Michigan to Ohio

September 9

I woke up in the van this morning ahead of Razelle. The window glass was decorated with raindrop diamonds left over from last night's gentle rain. Dawn was becoming daylight. My cheek was still swollen and tender to the touch, but I noticed that I could taste something around the stitches in the gum where the lost tooth had been. I tried to squeeze my cheek toward the stitches to see if this would help drain the abscess in it. I'm not sure how successful this was, because I didn't detect anything with my tongue, but, the swelling seemed to have been reduced by this. This is the first positive sign of any progress in the saga of the dratted tooth that has given me grief throughout this whole trip. This morning, as I ran my tongue over the stitches in the gap where my tooth had been, I rolled the idea around in my mind – with a quaint sense of gallows humor – of renaming this blog "The Tooth and the Van" instead of the Rod and the Ring, because these two nouns have been more of a running preoccupation (with me, anyway) than our respective "bionic" parts have been.

I must admit by now, however, that the van has finally given us a sense of being our home on wheels. We had a very comfortable good-night's sleep last night in our van, and we willingly chose it over sleeping indoors. This had to do with Razelle's allergy to dogs. Our hosts' large dog is an integral part of their family activities. Sleeping in the van accommodated everyone very nicely. I went into the house to take care of my morning routine and the dog started barking at me – as if we hadn't been "buddies" the evening before. Short memory, I don't know. He woke the house while I tried to let everyone sleep.

Our host went out and got bagels and lox for us. When I lived in Toledo and we occasionally came up to Detroit, we would often stop for bagels in this town. The gesture was special for that reason alone. Razelle joined us about the time the bagels arrived, but her favorite ones, the garlic bagels, had been left behind accidentally at the bakery. Oh well. There were other flavored holes to eat around, slathered with cream cheese and festooned with lox. We did without the garlicky ones very nicely, thank you, and breakfast was wonderful. Our friend in Beer Sheva even joined us all for breakfast via a video call while we were gathered around the table. Isn't technology amazing nowadays?

I learned from my sister that one of my favorite cousins, Lori, had moved to Detroit recently. I sat at the kitchen table while everyone else ate and searched the Internet for a way to contact her and her husband. I found his place of work, called there and, shortly thereafter, he returned my call. Alas, even though these cousins live and work a mere two or three miles away, they were nowhere nearby. They were out of town and I wouldn't be able to pop over and visit them before heading to Toledo. Ya can't win 'em all.

We went for a ride to see the "gem" of this part of Michigan. We were taken to historic Franklin, MI to see its preserved homes and business district and to visit the Franklin Cider Mill, a fixture since 1837. We saw the old mill wheel in action (but now it is turned by an electric motor instead of flowing water). Apples are in season now and vendors were selling them along with honey and other autumn specialties. The cider-making process can be viewed from start to finish, and hot "donuts" and jugs of cider are for sale. Of course our hosts bought cider and donuts. How could they not?

We bid farewell to our friends around mid-day and headed for Toledo. The sky grew ominously dark as we drove and then the heavens opened up and poured rain upon us heavily for the first time in weeks. I'd have to go back through the blog, but I don't think we've used the wipers this intensely since way back in Arizona. At one point I noticed a suspiciously narrow funnel-shaped cloud. I directed Razelle's attention to it, and we stared at it intently. I relaxed a little when I realized it was not swirling, so it wasn't a tornado.

The drive to Toledo takes only an hour roughly and the rain stopped before we crossed the state line to enter Ohio, our 18th state. This is the state of my birth and the state I'd lived in longer than any other. The moment we crossed the state line I had a sense of exhilaration. I had circled the planet (three quarters of it anyway) to get back to my beginnings, and a sense of "journey's end" came over me. Memories flooded in. Even though I was here a little less than a year ago – and often enough during the past several years – this time felt special. Those visits were obligatory business, dealing with my mother's declining circumstances, and I had come solo each time. They were not "fun" visits. This time Razelle and I were arriving here as part of a grand adventure. I was optimistic that we could make this visit into a wonderful reunion with family and friends and the places that formed me as I grew up here. I was also grateful that I hadn't needed to take a short-cut to Toledo at any time during this journey to reach my mother. She has hung on until we could visit her according to the itinerary I'd hoped to follow, and was still following successfully.

The expressway took us right to my old neighborhood. As I got off the exit ramp I saw a man my age holding up a sign stating that he had no job and needed money. I wondered if we'd gone to school together. Here I was, traveling the world, while a conjectured classmate who had lived his life here and had probably fallen on hard times only recently along with so many other residents of this country, was begging by the side of the road. The irony struck me. I never would have dreamed that our respective fates would have been reversed like this. I did not recognize the guy, and perhaps never knew him, but the realization that I was very fortunate was embodied in that moment.

I showed Razelle around my old neighborhood, and drove past the house my mother last lived in and where we all grew up. My horse chestnut tree was gone. I knew to expect this and wasn't disturbed by the void in the lawn where the stately tree I'd planted from seed had once been. I pointed out to Razelle homes of friends and I related all kinds of stories to her from my formative years living here before I had left for Israel to live there for good.

We reached Miriam and Ivan's place and were warmly greeted by Miriam. She showed me her herb garden and the last flowers of the season to still be blooming before autumn weather sets in. Then we went inside. Razelle and Miriam had not seen each other since Maayan's wedding, and Razelle hadn't been to this house since 1993. They went shopping together to catch up on old times and to take advantage of all the coupons Miriam had saved up for the occasion. There were some amazing bargains to be had with these in hand. What better way is there for two women to get reacquainted that to go bargain hunting together? I stayed behind to try to catch up with blog writing and making arrangements to visit people during the brief number of days we were going to be here.

Ivan came home from his studio and we got reacquainted and talked about our trip while Shabbat dinner was being prepared. Isaac was due to arrive from Dayton for dinner, but he arrived later on after we had already begun. We had soup, roast beef and potatoes specially prepared by Miriam the way our mother used to make it and cucumber salad. Miriam is very conscientious about what she eats, and follows Ivan's lead in eating healthy choices. Isaac arrived from Dayton and we talked at length about our lives in Israel and about our trip and about the idiosyncrasies of his job in Dayton. These reminded Razelle of parallel stories from my army service, which she insisted I tell.

The hour grew late and bedtime arrived for all of us. Razelle and I climbed the stairs to go to bed. There were two separate beds in the room which we couldn't push together because of the shape of the room. We didn't mind. We called it a day and went to sleep. We had traveled perhaps the shortest distance between destinations in one day, but we had filled this day with experiences that made counting miles entirely insignificant.