Patty. I remember an artist haven, an oasis, back in the 1980s when Ben and Patty lived there full time and worked constantly on the place. Vegetable garden, pottery, sculpture, and painting studios livened up the scene with family and many friends coming and going. Wonderful nights and days with artists and writers engaged in meaningful conversation. Perhaps I romanticize those days. The compound became a retreat for me, just before leaving Utah for Texas in 1989. Fond memories remain of that outdoor tub heated with a campfire underneath. The hand-built home, full of touching memories and good times, seemed a little lonely now.
My turn at the wheel took us to Spring City and the Bennions’ dwelling.
Lee and Adah, youngest daughter visiting between semesters, greeted us heartily. I admired Adah’s life vision and direction. Lovely to see my old friend Lee. At the table, excellent potter and river guide–husband Joe sat in quiet thought and eventually voiced many opinions and tales. Short visit, but we enjoyed a fabulous pasta dish and lemon pie that Lee made. Toured the studio and the horse barn. A wonderful painter, Lee. Her work astounded me: so very well crafted and poetic in mood. But it’s hard to make a living at that, I know, and her Mom’s Stuff salve business takes first place, as do the horses and homestead, of course. Rightly so. Leaving, we meandered through the quaint small town to the city spring, where water flowed with abundance. We filled a jug at the town font.
On our drive out of town, fires blazed all around, growing worse in Manti. Very worrisome. Sooty and eye-burning air. Topped off tank at Salena and hoped to outrun the pall. Once we hit the interstate, skies cleared and we breathed clean air. Climate change abounds.
Green River KOA, where my family had camped in 1987, seemed run down. L steered us through still-sporting Moab. Came to a complete halt at the Highway 46 junction for 40 minutes because of an accident. I read aloud from Ecocivilization.
Dark at Monticello. I swigged java and munched peanut butter and pressed on E and S, keeping it between the stripes. Missed seeing the Colorado state line. Glad for the street lights of Cortez. Went wrong way at first until finding our reserved lodging north of the town center. With no elevator to our third-floor king bed, we “upgraded” to a ground-level two-double situation. Huzzah for IPA and gin and safety! Turned phone off overnight to avoid alarm.
Arrived late in Cortez, CO. Too exhausted to prepare anything or go out, we appreciated beer and chips for dinner. Refreshing and filling. Our wonderful late lunch with the Bennions sustained us through the night. Slept in the Super 8 Motel in town. 2.5 rating, maybe 1.5. Not very posh. But the bed and linens felt soft and clean. That’s where we spent most of our time, asleep! Last night of our trip, home tomorrow. Travel broadened our horizons. Silver City seemed a dream.
Mon, 08-03 Cortez, CO. 63°, NE 2 – 4, 44%, dew point 41°, 29.78″ and steady, 2/3 clear, 10-mi visibility, cc 20,000 ft, 7:41a. In a Super 8 Motel rated one star at best. Up at 5:00, thanks to bladder. No coffee maker in room but just down the hall. Half-basement level looked out at chest-high parking lot. Snug bed, two-by-six desk. Linda gave me Bennion salve for my tender cuticle. An oversized black and white photo of Mesa Verde had to suffice for visiting. Grateful for Sun.
This scribbler made a decent malt-syrup waffle and ate raspberry yogurt in the breakfast room. Sipped more dark coffee. Packed, loaded, checked out. Never saw a more diverse collection of ethnicities. Filled tank across the street at a grocery store. L piloted.
Neat-o mountains with towers flanked our route S. State line came soon, but Shiprock and Tohachi used up L’s first shift. I love Navajo Diné faces. Gallup scurried on Old 66. New Mexico roads worked well. Expecting desert, I marveled at landscapes replete with green juniper and other taller trees.
Delayed by construction around midday, we brought out substantial snacks. Crossed the Continental Divide twice in a short span of miles near Ponderosa Store. Paused at quaint Quemando to swap duties, buy yogurt-covered raisins, and see a yapping teeny puppy in a cage on a flatbed trailer. Poor sweetie!
L got us into real forest and through large Reserve as rain clouds to the S flashed bright forks. Glenwood’s rustic store let us munch peanut butter and honey on last rice cakes and myself tank up on caffeine. I brought us the final way home with a few big sprinkles and an unseasonal snowfall along the roadside.
Forecast high 96°. Beautiful drive through a sprinkle of rain and stunning mountains, the “back” way, past the Catwalk. What a pleasant drive to our home. Arrived safely, slept well.
L bailed out at SueT’s house to fetch Foxie while I backed the RAV4 into the alley. Opened our dwelling and unloaded. We travel so that we can return.
Went immediately to prepare for my next-morning radio show: Louis Armstrong, Harry Lauder, Herb Ellis, Timi Yuro, Cliff Nobles, Billy Bob Thornton, Barack Obama, Marilyn Monroe, Lee Hazelwood all share the same birthday. L cooked and served Bennion eggs on tortillas with fresh garden tomatoes. Finished dubbing, added Idaho songs to commemorate the trip. Showered without shampoo and hit sack. Gee, but it’s great to be back home!
Travel is good for us, expanding our horizons, visiting those long-loved ones. But there’s no place like home.
