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Montana: The love affair continues

John Steinbeck and I — in addition to traveling with our dogs, being about the same age when we set forth on our journeys, having the same first names, and a lot of the same letters in our last ones — share something else as well.

A mistress.

I have trysted with her three times — as a reporter in the early 1990′s, as a visiting professor in 2007, and as whatever it is I am now. She’s as beautiful and inviting as she was the first time we met — and, I’m sure, as she was 50 years ago, when she seduced John Steinbeck.

“I am in love with Montana,” Steinbeck wrote in Travels with Charley. It was his first trip to the state. “For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love, and it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it.”

He babbled on, as people in love do: “…the mountains are the kind I would create if mountains were ever put on my agenda … the calm of the mountains and the rolling grasslands had got into the inhabitants … the towns were places to live in rather than nervous hives. People had time to pause in their occupations to undertake the passing art of neighborliness.”

“Of all the states it is my favorite and my love.”

Steinbeck — apparently getting into being “out west” — stopped in Billings and bought a cowboy hat. In Butte, he bought a rifle. He dipped down into Yellowstone National Park, but after seeing Charley’s reaction to bears that approached his car — “He became a primitive killer lusting for the blood of his enemy” — he turned around and spent night in Livingston.

Ace and I stopped in Billings, in Bozeman, in Butte, and have arrived in Missoula — with no new hats and no sidearms. I am considering investing in a pair of gloves though. Winter is clearly on the way. People are stacking their wood, squirrels are hoarding their nuts, and the sky is taking on that steelier glow it does here in winter.

Once again, the return to a place I briefly called home has triggered memories. The closer I got to Missoula — winding through the hills alongside the Clark Fork River — the more of them resurfaced, leading me to wonder how I could have temporarily misplaced them, especially those that were only three years old.

I guess, they go into deep storage, like the earliest nuts the squirrels gather — pushed to the back to make room for new ones. But I don’t think I get a vote in the matter; it just happens. Returning to a place seems to make them accessible again; I can — with a little help from a familiar sight, sound, or smell — pull them out of the disorganized file cabinet that is my mind, open them up and say, “Oh, yeah, I remember that now.”

It could be something as simple as the lay of the land — they way grassy golden hills climb up into the big blue sky, a sharp curve in crystal clear river, the golden outline of Tamaracks among evergreen. Just seeing the general scale and expanse of it all triggers Montana memories — even memories that have nothing to do with the scale and expanse of it all.

Nearing Missoula — and (after North Dakota turned bleak) getting to experience fall all over again — I was surprised how the yellows were popping on the trees, and by how many things were popping into my head.

Some of them were from nearly 20 years ago — visiting the Unabomber’s former, still forlorn, shack in the woods; hanging out in radon mines, where people soak in radioactivity to heal what ails them; documenting the influx of celebrities to the state, which back then were becoming as common, and unloved, as deer.

Some of them — memories, I mean, not celebrities — were only three years old, and less dusty: long hikes in the mountains; the little house we rented, dubbed the “shack-teau,” while I was a visiting journalism professor at the University of Montana; the peaceful (mostly) campus; my earnest (mostly) students; and how we chased the muck train — as it began transferring mining waste that had collected in the river outside Missoula 100 miles back east to a little town called Opportunity — for our class project.

Memories that had faded like ghost signs kept returning — of fellow professors; of time spent at the student newspaper, The Kaimin; of a party, or two, or three, or four; and how I didn’t (really, really didn’t) want to leave when the semester was over. Because I flat out loved it.

And therein — on top of returning to a place, seeing and smelling it — is one of the keys to recalling times past, at least for me. Your brain alone can’t always take you back there; sometimes, it needs an assist from the heart.

Comments

Comment from FMvWW
Time November 4, 2010 at 8:26 am

Should have stayed while you had the chance.

Comment from Lynn (in Louisiana)
Time November 4, 2010 at 12:35 pm

As much as I’ve enjoyed the last several posts (which were really interesting as well as great reading), it sure is nice to see some photos of Ace. Weird. I missed him.

Comment from Anne
Time November 4, 2010 at 12:38 pm

Having traveled in Montana before your writing and descriptioons of it now have opened many old files of my own. Full of memories and sights, smells and textures of the great state of Montana. Thank you for the trip down memory lane. I hope Ace is enjoying the scenery as much. anne

Comment from Anne’n'Spencer
Time November 4, 2010 at 7:43 pm

Surely it’s one of the most beautiful of all the states. I have vivid memories of traveling across it when I was just a small child. It’s on my list of places I want to revisit.

Comment from Sue
Time November 5, 2010 at 12:03 pm

How am I going to keep my husband from reading this post? Gary’s been hearing Montana’s siren song and wanting to move there for years. So far I’ve held him off, but this post of yours just might be too persuasive.

Comment from Sandi
Time November 6, 2010 at 12:02 am

Being a life long resident of Montana I’m happy you had a great time here and come back again! I’ve been planning to read Steinbeck’s ‘Travels with Charlie’ for a long time. Reading your posts rekindled that desire. I grew up near Missoula and graduated from UM. I’ve lived on the highline (just south of Canada) where Montana shows a different kind of beauty with its prairie and bad lands. Right now I live in the Bozeman area. Have a great day!

Comment from Terry Ballard
Time November 10, 2010 at 1:57 pm

That is some awesome shot of Ace. Sorry to hear he’s under the weather. Yuji says to tell him hi.

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