The Mother Road

The first year that Steve worked for CBS, he took a summer adventure trip in an RV on Route 66. He triple tasked: he did a newspaper column, a video blurb, and a 4 hour radio show each day. In addition, he was the only driver, as well as the parental control agent for the boys, who were then 16, 14 and 12. There were probably brushes with death as they drove, or as the boys triple teamed their dad. After a week that started at the Santa Monica pier, and included the Grand Canyon, desert rats skittering across the highway, 32 ounce steaks, a giant ball of rubber bands, Ted Drewes concrete custard, and a homecoming at Del Rhea's Chicken Basket in Willowbrook, the boys had memories galore.

Yesterday, with a pocket full of memories, Patrick and his wife loaded their last belongings onto a moving van in Los Angeles, and jumped into their car. They will be heading home from California, where Pat has toiled for 5 fruitful and enlightening years, and Rachel has taught for the last 2. Their last adventure is to use the Mother Road to see the innards of this great country of ours. Their journey will not be as scheduled as the trip of Pat's youth, but the destination will be the same: HOME. I cannot wait.

Pat now works as an online writer for a sports/fantasy sports aggregation site called Rotoworld, and Rachel will be teaching at a Chicago Charter School. Though Pat went to Hollywood with an 8 year time frame, he decide at the time of the writers' strike that the extra three years would not bring him what he wanted most in life- roots. The industry has shifted its interest from situation comedy to reality programming. The pilot system, which provided Pat many employment opportunities, has been altered. Fewer writers will be hired, and those hired will bunker their positions with added fury. There are not too many hands reaching out to help in Hollywood- it is too darn hard to just hold yourself steady. The kids missed family and friends here-and of course, Pat missed his Bears, Hawks and White Sox.

They will be living in a fairly austere basement "apartment" at the Dahl house until they find a place to make "home". They will have their own space, and a private entrance. I am sure they will not get attached to this situation, and I hope I do not get too attached to having them here. I'll bet that they have forgotten how gray it is here from October to April: all their post-college years have been spent in Arizona and LA. Maybe Steve will encourage them to hit the tanning bed for a Vitamin D infusion. There are so many adventures ahead.

For the moment, I am heading down to the basement to assess and polish the living conditions. Steve's idle studio will soon be Pat's office. I have not told the Big Dog that. I am sure he would bark. Not I.