There is a raw potential in the massive scale of forested hills lining the interstate... Cruising Pennsylvania... As dad relates tales of our kin, sprinkled in memory and the local geography, a mental patchwork of vivid colors woven, tangled, laced in my head. We are as American, as the Hindi motel owners who shelter us everywhere... as the poly-diverse Chinese immigrants preparing our take out, as the rough hewn multi-generational US Italian, Irish, new breeds, tattooed and pierced like modern island warriors, in their massive rusty big wheeled battleships.
Colored thoughts of eccentric great uncles mingled with the social political gymnastics, of dealing with the precious still alive... feelings of family housed in a nation of diversity. America the beautiful, America the ugly duckling waiting in intensive to be revised... America where 'Wow' is the only suitable exclamative.
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