5/31: Meet Shelly

Shelly and I had been talking via Yahoo chat, Facebook, and the telephone since February, so the meeting wasn't as emotional as it would have once been. I can't even say it was "weird", believe it or not.

Part of this stemmed from Shelly notifying me toward the end of our stay in Mass. that Lynn's kids, Ben & Brad, were flying in that week and there was going to be a BBQ at my fathers the following Sunday. They're 14 and 16 now, and hadn't seen their aunts, uncles, and cousins in years. Shelly thought that, since I was already in touch with most of the players in this drama, it would be a good opportunity to get it, for lack of a better term, "over with!" I agreed, even though I was sure I'd feel out of place beyond comprehension! Shortly after we left Hillsdale, NY however, she called to let me know my father didn't think it was a good idea because it would "make people uncomfortable", even though everyone there would know who I was... including Ben & Brad... by then. In other words, he'd have to look me and the rest of his family in the face at the same time, and didn't want to deal with it.

While I wasn't surprised, I was both hurt and pissed off at the same time. Who was he kidding? Does he think everyone's a fool? Coward. I stewed for a good portion of the night, before getting to Oneonta. I had held out hope that there may be a chance that I'd be able to get somewhere with him, but this wasn't a good omen. Shelly suggested that perhaps we could set up a smaller gathering with her, Pam, and he and his wife while I was here. At the very least I'd be able to see my nephews while they were here from Idaho and staying with Shelly's mother. That would indeed be pretty damn cool.

As I got out of the car and walked to her door, of course I was a bit nervous, but once we hugged there was more of a sense of "finally" than anything. We seemed to simply continue this newly- developed relationship seamlessly, with none of the dreaded "tension" that I had been afraid may be present. It was nice to finally put my own mental picture with the photographs I had been shown over three decades and begin the process of bringing these other "phantom" siblings from the abstract to the real.

Shelly has always been intriguing to me. My mother has been very upfront about what she knew about my father's side of my family, and had spoken very well of her. She was the one who it seemed would be the most open to hearing from this "new" brother all of the sudden, and upon our meeting online, it became obvious that I was correct. She took the reins letting Lynn know that she was talking to me and that I'd love to get to know her. Shelly is still the only person with enough courage to confront my father face- to- face, letting him know that she was going to have a relationship with me, whether he was part of it or not. That was the first display of courage based on a sense of right- and- wrong I had seen from anyone in this family in 15- years, and it was something I will always respect and appreciate, whatever happens from here on.

In addition to this, genealogy is a passion of Shelly's. My heritage has also been a blank slate with me. I knew that the name had originated in France, but also that it had probably had its spelling changed at some point. Without the most basic of information, it was impossible to know anything about where they had come from. Fortunately, Shelly had already done all of this. Within an afternoon, I had gone from next to nothing all the way back to 1633, with the name of the town in France that the Dube' family had emigrated from. Coupled with the dozens of pictures she's provided, now not only do I have names, dates, and places... I also had some faces to go with them. Including those of my father as a young man. Scarily similar to mine!

I'm not sure Shelly realizes what she did for me. Regardless of how parental relationships end, the knowledge of who you are and where you have come from is important, and in my opinion an entitlement not to be withheld out of petty cowardice. It's not as though doing the right thing, in this case, would cost anything other than a dose of pride. I had written a letter to my father in 2005 in an effort to make sure he knew I held no grudges, and to both try to establish contact with him AND get some sort of history; both genealogical and medical. Maybe he was out of stamps. Maybe the phone was broken. Maybe the Innerwebs went down. Maybe he's just a jackass. This visit should answer that once and for all. More on that in another post. First, a little history.

I have a total of six- sisters and two- brothers:

- Two sisters are from my mother's first marriage, where I got this horrendous name.
- Three others are also older, from my father's first marriage. They are Shelly, Lynn and Skip. Their mother, Charlotte, was friends with my mother, so these three were around me after I was born having no idea I was their brother. Shelly didn't find out until my mother sent a picture of me to her in her graduation card.
- Then came me: a bounding bundle of joy and inconvenience!
- Shortly after I was born, my father got his current wife pregnant and married her. They've remained married, and have three younger children. Pam, Kim, and Mike.

At some point shortly after I was born, my mother and one of her more obnoxious friends ran into my father and his current wife at a store. This friend apparently took it upon herself to confront he and his wife, asking him "Don't you want to see your son?", while pushing the stroller in front of him. I've always resented her for that because, while I'm sure it made her feel all- powerful to blindside him, it ended any likelihood that there would be any casual contact between he and I. From my understanding, this caused some discussion between he and his wife, and somewhere along the way she ended up telling Pam (born shortly after me) that I was out here.

When I finally tried to contact people in 1994, it was Pam whom I reached and, despite my attempts to be clever and coy, she knew exactly who I was. Shortly after this, I met Pam and her younger sister Kim. These relationships were a bit strained, and after a couple years of feeling like the puppy dog hidden in the shed, we lost contact shortly after I began my radio career.

At a particularly intense point in 2000, I decided to drunk- call again, and this time Kim just put my father on the phone... probably not wanting to deal with me! From that came the only meeting I've had with him, which was at a mall food- court in Battle Creek. It lasted all of 20- minutes, but went pretty well all the same. I left thinking that we had actually begun to connect in some weird way and thought that we'd be able to continue keeping in touch. That was the last contact I've had with him, and the last contact with Pam or Kim until January of this year after a chance encounter with Kim on Facebook. That led to re- establishing contact with Pam, which led me to Shelly.

It was always figured that there was clear, universal knowledge of the situation based on the fact that when I contacted Pam 15- years ago, she had known who I was. Figuring this family was at least quasi- normal, I assumed that the topic of "another sibling" would make its rounds and the results would play themselves out over time. Shelly, Lynn, and Pam have finally dispelled this dreadfully misguided assumption.

Through these conversations I've learned that not only was there no communication on the topic, but that it had become taboo for whatever reason. Michelle apparently had to push her way onto the computer the night we talked for the first time. I wasn't even told she was there. Then, Lynn shocked me when she told me that it was only VERY recently that she discovered who I was. Apparently my father and his wife have NEVER discussed this, at all- NEVER, after "the store." I keep saying it, but this is just inconceivable to me, even now after I've come to discover how whacked their family dynamics really are.

As I arrived at Shelly's house in Delta on May 31, I held no real expectations beyond meeting my nephews and a faint, fading glimmer hope that I'd be able to begin to develop a relationship with the rest of that part of my family, particularly Daddy Dearest. I also, however, knew that this was the last chance. It's time to draw conclusions, good or bad, and move on. I know that I have growing relationships with Shelly, Lynn, & perhaps Pam. That aint bad! From this point, the best that I could do was make myself available and do everything I could to offer every opportunity to get things right. I want to at least leave Michigan knowing I have done EVERYTHING that I could do, having no regrets or "what- ifs" from here forward. I wanted to be able to say for certain when he's dead and gone, "Yes... I tried. But he was just simply a jackass" with no second thoughts about being right. I hoped for the best as I prepared for what was assured to be the most intense period of investigating both myself , and where I had come from to date: Vitam Impendere Vero: Truth before everything.

5/30- 31: Hillsdale to Hillsdale (almost!)

Chris & I broke camp around mid- morning and were soon in Hillsdale, NY where I found myself having fun with the new found mobile picture feature on my phone. I knew Hillsdale was going to play a key role in my Michigan Adventure, and loved the thought of the last town out east having the same name. I'm not difficult to amuse.

We got some time at the library, then found the Hillsdale Country Diner where we enjoyed some good food, people watching, conversation, and cell charging. We lingered quite awhile before retiring to the public park across the road where Chris made phone calls while I wrote & listened to music.

Stacey arrived a bit earlier than expected so we were all on the road toward the Hudson River with a lot of daylight still ahead. She hates interstates and insisted on taking state roads, which suited us fine. We had our reunion with Lucy the Dog and commenced down route 23 toward Oneonta, where Chris happened to be born. We made a quick stop at the hospital for a picture, then he called his mom for directions to his very first house.

Oneonta was neat. I was thinking that, even for a college town, there were some astoundingly beautiful women there! It is also a quick 20- minute drive from Cooperstown where the National Baseball Hall of Fame is located and, had I been alone, I probably would have walked there to fawn over at the exhibits... again!

It was rather late when we finally joined Route 7 toward Binghamton. We chose it because it runs adjacent to I-88 and I planned to drive through the night to make a little time when Stacey inevitably fell asleep. Just as we were discussing the driver switch, we passed something you don't see nearly enough: a FUNCTIONING, packed drive- in theater! They were showing the new Star Trek which both Chris & I had seen, but we had loved it and were eager to see it again... if the cost was reasonable. When we pulled in to ask the price, we just kept going as there was no one taking cash! The movie was just 20- minutes in, so we quickly parked and figured out the radio frequency while exclaiming how "cool this is!" over and over.

After the movie Chris continued driving because we had discovered Stacey had lost a headlight, thus eliminating any possibilities of me driving at night. The two of us chatted while Stacey slept, and eventually broke off Route 7 near Elmira where we quietly slipped into Pennsylvania. Near the town of Mosherville, we fiddled with the idea of stealth camping, but with the car it proved to be folly. We elected instead to continue on, and once on US-6, it wasn't long before long my visions of being pulled over by a bored patrolman proved correct. Chris was stopped, warned, and quickly waved along with a warning- without so much as a glance at Stacey and I. It's amazing how little interest they have in arbitrary ID- checks when the traffic stop is "audio and video taped", as he was required to disclose.

Once the sun came up Sunday morning, it was time for a breakfast stop at a park inside the Allegheny National Recreation Area. Lucy had a wonderful time running free while we ate, chatted and took pictures. The clouds held little promise for a nice day, so Stacey chose to proceed on as far as we could instead of finding a place to camp after driving all night. It just seemed odd to camp at 8am!

Soon we were approaching Ohio and my mind was is racing in high gear. I had managed to grab a few precious winks and the idea of driving while everyone slept appealed greatly, so drive I did, stopping at a church next to the Ohio state line on route 84. We reclined in the grass beneath what had now become a sunny sky and just relaxed/ goofed around for a bit before continuing toward Ashtabula.

Ashtabula is in the extreme NE corner of Ohio on Lake Erie. Chris and I joked that we hoped the lake wasn't burning today as we found a nice vista point for Stacey. Then it was time to rejoin our old friend US- 20 which came to Ohio all the way from Springfield and continued on very close to Shelly's place in Delta, OH. By Cleveland, we had begun to discuss our options. I held out hope that Stacey would be able to get us all the way to Hillsdale, MI just so I could title this post "Hillsdale to Hillsdale", but she understandably wanted ample time to meander back to Massachusetts. My friends Brian & Joey were expecting us in Kalamazoo soon, but hadn't really had enough information to make any concrete "plans" (ha!). In the end, we left Cleveland aiming for Delta. That seemed the best for everyone because Stacey could immediately begin her return, from a closer distance, and Chris and I would have a place to organize. My only reservation was that this seemed an odd way to meet a sister! After some thought however, it became apparent that this was probably the perfect way for HER to meet me!

I had insisted on avoiding Sandusky completely. I have some not- so- flattering memories of this town on the lake that is the home to Cedar Point; an incredibly cool amusement park. It's also happens to be the incredibly cool amusement park where the events transpired that had cost me my radio gig in Kalamazoo, back in 2002! Not that losing that job was a bad thing in ANY sense, I just didn't want to be reminded of it! Chris, on the other hand, had other ideas, and he was the navigator. When we switched seats on the outskirts of Sandusky, I quickly realized that he was taking me not only INTO Sandusky, but he had managed to pick an exact route that would take me right by the bar where some of these "events" took place! How the fuck did he DO that?

Toledo was next, then it was a quick 20- minute drive to Delta and Shelly's house. I suggested we stop at a Subway to clean out the car and gather our things, but in reality I needed a cigarette and to mentally prepare. It's not everyday that you meet a sister you've known about for 30- years...

5/29: New York State

It took us a short while Friday morning to make the final decision to make our way toward the little town of Hillsdale, New York. It was a short 5- 7 miles from Bash Bish, and since we had gone thru there with Stacey on Tuesday, it would be an easy pick- up point for Saturday. It was also finally a nice day so it seemed like a good idea to get on the road.

Maybe a mile down the road, we crossed from Massachusetts into New York and Taconic State Park. This part of the country is gorgeous, and a total joy to walk thru. It was also an area that Steven Newman had glowingly referred to in his book Worldwalk. For once the excessive, colorful metaphors fit!

Once to the hamlet of Copake Falls (it's an actual hamlet!), I made the mistake of buying a pack of cigarettes. I had gone nearly two- days without smoking, but rationalized the purchase by telling myself I "wanted" them rather than "needed" them. The patches were working fine and I could have quit at that point, but I failed my very first test... miserably.

After charging the cell phone and lingering lazily at Taconic State Park, we made our way slowly up Route 22 toward Hillsdale. Along the way we decided to pop in to a roadside greenhouse to see what kinds of fruits we could find. Not only did I find the cherries I was craving, but also some interesting people.

We struck up quick conversations with a couple employees who offered to let us loiter beneath their gazebo and enjoy some relaxation. Before long, Keith stopped over taking a break from his duties at the greenhouse to see what we two oddities were up to. Keith was a new father who lived behind the North Mountain Nursery and Farm Stand and worked there with his father. We learned that his dad has owned land near Las Cruces, New Mexico for years, but never seen it beyond Google Earth! When the conversation turned to social issues I learned that Keith was quite informed, passionate and a bit of an anarchist. I liked him immediately. His views about the future of our floundering republic are in line with mine, so we spent much more time at this little oasis in the Berkshires than anticipated.

When we finally resumed after swapping email and Facebook info, I was continually struck by the beauty of this place. Small mountains, streams, forests... it was like a postcard and exactly the type of terrain I had hoped we'd get to wander through at some point. At least we had 5 or 6 miles of it.

We had touched base with Stacey earlier in the day and arranged to call her the following evening to set up a specific spot to meet where we would begin our jaunt across New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. Since we had the entire day to kill, we stopped a mile or two short of Hillsdale to camp. I had a little fun with my Facebook friends from here, adding an update saying that I was "camping just south of Hillsdale." It was obviously the truth, but I intentionally left them thinking Hillsdale, Michigan; the next town over from my hometown. It was funny for a few minutes, but eventually felt like a jackass. I believe this may have deeply scarred my friend David...

5/26- 28: The Big Left Turn

Bash Bish Falls State Park, MA


Following the morning Internet, we were in Stacey's Subaru on our way to the Verizon store then presumably to the park which borders the Massachusetts- New York border. The "plan" was to hang out there for a day or two... or ten... then hit the state highways thru New York hitchhiking, train hopping, or whatever, for a meeting with Shelly in Delta, Ohio on or around June 13th.

Shelly had arranged her schedule as such to maximize her time off while I was in the area so we could spend as much time as possible together, take a few day trips to meet family members, and possibly even have a get- together with Daddy Dearest. I figured nearly three- weeks was plenty of time but if needed we could catch a Greyhound to Erie or Cleveland, where Shelly had said she could pick us up.

From the beginning of the trip, Chris and I had both commented that, like the trip east from Santa Fe, we both felt the distance from Massachusetts to Michigan would be covered quickly, but this Tuesday morning we were resigned to the idea we would be back on the road & in the bivies. Our "plans" were once again made a mockery, this time by Stacey.

While Chris was haggling with Verizon, Stacey and I were chatting in her car when literally out of the blue she commented that she had already arranged her schedule to have four consecutive days off beginning the following Sunday and that she had done so to give her an opportunity to "go somewhere." Why not go to Michigan? I initially thought she was kidding, but I was quickly learning that Stacey wasn't the type to "kid"; she was dead serious.

Once Chris finished his business, this new "plan" quickly took shape, and it suited every one of us. On the drive thru western Massachusetts towards Bash Bish Falls, we tentatively decided to reunite Saturday and take a leisurely drive toward the Great Lakes. Meanwhile, Chris and I could vanish into The Berkshires for a few days and just detox from society. Chris needed that after the intensity of his past month, and I was mentally gearing up for everything that was in- store for myself. Based on what I had seen happen with Chris, disappearing into the "mountains" to prepare for a few days greatly appealed to me!

After a nice hike to the base of Bash Bish Falls, that's exactly what we did. Disappear. We crossed a river and wandered into the undeveloped, and undisturbed wilderness to find a place devoid of clues of recent human activity. We quickly found the perfect spot, built a fire, and just tried to "be" for a few days. It was fantastic. Our little camp kept us completely isolated from Tuesday afternoon until we broke camp on Friday, seeing absolutely no one. No one that is except for a killer frog that gave both of a us a "Vern Moment." I mean, the fucker was vicious!

While the setting was perfect, the weather wasn't. It began raining Tuesday night and continued on and off thru Thursday... mostly on. With the natural canopy over head, we had some shelter from the brunt of it, but enough rain came thru Tuesday night for me to realize that I had made a grave mistake in the "Minimalist Bivy" from REI. Despite their claims that it was "waterproof", my sleeping bag got soaked. While quite resistant to water, is was nothing approaching "proof." I had meekly suggested building some sort of shelter before the rain had begun but laziness, again, punished me. With few breaks in the rain on Wednesday, I was going to have to deal with a damp bag. Shelter was obviously Priority 1 Wednesday morning and, with two huge green tarps, it was easy to tie them off to two trees and stay dry and snug.

We had a reprieve from the rain for most of Thursday and by Friday we were ready to leave our little Walden to connect with Stacey & confirm our planned Saturday pickup. I thoroughly enjoyed my time out in the woods, and the rain managed to accentuated it. I used the opportunity to practice building fires in the rain, which we had every night, and to refine the shelter making. We also began to process everything and discuss how events were fitting in the overall scheme. With the "Big Left Turn", Chris' phase was ending, and I could feel myself becoming a bit more assertive. Growing weary of being the passenger and impatient to get to my own stuff. Bash Bish was the perfect spot for this transitional period, and exactly what I needed. I was also happy to be heading west again, and even cautiously optimistic about the prospects for Michigan- the latter being no small thing.

5/25: Memorial Day

I love that I spent last Memorial Day in Glenwood Springs, Colorado with Leah and her family. Memorial Day 2009 was also spent immersed in someone elses family; this time, Chris'. This year in Springfield, Massachusetts. Makes me wonder where I'll be in 2010! Guatemala, anyone?

We awoke about 11am, packed up and said our goodbyes to Gus just in time for our scheduled noon- pickup from Chris' cousin. What is quickly becoming The Great Barbecue Tour 2009 continued as Amy took us to her mother's house for an afternoon spent next to the pool with his family. It was quite a relaxing day, with Our Hero again off in his own little world. I was beginning the mental preparations for our venture west beginning the next day with Stacey dropping us off at Bash Bish State Park which is adjacent to the New York state line.

From there it was off to see Chris' father, Bill. I had always thought I would love this guy. He had taught history for decades, and from what I could gather, had a wonderful social & political awareness. Unfortunately, he has been devastated by two recent strokes. Now instead of having deep, historical & philosophical discussions, I was given a front row seat as he & Chris struggled to continue re- defining their relationship. It was not an easy thing to see and it was painfully obvious that there was much left unsaid due to an inability to put thoughts to words. I got a lump in my throat after dinner as his dad simply put his arm around Chris, silently speaking volumes. I really felt for both of them, and it again selfishly conjured up that lightning bolt of perspective relating to my own father and his family.

It struck with with a brutal, honest, stark clarity. Life is too short to handicap ourselves with fear, shame, and egoistic mind- games. So much time can be lost, and once it's gone... there's no reclaiming it. I was suddenly even more grateful that the doors between my "new" sisters and I had opened over the last few months; even if it is at this point in life. One can get consumed by an anger that may stem from "stolen time", but rather than that anger offering some measure of retribution, it simply robs us of our future. All this reflection from the simple sight of seeing an incapacitated father struggling to tell his son how much he loved him. Remarkable.

We spent Monday night at Amy's house, playing on the computer and enjoying one last night in a bed before the expedition to Bash Bish Falls. The "Big Left Turn" was upon us, and now when people asked where we were going, the answer was mine: Michigan. The only questions were "how & how long!"

5/24: Springfield, MA

It's amazing how better things go when you're not hauling a hangover around. Have I mentioned that?

We awoke in late- morning and kept Lucy the Dog company while we drank the coffee Stacey had made us before heading off to work. We took advantage of one of our last opportunities to shower before heading off to parts- unknown Tuesday then made our way to the nearby Friendly's for lunch, coffee, and time killing before eventually finding myself back at Gus' for yet another barbecue.

It was here that we conceptualized an idea that is sure to make us millions. It's either a street- theater performance, or a television show to be aired on Comedy Central or Adult Swim. Working title: The Christs. It stars Jesus as the youthful, loving, stoner- hippie who has a dysfunctional relationship with his absentee father, and has never gotten over the fact that he abandoned him to the Romans. Jesus has issues. Other characters include Judas, Noah, Moses, Joseph (who is convinced Mary is cheating on him) and others. I believe we even worked Nibblitz into the pilot. Yes, a classic in the making and to think: you knew me when I wrote beneath a tarp in the woods! I wont forget you... promise.

Chris had made arrangements to have dinner with Dave's family, and I thought it best to let them have their space. Plus, I wouldn't feel comfortable in that setting and passing it up would give me a chance to hang out with Gus a bit more. Once dropped off, I grabbed a couple beers, ate some killer barbecue, and was happily people watching when I was literally drug, kicking and screaming, into a conversation with Meagan.

Meagan is a 30- year old, mixed- race, new, idealistic attorney. An oxymoron to be sure. She initially appeared to me to be in her early 20's, and I thought probably just out of college based on her ironclad leftist, cliche'- filled rhetoric. She also seemed quite fascinated by our travels, and we spent a good 90- minutes discussing my sociopolitical philosophy with race- relations sprinkles thrown on for good measure. I always enjoy conversations with those who are "highly educated", especially when they have only institutional fare to offer. Makes me happy I saved the money.

It was good conversation for the most part, but inevitably Moral Superiority came up, again. She was of the opinion that anyone who is wealthy should be REQUIRED to offer assistance to the poor or be "thrown out of society." In other words, her social ideals are of such "rich, righteous quality" that they must be imposed on others, and refusal risks banishment to the wilds. This is the same sort of dangerous moral superiority and downright self- righteousness that the left decries in the Religious Right and the very same that leads, in its extremes, to atrocities such as genocide- when applied to race. She didn't like the comparison. I didn't much care.

What I did care about, as you may have noticed, was lack of originality- of- thought and an inability (or unwillingness?) to see this glaring hypocrisy. She was cleverly (and passionately) parroting the approved talking points and ideals dictated by her cultural and ideological elites, all the while touting herself as an "individual." She was quite at home proudly quoting, almost hiding within, the slogans and "issues" of today's "Progressives." "Heath Care Now!" "Hope!" "Change!" "Tax the Rich!"

I chose to exit the conversation before it became contentious, and besides, another Chris had joined the conversation to interject sanity. This Chris is Gus' roommate and also an attorney. He was having fun picking her apart, and we even named her ideology: Meaganism. Half religion and part Ocatvianism- A moral code created by Barack, Hillary, & Meagan and punishable by death.

The next few hours saw Chris return from Dave's, and we both settled in to people watching while picking & choosing our conversations. One of which was with Lawyer Chris. I got some excellent information on how to deal with the occasional aggressive, stray swine. His advice? Never offer anything beyond the basic, general information, and if arrested NEVER speak until you've spoken to a lawyer. Also, if under suspicion of DUI, NEVER submit to tests of ANY kind including field sobriety, and SAY NOTHING! I can vouch for the last one, but Christ! where was he 15- years ago??

Neither Friar Chris or I were in a mood to get ripped, so we slowly withdrew and waited for the bash to end so we could claim the lawn and sleep. As fate would have it, I was not quite finished with Meagan. After cleaning up, we were inside sort of exhaling when the discussion again turned to politics. I believe Gus and I were discussing Obama, & when I mentioned my decision not to vote, a wave of stale cliches came sailing my way. My favorite: "Then you can't complain!" Since we were apparently dealing in pre- fabricated slogans, I used George Carlin: "I'll sure as fuck complain. You're the ones that put Fuckface in office, not me!"

I'm not sure whether it was that she takes our civic duty a bit too seriously, or if she secretly wishes to spawn with Mr. Obama, but before I could add that choosing not to vote because you support neither candidate IS a vote- of omission- she went into a (cliche- riddled) fury! Next it was the fact that I have nothing to say because "You don't pay taxes!" Taxes? Really, Nancy Reagan? Know anything about the dubious birth and history of income taxation or of the Federal Reserve? No? Then fuck you. Contrary to conventional thought, paying taxes is NOT something ordained by nature as a birthright!

You do realize that blacks were only recently given the "right" to vote, and without an "as long as they pay taxes" clause in the legislation. Should there have been? Or should everyone beneath a certain "contribution" level just shut the fuck up because they are "lesser quality citizens?"

That comment infuriated me, and at this point I was done being the "good- guest." I obviously have strong opinions on taxation, and none include the notion that they entitle anyone to citizenship. It was time to dismantle the pretentious bitch, but when I suddenly realized just how angry I had become, and how quickly, I shut down in order to keep some dignity. When you argue with a fool, others can't tell the difference.

Gus & I went outside leaving her to sit, still intact, on the couch talking her Mary Poppins-meets-Stalin nonsense. I am astounded and saddened to think that Meagan is the face of the only viable alternative ideology to Bush/ Cheney. If that's the choice I'm given, I'll never "vote" again.

Gus, Friar Chris, and I chatted for a bit and soon we were in the bivies asleep preparing mentally for Memorial Day and an afternoon with Chris's family, which was to include a final visit with his dad before we hit the road west.

5/23: Springfield, MA- Stacey

We awoke too early to suit me, but Gus had his daughter for the afternoon, and was in a rush to pick her up. To say I was hungover would be a stretch, but I surely wasn't feeling chipper.

Gus dropped us at a park near the Chicopee River, so we just reclined beneath a tree for a stretch until coffee called. As we were walking, we randomly ran into an acquaintance of Chris' from years back. He gave us a ride to an IHOP where we spent the next few hours eating and drinking coffee.

Chris had made arrangements for another of his old friends, Dave, to pick us up and we had been invited to a Memorial Day barbecue that night. The plan was for another of Chris' ex- girlfriends, Stacey, to pick us up at the barbecue around 9 so we could camp in her back yard for the night.

Once Dave arrived around 5, we were off to the liquor store so he and his girlfriend could grab supplies, and soon we were eating burgers and mingling. Dave was a guy I knew little about, other than Chris had known him since they were 5, and they used to be close friends. Chris had not seen him in years, and had just learned Dave's younger brother had committed suicide a couple of months ago.

I wasn't exactly feeling like a social butterfly as the night went on, so pretty much kept to myself while sipping a few beers and people watching. Another of Dave's brothers, Addison, and his friend, Tool, showed up and I began getting to know them a bit as Stacey showed up for the next transfer. I really took to Addison. He was probably in his early 20's, and was hyper- intelligent. He was drinking Jim Beam, straight, and talking physics. I like anyone who can mix Jim Beam and physics. He and Tool are planning a cross- country trip, so the four of us had much to talk about.

Chris and I loaded Blue and Elmo into Stacey's Subaru station wagon, and took the short drive to her tiny house only a few miles away. Despite being small, her house had a great yard, and a better vibe. I felt right at home almost immediately.

Chris & Stacey had dated years ago, in the mid- 90's and had not seen each other since. It seemed, to me at least, they may have more in common now than they did then! She had recently lived in Silver City, New Mexico, which gave us a common interest, and had apparently been fond of vanishing into the woods for weeks or months at a time, which we could ALL appreciate!

Stacey also had a VERY cool New Mexico style wood stove on her front porch, complete with a pile of wood. We put it to good use as we sat for a few hours watching the fire, talking, playing with Lucy the Dog, and taking pictures.

The chatting was easy flowing and there was no need to explain verbatim what we were doing. On some level she just got it. It had become obvious that there was a nice collective energy between the three of us, so I offhandedly suggested that Stacey drive us out to Bash Bish Falls State Park on Tuesday. Bash Bish is Chris' old hangout on the New York state line, adjacent to Taconic State Park. I figured we could all spend Tuesday hanging out, then Chris and I could begin the trek toward Michigan, or make a little base- camp, on Wednesday. Stacey must have loved the idea. She declared that she'd "tell" work she was taking the day off, and make a day of it. I liked her even more, and this was an indication of things to come. She is most definitely a free spirit who does what she feels.

Chris and I made camp in the soft grass behind her house, and this was the first night in the new bivy. It worked very well, although it is of a bit thinner material than the other. I really liked having the open- top however, and enjoyed the breeze in my face thru the night. It reminded me of sleeping outside last summer...

5/22: Springfield, MA: Alex

Chris & I left the Amtrak station on- foot for the short walk to his friend Angus's house. Chris had been telling me for the better part of a year that he and I "needed to meet" because we have similar views and opinions on social & political ideas. This has always felt like something that was an important part of the trip, and missing it by omitting Mass. would have bothered me for a long time. He also began filling me in on some of the intense family/ friend based drama he had been dealing with, and in a somber manner that I was a bit unaccustomed to seeing from him. His week in Springfield had obviously been intense.

The walk was 2- 3 miles, but we would be delayed.

After perhaps a mile of walking through some of Springfield's most "interesting" & run down neighborhoods, we were approached by a young man who, for once, was more of a spectacle than we. He was wearing a red tank top, and red balloon pants... riding a unicycle.

Yes, a unicycle.

He spoke with a thick East London accent, and was asking all kinds of questions about what we were doing because, "you never see backpackers walking the streets of Springfield!" I didn't mention that I've NEVER seen a unicyclist riding the streets of... anywhere. He looked like he belonged in the circus, and it turned out that was exactly where he was from. He had traveled around the world his entire life performing with his family: The Sardine Family Circus. Alex began telling us all about the best countries in Europe. His pick: Spain, adding that it, "Beats the fuck outta the preppie little countries." All in the thick Cockney accent. I almost died laughing at the stares coming from cars passing by. Imagine seeing two backpackers accompanied by a unicyclist who was riding down the side walk of your town! I just missed the picture, to my everlasting shame. I was too busy laughing!

He was obviously quite interesting, intelligent, full of life, and found what were were doing quite fascinating, so when he invited us to their place for a beer, we quickly accepted. This was too good to miss!

Alex's family was staying in older- model RVs parked at the home of his sister's husband, and commuted from Springfield to Boston 5- days a week performing their street circus & making a living as they apparently had done for decades. His mom and dad warmly invited us in and insisted we join them for some beef stew, easily overwhelming our meager resistance. As we ate, Alex was off to the store for Natural Light, and pretty soon we were swapping stories. Alex was eager to hear some of ours, saying he was usually the one doing the entertaining, so we went to our old stand- by: The Tennessee Drug Search. This was the beginning of one of the most profound experiences for either of us as we quickly realized that what WE had done was only "amazing" in a relative sense. After our quick blurb, he then told us his "cop" story.

They had been pulled over by the police in Spain at some point, and they had found hash on the bus. As the young cop was proudly exclaiming, "look what we found!", his brother, who along with Alex is a juggler, snatched it from his hand and played keep away. He then flipped it over his head to Alex who promptly heaved it into a field. No evidence now, eh? As the befuddled, inexperienced police officers demanded to know where the rest of it was, Alex proceeded to quickly strip naked on the side of the road then declared, "See! I ain't got nothin'!" He finished by telling us that when "backup" arrived, in the form of two older policemen, they simply laughed both at the scene before them, and at the ineptitude of their cohorts. Still laughing, they instructed the Sardines to get dressed and be on their way, assuring them not to worry about the other two officers; that they'd "have a talk with them."

Well, we had... sat... on the side ... of I-40? Yeah...

We immediately felt like amateur hour had begun, and we were the featured attraction. And it got worse. He then asked us "what we do." Were we hunting? Trapping? What did we do to earn money? Now the audience at amateur hour was obviously not impressed! When the novelty of traveling was taken away, and was the common point of reference, what we had "accomplished" was pathetic! And it got worse!

Alex began sharing how he was a pilot who had flown across country, built his own motorcycles from junkers, and had crafted a long bow out of discarded items such as a broken guitar. I was wondering about all of these stories until he showed us the bikes and the longbow, then began delving into his Africa Plan. He wants to wait a few more years until he knows his family is well off, then secure the funding, manpower and equipment to actually start a village somewhere in Africa, beginning with the sanitation system. Apparently, he has secured old Soviet trucks that were auctioned off at the end of the Cold War and are waiting for him in Germany. None of this seemed out of the ordinary to them, and was reacted to by the other members of his family, and his girlfriend, Amber, as typical Friday night conversation.

It became apparent after a couple hours that they were ready to bed down for the night, but before we left, he offered to take us to Boston before we went west and teach us the finer points of street theater, suggesting we dress up as opposing cowboys, to make "probably $100/ day." Why the hell not?

As we left, we both had the feeling that we had just had our penis size mocked at a brothel! Extreme reality check and a grand dose of perspective at the same time. All from a 24- year old unicyclist who had never spent a day in "school." Alex was a study in "doing", rather than talking about, or "preparing to do." When I again lamented at how idiotic I suddenly felt, Chris astutely pointed out that this kid hadn't wasted 20- years in school. He had spent all of his 24- years just LIVING, and as a result had skills that had made him self- sufficient, and beholden to no one. I admire that!

As we walked toward Angus's dumbfounded, we decided we'd take Gus up on his "30- pack" suggestion, and spent the early hours of Saturday chatting, drinking, and theorizing. Gus didn't disappoint. He is a professional DJ who does parties, weddings, etc., and one of the smartest people you'd ever hope to meet. We talked about everything from music, to politics, to race and as the night went on I was struck by how raw & honest it all seemed. Eventually beer took over and it was time for bed, but this intense few hours was exactly what I needed. Coming to Mass. was obviously a wise decision, and I was eager to see what the rest of the weekend held!

5/20- 5/22: New Mexico to New England

Time management is not a strength of mine. I had spent Monday and Tuesday obsessed with editing pictures, so by the time Wednesday morning came around I had alot to do to catch the 2pm Amtrak from Santa Fe to either Boston or Springfield.

Shalain dropped me off in Lamy at about 1:30, and after the goodbyes, I found myself plopped down on the platform next to the tracks just as I had the year before on the way to Santa Barbara. It was a beautiful afternoon, as are most May afternoons in New Mexico, and as the train pulled in the realization that I was about to ride from the Southwest to New England set in, giving me a rush of adrenaline. Also adding to the intensity that this was the anniversary of the day Chris dropped me off near Ft. Morgan last year beginning all- that- was a very cool 2008. A good day to be hopping a cross- country Amtrak!

Once settled into my window seat for the 2pm pickup aboard the Southwest Chief to Chicago, I noticed that there was a film crew on board, in my car, shooting some sort of a movie. "39 Miles" was the working title, and I recall a distinct twinge of disgust as they proceeded to create this supposed electronic reality out of the limited view provided by the camera lens, and re- take after re- take! I kept picturing Bill O'Reilly as I watched all this! Keith Olbermann too...

The ride to Chicago was pretty through New Mexico and Colorado as usual, but uneventful. After the 24- hour ride and arriving in Chicago the next afternoon at around 3pm, I had six- hours to kill at Union Station. I took advantage of the lockers to lighten myself, and managed to walk around the block. That was about it. Growing up only a couple hours from Chicago, I've never been all that impressed with it, and don't get all the fuss. The Red Wings were up 2-0 in the Western Conference Finals against the Blackhawks, so I thought I'd wear my Wings cap to annoy the multitudes. Did it work? No one let on.

The Lakeshore Limited left at 9pm on Thursday for both New York and Boston. I learned that Albany, NY was where they would first separate, then add an engine to the back half of the train... taking that group of cars to NYC while we continued on unimpeded.

The ride through northern Indiana and extreme northern Ohio was quite nostalgic. Being raised just over the Michigan line, this is landscape embedded in my DNA. Oftentimes painfully. Although it was the middle of the night, I clearly recognized the roads and towns as the train sped along. South Bend. Elkhart. Goshen. Bryan. Defiance. Toledo. Defiance was particularly odd because that was where we had taken the "older kids" to buy us beer when Ohio's drinking age was 19. The wholesome, drunken, good ol' days.  

We then litterally passed within spitting distance of Shelly's house which is in Delta, a little town between Bryan and Toledo. I caught myself thinking that THIS was where we, only a few days ago, were discussing me getting off the train. For all intents and purposes, THIS was also my destination. I could see it, yet I was training another 600 or 700 miles to get there! I loved that.

Once thru Toledo, I slept. All the way to Rochester, NY , then to Syracuse, and finally almost to Albany. Dammit! I missed Sandusky, Cleveland and Erie! I'm pretty sure Sandusky will appreciate my low- ket arrival and departure this time...

Past Albany, the Adirondack Mountains get intensely beautiful, and I immediately realized that I had made a wise decision. This WAS the type of country we'd missed down south, and I wanted to swim in it. Western Massachusettes was just as beautiful, with more lakes and rivers, as far as I could tell.

I hadn't met anyone of note on the entire train ride, which may have been my fault as I was introspective most of the time. However a couple of specimens quickly made themselves apparent after Albany.

The first was a uniformed soldier. I never spoke with him, but he was apparently on his way to or from Iraq. "How do you know this?", a perceptive reader may ask. It was easy, considering he kept reminding an attractive young lady of this fact... at every opportunity. For instance, while we were outside smoking (hush!) in Albany she mentioned "snowboarding boots." I then heard him say in a pathetic, over- amplified, "far- away" voice, "These boots have been to IRAQ... and they're gonna go... again." I wasn't sure what was worse: Him using that line, loudly, or that it was apparently working! A nice case of syphillis may do him some good.

The other character was even more pathetic, but in a sad, revolting way. I only spent the short time between Pittsfield and Springfield chatting with this pasty, red- haired, obese 20- something , and have long since forgotten her name. She was the poster child for why we should need a license to reproduce.

Immediately after she sat down, and without using the changing station provided, she decided to clean a good dose of #2 from her infant daughter, while the poor teenager she'd chosen to pin between her and the window had no choice but to watch. All the while, declaring that she was ready to "end all the pain" and go get "all fuckered up" Really, she said "fuckered up." After her poo- cleaning skills were properly displayed, she then said to this 17- year old kid, "Do you mind?" while actually holding her child out toward him... to hold for her! This teenage boy, luckily for her, was a good sport. He took the little girl, and successfully occupied her while Mother of the Year got it together.

Now, MY mistake was letting her bait me into a conversation. I knew better. But alas, I was suckered into hearing all about her "asshole boyfriend" who only "wicked fucks with her head", and how everyone is conspiring to take her child away "only" because she has "no job, real home, or no money", but only "right now". And, "Yeah, I used to be a crack head, but gave dat shit up."

She couldn't for the life of her understand why everyone was just out to get her. "They just don't understand the shit I been through and how hard it is!" Then came the suicide innuendo. That was the end of the conversation.

The train arrived in Springfield at about 6pm Friday. We had gotten a ticket for all the way to Boston, but getting off in Springfield quickly proved to be more practical. Chris was waiting for me in full backpack at the tracks when I got off, and after 11- days we were back at it.

I spent nearly 45- minuted arranging my pack and enjoying being off the train. Then, and out of the blue as we made our way toward Gus, we would quickly realize just how "back at it" we really were! Friday's story was far from over...