R and J in the USA

When Devil’s Tower first came into view on our drive in from the northern border of Wyoming, Julie didn’t recognize it at first as the iconic phenomenon already emblazoned in her mind from myriad images. From that particular angle the top had a slope. She didn’t feel the magic yet. 

Then we approached closer and closer, and at some point, like crossing over an invisible line into a magical bubble, the power of Devil’s Tower washed over her, and she was completely immersed in the awe and wonder that commonly accompanies encounters with it. 

“Woooow,” she exclaimed with the tone of surprise and awe of a child’s first view of Christmas presents under a tree and an empty cup and crumb-filled plate where milk and cookies were the night before. It’s an “I can’t believe what I’m seeing, but I am definitely seeing it” type of feeling. Not just the first time you see it, but each time you glance up at it. Ryan, having been there before, was no less impacted or impressed by it. There is just something about it that evokes something within a human spirit. Something that feels grand. Something that feels meaningful. Something that feels almost magical. 

It was in this feeling that we embarked on the short 1.6 mile paved loop that visitors of this National Monument (the first place in America to be dedicated as a national monument by the United States) take to circle the behemoth. It is a quiet, beautiful walk steeped in a feeling of amazement and a sense that anything can happen.

While deeply immersed in just that feeling, we nodded a polite hello to the various individuals, families, and couples that walked by us in the opposite direction, as they did also to us. It is a quiet and common courtesy when walking out in nature that we always enjoy, a moment to share both the experience and the quiet solitude of such experiences as you pass others who you know are in their own bubble of something lovely. As one such courteous exchange was happening, Ryan noticed the t-shirt of the gentleman in the couple had “Rochester” printed on it. Having recently been in Minnesota, and knowing that that is the closest Rochester to Devil’s Tower, he gave a shot and said in passing, “Rochester, NY?”. We both expected to hear, “No. Rochester, Minnesota,” and then to all courteously continue on our merry ways. To our surprise the answer was, “YES!”

All four of us immediately stopped to face each other in this unlikely of moments. All the way out in the wilds of Wyoming, at this one point on the path around Devil’s Tower, fellow Rochesterians! 

It got weirder.

“Where are you from in Rochester?” They asked.

”Penfield,” we replied. “You?”

”Pittsford.”

Not only was this wild, since that is just one town over from us, a simple three mile jog to the village of Pittsford of which Julie often partakes, but because…

“That’s where I grew up!” Julie exclaimed in amazement.

The woman’s eyes lit up too. “Did you go to Mendon High School?” 

“Sure did!”

”So did our kids!”

And the conversation was off to the races from there. We regaled them with tales of the road on our 50 states tour and they told us of their month long adventures into and through many of the mighty natural features of Wyoming and surrounding states. We all had a great time enjoying the conversation and the wild coincidence here under Devil’s Tower’s watch.

Admittedly, during the walk around the tower, Julie had earlier been actively fantasizing about randomly bumping into Steven Spielberg along the path and pitching her musical to him to produce. Though a close encounter of the Spielberg kind would have been pretty miraculous, we both walked away more than happy with the magic and mystery delivered at the foot of Devil’s Tower, our Close Encounter of the Pittsford kind.