Author: Hilary Lowe

The Cruise Control Culture by Michael Vecchione

Unfortunately, in the electric powered, climate controlled, and pine tree air-freshened vehicles of today, the drive has taken a backseat to the destination. In the movie Cars, a 2006 Pixar Animation Studios production, the history of Route 66 is used as a teaching tool to relate the common roadway to a place of freedom. The main character of the film, Lightning McQueen, is a racecar accustomed to the loose lifestyle and the fame that accompanies being a top competitor in the World Grand Prix. Lightning McQueen is introduced to the idea that it is important, when on the road, to slow down and enjoy the ride that the road offers as much as the destination it is leading to.

https://youtu.be/ggtH05LFF3k

Sally, another main character of the film and a Route 66 local, already possesses this appreciation for the road. In an attempt to pass this appreciation on to Lightning McQueen, she states that before highways were constructed, “Cars came across the country a whole different way…The road didn’t cut through the land like that interstate. It moved with the land…it rose, it fell, it curved. Cars didn’t drive on it to make great time. They drove on it to have a great time.” The film does an excellent job of comparing how roads were used before June 29, 1956, when President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed into law the National Interstate and Defense Highways Act, and how they were used after. Prior to the passing of this piece of legislation, from which came the construction of major highways, driving was not seen as a nuisance or a task that had to be completed before progress could be made on something more significant.

Driving, and the emotions, feelings, and sights that the act produced, was done by many citizens living in the United States for leisure and enjoyment. When interstates and highways became more prevalent in the country, the act and purpose of driving was transformed.  Driving was given a new definition. In the work “Landscape in Sight,” author, publisher, instructor, and sketch artist in landscape design John Jackson claims that the road developed into a place of, “managed authoritarian system of steady, uninterrupted flow for economic benefits” (Jackson 192). With this new purpose, driving became something done as a step to achieve something greater or more pleasurable. The focus of the driver was directed towards to destination and no longer what the journey itself had to offer. Contemporarily, this mindset is overwhelmingly what drivers in the United States have when they enter their vehicle. Whether driving to work, school, or a vacation, most drivers want to know the easiest and fastest way to get to their destination and not necessarily the most scenic or adventurous.

Cars. Perf. Owen Wilson, Bonnie Hunt, Paul Newman. Buena Vista Home Entertainment, 2006. Film.

Jackson, John Brinckerhoff, and Helen Lefkowitz Horowitz. “The Road Belongs in the Landscape.” Landscape in Sight: Looking at America. New Haven: Yale UP, 1997. Print.

“What Exit?” by Meredith L Pymer

What exit are you from?” If you are from New Jersey, I don’t have to specify that I’m looking for the exit you take on the New Jersey Turnpike. Being from Pennsylvania, this obsession with exits made me furrow my brow and wrinkle my nose. I’m not even sure what exit I take to get off at home. However, having dinner with my friend’s family, in which exit 98 merchandise was distributed, I knew that the exit you took in Jersey was apart of your identity as a resident.

Living in New Jersey, you constantly get tourists and vacationers traveling through your state to get to ‘the shore’. Hence the lingo of ‘Shoebe’ and phrase, ‘Benny, go home!’ New Jersey natives struggle with their own identity in the midst of being a popular summertime destination. Other than calling the next New Yorker you see as a Benny, the use of “What exist?” also tries to distinguish a native from a tourist, promoting community.

Unlike New Jersey and their use of exits, Route 66 has gone from being the means of travel to the destination itself. Andrew Wood writes in Two Roads Diverge “After all, this notion of seeking the ‘real’ through travel, and the presumed inauthenticity of tourism whether related to the American roadside or to the broader process of global tourism” (Wood, 70). Wood discusses how Route 66 has become its own tourist attraction where the ‘authentic experience’ is being replicated by the businesses that inhabit the area, and the people themselves who work there. Wood speaks of finding the “efforts to recreate the road by simulation and simulacra that call to question the very authenticity that Route 66 represents”  (Wood, 70). In a sense, the tourists have taken over the once traveled road, that itself was not a destination but a means of getting there.

In contrast Route 66, tourist attraction, thinking about the use of exists in New Jersey residents’ identities can mirror the use of roads to the authenticity of New Jersey. The claim of being from Jersey can easily be supported by proudly proclaiming what exit you take. The road signifies a sense of authentic nature for New Jersey; one may use the turnpike to get to the beach. Tourists are not able to claim their stake of the road, for the exit they take is not inherently relevant to them. In this sense the use of the road aims to limit and reject tourism in New Jersey unlike Route 66, the destination itself.

Historical Website on New Jersey and its Turnpike: http://www.jerseyhistory.org/what_exit/index.html

Sources:

Wood, Andrew. “Two Roads Diverge: “Route 66″ and the Mediation of American Ruin.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 27:1. (2010). 67-83.

River Roads: “Proud Mary” by Kelsey Miranda

Creedence Clearwater Revival-

https://youtu.be/5hid10EgMXE

Tina Turner-

https://youtu.be/EmH4YlNdWAg

In our readings for this week the road symbolized many ideas, primarily the freedom to go anywhere if you have a car and some gas money. It also could symbolize an idea of escapism from responsibility, which can be found in movies that revolve around roads trips and driving across the country.  But before there were roads, there were riverboats and railroads that were used for transportation.  The song “Proud Mary” has a nostalgic awareness within the song that brings the idea of the riverboat as the way to find happiness and freedom. The beginning of the song starts “Left a good job in the city, working for the Man every night and day, But I never lost a minute of sleeping, Worrying about the way things might have been.” This part of the song describes the desire of the rider of the Proud Mary to escape their life from the city.  Despite losing money from leaving their job, the song explains that the rider does not regret their decision. The chorus of the song “Big wheel keep on turning, Proud Mary keep on burning” emphasizes the choice the rider made to go on the riverboat.

The next verse of the song “Proud Mary” discusses the poverty that comes along escapism of responsibility. The verse starts “Cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis, Pumped a lot of tane down in New Orleans.” This part of the song suggests the work the rider did to feed him or herself and make some money. Despite not having a lot of money, the rider in this story experiences freedom.

In the last verse of the song,  “If you come down to the River, Bet you’re gonna find some people who live, You don’t have to worry ‘cause you have no money, People on the river are happy to give.” This part of the song the rider describes the people who live around the river. The rider recognizes that the people around the river do not have a lot of money but they are happy. The song ends with the chorus solidifying the decision of riding the Proud Mary riverboat.  The song is about experiencing freedom by following your dream and living life to the fullest.

The writer of the song, John Fogerty, wrote the song after he received a honorable discharge from the Army Reserve during the Vietnam War.  Although Fogerty never took the river journey on the riverboat queen, he ideas of freedom were inspired about his newfound freedom and the riverboat served as symbol of that.  In an interview with the Wall Street Journal Fogerty admits that always loved Mark Twain’s writing, which inspired him to write the lyrics of the song about a riverboat.[1]

 

 

[1] http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887323648304578494993596953764

“Another Travelin’ Song” – a perfect narrative of The Road’s duality by Jenelle M Janci

https://youtu.be/fvj2OzKnpVM

While it may be painfully obvious, a song that has always captured the spirit of The Road for me is “Another Travelin’ Song” by Bright Eyes. The song’s bumping country bassline propels you through the song, and I can’t help but to see tires spinning while I listen to it. Bright Eyes’ frontman (and my lifelong obsession) Conor Oberst makes his intention clear from the song’s first stanza.

“Well I’m changing all my strings/

I’m gonna write another traveling song/

About all the billion highways and the cities at the break of dawn/

Well I guess the best that I can do now is pretend that I’ve done nothing wrong/

And to dream about a train that’s gonna take me back where I belong”

In this, Oberst sees the road as both a way to a destination and a destination itself, a duality J.B. Jackson notes in “Roads Belong in the Landscape.” Andrew F. Wood speaks to this too, but specifically in relation to Route 66. In that particular case, The Road itself has become a tourist attraction.

Oberst alludes to some mistakes he’s made, and hints that perhaps The Road could be an escape from them. However, there’s still a purpose of returning home.

 The next two lines echo the problems Oberst just introduced us to.

 “Well now the ocean speaks and spits and I can hear it from the interstate/

And I’m screaming at my brother on a cell phone he’s far away”

Oberst sets the scene here – we can clearly see the type of road he is traveling on. I always loved the image of him yelling at his brother, perhaps because I can relate, having three older ones myself. However, after reading Jackson’s piece and seeing the road as a destination itself, this line has new meaning for me. Oberst was trying to use the road to get away from his problems, but modern technology makes it impossible for him to fully escape them. Even on the road, he’s not away from his issues.

 Fast forward to the end of the song, and Oberst realizes this.

 “So I will find my fears and face them/

Or I will cower like a dog/

I will kick and scream or kneel and plead/

I’ll fight like hell to hide that I’ve given up”

Just like how the road offers two options – taking you to a destination or being the destination itself – Oberst sees that he too has “two paths diverged in the yellow wood”: to face his problems, or to run away from them.

 While our in-class discussions have given new depth to this song, my history with it goes way back. I’ve put this on nearly every traveling playlist I can remember. Most memorably, I remember driving home from Ohio on I-80 during Spring Break 2014. My boyfriend and I went to visit my brother, and as with any road trip, it’s a big step to see if you can handle being in each other’s vicinity for that long of a time.

On our way there, my boyfriend got a speeding ticket – our first ever – and he was pretty sour about it for a bit. However, like Oberst had to in the song, he made the choice to let it not ruin our trip and to deal with it when we got home.

I-80 is a straight shot through Pennsylvania, and is pretty monotonous. However, on our way back, we drove through a mountainous area with a beautiful view. I remember putting on this song as we entered that stretch. While we were definitely headed home, in that moment, The Road was its own destination.

 

Road Building: The Board Game by Elizabeth A Yazvac

In class, I was prompted to describe an important or meaningful road in my life. I wrote about a literal road important in my childhood (because this made for a more appropriate writing assignment), but what I discussed in my essay was not the first road I thought about.

The first road I thought about is the one that I build in the board game Settlers of Catan.

catan

 

I laughed to myself and shook off the thought. But after class I was still struck by the idea and importance of roads in Settlers of Catan. Naturally, this led me to think about another board game, Carcassonne, and another board game, Ticket to Ride, and, finally, I ended up where all of my thoughts usually end up – thinking about the video game Skyrim.

In Settlers of Catan, players build settlements on terrain hexes that produce resources when players roll the dice. All settlements must be connected by roads, and, thus, road-building is necessary for expansion and, in turn, victory!

Carcassonne is a tile-laying game during which players construct unique layouts of the medieval French town Carcassonne, with monasteries, cities, and farms all connected by road tiles.

carcassonne

In Ticket to Ride, players build railroad segments connecting cities across the United States. I argue that the railroad holds the same importance as roads discussed in class, and brings about the same notions of journey, travel, and freedom.

Finally, in Skyrim, players can travel from hold to hold along roads and pathways. Straying too far from the road increases the likelihood of running into an aggressive bear, thief, or dragon.

skyrim roads

J.B. Jackson’s chapter “Roads Belong in the Landscape” discusses two roles of roads. First, “as promoters of growth and dispersion”, and, second, “as magnets around which new kinds of development can cluster” (Jackson 190). Roads in the above mentioned games fulfill both of these roles, and through these games we can examine the importance of roads in (sometimes imaginary) worlds other than our own.

First, the role of “promoters of growth and dispersion” is the easiest to understand and examine. In both Settlers of Catan and Ticket to Ride, the roads are literally the only way of expanding. Roads must connect settlements, and railways must connect cities, respectively. On the second point of roads as “magnets around which new kinds of development can cluster,” a similar argument can be made, especially for Settlers. Settlements and cities can only be built along your own road segments.

Road building doesn’t immediately strike me as great board game material. Neither does resource production or laying railway tracks, but all of the board games mentioned in this blog post are incredibly fun. And it has a lot to do with the road as a symbol of freedom and expansion. These games specifically deal with road themes that invoke ideas of romantic Americana, even if they may not take place in America.

The Ticket to Ride board is a map of the United States. The board, pieces, and characters that players assume are taken from a generic early 1900-caricature of the US, at the height of railway construction and travel. Nostalgia for the Frontier and the way in which railroads allowed Americans to conquer the Wild West are apparent in the design of the game. The game makes you superficially happy as you cover the country in tiny train pieces, but, on a deeper level, the game satisfies our inner-American dream. (Even though that dream may be representative of a romanticised version of the past. For example, the way modern day imitation found on Route 66 in the form of 50s diners and old gas stations allows people to experience an “authentic” version of the glory days.) This American dream that lives within us all, that hungers to expand and travel and be free, has an outlet when playing Ticket to Ride, making it addicting and enjoyable.

ticket to ride

In Settlers of Catan, one of the gameplay strategies is to expand across as much of the board as possible with your roads. Players are awarded a bonus for having the Longest Road, so its importance to the game is initially very obvious. But much in the same way that Ticket to Ride is a more accessible way to experience westward travel, Catan is more accessible way for the expression of the entrepreneurial spirit that is a hallmark of the American dream. The explosion of road building as a result from automobile production played a large part in shaping what the road as icon represents. And one thing it certainly represents is the ability to travel wherever you want to go, work hard, and be successful. In Catan, players build roads to connect settlements and cities that produce natural resources used to build said roads, settlements, and cities. It is satisfying to lay down your road segments, construct your own settlement out of resources that you earned for yourself, and watch that settlement flourish into a city. As exciting as it is to watch your pretend cities on the island of Catan produce a lot of wheat, it is more exciting for players because they feel a connection between their gameplay and the opportunity that the road allows – the opportunity to rise from nothing into something.

longest road

There is a reason that these games have roads at the center of their gameplay, and that reason is because the road speaks to our underlying desire to expand and be free. Even if those desires happen at subconscious level, the road evokes a sense of nostalgia for a time when it was easier to travel across country and start life anew. Today, most of us can’t do that. But we can play Settlers of Catan, and that seems to do the trick just fine, too.

Images:

http://kelseykjeldsen.com/game-report-settlers-catan/

http://missgeeky.com/2009/03/18/game-review-carcassonne/

http://www.daysofwonder.com/tickettoride/en/usa/

https://tametheboardgame.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/img_0552.jpg

Life is a Highway by Carlee Cantwell

From the earliest stages of childhood, I was exposed to the idea of the road. At just a few months old, I took my very first road trip to the Jersey Shore. Ever since then, every road trip I’ve ever taken has represented a different milestone. Whether it was the first vacation I took without my parents, the first time I drove a car, or my travels across Ireland and Europe, the road has always represented more than just a journey between physical destinations, but more so a journey in my personal growth. A song that immediately jumps into my head when I think about my journeys is “Life is a Highway”. Although originally a Tom Cochrane song, the version I connect most with is the one done by Rascal Flatts for the movie, “Cars”. In particular the lyrics, “Life’s like a road that you travel on…”, and “Life is a highway, I wanna ride it all night long”, speak to the connections I find between the road and its representation of journey and personal growth.

I believe that many people see the road as a representation of a pathway to achieving their goals. They’ll “hit the road” and get out of their town to achieve bigger and better things. In the movie “Cars”, which draws a lot of its imagery from the stereotypical ideas of Route 66, Lightening McQueen, a young race car is traveling across the country to get to California for a big race. However, he runs into the town of Radiator Springs, an old town that lost all its visitors when the new highway was built. From traveling this stretch of road, McQueen learns that life isn’t just about all his shiny trophies, but about enjoying the road you’re on and embracing the journey itself. In the movie, some of the secondary characters like Mater the Tow Truck and Doc Hudson fondly reminisce on the old times in Radiator Springs. While the road holds old memories for them, like many roads do for people today, they also recognize that their memories aren’t how things will be forever. In the end of the movie, the town recieves a revival after McQueen brings his crew through it, providing the typical children’s movie happy ending, just as Route 66 has achieved its own “happy ending” as a tourist attraction. While the people who travel the roads are on physically and personal journeys, the roads themselves take journeys as well. Route 66 for example went from being the route to get you places to being THE place to visit. Old popular roads are replaced with bigger, newer highways. Towns whole landscapes shift because of the use of one road or another. Some people may say a road is just a road, but I think the roads we travel play an integral part in our own stories and experiences. As we travel along the fast-paced highway of life, the exits we choose to get off at dictate our direction, and when old places and memories are replaced it can feel like a part of our journey is gone forever.
Image: Original Cars Movie Poster (2006)

A Yinzer: The Most Unconventional Philadelphia Icon There Ever Was by Elizabeth Yazvac

I wanted to like Rocky. I really tried to get into the film, and to feel inspired as he punched meat and jogged around in gray sweats to instantly recognizable themepittsburghese music. I understand the underdog story, and its appeal (especially in the context of the film’s release coinciding with the country’s bicentennial), but, in the end, Rocky was just… okay.

I went into the movie thinking that I was already at a disadvantage being a yinzer. A yinzer is a stereotypical Pittsburgh native, and I believe that a lot of Rocky’s appeal comes from the classic shots of Philadelphia, and the embodiment of the struggle of “ethnic white” and lower-middle class Philadelphians. I assumed that, by my resident alien status in this city, this was something I was just not going to be able to understand. (Like, for example, the term water ice. If it’s ice, then obviously it is water… )

But after watching the movie and reading the Leab article, especially the sections about the struggle of the ethnic white class, I was struck by the similarities between the quintessential Philadelphian and the yinzer. A yinzer may be hard to describe to someone who hasn’t experienced their, shall we say, charm. I highly recommend watching a few Pittsburgh Dad videos on YouTube to fully immerse yourself in yinzer culture, but, generally speaking, a yinzer is a blue collar worker who speaks with a heavy Pittsburghese accent, bleeds black and gold, loves Donnie Iris (pronounced Dawny Arrris) and puts french fries on everything (see attached image of a “salad” featuring fried buffalo chicken tenders and fries, YUM!, my kind of salad!!). Yinzer takes on an almost pejorative meaning, portraying the idea that these Pittsburgh people lack sophistication, that the off-brand pop they drink and their rundown row homes in the Pittsburgh hills are indicators of their lesser social status. But the rundown row homes are not exclusive to Pittsburgh. In fact, Leab discusses the similarities between many ethnic neighborhoods – “tiny front yard”, “neat but worn furniture”, chintz lamps.

salad

The similarities between a Yinzer and a Philadelphian like Rocky are striking, at least in terms of their lifestyles and economic struggles. No, the comparison doesn’t hold up when the Pens play the Flyers or the Wawas turn into Sheetz on the Turnpike but what’s important are the shared beliefs in making an honest living. The working class spirit is essential to both the yinzer and to Rocky. Both of the groups feel a connection to the American Dream, and both groups were influenced by the bicentennial and the subsequent revival of entrepreneurial spirit and patriotism.

A yinzer is certainly an icon. It has a graphic component (wave a Terrible Towel in the air, drink an Iron City Beer, and put a folding chair with a Pirates “P” emblazoned on it on the side of the road to reserve your tailgate parking spot), which is key to any icon. As Kemp defines an icon, “it has widespread recognizability” and it can move across space and time. A yinzer seems permanently stuck in 1994, clad in a black and gold Starter windbreaker, but that image resonates just as strongly now as it did then. And, in this blog, I have tried to make the argument that a yinzer can also travel through space into Philadelphia. Because what makes a yinzer truly iconic is not a sports team alliances but a spirit that never waivers, even under economic hardship. And this spirit is shared by Rocky, Rocky fans, and the people who live in the City of Brotherly Love.

kroll show

Imagining Rocky as a yinzer rather than an Italian south Philadelphian, and I start to see more of his appeal. An underdog story always resonates with audiences, but an underdog from your hometown who embodies your very personal story is incredibly empowering. And this speaks to the versatility of Rocky, as well as the versatility of the yinzer.

Philadelphia and Material Culture by Ben Barsh

After having our discussion in class about material culture and Barbie’s role in it, I found myself thinking about not so much what Barbie represents (maybe due to my lack of personal connection), but material culture as a whole and how it applies to me personally. A couple of my classmates and myself discussed some of the things we collect when talking about this. I shared that I collect records. While this is true, I failed to fully recognize that I collect something more obvious and apparent.

After our class discussion I happened upon an interview with former tattooer/artist/musician Dan Higgs. In this interview Higgs states “For one of the least material possessions, it seems like tattooing is getting more materialistic.” I thought about my own role in this. I started getting tattooed at the very young age of 14. By 16 I had a handful, and before I graduated high school I was well into the double digits.

Tattoos, and “collecting” them, is something that’s non-material, but in a sense, completely material. You cant hold them, store them, or preserve them. On the contrary, they actually only guaranteed to get worse with time. They also cost money to apply, but have no value in money or actual use, unlike almost any other collection in the world.

Material culture is something that’s driven by self definition and what the things you collect do and say about you. In that sense, tattoos are completely material. They’re something born out of vanity, in its basic form. They mark an experience, or say something about you. Whether it be that you fit in here, don’t fit in there, believe in this, or alteration for the sake of alteration. Unless they are forcibly applied against will, tattoos are something that define those who wear it.

The first time I ever got referred to as a collector of tattoos was by my friend Ronnie Dell’aquilla. After getting tattooed as a young teen for the reasons tattoos would appeal to a young teen (I’m cool, I’m different, I’m tough, Girls will like it, etc…) I started pursuing tattooing with more specific definitions and boundaries. I primarily sought old timers, people who have been tattooing since before it became more mainstream. Especially those from the east coast.

Ronnie is a straight forward old Italian guy from Brooklyn, his words aren’t minced and offending people doesn’t bother him. While he was tattooing me, he took a break to talk to his wife in Pennsylvania. I remember clearly him saying “Yeah hon, I’ll leave Queens in about an hour, I’m tattooing this kid from Philly, nice kid, collector of tattoos” I was confused about what he meant at first. I thought I was just some guy getting a tattoo. I then realized, in a sense, I wasn’t. I was somebody pursuing something specific, pursuing multiple variants of it, and pursuing it with some intention of status. And that’s what drive’s material culture.

Attached image is Ronnie. He usually wears his sunglasses indoors.