Oz

When my mother's parents lived in Virginia, we would take long car drives to go see them. Like any familiar trip, there were certain benchmarks of progress we noted in passing; oh, look out the window, we're on that bridge; a certain configuration of smokestacks; oh, look at the collapsing barn; oh, we're in Oz.

As far as I can remember no one ever said "We're in Oz," but someone should have. At a certain bend in the highway, you could see the spires of a church through the trees. Just under this vista happened to be an overpass. And on the side of the overpass someone had spray painted "Surrender Dorothy."

I wish that were a phrase that lent itself to conversation. It's so elegant.