4/14: Oklahoma City

First, allow me to apologize for the annoying formatting errors lately; posting with Pocketmail to this temperamental template takes some getting used to. I was happy just to have paragraphs last time.We came into Oklahoma City sometime around 10pm while getting directions to our new destination: a place Devin described as both a "punk house" and a "collective" populated by "raving feminists". "How interesting THIS should be!", I thought to myself as the "plan" (ha!) changed from hanging out on campus in Norman, to this supposed anarchist enclave.

Mel and her friend, Salty, were waiting outside for us when we finally found the house on OKC's northwest side. It quickly became evident that this house was in a very eclectic neighborhood, a bit like Denver's Capitol Hill. This surprised me a bit. In fact, as Chris later pointed out, the city in general has a feel similar to Denver, just no mountains. By now I was expecting to be pleasantly surprised by this state everyone seems to ignore until tornadoes strike!

Mel and Salty are in their mid 20's, and wearing the uniform of non- conformity: old jeans, thrift store clothes, lots of black. That would be a theme that held thru the night: non- conformist conformity. Mel is quite attractive (despite her best efforts), affable, authentic, with a warm, hypnotic smile. The kind that energizes a room. All while still somehow keeping you at arm's length! Salty, on the other hand, has a librarian look because of the typical pointed glasses, but she emanates an odd vibe; call it Creepy Spinster Librarian. Rather than arm's, she was at city block's length.

Devin & Leif had known a friend of Mel's from the collective in Taos, so they took to each other immediately, chatting about common acquaintances and experiences. Leif was in his own world as usual, while Chris and I were excited to be there, yet also realizing quickly that we were out of our element. We took a quick tour of the house, which had its charm, but would drive most people batshit. It reminded me a great deal of the house I grew up in, so I took to it immediately. Then it was off the the liquor store for beer, lessons in 3:2 beer, and the night got underway. Some things transcend and never go out of style.

Upon returning to the collective, it immediately became obvious that we weren't simply imagining out separateness. We sat outside chatting and drinking Bud Dry for probably 45 minutes before anyone else came out. People were coming and going however, most looking pretty much the same: black clothes, thrift- store clothes with goofy do- it- yourself haircuts to apparently express individuality. Or perhaps tell each other apart. Either way, I found it amusing that they all seemed to be silently saying "fuck conformity!" while wearing the anarchist/ punk version of a suit and tie! A few were complaining how they had just worked fifteen hours unloading trucks, and other various menial jobs. How very cutting edge it is to work 15 for The Man, paying taxes, while still living in squalor. Anyone else find that odd? Rather than cutting edge it seemed to me to be a bit... foolish. How can you stick it to The Man while paying taxes on the overtime you just worked?

Among some of the people that came and went were a few I really enjoyed. Max was a traveler from somewhere in California, Brooke was a stunning blond who in my opinion had little interesting to say, but was quite interesting to look at! Then there was Nicole. A true gem in my experience: an attractive, lighthearted, free- spirited young lady who makes me LAUGH! Alot. She and her three- legged dog were a burst of needed positive energy! I believe she ventured off to another house, much too quickly in my then "sick- of- pretension" opinion, where they were having an outdoor showing of Twister. I thought that was a funny movie to be showing in Oklahoma. I wish I would have joined them!

The rest of the night was spent accidentally setting Salty's hair on fire, chugging beers trying (and failing) to get to some comfort level in this odd place, while trying not to be too judgmental of these folks. They opened their space to us after all, and I did appreciate that. I guess it's that I hate seeing idealistic, well- intentioned people caught up a dogma because they're trying to avoid another. At least they HAVE ideals, however, and also to their credit, I heard NO mention of Obama nor any foray into the standard two- party dialectic. In fact, no politics at ALL! Perhaps I'm not giving them enough credit...

The night ended at about 2 with the two of us STILL wondering why the hell we felt drawn to Oklahoma, since it apparently wasn't this. We ran into an uber- friendly cat on the way back to the bus; I miss mine! Chris has D & D; I have cats...

4/14: Amarillo- OKC

Chris and I stayed awake quite awhile chatting about his post Monday night, and I was struck by the sense of familiarity I felt about his need to feel like he should entertain his rides. I had dealt with similar notions last summer, particularly with Cesar and Ken... long rides with single individuals... where I felt that I had to earn my keep with witty banter. It's funny how that has just been assimilated into the experience, and that I hadn't really considered it again. The early stages of this trip is going to be an exercise in escaping comfort zones, and redefining acceptable parameters of travel. I had been a bit self absorbed in the sense that while this is familiar to me, it is a new mindset for Chris. Don't worry... the tables will turn; my time to adjust is coming!
I was surprised at how comfortable the bunk was considering it is essentially plywood covered with a down sleeping pad. I awoke a few times due to the unfamiliar sounds and odd dreams that seem to be the norm now, but other than that, slept like a brick.

Devin and Leif were up early Tuesday maintaining the bus while Chris and I slept until noon. The main task for the day was scouring Amarillo for fuel. Collecting veggie oil is a rather tedious, dirty, and apparently sometimes dangerous task. We zeroed in on a strip of restaurants on what I believe was old Route 66. Devin gave us the talking points and soon we were off in teams of two asking about used fryer grease. Ahh, the looks! Everyone we chatted with was receptive however, and after 20 minutes or so, we had a target.

Initially, the manager had told us that we were welcome to the oil, but that the company that picks it up had already done so that very morning. As we were leaving the lot empty handed however, Devin decided to look inside the barrel anyhow and behold! 30- 40 gallons of rather pristine used oil. Leif suggested that we set up shop on a section of dirt behind the parking lot, but Devin decided against that. In the parking lot it was.

It was a sunny, warm, windy north Texas day as we went thru the process of pumping, filtering, and loading the oil into the bus. Most of the work is manual, especially the process of filtering. After it's gathered, they pour the oil into 5- gallon buckets with ordinary cotton tee shirts bungeed across the top to filter the large impurities. The wind made this process particularly messy, with veggie oil collecting on the pavement. Several times I had wondered about that, but figured Devin knew what he was doing and let it go.

The process took a couple hours, and just as we were wrapping up, two stocky cowboy hat wearing men came out of the steak house to ask "just what the fuck we thought we were doing!" He didn't care about Devin using the oil, he was pissed that we were making a mess of his parking lot. And I mean pissed! He threatened to call the sheriff and have the bus "towed the hell right outta here 'cuz this is bullshit! Ya don't do a man's property that way!" I had to admit, he had a point. I tried with some success to reassure him that we would tidy up, while the others quickly gathered our things for what was now the Great Amarillo Escape... in a slow, huge, white 1970's bus...

We took a secondary road thru the rest of Amarillo to stay off the interstate, slowly concluding that the cops had better things to do than chase us down! Once out of Amarillo, we had a good laugh and proceeded to Oklahoma, with Chris and I wondering, still, what the draw was. There was talk of stopping in Norman for the night, but as we approached Oklahoma City we learned that we were instead stopping for the night at a "punk/ collective" house on the north end of the city...

4/13: Amarillo, TX

Devin and Leif picked us up at the Giant shortly after 2, and after an extended stop at Trader Joe's, we were on US-285 toward Clines Corners and I-40. Devin stopped about half way there to get the "veggie" system going, then it was thru Santa Rosa, Tucumcari, and San Jon into Texas.

Devin and Leif are both quite easy going, and fun to be around. Once we got aboard, it seemed from first impressions that all of us would get along well... Devin even used one of my phrases, "liberal bourgoise" almost immediately. That should have meant next to nothing of course, but my primary concern was riding with my favorites: pretentious hippies.

The bus itself is a converted '76 Catholic School bus that has a little kitchen, and four bunks installed in the back. Beats the hell out of riding in a car, even though the top speed MAY be 65! The interesting part will be scavengering Amarillo on Tuesday for vegetable oil, which could take most of the day. The bus runs on both diesel and veggie, with the oil lasting around 300 miles to a tank... for free using nothing but restaurant waste. Makes the hassle worth it.

There was a nice piece of comedy near Amarillo when we thought Leif was being pulled over. We all saw flashing lights behind us, but after 10 minutes sitting on the side of I-40, realized there was no one behind us! That was amusing in and of itself, but as Chris and I were about to deposit processed coffee in the grass, a cop actually showed up thinking we had broken down. We've all heard the stereotypes regarding Texas cops, but let me partially put that to rest. He was quite nice, never ID'd anyone, and was quite interested in the bus.

Leaving Santa Fe was a bit awkward to say the least. Shalain was on her way with her parents to Albuquerque when they dropped us off, and it felt quite odd saying goodbye to her with her parents as an audience. I have no idea whether they know the possible extent of this trip as they have never asked, and I like to avoid the "I'm leaving your daughter here alone because..." discussion. The goodbye could have been a bit better; that is all I am saying!

The actual departure was odd too; both familiar and weird. I had no time before leaving to think myself into a frenzy, and before I really knew it we were dropped off. The fact we were riding off to terra incognita was ordinary to me; Chris and Amtrak were my exits last year. It's a bit different for Chris in having to adjust to this method! I'm quite surprised at how easy I seem to have fallen back into the patterns after nearly eight months, but honestly I never REALLY came completely off the road... mentally.

Tomorrow may bring Oklahoma, and our hosts are talking about a trip to Norman to see some people and just hang out near campus. That suits us quite well since we still seem to be afflicted with "Sooner Curiosity", and we're both making a conscious effort to de- structure ourselves... saying to hell with "plans" (ha!), expectations and schedules. Yeah, I'm anxious to see how that goes too...

4/13: Bus, Bus, the Veggie Bus!

As I awoke Thursday, the realization that we were supposedly two days from leaving was becoming much more real. Chris and I had tried to hash out different options on our first leg of the trip, with an ultimate destination being Nashville, TN. Nashville had become a sort of vortex; a lot seemed to be happening there at the same time. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Kim last summer and looked forward to seeing her again, as well as the fact that Thursday was the day that my sister, Shelly, was going to let my father know that she was in contact with me.

Say... WHAT?

It’s a very long story, and one that is going to play a major role in this easterly phase of the trip. Briefly, I met my father in 2000, and have spent a grand 20- minutes with him in my “29”- years. I have only recently been in contact with Shelly as well… “meeting” her for the first time, via Facebook, in late February. I have another sister and two brothers that I have had no contact with whatsoever. I will explain this all in its time… but my father is leaving on vacation on 4/13: to Nashville. For a person who thrives on Synchronicity, you can see the draw!

As I was gulping my morning caffeine, I decided for the hell of it to take a gander at the rideshare section of the Santa Fe Craigslist. Lo and Behold, a post looking for riders to go thru Albuquerque, Amarillo, Oklahoma City, and… all together now… NASHVILLE.

They are taking a 34’ school bus that has been converted to run partially on vegetable oil that they obtain from restaurants. Devin called almost immediately, we negotiated a contribution we’d provide, which was LESS than the Dirty Dog to Tucumcari, and more significantly, we now had an obvious path. The bus was leaving New Mexico on Monday, 4/13… which added another two- days to our stay in Santa Fe.

This set into motion a flurry of thought. To Chris and I, this explained the lack of clarity that we have both experienced when it came to establishing a route out of Santa Fe, and for me personally it snapped me back into the mindset that I was in last year. Trying to remember to sit down, relax, and let life happen… rather than trying to control everything. That’s a very difficult concept for many to grasp. I’ll try to provide myself as the guinea pig as time goes on!

Impatience was now something to deal with, especially for Chris. By Thursday, he had been in Santa Fe for five days, and was obviously itching to get back on the road. We were having conversations about things laying out in front of us at their own pace, and this was, to me, an opportunity to see if it would again play itself out.

Saturday morning, the original departure- plan date, was REI’s annual “garage sale”. Since we were here, we decided to see what kids of bargains they had. Because of their liberal return policy, you can quite often find next- to- new items returned due to buyer’s remorse! I was hoping to find the OR bivy or a backpack, but instead found the shoes I had used last year, which are now discontinued, in my size… and they were ¼ the price I had paid for my Asolos, which I could now return of course! That is… a lot of money. I immediately snatched them up, along with some clothes that were insanely cheap.

I was a bit concerned that I had spent too much money, but not 4- hours after making these purchases, I received an email regarding a camera I had posted on Craigslist in February, and had given up on selling. The guy wanted it, was NOT haggling, and was willing to deal that night… if I drove to Albuquerque. Not wanting to mess around with another CL- flaker, I asked him to cover the gas and Chris and I were on our way. The selling price of the camera nearly doubled the money I had spent at REI that morning!

Ten minutes out of the driveway, my old buddy the Saturn had something go wrong with it. I’m no mechanic, but I know when your car makes odd noises, smokes, and has fluid gushing from the bottom, it is a good idea to get it home! That is exactly what I did. I still have no idea what’s wrong with it, but DO know that it died at the perfect time since after this weekend, it was going to sit indefinitely anyhow. We switched cars and completed our trip to Albuquerque.

The ride home was remarkable. There was a sense of joy that we all remember feeling as children, but for whatever reason, lose for the most part, as we grow up. A sense of excitement and knowing you are on the verge of discovery. I would love to elaborate on that, but the conversation ultimately led to the realization that we are in the audience watching the dramas of our own lives unfold.

Sunday was a wrap- up day, and as I type this, we are about to head out on this long- awaited journey. I’ve been encamped for seven months, and am ready to go. The typical pains of departure are still there, but I know I am on the right track. Right now, the “plan” is to ride to Nashville and see what happens. Kim’s roommate has suddenly decided she would rather not have company this week (after saying it was fine a month or two ago), but that’s par for the course! We’ll see what happens over the next day or two… I’ll let you know... and I still have NO idea what this draw to Oklahoma is!

4/2-9: Santa Fe Staging

Chris had a grand time getting from what turned out to be Security, CO thru Pueblo and about half- way to Walsenburg. Rather than rehash all the details, I figure you can check out The Friary and get his accounts first hand. I spent my time, as he put it, jealously geeking out on his progress.

As Saturday the 4th arrived, I received a message from a Couchsurfer who was in Santa Fe and looking for either a couch, or possibly a ride toward Denver. I agreed to meet Josiah at a Starbucks to see if he may be interested in riding toward Pueblo where I could drop him off, and also pick Chris up to ensure that he was here for his Tuesday appointment, and so that we could start laying the foundation for our joint- departure. Impatience... ahhh.

Josiah is a short, skinny, early 20-ish looking hipster type from California, who is in fact nearing 30, and is paranoid about “chemtrails”. His plan was to get to Denver, then Salt Lake City, Portland, then a return to Cali. He was one of the cleanest vagabonds I have seen, which led me to believe that, despite the fact that he claimed the term "nomad", he was in fact a trust- fund kid who slept more often in hotels than in fields- as he had the night before in Albuquerque. For whatever reason, he was also traveling with a bike, and a brand new Mac laptop... which he could not keep his attention from while I was there.

My primary concern was that Josiah would be the stereotypical hippie- douche and fortunately, he was not, though he did talk with that annoying upward inflection at the end of every sentence! “The chemtrails are THERE to make the population docILE!” Between the bike and his concern about being dropped in an unfamiliar area made taking him with me unrealistic.

Shalain and I left Santa Fe for Colorado City, CO at about 6:45, figuring it would take about 4- hours to get there, grab Chris, and then another 4- hours back. I ran into a 66- year old bike tourist while gassing up who is “riding for our troops” and said that he was stopping to "avoid a coming snowstorm" that I had heard nothing about. It was a beautiful, albeit cold evening so I figured he was mistaken. By Raton, I discovered that he was far from it; it began to snow like crazy! Thankfully, Raton Pass was fine, but the next 70- miles to Colorado City was rather hairy with near whiteout conditions almost the rest of the way to Chris’s exit.

I found Chris at the Diamond station as planned, and saw him editing his hand- out cards as we walked in. He looked windblown and loaded down, with his snowshoes hanging off the now- his Kelty. He looked like quite the adventurer! We coffeed/ gassed up, then drove off toward New Mexico. The weather thankfully had lightened and he and I chatted while Shalain sacked out in the back. Over the next few days, we wrapped up our dental obligations, made several trips to REI, chatted, watched movies, had two gluttonous “last meals”, and welcomed Shalain’s parents in from Michigan for her birthday.

As the week progressed to Thursday, we had set a tentative (always-tentative!) plan to leave on Saturday via train or bus toward Tucumcari, Amarillo, or possibly even La Junta/ Lamar, CO. There was no clear vision of which way to go, but traveling old Route 66 seemed like a neat beginning, and Oklahoma has an ODD draw for both of us. Thursday thru Sunday, however, would prove to be yet another lesson in the folly of planning!

4/1: Chris- On the Road

I chose that title simply because I know how much Chris hates Kerouac.

I finally heard from Chris this morning as he was preparing to get aboard the Front Range Express from Denver to Colorado Springs. He had some trouble getting the apartment closed out in Denver after his roommate flaked out on helping clean the place, and needed to stay the last night to finish.

Going on about an hours sleep, Chris took the 12:40 FREX from Downtown Denver to Tejon St. in Colorado Springs, I then Google Mapped a route for him to take to get out of the sprawl. There were two ways to go. The western side that would take him adjacent to Ft. Carson ending on US-50 about 20 miles west of Pueblo, or the eastern route thru Fountain, running parallel to I-25 and the train going directly into Pueblo.

Chris elected to take the eastern route in order to avoid the military’s prying eyes, being so close to NORAD. He arrived in Colorado Springs at about 2:30, and was in Fountain, a little hamlet to the south of the city, by 6:15- after which there is nothing but prairie all the way to Pueblo another 30- 40 miles south. At last check, he was in Fountain with a dying cell phone battery, spying out places to bivy- down for the night.

He said that his pack weighed 70# with all the food, and that the weather was cold with snow obviously falling in the mountains off to his west, and over Colorado Springs behind him. The forecast says there was a possibility of an inch of snow AND/ OR thunderstorms (!) tonight dropping to the mid 20’s, but with the Alpine bivy, a good sleeping bag, and many clothes, he’ll he snug.

Tomorrow should be about perfect as it will be warmer, and he'll be out in the bush... er... grass all the way to Pueblo.

3/28- 31: A Weekend with Jack

The next to the last weekend in Santa Fe went as expected. Instant recall from September’s foray with Jack.

Jack is quite a character. He is now in his early 60’s and is an aging old- school hippie with long curly, graying hair. He still wears typically ripped black (always-black) denim jeans, and is lucky if he weighs 140. He is from the east coast originally, and still talks with what I define as a New York accent… complete with the New York attitude.

He was quite the activist, protesting the Viet Nam until some Pennsylvania rednecks fired some guns his way, got involved in the Civil Rights Movement, and even knew Jimi Hendrix, among others. Quite a remarkable history Jack has… great stories. He describes the 60’s in two ways: Pre 1965, and post- ’65. The “real 60’s” he implies happened before the Peace, Love, Dope era. He was involved in consciousness to some degree, and says it faded with mass- movement; when the hippies became pop- culture. Sound familiar, anyone?

Jack reminds me of the stereotypical troubled genius, and of Eric in a few ways, but is NOTHING like him beyond the fact that he likes to talk social issues. Jack knows his shit. He knows politics, finance, and sociology… with a depth and detail I have not seen since Michael Corbin. And, he can tie it all together. I was a bit skeptical in September, until I realized that many of the predictions he made have happened and our conversations have made me realize how hard of a “right turn” I have made ideologically.

His prediction for the future? Cataclysmic comes to mind. The future is never bright for a docile, compliant, unquestioning population, and history bears that out. It’s quite disturbinging how many of these so-called liberals, who were screaming about civil liberties not a year ago, have become “Political Chickenheads”, chanting, “Hope…Change...” in lockstep with their handlers. People get the government they deserve, and quite honestly, I am beginning to believe that it is over for you. When the government is trying to outlaw growing YOUR OWN FOOD complete with the Adam Sutlarian scare tactics, and the hottest topic is American fucking Idol? You deserve your cage, and so will the new generation of vassals bred not to think. For the rest of us? Well, we hear a lot from the Left about freedom FROM religion; what about freedom FROM government?

Although I suspect he would prefer another adjective, Jack is also a perfect case study in what has happened to the Baby Boomers, and how some of them exist in social Limbo; borderline hypocrisy. Sometime, in his own words, he realized that living his ideals was not going to sustain him into old age. As with my ex- landlord, Lawyer Bob, he talks lovingly about some aspects of the 1960’s, but was co-opted by a lust for money.

While Lawyer Bob openly flaunts his wealth (living in Christy Brinkley’s old home) , Jack loves to try to impress with offhanded commentary concerning how much rent he pays, what he paid for his truck, what a collectors piece is worth, etc., etc. He lives simply, but still loves verbally displaying his wealth as much as the person driving a Lexus does visually. Half the fun of knowing Jack is noticing his contradictions. He is very health conscious about the chemicals he puts into his body, which is VERY “Santa Fe”, but also still smokes pot…while deriding me for eating drinking Coke and smoking my Pall Malls.

Unfortunately, this move did not end on a positive note, and we each share some blame for this. Jack lacks people skills. I lack patience, especially now. I began to tire of his “interpersonal style”, and at the end of the day Tuesday, after the move was completed, I told him that he “was getting on my fucking nerves” and that I did not want to work more than 2-3 hours on Wednesday. This after a few rather loud displays of displeasure during the course of the day in response to his impatience and inability to convey direction.

Just like last year in the two weeks before I left, I have no tolerance for any perceived bullshit, and the fact that I was curious as to how Chris was coming along getting on the road Tuesday made it much worse. I tried to make it clear that I would still like to get together with him when Chris gets here, but I am not at all convinced that will happen!

Meanwhile, still no word from Chris about his departure since Sunday, and I was quite curious what was going on. We had a long conversation Sunday about the “departure philosophy” and how oftentimes the hardest thing to do on a voyage is... leave.

3/23- 27: April Looming

The Final week of March was a story of trial & error, decisions, waiting for things to play out, some surprises and a futile attempt to paint incomplete pictures.

Chris had begun to wrap things up in Denver. His last day at the coffee shop was on the 27th, and he had slowly begun the process of becoming homeless. As his last day approached, the trip began to move from something abstract to reality, much more so for him obviously, since he was due to leave on the 31st. There has been so much speculation over the months, now it is becoming real. This put our minds into high gear of course, and with the expected flooding of the Red River in North Dakota, we tinkered with the idea of scrapping the “east coast first” notion, heading toward Fargo and helping with sandbagging and cleanup efforts. Time would be of the essence however, and after a night of contemplation, we both came to the same conclusion: we would be rushing. North Dakota will wait its turn.

Somewhere around the 20th, I surprisingly got a call from Jack, who I had helped move shortly after returning last year. His lease was up with the end of March, and wanted me to help him again. He pays well, and has a lot of stuff, and again, came along at the right time! He needed to be out of his house by the 31st, so we penciled in Saturday- Tuesday to get him moved. Before we started, he asked me to stop by to “discuss some things”. There was a possibility of a business trip to California immediately after the move, in the first week of April. Jack is sort of an antiques dealer, and there were people in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Sacramento that he wanted to connect with, and needed someone simply to ride along and “help out”. Paid, of course. The thought of making money to take a road trip sounded good! At that point, he had yet to locate a place in Santa Fe, and was even contemplating returning to New Hampshire, and in that case, we talked about Chris and I riding all the way with him… again dramatically altering the plans we had (sort of) made.

This was a flashback to Fort Morgan ‘08. All these plans are ultimately useless. My initial idea last summer was to aim toward Nebraska, get adjusted, then head north and west toward Portland from there. I never got out of Colorado of course, as though my path was blocked by tornadoes. That led to no small amount of frustration as I tried and tried to “make it happen”. In the end, I wound up on the other side of the mountains and state, in Glenwood Springs, with a nice lesson that has managed to hold on in varying degrees: Plans are nice things to occupy your mind, but the reality will never look like I pictured!

After many trials, I finally answered the backpack question: It’s Elmo: flexibility over minimalization. It seems unlikely, at least for the first few weeks, that I will be able to have a load of less than 50 pounds with a full supply of water. I believe Booger would have been great over the warmer months, when I can get away with fewer clothes, but with the likelihood of repeating this cool- weather scenario in the fall, I decided on the higher volume pack with the better suspension system. I may be complaining in July about how EMPTY the pack is, but for now, it’s smart. I had grown rather attached to Booger, making the decision a bit harder than it should have been! That’s a funny thing about things like packs, shoes, tents etc., they become like family after awhile.

With the money from Jack coming, I also decided to get a higher end bivy, posting my military surplus on Craigslist. (Still available if you want it!) I could make it work, but the fact that it has no mosquito netting “bugs” me (ha!), especially going east. There are next to NO insects out here, at least of that variety, so last summer I was happy sleeping outside in just my sleeping bag. I only recall TWO mosquitoes the entire time I was gone. It is a different story out east, and there is a lot more rain to deal with. Plus… I can always return it!

As the last full week of March closed, things were continuing to shape up quite nicely in just about every way. Chris was closing his apartment out on Tuesday 4/1, and I was going to spend the last days of March padding my wallet. Nice!

Plato's Thamus & The Illusion of Wisdom

This is one of my favorites, again from Plato. It's found in the beginning of a fascinating book, Technopoly by Neal Postman. The book questions whether technology, or at least "too much technology" is a positive... and if man will (has?) become dependent to the point of haplessness. It may seem an odd entry for this particular space, but in reality this is one of the strings of thought that drive me. Victims of comfort; caged by fear.

The last line in this little story is particularly thought provoking. How many people are full of disjointed "information", and confuse (or advertise) this as "wisdom"? In reality, most are nothing simply well- trained parrots. Polly can squawk "E=MC2!" all month, that doesn't mean she knows a thing about relativity...

Enjoy a classic- comments welcome.

Source: Technopoly by Neil Postman, New York: Vintage Books, 1993, pp3-4.

You will find in Plato's Phaedrus a story about Thamus, the king of a great city of Upper Egypt. For people such as ourselves, who are inclined (in Thoreau's phrase) to be tools of our tools, few legends are more instructive than his. The story, as Socrates tells it to his friend Phaedrus, unfolds in the following way: Thamus once entertained the god Theuth, who was the inventor of many things, including number, calculation, geometry, astronomy, and writing. Theuth exhibited his inventions to King Thamus, claiming that they should be made widely known and available to Egyptians. Socrates continues:

Thamus inquired into the use of each of them, and as Theuth went through them expressed approval or disapproval, accordingly as he judged Theuth's claims to be well or ill- founded. It would take too long to go through all that Thamus is reported to have said for and against each of Theuth's inventions. But when it came to writing, Theuth declared, "Here is an accomplishment. my lord the king, which will improve both the wisdom and the memory of the Egyptians. I have discovered a sure receipt for memory and wisdom." To this, Thamus replied, "Theuth, my paragon of inventors, the discoverer of an art is not the best judge of the good or harm which will accrue to those who practice it. So it is in this; you, who are the father of writing, have out of fondness for your offspring attributed to it quite the opposite of its real function. Those who acquire it will cease to exercise their memory and become forgetful; they will rely on writing to bring things to their remembrance by external signs instead of by their own internal resources. What you have discovered is a receipt for recollection, not for memory. And as for wisdom, your pupils will have the reputation for it without the reality: they will receive a quantity of information without proper instruction, and in consequence be thought very knowledgeable when they are, for the most part, quite ignorant. And because they are filled with the conceit of wisdom instead of real wisdom they will be a burden to society.