They say there’s enough concrete in the Hoover Dam to build a two-lane highway from San Francisco to New York. I’ve lived in San Francisco and I’ve lived in New York but I’ve never driven from one to the other. I’ve always flown up in the air. My eyes glued to the window, intent on analyzing all the little cracks and crevices of the landscape below, imagining what it would be like down there on that snowy peak or that lake over there. And wouldn’t it be fantastic if I had a horse and a cowboy hat!
When I lived in New York, I often missed my family. I missed the wild coasts of California, my friends from childhood, the smell of rain approaching, and the whistle of wind in the palm trees out front. Now that I’m here, I miss New York. I miss the friends I made in my twenties, the twinkling skyscrapers, the quiet mornings after a snowstorm, and the endless stream of stimulation.
To think this concrete is all I need to get back and forth and that it’s resting in one place somewhere on the Arizona-Nevada border. The thought baffles me a little bit. I mean it’s right there the whole journey just in the wrong place. A physical manifestation of “Beam me up, Scotty!”
I wish San Francisco and New York could be in one place just like all this concrete. I wish they could be thrown together through a black hole and pop out as one kaleidoscopic blend of monumental awesomeness. Skyscrapers edging up to cliffs that drop down into the sea, the Met cuddling up to the Exploratorium, the Brooklyn Bridge painted red... Who knows what it look like! But maybe then everything would be just perfect.