Driving Mr. Rob - Part 4 - Twin Falls to Seattle

I'm not sure if I could ever convey the amount of time Rob spent on his cell phone up to Twin Falls (except, of course, when the cell coverage was lost in Nevada).  But it was a drop in the bucket compared to this part of the trip - from Twin Falls to Seattle.

You see, this was the Friday before the Tuesday, with a holiday on Monday, that we were supposed to have all the funding in place for Group 47's purchase of patents from Kodak.  There were a number of last minute potential funders, some of whom were ready to decide, but their money wasn't available until after May 31st.  And some who had money available but hadn't quite decided to invest yet.  And some who had money and had made the decision, but we hadn't heard from in a while. Rob was on the phone with lawyers, bankers, VC's, friends, family, friends of friends, etc.

But it wasn't until we got to this spot (as seen on google maps) that the last puzzle piece gently nestled into its place.

The piece was $19,000.  When the last investor said she'd deposit that amount by May 31st, it took our breath away.  It was just before noon. We'd just dipped into Oregon. Both silently thanking God. Just then, I looked up and saw a sign, both literal and figurative.  We were crossing the Powder River.

Powwwwwder River - mile wide and an inch deep - Yeeeeeeiiiiipppeeeee!!!

That's the yell my dad learned from his mother.  And that's the primordial yell that came out of me as we crossed that squiggly bit of water. Sometimes a sign really is a "sign."

My dad was there when Group 47 was a mere gleam in Rob's eye, so it was no surprise that he was there at this moment, when it was going from crawl to walk. This moment when we saw the impossible, the assembly of twenty friends and family plus a venture capital firm from Iowa joining hands to secure the purchase of patents from Kodak. This moment leaving us in wonder and in awe, this moment daring us to look away, this moment forever inscribing itself on our souls.   Leave it to my dad to be there in spirit, not to miss celebrating this moment with us. The Powder River was totally, completely, thoroughly unexpected, and yet totally, completely, thoroughly fitting.  Of course dad would be there at this moment of utter exaltation.  Of course.

Rob and I have a running joke that whenever he hands the keys over to me to drive, the driving conditions deteriorate rapidly.  So I was driving... and the road became all twisty... and the clouds darkened... and what was that white stuff coming down from the sky?  Was it... snow?  Why, yes it was!

...at which point I said, "Your turn!"  

It either snowed or rained or both for the rest of the drive that day.  Not exactly what one would wish for while preparing for an outdoor festival, but after what we'd seen that day, we had nothing but hope regarding what lay ahead.

And then, as if the cosmos hadn't yet provided enough for us to be astounded by, as we drove into Seattle we saw not one but at least twenty signs with the number "47" on them. Signs. And wonders. And more signs.

A little shy of 2000 miles.  From home to Beverly Hills through the desert to Scottsdale, past Hoover Dam and Area 51, through more desert and huge skies, to Twin Falls, across the Powder River, over snowy mountains, and finally arriving in Seattle.  Hundreds and hundreds of phone calls, text messages, and emails along the way. All DOTS funding lined up for the May 31st deadline. And now somehow the city of Seattle chose on that day and that time to put the number of our company, 47, on its road signs.  The number is the subject of a mathematical joke proof done at Pomona College in the sixties by Professor Donald Bentley, reportedly establishing that all numbers are equal to 47. For me, it represents connections. That all things could equal one thing. All things part of one whole. That was our trip so far - many different parts, one glorious whole. At that moment, all things equaled 47.