Half Dome Yosemite - Terrell Morris, 1962
He and I would become darn good friends that summer. You could say we grew closer. Spending three days on a bus will do that for you. You grow close to a lot of people. It was the summer of 1962 and there my grandfather and I were, standing at the bus station in Cairo, Illinois, he with his Kodak Retina 35 mm rangefinder around his neck and me with my Kodak Duaflex twin-lens reflex camera, imagining I was the famous lensman Mike Kovak from the TV hit series, “Man with a Camera” staring Charles Bronson.
My grandfather, Terrell and I took the Continental Trailways bus 2,000 miles to California along the famous Route 66. Overall, it was a month long journey of discovery and wonder and I would grow very close to my grandfather and develop what would become my passion for photography.
Terrell and I would take many road trips together in the years that followed. He loved to travel, experience new places and people and record his adventures on film. I still have his cameras and boxes of photos and slides taken on this favorite film Ektachrome that he used and he would tell me, “Expose for the highlights and light the shadows” which of course I did not understand at the time. We photographed and talked about sites along the way and the stunning California scenery that awaited us on our arrival.
Yosemite was the highlight of our trip with its towering redwoods and spectacular mountain ranges. I remember the moment he took this photograph of Half Dome in the Yosemite National Park. Pulling off the winding mountain road into one of the several overlooks we were able to get our first look at the face of the monolith that Ansel Adams himself had made so famous in the photograph titled, "Moon and Half Dome" taken only the year before.
This overlook photo, one of my favorites from our trip, has become a connection to my grandfather, as much as any memory I have of him. I can still see him bring the camera to his eye and with a sense of wonder and amazement smile as he looked through the viewfinder at the Yosemite Valley that summer morning. He was not a great photographer by any definition, but he was a good photographer and he understood the process.. Most importantly he loved taking photos and sharing them with family and friends. .
Our trip would prove to be the start of my passion and interest in photography that has lasted a lifetime and I still share his sense of wonder as I bring the camera to my eye. And I often think of my grandfather and our time together at the overlook in the Yosemite Valley.
I’ve never been on another bus, even to take one across town. Being on a bus for three days does bring you close to a lot of people. And while I wouldn’t trade anything for the memories, three days on a bus! Are you kidding me? No way! Unless of course, it could be with Terrell and Mike Kovak.
A Magnificent Aluminum Machine
Thunderstorms form in the west and rain falls
collecting in pools iridescent, sparkling.
Under the glow of lamplight
Ektachrome colors in the ripples danced.
Light reflected in liquid mirrors hold you
in their mystical magical trance.
Painted people walking by, their images coalesced
as characters in this bus-stop paperback romance.
Strewn on the sidewalk another day's confetti
the ticket stubs lay torn
where the ticket master makes his rounds.
Vivid images still in my mind
among the sights and sounds
of this hot August morn.
Departure times are set.
Voices, obscured by the diesel engines sudden roar,
rise as their heightened anticipation soar.
The sixty or so nervous excited travelers listen
for the announcement,
"All Aboard...!"
The bus depot was in Cairo,
"You know the one, just to the west of us there
at the confluence of the Mississippi and the Ohio River.
With the little pack I carried I bounded up the steps
all 80 pounds of me at best, I feel a sudden shiver.
Not from the humid dampness of this summer morning,
but at the sight of this magnificent machine
This shimmering shining, gleaming polished aluminum spaceship.
I wait for the countdown, T minus 10, 9, 8...
I push back hard against the seat, ready to blast off!
And with a sudden jerk and hiss of hydraulic brakes
we began our journey and, in my imagination,
I was strapped into Mercury Seven,
and in that capsule, I held tight. I was eleven
and in that summer, I would leave the bounds of earth
for my journey to the stars in the heavens.
Godspeed John Glenn.
We traveled along Route 66 on our journey west.
Three days to Santa Monica through Texarkana,
Oklahoma City, Amarillo, Albuquerque
Flagstaff and Needles.
Just my grandfather and me
and there was so much to see.
We made it to the Golden State.
It was bigger than I imagined
and the sights were strange and different
than anything I had seen.
LA to Bakersfield and on to Fresno
Our final stop,
We toured the valley
and the mountains, and there along the way
We drove through a tree –
Can you imagine? We drove through a tree!
That summer when I was eleven
I took a journey to a place of wonder and dreams.
From Cairo to Yosemite
and all the places in between, even through a tree.
And with a little pack I carried we traveled to a place of dreams
in a shimmering, shining, gleaming, polished aluminum machine.