Mox #2: Hold my hand big tree

Life lessons can be learned anywhere. Sometimes, it takes a couple of images to make a connection. Yesterday, at Pairie Creek State Park, north of Eureka, CA, I was bicycling on a silent serene forest trail immersed in the soft damp beauty of conifers on both sides just drifting by. Then, as I turned a corner in the trail, I met a giant redwood on the right with a diameter of at least 20 ft. It's height only a guess as it disappeared into the canopy. On my left were four more that had cloned perhaps before my great grandfather arrived from Germany. Together they formed a wooden cloudscraper. I, of course, stopped instantly in awe and in respect. What did these manificent plants have to teach me? That beauty can be huge? I already knew that. I pedaled back to camp.

A short while later I was sitting at the picnic table and on the road that curves past our tentsite I watched a grandmother walking rather briskly with her grandson returning from a visit to the bathhouse. The grandson had only recently discovered walking and he was so small that it was a stretch for his little hand to make it up to his grandma's. She was moving at her adult destnation-driven pace and his body was being helped along. He was in a different world, a separate zone, and was oblivious to where in the universe or the nation or the day he was. As long as he had his grandmother's hand and was connected he was free to think, to fantasize, to create, to breathe. So, as a young-old adult, I was reminded by this child and this tree that big solid for-sure things, be they a towering redwood or an anchoring grandma,are not only important, but actually vital to enable us to be who we are and who we wish to be.

WATCH OUT WHEN INVITING US IN

When we were selling our home, in a time warp that seems to have been eons ago, friends and family kept asking us what we were going to do. "Where are you going?" Althought we had thought about moving, talked about moving, and fantasized about moving, we didn't have a clear plan about moving nor an understanding about the impact of moving. Really, I don't think we believed we would ever move.


While we were somewhat apprehensive about the whole idea, others were over joyed. While we were dazed and confused, others thought we had been planning this and were "right on" with the concept. While we often thought we were crazy to think about our homeless adventure, others thought we were adventuresome. When we uttered our lack of clarity; when we uttered our lack of a plan (we had no clue as to where we were going to live); when we uttered out any hint at confusion; almost everyone responded enthusiastically, "Come stay with us, we have lots of room." "Stay as long as you like, we love company." 


Now it is true that most of the responders did have room. Like us they were empty nesters who still had extra bedrooms. Others were young and hadn't filled up their bedrooms yet. This generosity got us to thinking. We started jokingly fantasizing about how long we could go without a house. After all, we once before went without a television for 6 whole months until the Olympics came on and we caved. We started mentally plotting our friends and family on map to see where our travels would take us if we took advantage of all our friendly responders as well as freedom from responsibility. We could stay with friends and family until THEY COULD NO LONGER STAND US. (Remindful of National Lampoons vacation series.)(Which many of you know we tried to emulate when we went to Europe.) 


As a side note this concept had occurred to us once before. In 1986 with 4 children in tow, we went to visit Mox's brother in California. While we were lounging in the pool, and you know how I love pools, I suggested to Mox that we could be the relatives that came to visit and never left. Luckily for them, our Iowa values kicked in and we left as scheduled. 


 However, now we are older, more forgetful and braver. We are also, at least temporarily, on a "fixed income." Just maybe we won't leave. This brought us to the concept of burning bridges, which most of our lives we have tried hard not to do. Now, tongue in cheek, we decided to take a Burning The Bridges Together Tour 2012. Take everyone up on their generosity!


Watch out when inviting us in.

 P.S. (Can you have a P.S. in a blog?) Ironically the Olympics are starting again. Can we survive them without a house?  and P.P.S. we really aren't missing our home.

Mox #1: pajamas

When it comes to technology, as much as I hate to admit it to the world, I am some distance behind Pam. So bear with me. I am used to journaling and I have been doing that for at least the past twenty years. But "blogging" is not the same, at least for me. When I journal it is written for ME and maybe some yet to be born great grand child who stumbles upon some discarded box full of barely legible books dating back to the 2oth century. But putting out a blog for anyone to read is like hosting company in your pajamas - it may take a bit of getting used to. So here we go. Yesterday Pam and I took a 10 hour drive from Denver to Bozeman and stopped along the way once to take in matters at the Little Big Horn. You remember the Little Big Horn - where George Armstrong Custer and the 7th Calvery did some miscalulations and paid a collective ultimate price for the intrusions and injustices of so many that preceeded them. The park rangers did a fine job of balanced explanations of the facts leading up to and including the last stand on the bluffs overlooking a serene river valley. I found myself asking in reflection what did we learn from this event? Could it have been prevented? Some say that history just "unfolds" and things happen as they must, perhaps even according to some grand divine plan. I do not subscribe to that journal and I think the violence that shocked the USA on that June in 1876, while Centenial celebrations were in play through out the eastern cities, could and should have been avoided. It was the result of greed. Greed for gold, greed for land. Some really interesting books for a perspective on this red-white historial relationship are : Black Elk Speaks, Lame Deer: Seeking of Visions, and Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown. Enough serious stuff. We are now in our Bozeman tent waiting on a Montana storm to blow through before we venture into town for the local farmers market. Had a great day today taking in the Bozeman Hot Springs (I love WARM water)after an hour bike ride. More soon. Mox

ZIPCODES

I realize that I mostly joke about being homeless, but it is interesting to get a glimpse into some of the issues that confront the homeless.  I am finding zipcodes are one of those issues.

I am struck when several times a day, I am asked for my zipcode.  In an effort to buy gas yesterday, I had to put my zipcode in the pump.  I have had so many lately, I turned around a couple of numbers and Oops, the pump refused to turn on.  I spent an extra 10 minutes going into the station where I had to pre pay for the gas.

As you know, for 33 years my zipcode was 52339.  Now I really don't have a zipcode so when asked, I often make the same choice as I do when someone asks for my birthday, I make one up.

When did zipcodes gain such importance? I was born before zipcodes and got along fine for many years without one.  As the song goes, "Got along without you before I met you going to get along without your now."

This week I lived at
60538
52144
68845
80204
80511.

Next week I will leave 80204 and go to
98801
98101
and
97086.

I'm not sure what zipcodes I will reside at before reaching 92101.
I am glad that I am homeless by choice and that I know it isn't a permanent state.
My zipcode in September will be 80210.

THE REALITY IS....

I am overdue to write.  The reality is we are now on the road and we haven't established a road routine yet.  It is easy to put off writing, mostly because I am a moody writer.  Which means I have to be in the mood and the mood usually comes with some solitude.

Before leaving on our trip we moved the rest our things out of our temporary home in Grundy into storage.  We also brought a few things to Colorado, including the pick up truck.  It is now with our friends in Estes Park.  

Today we visited the house we are going to rent in Denver.  We will not move in until September so the reality is....We, are homeless. 

 But as luck has it, we do have a car.  

If you need to reach us write to us 

% of the blue Subaru 

on the highway 

somewhere between Denver and Wenatchee, Wa.

Reality Keeps Creeping In

Although I continue to distract myself with "things I need to do before my big road trip"  reality keeps knocking at my door.

For instance, today I came home and there were two BIG BOXES on my bed.
I know that inside of one is a CAMP STOVE.
I know inside of the other one is a CAMP SKILLET.
Did I really sell my good dishes and pack away my pots and pans for a CAMP STOVE and SKILLET???

What was I thinking?

Is there some kind of new crisis that has been added to the baby boomer generation in order to accentuate the 10 years that have been added to our life span? Some new crisis that will help keep us from ignoring our good fortune?

Fortune??  Going through the mid life crisis at 40 and again at 60 +!

Our generation went through the Viet Nam Crisis, the Kent State crisis, the consciences objector crisis and the women's lib crisis, marching, burning the draft cards, and of course, bras. We went through the natural childbirth era and reinstated breast feeding.  We could not be woman enough.  We have enjoyed viable careers and been treated more equally than any previous generation.  Naturally this lead so some internal struggle of work vs. family...the identity
 crisis.

I suppose, if I'm lucky enough to have an extra 10 years added to my life span it is only fair to struggle with a new crisis.  A what to do with it crisis.  Camp stove or no camp stove, skillet or no skillet, it must be a crisis of fortune.

But what shall I call it?
A  3/4 life crisis.  
The waning moon crisis.  
The adventures of the waning moon.  

You can chime in anytime.  What do you think?