958 miles and turn right
Local photographer and former NIC instructor/administrator Tim Christie sent me a message the other day from mile one of the ALCAN Highway where his GPS told him to "go another 958 miles and then turn right." I think that's the equivalent of "down the road a piece." He was 1,753 miles away and communication was instantaneous. It's still a long way to Tipperary but only in miles.
Tim got me thinking about distances. My daughter was married in Malaysia; I don't think you can get any farther from Idaho and stay on this planet but the trip was doable. Rich Neher, a surgeon from Sandpoint and surrogate father to both my kids, accompanied son Fred and me; it took about 30 hours. A short time later a trip to Philadelphia for a stateside reception took eight hours, including to the Spokane airport.
Not much more than a century ago moving to Oregon meant saying good-bye to relatives for a lifetime; there was no going back and one was lucky to make it to one's destination in the first place. In parts of the world today, a daughter moving 100 miles from her parents' home must say good-bye to parents and extended family forever.
When my daughter left for school in Philadelphia, she was closer to home in travel hours than my son who attended the College of Idaho in Caldwell; he drove and she flew but she could beat him to Spokane.
Senior citizens remember "long distance calls." The family crowded around the telephone and tried to keep the entire call to three minutes, the smallest billing period; we actually managed to get a lot said. In France, the last time I was there, public phones had a unique feature; for 50 cents U.S., I could call anywhere in the world for 30 seconds. Another 50 cents extended the call by another half minute, presumably ad infinitum. Those calls came in handy when we only wanted to let people stateside know where we were and how we were doing. My mother often blew our plans with, "Let me get Daddy." OK, so I always made sure I had double the five franc pieces in case she forgot.
Bob Dylan said, "The time's they are a changin'," and they sure are. To this day, I am not totally comfortable talking to my son in Oregon or my daughter in Massachusetts because I really cannot believe those minutes are included in the long distance package that I purchased. How can I talk to someone thousands of miles away without paying extra?
Some things have improved over the years and travel and communication are two of them. As a friend quoted to me in an e-mail about my recent column on women's sports, "We've come a long way, Baby" and we have. But, I got an e-mail from my daughter today and she did not mention whether she is back home in Boston or still in Malaysia visiting Peng-Hoong's family; I find that a mite unsettling. And I have another friend who delights in not telling me where he is. One time a mutual acquaintance asked where this gent was and I said I thought he was in New Mexico. "No," the fellow said, "I saw him in the Ironwood Albertsons last night; I was wondering where he is today." Heck, this might be too much for a guy who does not know whether his daughter and family are in Southeast Asia or New England.
Tim Hunt, the son of a linotype operator, is a retired college professor and nonprofit administrator who lives in Hayden with his wife and three cats. He can be reached at linotype.hunt785@gmail.com.