My impressions of Idaho began long before this trip — a quick train ride years ago, a drive across the southern edge of the state, and a general sense that Idaho looked a lot like its neighbors. And in many ways, that still feels true. Much of southern Idaho blends visually with eastern Washington and […]
When I finally returned to Western Nebraska, I really wanted to spend some time with Raegan and Wyatt. I hadn’t spent much time with them in the run-up to graduation. And I had planned more time but the detour to Phoenix changed my timing. They understood. So we picked something they would enjoy together. I
Every graduating senior in the Schumacher family gets a scrapbook — birth to age 18 — a tradition that started years ago and has become a rite of passage. Natasha had done a great job beginning Brenna’s, but life on a farm with three kids, jobs, and 4‑H animals meant the scrapbook had fallen off
Leaving Torrey, I felt that familiar mix of satisfaction and anticipation — the joy of finally seeing Capitol Reef, and the quiet excitement of knowing the next chapter was waiting for me on the road ahead. My destination was Nebraska, where I’d promised to help Natasha finish Brenna’s graduation scrapbook. But first, I had a
Utah has five national parks — the “Mighty Five.” Over the years, I had visited four of them. In 2011, Natasha, Brenna, and I camped our way through Arches and Canyonlands, surviving windstorms in our tent and driving a rented Jeep far closer to canyon edges than any of us needed to be. In 2013,
Anyone who has been in my house since 2015 has seen the photograph. It hangs in a place of honor — a swirl of red sandstone, light pouring through a narrow opening, shadows curling like ribbons. I took it in Antelope Canyon on a trip with my son Jeremy, and it remains one of my
After two months in Benson, the desert was warming, the Palo Verde trees were blooming, and my allergies were staging a full‑scale rebellion. It was time to move north. At the beginning of March, I packed up the trailer and drove three hours to Phoenix, where I’d found an RV park that catered to snowbirds
New Year’s Eve found me downtown for the annual chili pepper drop, Benson’s quirky answer to Times Square. The pepper shifts colors all night long, and the big question is always the same: Will it land red or green? This year, it dropped green—a fitting farewell to New Mexico and a bright welcome to 2026.
Texas is a long, big state, no matter which way you slice it, but this year I crossed it differently — trading I‑10 for I‑20. The miles didn’t shrink, but the views shifted, and sometimes that’s enough to make the familiar feel new again. My timing was different, too. I arrived right in the middle
I began my second year of living life on the road exactly where the whole adventure started: Spring Hill, Tennessee. It felt fitting to return to the place where I first pulled away from a stationary life and stepped into this rolling one. While I was there, I visited the Columbia Peace and Justice Initiative’s
