Profile Response: Trudy Bryson and Larry Vroom, Sun City, AZ

HWWLT Logo on yellowTrudy Bryson, age 69, lives in her parent’s house. That quaint fact that conjures images of Iowa farmhouses or South Boston triple-deckers – family heritage passed through the generations. But Trudy’s family home is far from her Northbrook, IL birthplace. When this youngest of four girls came home from college almost fifty years ago, her parents had up and moved to Sun City, Arizona. They purchased the two-bedroom Sherwood model in 1968 for about $10,000 on a premium golf course lot. “This is where we came for Thanksgiving and Christmas. This is our family home.”

Screen Shot 2015-12-30 at 5.01.20 PMTrudy got married and had two daughters. She lived various places, but Sun City was home base. In 2003, she and her partner Larry bought their own place here. After her parents died, they knocked out the back of her parents’ Sherwood, added a master suite and cathedral ceilinged great room.

Trudy’s sisters also retired to Sun City. The Bryson sisters are not the only second-generation residents in this active adult retiremScreen Shot 2015-12-30 at 4.59.06 PMent community that began in 1960; there are even a few third generation Sun Citizens. In fact, Sun City has been around fifty-six years; long enough to live in Sun City. This milestone prompted Charles Osgood of CBS Sunday Morning to broadcast a segment that features Trudy and her sisters. 

imgres-1‘Active’ is the key word to life in Sun City. Trudy’s dad Tom tapped into the economic potential of so many retirees. He sold cable TV subscriptions and won awards for signing up the most customers. Organized clubs are the lifeblood of Sun City, so Tom started an electronics club and later a computer club. Trudy recalls, “He was always ahead of the curve. He had email before anyone else.” Tom also started a golf group that plays one of Sun City’s eight courses every week. Forty years later, Larry runs that same group; three of the original members still play. “I’m busier and more occupied here than I ever was working.”

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Trudy is equally busy. She began the Ukeladies club and is now president of an 80-member ukulele band. Fascinated by all things ukulele; she and Larry attend ukulele events all over the country. “This is the time of life when you do what you want to do rather than what you have to do.”

Some of Trudy’s retirement activities grew out of interests she developed when she was younger. Trudy runs a marathon every ten years – that’s right, just one in ten. She ran New York at age 40 and 50. She ran Maui at age 60, and plans to run Maui again next year. “I train via The Way of the Peaceful Athlete. I start eight months in advance, add a mile a week and never run more than thirty miles per week. I know I can run Maui again.”

images-1It’s easy to dismiss Sun City as an unrealistic fantasy, a place with no children, no schools, and lots of people with too much time on their hands. But that sells short the lessons that Sun City offers the rest of us. Sun City is more sustainable than other low-density developments; services are nearby and many people drive golf carts. There’s a strong sense of community; people watch out for each other. And it has less economic stratification than many other places. “Sun City is a place where a person with a lot of money can have a nice life. It’s also a place where you can have a nice life without a lot of money.”

imgres-2Most importantly, Sun City encourages a level of active engagement that helps people live longer, healthier lives. The morning I left, Trudy was up early. She took a run around the golf course, made hearty oatmeal for breakfast and was looking forward to an afternoon ukulele fest. But before that, she’d scheduled her first her voice lesson, to improve her sing-along abilities. Any place where 69-year-old women have the confidence and energy to embark on new pursuits must be doing something right.

How will we live tomorrow?

IMG_5294“There are so many ways to interpret your question. It could be ‘we’, me and Larry, or my family or the Sun City community. I have such faith in this community. It will last through my lifetime, my children’s lifetime, and my grandkid’s lifetime.” – Trudy

“I think of ‘we’ as the world. I am worried about Islamic extremism and global warming. I want someone, the world, to step up.” – Larry

“I am optimistic that Islamic extremism will end. Evil people have come up through the ages. They always get squashed eventually. Other bad people will pop up, we don’t know who, but we will deal with that when it happens.” – Trudy

“I think that moderate Muslims have a responsibility to intervene.” – Larry

 

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Trip Log – Day 212 – Fort Hancock, TX to Van Horn, TX

To Van HornJanuary 26, 2016 – Overcast, 40 degrees

Miles Today: 68

Miles to Date: 10,891

States to Date: 28

No way was West Texas going to let me off the hook with a week of cool nights, sunny days, and gentle winds. I will be pedaling from tiny map spot to tiny map spot for the 600 miles between El Paso and San Antonio. That’s a long stretch with few people; desolate as the Dakotas. Just as those were strategic and often difficult riding days, so too was today.

IMG_5637The day started cool and overcast and only got cooler and cloudier until it was downright cold. The route was one-third near I-10, one-third on I-10 frontage and one third on I-10 shoulder. At one point the frontage road (parallel to west bound traffic), ended abruptly and sent me facing the direction of westbound traffic. Thankfully, within a mile I found a culvert that crossed under the interstate and got me on the right side of the road.

Climbing a grade with trucks whizzing by at 80 mph (the Texas speed limit) with the wind in my face, my fingers numb, and the temperature dipping into the thirties, I had plenty of time today to be thankful for all the things that didn’t go wrong. No rain, no snow, no flats, no accidents. Not much fun either. I left one ugly Texas town, ate a mediocre lunch in another, and seven hours later I landed in a third. West Texas is a place to be respected and persevered.

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Profile Response: Randy of Randy Hamburgers, Stone Cabin, AZ

HWWLT Logo on yellowThe yin and yang of the United States is that we are simultaneously tough and tender. We love our guns. We love our violence and our football. We love to throw our weight around the world. But we also wear our hearts on our sleeves. We root for the underdog. We want to be respected, maybe even feared. But we also want to be loved. We never quite understand why the world distrusts our big stick when we think we’re being sensitive in walking so softly.

Randy is a hamburger and ice cream man. He owns thirty food stands back in Washington State that he carts to festivals all summer. In winter, he simplifies his operation. He brings a couple of trailers down to Arizona and sets them up along US 95 in Stone Cabin just north of the Border Patrol Station. I don’t know why the place is called Stone Cabin. There’s nothing there but Randy’s metal trailers on wheels.

imgres copyRandy’s a burly guy with a hard belly and quick smile. He serves up a new story with every scoop. Since there were no other customers after he made my date shake, we sat and talked. Which meant that Randy spun his tough and tender tales.

“My daughter got married last year. She came to me a few days before the wedding all upset. ‘Dad, I don’t want you to give me way. You’re still going to be my father, I’m still going to be your daughter.’” A tear welled in Randy’s eye as he delivered his response. “I told her, ‘sweetie, I’ll always be here.’”

IMG_5259Military banners decorate Randy’s hamburger and ice cream compound. He was a marine in Vietnam. When Randy returned to the US in 1967, Hare Krishna’s sprayed red paint on his uniform in the Seattle airport. He beat them up, got arrested, and went straight to jail.

Our national attitude toward veterans has changed. No matter what a citizen’s opinion on the merits of our wars in Iraq or Afghanistan, the vast majority of Americans appreciate our troops. Today, Randy’s son is a green beret. His return flight from Iraq landed in Dallas, where people in the terminal applauded them coming down the escalator. Randy went to the Seattle terminal to meet his son. As the soldier approached, Randy moved to give him a hug. “But my son put up his hand and stopped me. He stood at attention, gave me a salute, and said, ‘Welcome home, Marine.’ It was the first time someone thanked me for my service.”

Out on the desert, in the shadow of an ice cream truck festooned with Marine insignias, tears rolled down a beefy veteran’s cheeks.

How will we live tomorrow?

Screen Shot 2015-12-30 at 1.54.18 PM“I don’t know how we’re going to live today.”

 

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Trip Log – Day 211 – El Paso, TX to Fort Hancock, TX

To Fort HancockJanuary 25, 2016 – Overcast, 50 degrees

Miles Today: 52

Miles to Date: 10,823

States to Date: 28

 IMG_5605My couchsurfing host Miguel cooked me a remarkable Columbian breakfast and pedaled with me downhill to his lab at Texas Tech Medical Center, which is right next to my turn east on Alameda.

Alameda, also Texas Route 20, is twenty miles of dated motels turned rent by the week apartments, tortilla factories, nail salons, check-cashing outfits, pawn shops, empty storefronts, used car lots, muffler shops, transmission shops, body shops, and auto parts stores interrupted every mile by Dollar General or Dollar Tree or Family Dollar. The strip cleans up by the Wal-Mart near the Loop Road, where $1.51 per gallon gas was the cheapest I’ve seen to date on my trip. But it turns shabby again after the interchange with miles of scrap yards.

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I was surprised to pass beautiful high schools in Ysleta, Socorro, and Clink among the assembly of stuff reaching the limits of human consideration. I also stopped to visit the stunning Mission at Ysleta, which is older than its California cousins.

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IMG_5631Finally, the detritus of urban life gave out and I cycled through miles of pecan groves.

Still, I came upon more fascinating storefronts in Fabens. They reminded me how wonderfully idiosyncratic Texas can be. I hope to find more as I travel east over the next month.

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Unfortunately, there was nothing notable in Fort Hancock, where even the Historical Marker describing the town’s namesake has been worn beyond legibility. I was the first, and perhaps only, guest at the I-10 roadside motel that doesn’t even have a name in front Fortunately, the chicken fired steak at Angie’s across the road lived up to its reputation as the best in West Texas.

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Profile Response: Myra and Michael Fisher, Yuma , AZ

HWWLT Logo on yellowMore than fifty years ago Michael Fisher came upon a girl breaking into his high school locker in Longview, WA. Turns out Myra had the same locker the year before and was inquisitive about its new occupant. They started dating. She got pregnant. The Catholic Church refused to marry them; said it wouldn’t last. They got married anyway, raised four children, and forty-nine years later, they’re still together.

Since that teenage experience, Myra and Michael have maintained a healthy skepticism of institutions. They’re not exactly radical, but they go it on their own, thank you very much. Michael was a Longview police officer for thirty years. When he patrolled the projects, he handed out condoms. It wasn’t part of any program; he just brought the goods to the need. “These kids weren’t going to buy them in a drug store or go to an agency downtown.”

imgresMyra and Michael still promote safer sex. The active couchsurfing hosts keep assorted toiletries in their guest bathroom, including a bowl of condoms for the taking.

Michael retired at age 51. He and Myra bought a trailer and spent a year travelling North America. They didn’t plan to leave Longview, but discovered they loved Mexico and liked Yuma. They started frequenting Los Algodones, a town on the far side of the border, and befriended an extended family there. For seventeen years, Myra and Michael have travelled to Mexico most every Wednesday. They bring American necessities and homemade cookies. They’ve helped Jerry’s family rise out of poverty and watched his children grow. In return Jerry chaperones Myra and Michael’s extended family when they visit Mexico. He steers them to good souvenir deals and ensures that they get high quality, inexpensive medical and dental care, services for which the border town is renown.

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Myra and Michael’s four children are back in Longview. I wondered why the couple relocated 1200 miles from children and grandchildren. “We moved away from our kids so they wouldn’t rely on us and would be more independent.” It makes sense that a couple so successful in going it on their own wants to pass that on.

How will we live tomorrow?

Screen Shot 2015-12-30 at 1.32.18 PM“I just don’t worry about it.” – Myra

“Were you a philosophy major?

“On a daily basis it bothers me that our political process hurts the people, the parties, our community, and our position in the world. Last year, Yuma had a $56 million bond issue that passed with 12% of the vote. How is that democracy?

“People tell us that we spend lots of money helping people across the border for no purpose. Myra will get good deals on ground beef and chicken. We don’t need it, so we give it to those families. We don’t do religion. We don’t give to the Red Cross. We don’t buy Girl Scout cookies. We give our money were we can get appreciation. You can give them a dozen roses or a box of chocolate and it means nothing to them. But give them a box of zip-loc bags, something they can use, now that’s good.” – Michael

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Trip Log – Day 210 – El Paso, TX

Columbus to El PasoJanuary 24, 2016 – Sun, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 18

Miles to Date: 10,771

States to Date: 28

IMG_5591For me, El Paso is ripe in memory. I’ve been here four or five times, all during 1977-1978 when I was a VISTA Volunteer 300 miles northeast of here in Levelland, TX. Since I finished my service year I’ve never returned to any of places that marked that unique period of my life. On this trip I plan to visit them all. El Paso is the first place I’ve reached along my route.

Levelland, Texas is conveniently located five hours from anywhere: Dallas, Albuquerque or El Paso. Since a five-hour drive in Texas is nothing and weekends in Levelland were quiet, the core of our VISTA group struck out somewhere most every month. Leanne was a curvaceous blonde from South Dakota who fell for the dark-eyed local, Jerry. He was already married which made things messy, but eventually Leanne and Jerry got married, until that too got messy. My Texas pal was Adela, a rail thin brunette from Maryland. We never let marrying enter the picture, and are solid friends to this day. For a year, the four of us were constant companions. El Paso was out favorite weekend getaway.

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We stayed in cheap motels or with other VISTA’s. By day crossed the footbridge to Juarez, at night we ate Mexican food and discoed. I usually drove Betsy, my1969 Ford Fairlane. Once Jerry convinced me to take Betsy into Mexico so we could eat at a place he knew beyond downtown Juarez. The food was incredibly good. The tear-up job the customs agents and their dogs did on a car driven by a mutton-chop sideburned Yankee with cheeky Mexican shotgun and two leggy girls in tie-dyed skirts in the back trying to reenter the United States was incredibly thorough. They were astonished not to find drugs. I was astonished they just walked away after their inspection and made us put the car back together.

IMG_5587Perhaps my biggest rite of passage in El Paso occurred on a training trip I made there by myself. I stayed with another VISTA, a local Mexican-American who smelled like licorice. He took me to a local performance of Hello Dolly that had maybe three women in the audience. Afterward, we returned to his apartment in one of the moldy brick buildings near downtown. He told me his boyfriend was coming over. I set the sheets on the sofa and was conveniently in the bathroom when boyfriend arrived and they disappeared into my host’s room. I tired to sleep. They were vigorous and noisy. The more I tried to block them out, the more anxious I became. I had never heard two men have sex. I had spent so much energy denying such a possibility. I started to sweat. Eventually, I got up and dressed.

I escaped to El Paso’s night streets. The square grid of blacktop laid over the city’s hills calmed my torment. I’ve always enforced Cartesian order upon irregularity. I walked the streets for hours; until my pulse stopped racing; until the dawn light. I slipped back in the apartment hoping they were finished, wishing they were not, and pretended to sleep.

IMG_5598It took another fifteen years, a marriage and two children to bring some peace to the conflicts that flared in me that night. Now, thirty-eight years later, I’m back in El Paso, riding that same grid of streets, unable to reconstruct the particulars of that time. So much has changed. The downtown core is cleaner, the surrounding streets shabbier, the highways more insistent, the strip development more generic. I stop by the Anson, briefly the tallest concrete building in the world. I visit the digital wall at the El Paso Museum of History. Fortunately, none of the touch options pops with images of the night Paul Fallon freaked out over a pair of gay guys. But that’s what it seems like; a piece of history. That someone could be so uncomfortable in his gay skin.

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I slept well in El Paso, as I do every night during this physically taxing journey. But my El Paso dawn dreams were the same as everywhere else. I do not conjure the men, purposefully too many to recount, who’ve crossed my path these past twenty years. Instead, I wake every morning to a dream of my former wife, the girl who put a claim on my heart before I ever set foot in this border town. I dream of what I willed myself to be, however inappropriate, rather than what I am. The shame branded on our youthful souls is permanent.

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Trip Log – Day 209 – Columbus, NM to El Paso, TX

Columbus to El PasoJanuary 23, 2016 – Sun, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 72

Miles to Date: 10,753

States to Date: 28

Everything was easier today. The distance was shorter, the pavement smoother, the wind lighter, the grades shallower, the shoulder wider. I left early and logged forty-five miles before my noon lunch stop, sitting on the sand with my bike propped against a mile marker. I met two approaching cyclists: one traveling from Austin to Phoenix with a 150 pounds of stuff in a trailer, the other an El Paso local on a weekend joy ride. Everyone pedals his own ride. Beyond that, I saw no one. There are no towns or services, or even houses for over fifty miles. Yet, several people told me the Border Road is a great road to cycle because most of the scant traffic is Border Patrol officers, who are helpful with breakdowns.

IMG_5573New Mexico Route 9 runs parallel to the border. A dirt road that runs parallel to Route 9. Beyond, a continuous barbed wire fence runs about fifty feet from the pavement. I wondered why the dirt road existed. Yesterday, I saw a Border Patrol truck driving very slow along the road, pulling two gigantic tires on their sides. The tires smoothed the surface. This morning I witnessed several other Border Patrol vehicles, driving off to the side and just as slow, scanning for footprints. Our pursuit of illegals is a complex, time-consuming and expensive operation.

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Along the road there are many cairns. I wonder what they signify?

IMG_5574The first sign of El Paso was sixty miles out, the streams of jets doing maneuvers in the sky over Fort Bliss. I could smell El Paso and Juarez before I saw them. The air, which has been so sweet for the last few days, turned stale. Twenty miles away, the sky over the valley was brown. Somehow, our clean air laws haven’t taught the pollution to stay south of the border. Pale flecks on the distant mountains, which indicated sand in the Chihuahuan Desert earlier in the day, were now buildings climbing the west side of El Paso’s mountains.

IMG_5581I pedaled over the bone dry Rio Grande and under I-10. The transition from wilderness to the Mesa Road commercial strip was abrupt. It took only a few moments to realize that El Paso is not Tucson or Seattle. Bicyclists beware. Trucks cut me off, cars pulled out of driveways ahead of me. I took my time to arrive at my host’s safely.

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Trip Log – Day 208 – Portal, AZ to Columbus, NM

Portal to ColumbusJanuary 22, 2016 – Sun, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 98

Miles to Date: 10,681

States to Date: 27

The spirits of New Mexico must be unhappy that I plan to spend only one night in their beautiful state on this leg of my journey. They blew down on me the whole way from Portal to Columbus. Fortunately I planned for delays on this marathon cycling day, and needed every bit of daylight to arrive at my destination.

IMG_5560Despite my desire to leave my host ET’s at 7:00 a.m.; his coffee was too hot, his oatmeal too delicious, and our conversation too rich to sprint out of there. Still, I was on the gravel road pedaling away from his place by 7:30 and reached pavement by 8:00. After ten miles of traveling west, south, east and then north, I could still see ET’s house with his triple flags flying only a mile away as the crow flies before I finally turned east onto NM Route 9.

 

IMG_5562The next 88 miles was terrific bike riding, although not speedy. The grades were gentle, the landscape elegant, the traffic non-existent. Twenty-five miles in I stopped in Animas for the only services on the route. I devoured a burrito and refilled my water. My sixth trek over the Continental Divide was the easiest yet – it is just a rise in the middle of a valley.

IMG_5567My day was just riding, riding riding. I propped my bike against the gate and ate lunch from my pannier in front of McDonald’s ranch outside of Hachita. No free Wi-Fi here.

My desire to reach Columbus before nightfall was thwarted by the wind pushing against me and long, steady climbs. But adverse New Mexico winds are not nearly so damning as their ruthless cousins in the Dakotas. Even as it slowed my progress, this wind was playful, dancing from different directions, creating cool undercurrents, slacking off occasionally so I could savor the Land of Enchantment. I was always behind my target speed, but never enough to give up and sag a ride.

Past Hermanosa, pumping like crazy, the landscape took a fantastic, almost delirious turn. The distant mountains display very different forms. There are ancient, weathered volcanic cones, the rounded shapes of old mountain clusters, and jagged, new ranges. Geologic eons surrounded me. The dry desert I was passing through is but a phase in a landscape that was once a tropical rainIMG_5570 forest, once the domain of dinosaurs, once a simmering volcanic cauldron.

Fortunately, there’s a steady eight-mile descent into Columbus. I kept a steady stroke and arrived at my motel in dusk, though still easily visible to local traffic. When the delightful motel owner handed me my receipt she said, “My goodness, you’re cold.” Only then did I realize my skin was frigid. Racing against the sun descending behind me, I never suited back up in my fleece and gloves.

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Responses: How will we live tomorrow?

How will we live tomorrow?

“The power of now. Let us live in the present, but it’s not that easy.”

Shomosa, gardener, Cave Junction, OR

How will we live tomorrow?

“Tomorrow I need an new iPhone. That means I don’t need a watch, a radio, a compass, or a flashlight. Thank of all the industries that are being collapsed by technology.”

Jason Malinowski, rental property owner, Novato, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I can get anywhere in San Francisco faster on a bike than any other means of transport.”

Martin Siegenthaler, bicycle commuter, San Francisco, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“Hmmm, happy and free.”

Jason McCaffey, Temple Tattoo, Oakland, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I live day to day. Tomorrow I will be here. I get to educate a bunch of kids on the fundamentals and future of glass.”

Jeremy Skidmore, The Crucible, Oakland, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“Once we get self-driving cars that are solar powered, it’s going to open up all kinds of options. I’ll have my own vehicle that will take me anywhere that I can stay in; I won’t need a hotel. I can go to Yellowstone on a quick trip.”

Nat Collins, software programmer, Santa Clara, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“Back in the 60’s this question would have been presented by GE or Westinghouse.”

Bill Corn, cyclist, Orcutt, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I am looking out at how the Syrian influx is affecting Europe. There are waves of people. Its great.”

Camay Corn, first grade teacher, Orcutt, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“When I think I’m 100% right, I am always wrong.”

Mrs. Korn mother of 10, grandmother of 16, Santa Maria, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“We are not becoming more aware. Our problems will sneak up on us.”

Aiden Reiner, High school sophomore, Berkeley, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I rely on God and Jesus. They will guide me and bless me and help me do my best. I don’t worry about tomorrow. God will provide.”

Karen Eaton, cancer survivor, Mission Viejo, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I see America as a country will be gone. I don’t rely on our greatness. I grew up in Iowa, as a Democrat, until Reagan. I am concerned that we are so divided along party lines that we will lose who we are as Americans.”

Susan, Disneyland Nurse, Mission Viejo, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I think it is important that we vote for the person we believe in. It doesn’t matter if I win or lose; it matters that I voted my conscience.”

Lisa, quiet listener, Mission Viejo, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“Along the lines of society, tomorrow means living in cities rather than suburbs. Maybe we can do it with car sharing or Uber.”

Michael Williams, dog owner, Carlsbad, CA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I try not to think about that. I live in today.”

Judy Kramer, artist, Cambridge, MA

How will we live tomorrow?

“I have to take my dog to the dog park… Is that what you want to know?”

Lee, waiter, Tempe, AZ

How will we live tomorrow?

“I am meeting with my pastor tomorrow. I want to be healthy and fit.”

Nathan, test taker, Tempe, AZ

How will we live tomorrow?

“We’re living in a time when humanity will have to decide how to go. Down the drain? Or on a more sustainable path.”

Andreas, Swiss journalist, Casa Grande, AZ

How will we live tomorrow?

“I live everyday for the Lord. I ask him for whatever I need. I don’t ask Man for anything.”

Flynn, homeless cyclist, Benson, AZ

How will we live tomorrow?

“I have no clue. Anytime I think of the future I get frustrated by it. I live in the now and hope for the best.”

Michael Branton, IT Manager, BASIS Goodyear, Goodyear, AZ

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Trip Log – Day 207 – Portal, AZ

McNeal to PortalJanuary 21, 2016 – Sun, 70 degrees

Miles Today: 4

Miles to Date: 10,583

States to Date: 26

IMG_5534Rest day! My warmshowers host Ron is the Director of the Visitor’s Center at Coronado National Forest, the Bryce Canyon of Arizona. He took me on a personal tour of the public areas, which were near empty in January but so beautiful on a perfect clear day.

About five I pedaled the short distance between the dirt road to Ron’s house and the dirt road to ET’s house for an evening with my second Portal, AZ host. ET may be the most literate and well-informed cowboy on earth. Forty years of punching cattle, fighting wildfires and being a medic in a region with a lot of undocumented immigrant emergencies made for a thought-provoking evening of great stories.

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