ABSTRACT

In the early 1960s I took a non-stop flight from Washington, D.C. to San Francisco. Since this was one of my first flights across the country, I spent much of the time looking out the window. I was astonished by the impressive and snow-capped Rockies, puzzled how it was that pioneers dared to embark across those mountains in covered wagons, and impressed by how large America is and by its ever changing terrain. I could not help but conclude that our nation’s size and geographic differences would make for important differences in the experiences and attitudes of the people who lived under my flight path.