Down Memory Lane

I've always loved maps. I have no idea why, and it probably would make for some pretty interesting psychoanlysis to figure it out. But nevertheless, I enjoy reading them. When they're of places I've never been, I can imagine what the lay of the land must be like. When they're of places I have been, I can picture landmarks in place along the little lines. Fun, in a clean, weird, probably psychotic kind of way.

So, in anticipation of next month's vacation, I ordered a pair of Thomas Bros. map books — a Seattle-area one, and an Oregon/Washington one for good measure. Given Dan's sense of direction, it also serves me well to act as navigator while he drives in distant locales.

While perusing the Oregon pages, I scanned along the highways that led to the church camp I went to every summer for probably 6 (8?) years (and a few weekend retreats, too). Who would have thought that the entrance drive off US 26, Arrah Wanna Blvd., would be on the map? Yes, I grew up attending Camp Arrah Wanna, which is apparently from a native language and means "Beautiful Place"—which is exactly as I remember it.* Looking at the map, I can remember the drive, remember seeing the towns of Wemme (WEM-ee) and Welches grow together, remember much time spent at the camp. <sigh>

* Dan was commenting on how difficult all the Native names are in the Northwest, and I've heard that from locals in Orlando as well. We won't go into how long it took me to pronounce "Econlockhatchee" the first time, or "Thonotosassa."

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From the Follow-Up Files: It took a week and one day.