Yes, Dotise, they have kept in touch with some of the kids they met. Dana has a pen pal in California, a fellow horse lover. Interestingly, these two girls actually write letters to one another on real paper and send them in the mail. That doesn't happen much anymore! (I think it's because they like to put horse stickers all over the envelopes.)

Both Adam and Dana have huge instant message Buddy Lists and keep in regular -- often daily -- touch with kids they've met in their travels. The Web is such a fabulous way for them to keep these relationships going. I wouldn't be surprised if, at some point in the future, they end up visiting some of these friends they made in their younger travel days.

I'm particularly delighted about one of the households they keep in regular touch with through their instant messaging. My high school pal, Rhonda, one of my dearest friends in the world, moved to Nashville about a dozen years ago. Her husband, Charlie, is an auto worker, and they moved south to follow work when GM shut its plants near Boston and opened the big Saturn plant in Spring Hill, Tennessee.

Rhonda has two beautiful kids, Erin and Paul, who are a little younger than Adam and Dana, and on our "Ribbons" journey, we stayed with them for a few days. Rhonda and I have known each other since we were 14, when I was in love with her cousin Rick. After he broke my heart, we remained friends. Rhonda was the only person I’d made plans to visit on our American journey.

She and I sat watching our four children, marveling at how blessed we were to have them and hoping they'd come to know and like each other, continuing the chain of friendship we'd begun some 30 years earlier. Well, the kids hit it off, and they "IM" each other on a regular basis. They'd been at it for months before I even realized they were keeping in touch. Rhonda and I think that is just the coolest thing in the world. Even if she and I don't connect as often as we should, we know our kids are keeping our families connected.

Let me take you to Rhonda's house in this quick excerpt from "Ribbons":

Our kids played together in the cul-de-sac, while Rhonda, Charlie and I drank beers on the front porch. Charlie’s a traveler. Real travelers know geography, even of places they haven’t been to yet. I described our route, and Charlie sat back and smiled, visualizing the Stonehenge of old Cadillacs sticking up in Amarillo, the jagged reaches of the Sawtooth, the forested shores of Lake Huron. This is a guy who, years ago, got in a car with a few buddies and drove from Boston to Yellowknife, just to see what a place called Yellowknife looked like. They spent a few hours there and drove home. I understood completely.

Rhonda’s house had been a psychological safety net. It was a familiar destination. A place where we’d been expected. Somewhere with people who cared about us. A chance to stretch out and hang around a house with a yard and lots of rooms and a washing machine and a kitchen with food. A visit with friends. A point from which I could turn around and go home if something wasn’t right about this trip and still feel the venture had been worthwhile.

We left Rhonda’s driveway and left the safety net behind. We were on our own, for the next 10,000 miles. We drove into America, and it embraced us.
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Smilinize, I'll be back with some Missouri to D.C. suggestions for you shortly!