Profile Response: Emma and Tom DuBois, Santa Fe NM

HWWLT Logo on yellowTom: “We met online. About six weeks later I decided to move from Vermont to Alaska. She followed me. Then we moved here.”

Emma: “Is that how you tell it? We met online. He invited me to Saturday brunch, which I thought was odd. We went on a couple of dates, which were pretty pleasant. He invited me to Rhode Island to visit his family which I thought was, you know, too soon. He told me he wanted to move to Alaska. I had just finished nursing school and decided to apply for jobs up there. He invited me for the weekend just before he was leaving. He was so taken up with the packing and excitement of riding his motorcycle to Alaska I didn’t have the nerve to tell him I’d applied for jobs out there.

imgres“He drove out of the driveway and I thought, whoa, I have to tell him. He’d told me he wanted to drive over the new Lake Champlain Bridge. So, I gunned it to the bridge. I got the New York side. No Tom. I stopped for a creme. No Tom. I drove back over the bridge. There he was, heading to New York. I got to the end and turned around. He did the same thing. We passed each other on the bridge. Then we found each other.”

Tom DuBois, first generation millennial, told me how he met his wife. Emma, younger by a turn, turned it into a romantic comedy.

screen-shot-2016-11-25-at-4-18-52-pmI asked Emma how long it took for her to realize that she was in love with Tom. “Six hours. That first date we had brunch and took a walk and he asked me to come over for dinner. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so we had to go food shopping first. He didn’t even ask me what I wanted. That’s when I knew he’s the one for me.”

 

screen-shot-2016-11-25-at-4-19-10-pmTom studied culinary at Johnson and Wales. He cooked the evening we spent together. He has taught culinary, and high school, and special education. After their year in Alaska, living on separate islands, Emma chose Santa Fe as where they would live next. She is an OB nurse at the hospital here. Tom is a VISTA volunteer working in the B2C program (Birth to Career). Eight weeks ago, the couple got married. They are a happy pair.

 

How will we live tomorrow?

screen-shot-2016-11-25-at-4-16-27-pm“I’m pretty sure most Americans don’t have any idea about tomorrow. If they do, they’re worried about tomorrow and struggling today. The wealthy do not live in the moment.” – Emma

“The hopeful in me thinks we’ll continue as we are, but it’s hard to imagine that happening in the current media climate. People worry about social capital; it would be good if people just take care of each other.

“Isn’t it interesting that we even need to find a commonality. In every other species, just knowing that we’re the same species is enough. Our brains have become bigger than our penises. – Tom

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Trip Log – Day 386 – Montgomery AL to Andalusia AL

to-andulusia-alDecember 9, 2016 – Sun, 40 degrees

Miles Today: 93

Miles to Date: 20,147

States to Date: 47

A bicycle touring rule of thumb: fifty miles before noon is easier than thirty miles after noon. I started prompt at 7 a.m. in 30-degree temps and navigated twelve thorny miles to extract myself from Montgomery. Once I turned onto US 331 south everything turned to clear sailing. I reached Luverne and logged sixty miles before noon, a new personal best. The season was in full bloom all along my path: nature provided the mistletoe; humans provided the inflatable Santa’s.

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There’s always some snag in those thorny last thirty miles. Immediately outside of Luverne I hit some sizable hills, but by the time I rolled off US 331 I enjoyed fifteen miles of sweet Alabama country roads in the filtered December light.

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Profile Response: Linda Seebantz, Ghost Ranch NM

HWWLT Logo on yellowLinda Seebantz was a marketing professional in her native Wisconsin when she decided to quit her job and move, “because I could. I was in my forties; I was single; I had no children.” Linda moved to Taos in 2003. She thought she might stay a few years and then go to the Pacific Northwest, “but I put down roots that did not pull out easily.” Eight years ago she became Marketing Director of Ghost Ranch, That sealed her connection to this area.

The history of Ghost Ranch is vivid as any slice of Western lore, rich with feuding brothers, cattle rustlers, cottonwood hangings, hard scrapple widows, poker table deed swaps, and rumors of haunting. “It’s the mystique of the West.” Carol Bishop Stanley ran the place as a dude ranch in the early 1920’s. The rugged canyons, so handy for hiding stolen cattle, possess a solitary beauty that drew wealthy Easterners. Arthur Pack of Princeton NJ purchased Ghost Ranch, and then hosted the Rockefellers and their ilk. The stunning landscape also attracted artists; Georgia O’Keeffe had a house here for decades and many of her most famous images are the profiles surrounding Ghost Ranch.

img_7669In 1955 Arthur Pack gave the 21,000-acre property to the Presbyterian Church USA. For the past sixty years, Ghost Ranch has been an education and retreat center that hosts over 300 retreats a year. “We integrate education and spiritual opportunities with local traditions.” Day-trippers take horseback rides, weeklong attendees delve into poetry or plein air painting, interns stay for an entire season. “Our motto is, ‘Your True Nature.’ We want to connect you to nature and help you find your own nature.”

These days, most retreaters are woman of retirement age, but through a series of high school and college-age programs, Ghost Ranch is touching younger people as well. “We are interested in exploring the culture born from the land,” a concept that resonates with young people who question the values of our ever-accelerating society.”

img_7672Ghost Ranch programs are ecumenical and interfaith. There is little focus on the precepts of the Presbyterian Church, or even Christianity; more emphasis on the universally spiritual. Although the church owns Ghost Ranch, since 2006 the retreat center has been self-supporting.

Despite its morally questionable beginnings, Ghost Ranch is a place of ethical inquiry. Despite its period of coddling the affluent, Ghost Ranch is a modest place where human presence accedes to nature. In the 150 years since westerners have occupied Ghost Ranch, it has evolved and changed, and will continue to do so. But so far, our footprints have been gentle enough to leave the natural splendor of Ghost Ranch intact.

How will we live tomorrow?

img_7664“There’s a Ghost Ranch initiative we’re doing that has influenced me directly; redefining Sabbath (based on the work of Wayne Muller, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal and Delight in Our Busy Lives). We only value success. Not being productive is frowned upon. By consciously giving one opportunities to do nothing, I am investing in everything that needs to be done in a different way.

“This is radical. Go back thousands of years, to Egypt; the powerful got people to work long and hard. In our culture, we have a tradition of work.

“The hard thing is to apply the benefit of Sabbath into our lives. The contradiction is within. There are things in my DNA that push me. Our minds are capable of doing so many things, understanding so many parameters. But we need time for our hearts to catch up.

screen-shot-2016-11-25-at-4-02-50-pm“I have started a new practice. I love to watch two ravens flying in synchronicity. Now, whenever I see it I stop, watch, and wait until it is over. That’s one way I practice the Sabbath.”

 

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Trip Log – Day 385 – Selma AL to Montgomery AL

to-montgomeryDecember 8, 2016 – Cloudy, 50 degrees

Miles Today: 69

Miles to Date: 20,054

States to Date: 47 

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In 1964, on the steps of the Alabama State Capital, where segregationist George Wallace served as governor, four months before President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act, Martin Luther King Jr. made a speech at the close of the five day march from Selma to Montgomery. He paraphrased Unitarian Theodore Parker in a quote now largely attributed to MLK. I never heard it until I began this trip, but it has become my mantra, my lens, for understanding what I hear and see across our country.

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.

img_8703We do not always move forward, all of our strides are not in the optimal direction, but over time, we move toward equality, towards peace, towards love.

As I pedaled today my legs empathized with the effort of the marchers demanding their right to vote. But I my mind also pondered the White Supremacists. Surely they knew, in their hearts, their case was unjust. We are all victims of our perspective. The more our perspective is tainted by power, and fear, the more distorted it becomes. Segregationists did not construe their actions as hate; they couched their bigotry as heritage, as honor. But maiming unarmed people and denying citizens basic rights moves beyond the bounds of tolerance. It is wrong.

The march from Selma to Montgomery would not have taken place if the eyes of the wider nation had not peered into Selma’s soul and found it rotten. But the rest of us have no cause to be snug. We did not respond in horror when a Black man was killed; we only acted after inhuman violence flooded out living room TV’s and a White minister was murdered. Circumstances that propel us towards justice are not as pure as we pretend.

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Still we make progress. The progress is slower than my legs can pedal. It is slower than thousands of protestors can walk. But it is progress nonetheless.

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Responses: How will we live tomorrow?

 

How will we live tomorrow?

“People should be more radical. Libertarian radicalism is where we need to go. We need to rethink the basic concepts of our society: private property, money, debt. I just finished reading Debt: The First 5,000 Years. We are made to believe that money grew out of barter, but that’s not the case. Money existed before barter. Money was created to change the informal ways we used to share. If Natalie gave me something I didn’t owe her anything specific in return; I had a general obligation for her welfare. Money turned a social responsibility into a transaction. A transaction is stripped of moral integrity.

“We need a change in scale. We need to get more local. Do we need government? It was invented to protect those who have.

“Only if we question everything can we get to the basics. It’s okay to be Utopian. You have to be Utopian to think real change is possible. Everything else is just fiddling around the edges.”

Alex, Auburn Rural Studio, Newbern AL

How will we live tomorrow?

“I was 47. I was a corporate prick. I took four years off and hiked the Appalachian Trail. My head cleared, and so did my attitude. Now I have been back in the corporate world for six years and I can tell I’m getting that way again.”

Tom, deer hunter, Tillar AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“I will live it as every other day I’ve lived so far. That’s lame. Not the answer, the but the reality of my life.”

Sophia LaCaze, razorback fan, Russellville AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“I don’t know.”

Abigail Remy, major pink hair, Russellville AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“I don’t know the answer to your question. I’m still one day at a time since the election.”

Michael Taylor, Clinton Presidential Library, Little Rock AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“If God wakes me up tomorrow and blesses me, then I will be thankful.”

Lyla, Delta Resort, Tillar AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“A God-fearing life, purpose driven, doing on to others as they do to you.”

Angela Courtney, moved home from West Coast to aid parents, Tillar AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, two great men.”

Bob Gandhi, motel proprietor not surnamed Patel, Rolling Fork MS

How will we live tomorrow?

“By the grace of God.”

Shirley Tucker, Arkansas Food Bank, Little Rock AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“Positively. I hope we get out of this Mississippi rain.”

Jacob Whedbee, hiking US 80 Atlanta to San Diego, Hickory MS

How will we live tomorrow?

“Hopefully with more kindness.”

Mel, Scrooge’s, Jackson MS

How will we live tomorrow?

“One day at a time.”

Frank Parent, retiree, Jackson MS

How will we live tomorrow?

“Better than today.”

Dixon Wise, dentist, Jackson MS

How will we live tomorrow?

“Underground.”

Jeanine, Auburn Rural Studio student, Newbern AL

How will we live tomorrow?

“Underground, with shared resources.”

Olivia, Auburn Rural Studio student, Newbern AL

How will we live tomorrow?

“I don’t really know.”

Wanda, waitress, Delta Resort, Tillar AR

How will we live tomorrow?

“One way we can live today is to have His grace tomorrow.”

Woodard, Waffle House, Meridian MS

 

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Trip Log – Day 384 – Marion AL to Selma AL

to-selmaDecember 7, 2016 – Cloudy, 50 degrees

Miles Today: 40

Miles to Date: 19,985

States to Date: 47

I did not know, waking from my sound sleep, that today would mark the historical as well as chronological precursor to my ride from Selma to Montgomery. Signs along Perry County Road 45 from Marion to Selma proclaim the Jimmie Lee Jackson Memorial Highway, in honor of the young man whose death, at the hands of local officials, spurred the protests that began as marches from Marion to Selma, and later grew to the historic march to the capital.

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The land is gentle and benevolent, fertile fields and thick forests. It is easy to see why, under the order of a two-tiered society; it was such a pleasant place to be a White person. But order based on oppression is never stable. And so Jimmie Lee Jackson protested and died, and I am drawn here to follow the path of the many who trod before me to protest the ills of this land.

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The city of Selma is poor and tired. So often, the biggest struggles of man are fought over scraps so tarnished we wonder in hindsight whether they were worth the trouble. But what began in Selma resonated well beyond downtown facades in need of repair or barbershops lining back streets. That the violence and unrest of Selma had to occur at all is tragic. More than fifty years later, can anyone envision a time when the city will be known for anything else?

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Trip Log – Day 383 – Demopolis AL to Marion AL

to-marion-alDecember 6, 2016 – Cloudy, 55 degrees

Miles Today: 38

Miles to Date: 19,945

States to Date: 47

 In the lexicon of touring cyclists, Alabama = dogs. Today, after a lovely morning ride through Hale County farmland and an invigorating visit to Auburn Rural Studio, I headed east on County Road 20 and turned north on Highway 23.

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There they were, commanding the top of a rise like a posse out of the old west: a line of dogs. What could I do but approach, cautiously; glad for the warning their elevation afforded me.

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screen-shot-2016-12-06-at-6-39-28-pmThree…four… a truck came along and scattered them before I got a full count … at least four. I descended a swale in full view. They caught my scent and came on, six in all, frisky and still growing, happy and playful as Spanky and Our Gang. I had nothing to fear, and neither did they. I turned east at their intersection, but they didn’t follow. They stayed in their pack at their corner, the rural equivalent of a street gang.

Further on, a trio of dogs came on me from the left. Later, a quartet. All sharp barkers with no bite. Thank goodness for that.

 

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Profile Response: Cheryl and Paul Lee, Ghost Ranch NM

HWWLT Logo on yellowThis is Cheryl Lee’s eleventh visit to Ghost Ranch; Paul’s first. They aren’t enrolled in any workshops; they parked their vintage teardrop trailer in the campground and are enjoying the place without an itinerary.

Cheryl is a pleinair watercolorist. She showed me pics of two landscapes that she painted this week, striking compositions with brilliant autumn foregrounds and syrupy skies, even on an iPhone. Yesterday, she gave one to friend. “It was a gift of love, to create this image for someone I care about.” Today, someone approached while she was painting and bought the other. “I know I sold that painting because yesterday I gave one away. That person could still feel the love in my work.”

img_7670Paul is an osteopath in Durango, Colorado; past the age when many retire but uninterested in stopping work he loves so much. “I’m down to three days a week.” Paul’s off days are devoted to writing. His first book, Interface: Mechanisms of Spirit in Osteopathy (R. Paul Lee, Stillness Press) seeks to rekindle the spiritual aspects that make osteopaths fundamentally different from medical doctors. Paul’s witnessed more merging between MDs and DO’s. Given the predominance of MD’s, that merging often feels more like a takeover. Within a decade, the training for the two types of physicians will be essentially identical. Most likely, that will further dilute DO’s inclusion of the spirit in treatment., but Paul chooses to look at it as an opportunity to bring osteopathiimgresc melding of physical and spiritual well-being to all medical students. Thus his new book, The Cure for Common Medicine, makes the case for spiritual as well as physical education and treatment.

 

How will we live tomorrow?

img_7665“When we try to be in the moment we don’t think about tomorrow.” – Cheryl

“I finished a book today about a guy who created, through physics, a machine that sends you to ‘superpositions’ that allow you to live and observe life from different perspectives. The guy who invented the machine geos to a superposition, then returns, as the altered person, and changes places with his original self. Turns out there are many variations of this same guy all experiencing different realities. The original guy has all these phantasmagorical experiences. But he doesn’t have what he cherishes most – to be with his wife and son. The book made me appreciate being in the moment. It made me appreciate what I have. Your question reminded me of that.” – Paul

 

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Trip Log – Day 382 – Newton MS to Demopolis AL

to-demopolis-alDecember 5, 2016 – Rain, 50 degrees

Miles Today: 86

Miles to Date: 19,907

States to Date: 47

Every long distance cyclist worth his or her salt has tales of bad weather. Few have to wait over a year for Mother Nature to get long-toothed and ugly. My journey has been blessed with freakishly good weather. Until Mississippi I woke to rain exactly twice and never failed to reach my proposed destination.

imagesI’ve just finished three days of rain – the entire width of Mississippi from Catfish Row in Vicksburg all the way to Toomsuba. As weather sagas go, mine is still lightweight. The rain fell from still and somber skies. Mississippi showers are less dangerous than Kansas’ crosswinds; I got wet, but not blown or destabilized. Except that US 80, which girdles the state, is so narrow and has a rumble strip that forced me to ride inside the white line and signal every car in each direction to make sure I was seen. My left arm got a harder workout than my thighs.

I woke before dawn and got out in the first grey light; fifteen miles before the drops started to fall. During the first torrent I decided drastic action was in order, so turned into Waffle House when I reached Meridian. Good call.

images-1Those big round lights are next-best thing to the sun. The second major downpour occurred while I chatted up four obese waitresses and an aging Black man intrigued with my rig. I devoured eggs and grits, toast and bacon and a sweet waffle, then drowned them all with coffee. Waffle House has the worst coffee; all part of its charm.

 

imagesI met a pair of cross-country hikers walking US 80 from Atlanta to San Diego. (facebook.com/thehikeacrossamerica). Mississippi’s incessant rain was harder on Jacob Whedbee and Musunga Mubuso than on me.

The precipitation did not stop at the state line; it remained a steady downpour all the way to Demopolis. Fortunately for me, if not the natural environment, US 80 mushrooms to Interstate proportions in Alabama. All character is lost in the service of speed and safety, which, on this particular day, I did not mind. On my own shoulder, separated by a rumble strip, my mind drifted just as free as any sunny day.

imgresSixty-nine miles in I realized I needed a snack before the final push. The rain dissipated. I stopped along a guardrail and ate a Clif bar. The downpour resumed. I stood along the blacktop on a featureless hill. For a moment, I considered the absurdity of my trek. What am I doing in Alabama – for the third time – in the middle of December, in the middle of a rainstorm? Then I got mounted the bike and pedaled on. Within moments it didn’t seem absurd at all. Bicycling is just the perfect way to get most anywhere in most any weather.

 

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Profile Response: Joey Patemko Taos NM

HWWLT Logo on yellowJoey Patemko and I are hitchhiking buddies. When I arrived at his place, five miles south of Taos Plaza, he told me two other couchsurfers were staying that night. They wanted to take him out to dinner so we were going to hitchhike into town and ride back with them. I showered fast so we could be roadside before dark.

Joey wore board shorts, a T-shirt and sandals. He carried a big sign, ‘TAOS’ in box letters on a slab of corrugated. He waved it at all passing vehicles, jerked his thumb up and down and danced a lick. The crisp mountain air didn’t chill the Cleveland native’s bones or exuberant spirit. “You got to have a sign, that helps. You got to be in daylight too. Make eye contact with every driver.” Sometimes, Joey explained, he got rides into town within 30 seconds, never more than fifteen minutes. Five minutes passed with no takers. Prudent me suggested pescreen-shot-2016-11-12-at-4-46-05-pmrhaps two men would have more difficultly getting a ride than one. “Maybe.” I could tell Joey didn’t consider that a real deterrent. “Well, no woman will pick us up.” I said with certainty.

 

Two minutes later, Tracy stopped her weathered Toyota wagon. On her way to the laundromat. She tossed stuff out of the front seat to make room for Joey. I shifted the car seat in back to create space for me. She asked for a cigarette. Neither of us was carrying. She shrugged, took a gulp of Tecate, and turned the volume on her CD mix up to the beat.

Joey has a pretty mouth; at least that’s what some guy told him. Although Joey wasn’t keen on receiving that compliment from a man, he knows its true. He’s a solidly good-looking 27-year-old male. Tracy’s older but she’s got assets no sharp eye would dismiss.

Joey and Tracy talked about how they came to Taos. She’s been here twelve years, has two kids and a full sleeve of tatts on her shifting arm. Joey’s been here only a few months, and will likely move on soon. They talked about hot springs. Tracy turned the volume down as the conversation spiked. Maybe they would go to Hondo together. She gave him her number. He logged it but didn’t reciprocate. The heat of their conversation made me want to remove my jacket.

We pull up the laundromat a few blocks off the Plaza. “I can drive you the whole way,” Tracy implores. “No,” Joey says, “we can use the exercise; especially this guy,” He thumbs to the back and tells her I’ve ridden my bike 17,000 miles. She doesn’t know how to respond. A lot of people don’t.

screen-shot-2016-11-12-at-4-43-19-pm“Do you think you’ll call her?” I ask Joey as we walk to the Plaza. “I don’t know… I have a girlfriend in Albuquerque. This one’s a hot mess.”

A hot mess. I never really understood that term. But Joey nailed it.

 

How will we live tomorrow?

“A little more simply, with a little less fear; a lot more sex, but meaningful sex. Regardless, do what you’re passionate about. Don’t settle. Don’t get complacent.

“When I am in crisis I feel happy – I don’t sweat the small stuff.

“Try to help people when they need it; don’t help people that ask too much. But learn how to ask for help when you need it.”

 

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