10/2/25

Across the table an old woman sits  in a wheel chair  slowly chewing cornflakes and blue cheese. A dribble of milk down her chin , slow movement of the hand to wipe it away…multiple strokes take their toll. 

She pauses her eating…” When I die Heaven will be an endless field of yellow flowers where I can run free, run as fast and as far as I can”…the spoon taken up again loaded with soggy flakes mixed with bits of blue…

I remain silent to honor the moment…

Quiet fills the room. She again pauses and looks at me…” I don’t know why I am even here…”

Quiet again…

“ Because you are our mother and you have so nobly brought us to this place”

Tears fill her eyes…” Thank you”

She died not long after at peace in her own bed with family at her side. 

I just finished another ride…this time as a route leader on the bike half a day and driving the support van the other half. 

I feel at peace…my belongings in a cubby 2 feet by  1 1/2 feet and two feet deep…all my worldly “stuff” left behind. This ride I am not the White Rabbit but rather the Sweep, always behind to be of help to the other less experienced riders in front of me. 

Riding alone most of the time I  am one with Nature…this ride has almost no roads or cars…rather endless tree tunnels.

As I ride I think back to my life and wonder at all the branches in the path I have taken. Should I have chosen a different way , do I have any regrets?

Last night my two granddaughters came bursting into my house full of joy and excitement. The 8 year old was allowed to get her ears pierced  after lengthy family negotiations and the 5 year had a new necklace to balance  her sister’s reward. 

Any thoughts of different paths or  regrets dissolve as they smother me in hugs…

I think back to my mother’s existential query…” Why am I here?”

Western Society values are based on nouns…to be blunt…” stuff”… I think we have gotten it all wrong. Life is about verbs….rides along a meandering path…. 

Near the top of my ride is  the small town of Ohiopyle. There cascades and falls highlight Mother Nature’s hand…torrents of water flowing down hill. 

Picture

Life is like this river flowing from up high to the oceans below….birth to death…part of a journey we all share.

Long ago I found purpose in life…helping to remove stones and boulders from  rivers to aid other’s flow . On these rides I reconnect with Nature and strip back the tarnish of stuff to reconnect with the River and settle into the role of being a Sweeper…sometimes clearing the path ahead for two little girls, sometimes cheering on those next to me near exhaustion from the toil, sometimes staying behind to help riders lost in the woods. 

I have been blessed with health and familial longevity…two more rides are planned next year… again as a Sweeper.

The time will come somewhere down the path where I will sit eating cornflakes and blue cheese pondering the nature of Heaven while my son quietly looks on… 

What will that vision of the Afterlife be? 

Only time will tell …but I doubt I will have any regrets about the path I took…

9/22/25

The Paw Paw fruit is native to North America. Due to its rapid ripening period and quick spoilage it is not a popular fruit. The taste is unique described as a combined banana and mango. It did however help early settlers to North America survive hard famine times. Those same settlers thought the fruit was papaya and so named it PawPaw but in fact it is not related at all being a separate species.
Just south of Cumberland Maryland is Paw Paw West Virginia. Nearby an engineering feat of the mid 1800, the Paw Paw tunnel. Present day the inner walk way is traveled by cyclists going from Pittsburgh to Washington DC.

What follows is from Wikepedia:

Built using more than six million bricks, the tunnel has been described as “the greatest engineering marvel along the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal National Historical Park.”^[2] Located at milepost 155.2, the tunnel served to eliminate six miles of canal and is credited with contributing to the economic success of nearby Cumberland, Maryland.^[3]

Construction on the tunnel began in 1836 and was expected to be completed within two years at a total cost of $33,500. But the project proved far more complicated and costly than expected, and the tunnel did not open until 1850, more than a decade behind schedule.

The project was delayed for many reasons. Not only did the construction company underestimate the difficulty of the work, violence frequently broke out among immigrant laborers of different ethnicities, and wages often went unpaid due to the company’s financial problems.^[4] By the time the tunnel was finally completed at a price of $600,000, it had nearly bankrupted the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Company. Due to the high cost and long delay in completing the tunnel, the construction ended at Cumberland, Maryland, falling short of the original plan to take it all the way to Pittsburgh.

The tunnel was used by canal boats until the C&O closed in 1924. The tunnel and towpath are now maintained for public use as part of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Historical Park. Though never one of the longest tunnels in the world, Paw Paw Tunnel remains one of the greatest engineering feats 

9/19/25

She lies on a bus stop bench sound asleep…Next to her a large bag of soda cans collected for a few extra dollars. .. her pants split open along her natural buttocks line, an unfortunate bending for a few more cans. 

A policeman wanders by to rouse her but she is at the last minute waken by her boyfriend , a high powered lawyer having finished his business in a sky scraper above. The policeman gently helps her up and ushers her along, lawyer friend left holding a bag of cans…

When asked later about her behavior she replies “ but it’s Pittsburgh, might be worn down and out of luck but the people are so kind. “

My mother…God rest her soul. 

Now may years later I return to this city to start a charity  bike ride to DC. 

Pittsburgh  has been rejuvenated through community efforts, hard work and local pride. Much effort went into this successful endeavor on a massive scale civic and commercial cooperation. 

Today in America and throughout the world the air is thick with division , negative feelings and destructive actions fueled by a media looking for a quick story to make an even quicker buck. 

I was told once by a wise young woman to get out of my comfort zone any time I could. Even more so now I believe this. It’s too easy to be a couch potato and passively absorb negative media vibes. They do nothing but cause anxiety, stir fear and stoke the flames of hate. 

Today 16 people of various backgrounds come together to form the core of an ALS charity ride. 

I look to them on the bridge with the new Pittsburgh in the background and see a halo of kindness above them which lowers itself and touches each shoulder forming bridges where there were none.  

We leave as a group and it soon becomes clear some riders are more experienced than others. Rather than break into groups of equal skill as I have seen so many times before the better riders slow to help the newer ones. Never is there criticism or impatience but rather a genuine kindness which  by its very nature fosters success. 

Bridges are crossed in tandem through these helping hands.

We arrive in a small town along a meandering river greeted by strangers at church reaching out to tired riders. A safe place to sleep, an evening meal, showers and a promise of a homemade breakfast before we leave.

The pastor explains” We do this because we can and because it’s the right thing to do” .

Never once in this town did I consider  left or right, blue or red, white black or brown…and neither did the ones reaching out their hands.

This town…these people are the real America, those same people who came together to rebuild a run down city, that same policeman who helped my mother from her slumber on a run down bus stop bench, the same people offering us a safe nights sleep.

This is America made great by the common folk who live in the real world not in the virtual world of the internet. 

It would do us all well to turn off our TVs, iPads, and internet links, peel away the shells and seek out the kindness that abounds. 

It’s waiting for you…

8/26/25

This popped up in my yard 5 days ago.
“Chicken in the Woods” mushroom.
Now gone, eaten by slugs and birds…

Moral: Be sure to stop to enjoy the Beauty of Nature…it can be transient..,

PS: it’s glad I “ saved “ it on canvas…relayed the message to Angel before the last morsel was downed by a crow…

Angel told me so…

8/22/25

Long before we learned “Don’t judge a book by its cover” Mother Nature taught “Don’t judge a carrot by its skin”…

A real carrot…

Orange carrots are about 500 years old. The other colors …3000 to 5000 years old…

8/5/25

Majestic, the egret sits quietly waiting for the right moment to strike for a tasty fish. 

Instinct preserves life…

3 children aged 13, 9, and 8 glumly walk behind their parents, all three  drenched in Virginia summer sweat …a rural farm auction.

Suddenly ahead a marvel to see…a 1950’s vintage pinball machine in dire straits of repair. 

The three of us rush forwarded to gawk. My father approaches. The thirteen year old blurts out “I can fix it dad, can we buy it?” 25$…a lot of money to my parents then…

He laughs at my suggestion, scoffs at the idea that I could fix it,  and starts to walk on. The 8 year old, my sister, turns to him and with great authority says “If he says he can fix it I know he can”. 

Such Faith from the mouthes of babes. 

My father looks at his three ragamuffins and nods his head…a rare yes.

That night the pinball machine is open and the three of  us behold a true rats nest…a few mummified babies next to the main electric coil. 

Slowly I clean it out and study the wiring to realize it is nothing more than a series of electromagnetic coils triggered by a bouncing steel ball up top. 48 hours later …it is cleaned, rewired it is in perfect working order… its a week before we three can play it as my father has assumed it is his…

Looking back, my most precious memory is that of my sister standing there proclaiming total faith in my abilities to fix this machine I knew nothing about.

The power of Faith of a child is never to be underestimated.

Years later , having lived “ outside the box” all my life,  so many times I was told that I would never succeed at various endeavors…college, medical school, post graduate trainings, academic medicine, music school and finally art… 

 None of these endeavors were easy and I struggled through each to success recalling the Faith of a 8 year old sister in her brother. 

I find myself now at a transition in life.

As I  turn away from practicing medicine to  concentrating on art I question whether or not I have really succeeded at anything over the past 40 years. Old doubts surface and plague my soul … now  creeping into the quality and value of my paintings. 

I know the source of this doubt, a scoffing father and a mother who only twice in my life expressed satisfaction towards my accomplishments…yet I know given their backgrounds they did the best they could raising children. 

Recently another young girl spontaneously expressed faith in my abilities. After taking a picture of an egret in  Florida she exclaimed “ I know he can paint this!” 

So in thanks for her faith in me I did … 

The Faith of children is so pure, so instinctual whereas the faith of adults may be well meant but there seems always background noise as to the nature of their faith…from love, a need to support someone, flattery, ,PR, manipulation…whatever. Although that  faith is valuable, the pure Faith of a child is priceless…

As I age I come to recognize the tremendous value of being around children.

 

It is wise to learn from them…

We could all benefit from the luck of finding a child who shares unconditional Faith…

PS. Sometimes we have to reach deep down to find faith in ourselves. After a year of injuries I am going to ride again in September from Pittsburgh to DC, and if all goes well longer rides are planned in 2026. Keep your fingers crossed for me…more stories and pictures to come. 

I’ve warned Angel and Flossie to get in shape…

PPS; a Freebie…

4/12/25

Out of chaos…

” Hope Springs Eternal”

Need I say more ?

2/28/25

Last evening I manned a station at my granddaughter’s Elementary School Heritage Night…a time for students to share their origins. 

Children from kindergarten to the fifth grade helped their parents set up tables loaded with native foods, deserts, candies, pictures, costumes, and posters proudly sharing their origins.

 My family had one of the two tables from Europe, Italy and Poland, dwarfed in number by tables from South America, Central America, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and Southeast Asia. 

Children whose parents and grandparents came from all corners of the world ran excitedly from table to table sampling foods. Later, shyly at first, their parents did the same until the large crowd became a collage of colors and a people of One. Smiles lit the room as children continued to mix the adults into a beautiful blend. 

I tasted foods from Africa at first and deserts from Armenia but then quickly returned to my stall to hand out biscotti, and chunks of panettone. Anyone who knows this Italian cake bread knows it is difficult to cut, rather it is eaten in “hunks” of moist pure pleasure. 

 I was amazed that over two hours one cake fed more than 100 people each with eyes aglow at the unique taste as it exploded in their mouths. I at one point wondered at the Miracle of Loaves and wondered at how it was that I fed so many. I turned to discover the truth…Angel was replacing hunks as quickly as I could hand them out…

Angel smiled and glowed while I bowed my thanks. 

I saw America last night through a throng of children and parents fed and sustained by so many different foods …including a  “Miracle of the Loaf”…

Pass the last hunk of Panettone please…

2/2/25

This morning, while grocery shopping, I happened upon a magazine stand and considered buying this book. As I thumbed through the pages, I decided it best to leave it on the shelf  as I already have enough books.

Walking away I pondered at the various pages that I had perused and  thought to today’s events happening in this country and throughout the world. We have lived in a recently peaceful time characterized as a “democracy” here in this country, but it would appear that we are heading towards the age of Oligarchs similar to our Gilded age in the late 1800s. One only look at the photographs of the recent inauguration to see who was surrounding the returning president.

Throughout our 12,000 year history, there have always been at least two levels of society, those on the top with power and wealth and all the rest of us who live our daily lives as best we can. If we are honest with ourselves the recent Middle Class is in reality the upper level of the lower society. 

I am reminded of the Renaissance with the Medici family  and the Popes and how much they fought with each other, yet must recall the vast majority of the people who lived in the lower levels of society worked their daily lives with the impact of these upper level fights seen only when drafted into the army or when overly taxed to support power or wealth seeking endeavors. 

The vast majority of us are peanuts in history.

I am reminded of the Tolstoy’s great work, War and Peace where throughout the novel the two levels of society mix on the battlefield and at home. The novel is great, not only as a piece of literature, but also as an examination of human society as it travels through times both “good and bad”.

Our times may be unique in that the media from all different aspects, seduce the lower levels of society to continuously “watch” the upper level of society …an intricate soap opera with new episodes on a daily basis. 

For 10,000 years these conflicts have raged, but the vast majority of the time they occur offstage. 

Mass media has changed that.

I have come to realize that, regardless of what politicians say, regardless of what party they belong to, or regardless of what we think of them, they have little concern for those of us who are the peanuts. They are playing their game at a higher level, often at the cost of our lives and fortunes. The media forces us to believe that they have some good or bad intentions towards us, but in all honesty, I don’t think they’re really care at all. We are nothing more than a source of revenue through taxes or canon fodder in times of war. 

War and Peace examines  yet another level of society, if we could call it that,  in the movement of history through time. It examines the question and makes us ponder, whether or not either of the two levels of society have any impact on the marching of history or whether or not the path is set in pattern by our genetics, the environment, mathematics, Darwinian evolution, or some Divine will.

Even those at the top who believe themselves important will find that there are nothing more than footprints in the drifting sands of time. Go buy the book I looked at this am if you doubt this.

How does one deal with this on a day-to-day basis? It is my belief that we would all be much better off  if we would ignore the media and its drama , and concentrate on what we can do for our own level of society. 

I do this through working in rural healthcare for those in need, and recently have put on my radar food programs at my granddaughter’s local elementary school so the children do not go without breakfast or lunch if an Oligarch decides to siphon away money for his agenda. In addition, I am becoming more attuned  to those who may need help who are being persecuted by the upper levels for their own personal gains.

Regardless of whether or not you believe in CNN, Fox News, ABC, CBCS, NBC, or PBS , whoever, they too have little interest in the needs of the lower classes, but in all honesty are rather motivated by the marketing and profit of advertising. 

I think we would all be better off if we would turn away from the mass media,  look to our own people and find ways to help each other on a local basis out of  any limelight.

There is a saying that taxes and death are inevitable, and in fact, that  is true. But at the same time we can make the lives of those around us better by concentrating on their needs rather than spending time “chewing the cud’  about what the Medicis  and Popes are doing in their palaces. 

I recently painted this picture and try every day to live my life accordingly.

Stay safe in these times.

8/28/24

I looked down in agony to my ankle as I got off the train to see  marked swelling and an already forming collection of blood around my achilles tendon. 

I had just 30 minutes before run to catch a connecting train only to clip my heel on something as I boarded the moving coach.  

Sometimes its not worth running for a train. 

After the engine  pulled into the station 

I limped to my son’s house two blocks away knowing that I would never be able to ride my scheduled rides this year …so much obvious damage to my ankle. Angel, supposed to protect me, just looked on. 

3-4 days later when I returned home not only could I not ride but walking more than a block was excruciatingly painful; I knew by exam there was no complete rupture of the tendon but definitely a significant tear.

A black mood descended over my soul as I saw my summer plans fade away.

4 weeks later to cheer myself up, limping in a little less pain, I revisited my son but ran for no trains. That Saturday morning, when I was supposed to be in Seattle to start a ride,  with two sweet little girls  in tow, I hobbled across the park behind my son’s house to a garage sale advertising children’s  books.

Arriving not three minutes later, thank goodness for my heel, both ran off to the overflowing tables while I stood spellbound looking at the house.

I approached the owner and asked about the sale to learn that he and his wife were moving and that the home was soon to go on the market. Spontaneously I said” I want to buy your house”. He just smiled and went back to work.

We had considered moving to Washington Grove, Maryland * several times but such a move required the right kind of house to meet certain physical needs. In addition the timing just never seemed right with responsibilities in NC.

But this house was a Goldilocks dream…just right; one floor, few stairs, a quiet isolated neighborhood surrounded by woodlands…a home 200 yards from my son’s house and…an attached professional art studio. 

A half hour later while sitting on my son’s porch an unknown woman approached .

 “ I understand you are interested in that house. I am the realtor..would you like to see it?”

After a tour I called my wife unsure as to the reception on the other end of the phone.

 To my surprise: ”I’ll get in the car and drive up right now. “

8 weeks later we closed .

My son…a gentle soul…took the realtor aside at the end and said “”My parents moving here is a dream come true. “

The realtor to me: ” I wonder how many children anywhere feel that way about their parents?”

There are still responsibilities n NC to be resolved and it will be a slow 4 month move. After  job interviews in Maryland I decided my place was here in rural Eastern NC caring for those who the world has left behind. CFHC (my employer) has graciously agreed to a schedule and transportation starting in 2025 that will meet all needs. 

Next week I ride from Pittsburgh to DC and will leave my bike at my new house at the end of the route…my ankle has finally healed after 15 weeks of slow recovery.

I look back now and in wonderment think how a damaged  achilles tendon and a empty mood may have led to the  final peaceful stage of my life. No wonder Angel did nothing to prevent my torn leg… 

Sometimes there is hidden beauty in a dark, bleak, doom … just as in the slow opening of a black iris bloom… 

• if interested go to Wikipedia and search: Washington Grove Maryland …” The Town in a Forest”.