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”. 

6/13/24

I stood there on the corner by myself; all the rest of my classmates from the second grade long gone … in my hand a Mercury Dime , bus fare to get me home some 5 miles off. I fingered the coin thinking how beautiful the greek god was.

Earlier in the day in class a nun had begun to berate a small hispanic child for not being able to understand addition. I’m not sure he even understood English much less math. In frustration she yelled at him that he would have to stay after class as punishment. Out came the ruler for a knuckle wrapping we all knew too well. Im not sure where I got the courage to do so but I stood up at my desk, said just one word ” Stop” ,and she turned shocked at my insolence. Before she could come towards me I calmly said ” I’ll stay late too and teach him math”.

Stunned she did not know what to do and sat down. 

And I did… and I was late getting home, not that it really mattered since I was a latch key child even though we never locked the house since robberies were unheard of then in Colorado Springs. 

I was to have been on a bike ride by now but I injured my ankle running for a train 6 weeks ago. Maybe I can go in September.

Yesterday while in clinic I got a call from the police. My art studio had been robbed during the wee hours of that morn. After clinic I headed there to find 3000$ of my art gone, about 60 paintings, and all my food missing. I had stocked up for the 6 week bike ride but had taken it to the studio when my ride was postponed. 

Needless to say I felt gutted at my loss not so much financially but at the loss of my art.

Having postponed my ride I signed up for night clinics at migrant camps. We have  a well run mobile unit with an MD or PA with nurses and lab techs especially to help with diabetes care and HIV screening.

Last night I arrived at a sweet potato farm covered in clouds of dust. I felt like I was in the middle of a desert storm.

 We set up and I began to see patients one by one. Many were suffering from dust exposure either lungs or eyes and I did what I could. Hypertension and Diabetes are high on the list of problems and I found myself as usual back in the world of primary care. 

CFHC, the organization where I work,  is an incredible institution which  helps the poor, disabled, mentally impaired, those addicted to drugs or alcohol, AIDS patients,  and migrants in camps. 10 years here now and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Driving home after dark I pondered the migrant’s situations, they are with us each year for 6 months. As I did so my robbery losses came again into focus and I realized how unimportant they  were compared to the needs I had just tried to address.

When bad things happen, like my ankle or the robbery,  I often wonder if there isn’t an underlying plan moving along beyond my vision or thoughts…

I doubt I will ever see my paintings again. That’s painful to me but is it really such a great loss?

I have sprinkled some throughout this story. 

If you happen to see them for sale on some street corner in  DC or NYC  ponder their beauty, enjoy them, then pull out your bus fare and move on…

Stay safe one and all…

3/31/24

In Italy “zucchini ” is a general term for squash. All the plant is eaten… the fruit is cooked in various ways, the flowers lightly battered and fried, and the stems hollowed out for children to use as straws to sip on watered down wine or cappucino. 

I’ve never been much at playing the role of a couch potato and find that I am more related to a squash…

I decided to ride again… surprise surprise…

Last Fall, just after Thanksgiving, I was broadsided by an SUV on my way to work.  The sun blinded an  oncoming vehicle and on her birthday, a sweet, young, 22 year old totaled my car. Angel at the last moment placed a wide hand over the right side on my face and spared my eyes from hundreds of shards of glass that penetrated my scalp and right arm . Damage occurred, hearing loss from air bag explosions , a broken finger and two hours of glass removal from my head by a clinic MD. Luckily the other driver was OK.

I got a new car…not the way I wanted to.

I was leery  about riding again but my hearing is fine except for loss of high tones. I cannot block ambient noise so I avoid malls, restaurants, theaters and conversations with more than 2 people in a room. I was never very social to start with so no great loss on my part. 

In Harari’s second book, “Homo Deus”, he has a section concerning attempts by science to make humans (rich humans) near immortal. One interesting point he brings out is the fear these immortals will have at being involved in an accident or being exposed to possible life threatening  trauma. From this fear they live in cotton padded cocoons to minimize dangers , an even worse idea to me than  being a couch potato.

The wreck certainly brought my mortality into focus but after great thought and  sore couch buns I decided I can’t live in fear of death.

I always admired Freud and his theories even though much has fallen out of favor with modern Psychiatry. I still believe in the concept of the ID, EGO, and Superego but wonder about a couple more additional stages. I don’t think the early stages disappear but rather blend and mix with compromise… creating a “self” . We all still retain the child’s  ID at heart.

I think I’ve entered a fourth stage…I named it Wizego…old enough to be a little wise…tempering and adjusting my previous three selfs. 

This ride I plan to let Wizego be in charge. I’ll ride slower, bask in the natural surroundings of the Northwest and Pacific coast and not bother to bring out the White Rabbit from Seattle to San Diego…( well…. not often anyway).

My mother in her last 6 months of life entered the last stage of Life…“Tirego”. 

She told me she had lived a full life, was tired, and it was time to let go. I have a ways to go before I get there, maybe Wizego will last 15-20 years, who knows, but as I ponder my future I may as well do some of it on a bike raising money for a good cause and relishing what Mother Nature has to share.

 This Zucchini still has unused parts …and a ways to go…

Angel and Flossie were not terribly thrilled that they had to start training again…I just gave them both a hairy eyeball and said “life’s tough…get on with it…”

11/27/23

Pineapple upside down cake was my favorite desert as a child…

8 years ago on my first MS ride, bikers very obviously fell into two groups, college students and the rest of us nearing retirement age. Needless to say as we pedaled across America conflicts arose, late night partying, alcohol and  marijuana use, and roughty behavior on one side and on the other, a wish  for peace and quiet, a good nights sleep uninterrupted by bathroom breaks, aspirin,  and daily nourishing meals.

We each survived over 4300 miles and actually became good friends.

I promised myself I would never ride again with such a group  only to be scolded by dear Cassie about getting out of my comfort zone and learning from the young. 

As history showed I rode again.

Now even older I find that many young people have little regard for their elders even though I have come to value them. I think that is due to a lack of wisdom on their part and evolving wisdom on my part. They will eventually get there…

I read recently about a Dutch man who was suing in his country’s courts to have his birthday changed to 15 years later. He explained to the judge that people looked upon him as old at age 70 …no one would hire him for work, he was not eligible for free education and retraining, and he could not get a date either in person or on internet sites. I giggled at that but realized he was probably right.

As I decide on full retirement in the next year or two I look at myself driving a 25 year old car( it works fine as long as you don’t care about air conditioning…too old for parts), still write with a fountain pen, read books made of paper even though I have an iPad, and walk or ride a bike almost everywhere I go. 

Two weeks ago after an Amtrak ride I spent the weekend taking care of my two granddaughters, 6 and 4. I brought gifts for them as usual. The 6 year old got a book on craft projects while her sister got dress up clothes..both presents matching their so different personalities. The 6 year old read through her book twice studying the projects …she reads on a 6th grade level….the smartest member of our extended family she has recently learned how to do google searches on the tablet she got from school in Kindergarten…frightening…

I had her dictate to me a list of supplies for the projects and we went off to the art store to buy them. 

At home she asked about one word in the book she had trouble with “ tetrahedron”…I explained the concept of polyhedrons to her.

I asked if she wanted help only to be told: ”BaBa, creativity belongs to the artist. I don’t need any help.”

She then sat down and constructed polyhedrons from straws and clay…Plato’s perfect solids from 2500 years ago.

Today I decided to load music from CDs on onto my phone to listen to while I walk. I had 9 CDs from the past 6 months…Adelaide, Enya, and Oh Wonder.

As I started I could not get my external CD player to work with my MacBook Air even though I bought them together as a package…both sleek, smooth, thin miracle polyhedrons I got more and more frustrated and finally gave up…got  out my old lap top and used that to load music only to find it not compatible with my iPhone. After 2 hours of frustration I lost it and let loose with a string of four letter words…

I called my son at work for help but he was mildly annoyed and said we could try on face time later that night…

Stewing over my predicament I suddenly thought of my oldest granddaughter and wondered what she would do…

I sat there and looked at my CDs, laptop, external player and pretended I was looking through her eyes…

“BaBa, why is your CD player upside down?”

OMG!!! The sleek thin design had thrown me off and I had been putting CDs in an upside down player for two hours…

Somewhat embarrassed, even though I was alone, I then inserted the CDs upside down too…who knows why I didn’t turn the CD player right side up…Pride I guess…

As I sit here watching the CDs load I ponder learning from the young…who make tetrahedrons like the ancients thousands of years ago and see the obvious with their unclouded eyes. 

 Cassie , as always, was right. 

God bless the Young…and of course… the Young of Heart…

10/1/23

There will always be individuals within our government who choose to show their less flattering sides. 

Having just finished a ride of 350 miles from Pittsburgh to Washington over gravel paths , rocky roads, mud, sand, and the C&O canal I arrive in Washington amazingly optimistic about this country.

It was a wonderful ride with 20 individuals who I hold in deep respect. Not one of the individuals was without pain somewhere throughout the ride and not one did not stop to help others in times of need.

I was too tired each day to write a story after 67 to 70 miles of this terrain but instead now include pictures  of various aspects of the trip.

My last day now I am now waiting for a train to Pittsburgh where I can get my car and drive home. I spent four hours in the Smithsonian amongst hundreds of small children and parents, oooing and awing  at the dinosaurs, elephant, whale, gems, mummies, and all the  other sorts of interesting museum exhibits. 

When I left the museum, I walked out on the mall to become part of a crowd here for the World  Cultural Festival .

There were thousands of people listening to musicians, religious leaders,  spending time with friends,  eating, sleeping, meditating or just enjoying the beautiful Fall day. Police on horseback were greeted with food, water, requests for pictures and applause. 

I thought back to the events of January 6 and contrast them with today. The Capital now stands as a beautiful structure against the blue sky, as opposed to a scarred building with broken windows and defecation smeared floors and walls on the inside… courtesy of a small group of individuals who thought they knew best for this country.

We are much better and bigger than Republicans, Democrats, Biden, Trump, or whoever you choose to associate with. We are country filled with limitless  potential and stability … far beyond 99.9% of the places on this earth.

The end of this trip brings to me a renewed sense of optimism in this country regardless of what the news media has to say about our present state of affairs.

Yes, it is true that there are individuals who will show their bottoms to the world as politicians or “to be” politicians but they are not America. Not now, not before and not in the future regardless of what they believe about themselves.

America was along the Ride , in the Museum,  and on the Mall . 

America is in our Hearts.

God bless you one and all and God bless America. 

9/20/23

He sat before me looking much older than his stated age of 93. 

As I had with many of my older patients I asked him what had been notable, important in his life… sure that I could learn the secrets of Time. 

“ I remember my daddy…he was a Jamaican slave…freed …who came to America to start a new life when Monroe was President”.

Wait! Monroe? That was 1820. 

I was used to Civil War parents or grandparents but 1820? Monroe?

His father had sired him while in his early 90s …a veritable stud-muffin…and had lived another 10 years before dying early in the 20th century.

I asked for details…

“ He came to America free and worked his whole life to help his family and help others get free…he never gave up hope for better times…that was the most important thing in my life…my daddy”. 

Over and over again I asked the same question to patients in their 80s, 90s, even 100s only to get a very similar response. Electricity, the two World Wars, the Depression, the Bomb, TV, Automobiles, the Telephone, Computers, the Internet…nothing ever compared to the concern and love… or pain and grief …for a loved one. 

It became clear that in the end it was people who mattered to other people…nothing much else. 

There was almost always Hope for the Future and Faith that the next generation would “do better” but it was always people …usually family… at the center of that Hope and Faith.

In a few days I will start what will probably be my last MS ride. I tend to process in cycles of 7 years. It has been 8 years with that organization now…I feel the winds of change.

I decided to do this ride not so much to accomplish anything…rather I wanted to be one more time with people who mattered to me . I know more than half of the riders and hold each of them in high esteem. 

They are people with Faith in Humankind, Hope for the Future and Hearts of Gold… with help for  strangers  at their finger tips. 

I think of all the miles I have ridden, twice around the earth at the equator, all the beautiful nature I’ve seen, the people who I’ve met along the rides who reaffirm my belief in the basic Good , the money I’ve raised for MS…none of these compare to my thoughts of the other riders.

When asked 15 -20 years down the way what I most remember about the rides it will be those who struggled with me …those in front of me  and those behind me on long difficult mountain climbs. Those who I helped and those who helped me. Those who never gave up Hope of climbing that Mountain… or Faith that we would all make it to the Top. 

I will relish my 5 days with them as I ride from Pittsburgh to Washington DC. 

A Freed slave 200 years ago climbed mountains to help his family …

Every day we can follow  in his footsteps through Faith, Hope and Charity. Our respective Families are there waiting to continue the Journey with us or for us…the Bikes are propped up against that Pickett  fence…

May you each find an Angel to lead  the way… 

August 7-12/2023

Day One

There is a deep grumbling above me…

”Why are you here little one?”

I look around but see no one. The bike path has narrowed and turned to dirt…

Again the question surrounds me…

I look up to see only old wise ones…

“ Why are you here little one?”

The trees are talking to me…

I stop my ride and decide to explain to them…about meeting Death the last time…

They listen solemnly and then murmur among themselves… a quiet breeze.

To me again…” There is no Death here …only Rebirth”.

I look to the moss covered floor of the forest, what appear to be non living limbs ,to the lush verdant scene …and see only Life…

The soft ground cover rustles in the gentle wind.

I look up to the Lords above and ask what these smaller ones are saying…

“ They are giggling wondering why you are here…”

“ I just explained it to you… again to them?”

The giants rumble a deep moan that can only be their laugh…

“ Why Here ? No one comes Here!”

And then I realize I am lost somewhere deep in the woods…

“ Fear not little one we will show you the way out…”

Ahead a tunnel of light… it feels like a Birth Canal…

“ Through there you will find Life… not Death…”

And so I go. Eventually I find the other riders in a different part of the deep forest camped for the first night.

As I fade out I see above me gentle Guardians swaying in the evening breeze.

“ Good night little one” …and Death is no where to be seen.

Day 2

Above the murmuring trees I glimpse the snow tops where live the Gods. From on high snow melts feed the streams which in turn feed the land.

Day 3

A Rebirth must be accompanied by a new Baptism and so come the drenching cold rains…which chill my soul but make the land so green…

Day 4.

Now along the far west coast we turn south towards the ocean. Herds of elk take no concern of passing man…

The smell of salt fills the air and suddenly we are there. Gnarlly trees point us further south.

We spend that night in Amanda Camp…not even a town but instead a K-12 school on the edge of a Native Reservation. We are guests there for the night…a school kitchen, inside gym, bathrooms, showers, and laundry facilities. I wander the halls and look at the photos of students on the walls going back more than 20 years…a third Native Indian, a third Hispanic and a third white Caucasian. Hallway billboards emphasize acceptance of diversity… photos of clubs and activities seem to exhibit success.

Poverty oozes from all the pictures…this peninsula is a western Appalachia, there is little work or wealth here.

I decide to leave all my non perishable food in the home economics classroom as a small gift of thanks.

Day 5.

This is the longest ride 88 miles and 4000 feet of climbing. I get lost twice and log 95 instead…

Day 6

We are now on the southern side of the Olympic Peaks.

As I head towards Bremerton for our ferry ride…I get lost again.

I see a divided highway next to me which I recognize on the map… but…I’m on the wrong side. I turn to see a falling down machine shop , 5O rusty cars and giant of an old man in dirty jeans and a “used to be white” T shirt wearing coke bottle glasses barely hanging on his nose.

I approach him but he doesn’t make a move.

“ I think I’m lost and need help” with map in hand…

“ Show me where you think you are son”

I do.

With a greasy snear “ Well that’s 30 miles from here…”

Only then did I realize I gave him the wrong page being a bit intimidated by his immense size and never washed garb.

“ I think I’m here…”

“ Well you are son… where do you want to go?”

“ Over there on the other side of that divided highway “

“ Well you have three choices…”

Behind me…” go back 4 miles and cross there… “

To my left…

“Go three miles up that mighty steep hill”

Or to my right

With a big tooth missing grin “ Get on those railroad tracks, go over a trellis a third of a mile and then slide down the hill to the other side of the road”.

Much to his surprise I chose the railroad tracks…

20 feet in looking at shiny steel blades I turned back to him…

“ When is the next train?”

He laughed and turned away” in 4 days don’t doddle too long”.

Across the trellis I found said sliding hill only to realize it was a massive blackberry patch with a tiny rarely used path almost straight down.

And so I sat and with bike in hand scooted 50 feet hoping my riding shorts would protect me from the millions thorns.

Much to the surprise of passing cars I popped out of the blackberry brush with bike in hand , pants not torn , wearing a big happy grin…and rode on….

I even made the ferry to Seattle on time…

These 6 days…no better way to put Death behind… the Gentle Trees were right after all, this is the Land of Rebirth.

8/12/23

360 miles around the “ foothills” of that. The old grey mule shed his hide and behold there was the … White Rabbit! Three yellow jerseys in 6 days.
And for Richard from Amanda Camp… they remember you!
Full post tomorrow after I rest.

8/10/23

Ride is going very well. Very remote here on Olympic Peninsula with variable phone or internet service…but lots of fog, clouds and rain.
Will do full post with pictures at end on Sunday or Monday