Thanksgiving, 1997. We went on the classic southwest road trip, driving south and then west. We checked out the Grand Canyon, Petrified Forest, Sunset Crater, Monument Valley, Casa Grande, Saguaro Park, and Taliesen West. We ran into colorful and free-spirited people, many of whom were also having a classic southwest road trip.

From young German women to aging hippies, it seemed like everyone was trying to find something in the landscape, or perhaps themselves. As the temperatures rose, so did our spirits. In Tucson, we hung out with Una's cousin Sam, for whom the novelty of ordering a beer in a bar and actually getting it hadn't worn off yet. In Phoenix we explored the nightspots, and in Santa Fe, we ate like royalty at the Coyote Cafe.

God smiled on us during the trip. We narrowly missed several snowstorms both leaving Colorado and coming back. The 75 mph speed limit allowed for huge distance gains, and the skies were clear the entire time.The vast stretches of landscape allowed plenty of time for inner thought and reflection. We talked, we listened to audio tapes like The Great Gatsby, some cheesy Star Trek audio novel, and the Power of Conversation.

We had a blast. We experienced life from moment to moment. Sure, we had hotel reservations and such, but we also lived vicariously and with days and nights free from appointments and commitments. We saw life on the cusp of experience and romance, and we also drank ourselves silly from time to time. With our minds clear, with our batteries recharged, and with the seed of doubt firmly planted in our minds, we careened towards the end of the year.

We spent the Christmas holiday in Toronto (where else?) at the tail end of 1997. It was the fourth time that year we were to be in Toronto, but it ended up being the best. We'd become accustomed to seeing certain people, and certain parts of Toronto. We had it down to a science. A week before flying, we would send a flurry of emails, and depending on who emailed back, and who we hadn't seen the previous visit, that determined our social agenda, outside of family commitments.

And this visit proved to especially fruitful as far as seeing old friends that had been off working in different parts of the world. A cosmic conjuction, a simple twist of fate, it was like old times (for Una). High school crowds, college crowds, library school crowds, they were all there. But the other part was that we knew we probably wouldn't be back there again for at least a year, if not longer. So in a sense, we were seeing Toronto with new eyes, seeing old friends in a new light, greedily devouring the experiences with a bittersweet aftertaste knowing that it would all end.

Over the past several months a cloud of mortality seemed to follow us. The trip unfolded with wave after wave of old (and older) friends that we would see once, and with luck, again in a few years. Of course, the whole winter solstice/new year symbolism lent an added dimension of reflection to the festivities. We did our fair share of symbolic celebrating by buying new clothes, new jackets, new shoes, new music. In fact, we had to bring back an extra suitcase to carry all the stuff.

We hooked up with some old friends, some of whom we hadn't seen in 3 years. We drank a gallon of sangria, bar and club hopped, crashed parties, and tried teaching each other stupid jokes. It was like old times, and it was a foreshadowing of the new times to come. And at the end, on New Years Eve, we crossed the threshold into 1998 at Big Andrew's house, listening to old LP's from the eighties and techno music from Japan, drinking champagne, and catching up before we had to leave. It will be years before we see them again.