Autumn in Manhattan. Get online and see some of Ted's photos. They are amazing! I've been busy with my job at Amnesty - trying to get used to the 9-5 routine, and loving every minute of the work! So far we have met Bill Clinton, gone to two private movie screenings, and attended one $25,000 a plate benefit for an organization called Speak Truth To Power. Not bad for a month and a half in the big apple! I'm going to Chicago to present at a regional conference this weekend, but am looking forward to posting more now that we are finally getting into a bit of a routine. It was hard to get adjusted to life in a big city, a new job for both of us, and a three hour time change - but we're finally settling in.
One more bit of good news - an article I wrote about Olympia is appearing in a three page spread in the November issue of Healthcare Traveler. Check out the online article at: http://www.healthcaretraveler.com/healthcaretraveler/article/articleDetail.jsp?id=385523
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
As I Stare At Mt. Humphrey's - My Thoughts
When I was a junior in high school, I had a daily calendar - one of the joke of the day kinds to keep me laughing through the deadlines (I had - or rather have- the ability to become so stressed by course work that my father actually offered to pay me to make an F and relax!). Anyway, one of the jokes sticks out in my mind, more because it is true than because it is particularly funny. Paul Reiser, in a rant about buying a CD player capable of playing music continually for 18 hours wrote:
“The problem is, they keep coming up with technology nobody asks for. They believe we want Freeze-Frame Search, and Split Screen, and 14-Day Timers. Clocks that make coffee and cameras that talk. We don’t want that. You know what I want? I just want to lie down. That’s really all I want. If I could lie down for a half-hour. That’s really all I want. If I could lie down for a half-hour, I’d be so happy. I’ve been reading instructions since 1987; my head is pounding. I can’t do it.... I want to write a letter. “Dear Japan, STOP!!! We’re fine. This is plenty of stuff. Why don’t you stop with the VCRs and work on diseases. Go cure a disease – I’m going to figure out my cordless phone”
That quote has stuck with me over the years, and has seemed a more and more urgent message in this age of I-pods and disposable toilet brushes. Why all this waste? Where will it all go? When is the stopping point? (As there must be a stopping point) When will we have enough?
A few years ago, Ted and I were in the Rocky Mountains, prepared for the peace and tranquility of the wilderness. Instead, we went from a tent site nestled among gigantic RVS running generators from 7AM-10PM, to a park bus leading us to the trail head to which we were prohibited from walking due to the danger of the road construction, to a trail watched over by men in hard hats with jackhammers, paving the way for future cars. While in the single file line leading from the bus to the trail, we were jostled by tourists with oversized video recorders and accosted with construction noise from all sides. Our company remained with us until they glimpsed the waterfall, whereupon most took family photos and returned to the bus. A zealous few climbed onto rocks to video a better shot of the rapids. We climbed upwards, miles and miles into the wilderness until we reached Storm Pass, utterly alone for the first time all day. At this moment, when the wind reddened our cheeks, when the clouds gathered threateningly over the pass, when the lake lapped against the shore - we felt at peace. Though nature was brewing a storm - we preferred the threatening thunder to the roar of generators, the wind through the trees to the jackhammers, the company of bears to the video happy tourists. I wanted to lie down - to breathe with the earth - because it is getting harder and harder to breathe in the cities that encroach from all sides. No matter how mighty the wilderness seems when you are caught in the elements - it is threatened from all sides by us - by our excesses - by excesses in which I myself am still overly compliant and reliant.
Edward Abbey, in an article entitled "Wild Horses" writes, "What words, what images, what memories, best evoke the essence of the American West? These are some of the first to come to mind: The odor of crushed sage in the hand. The fragrance of burning juniper. A mountain lion crouched on a canyon ledge. The word canyon itself. One black vulture soaring in lazy circles above the burning hills and ice-cream-tinted folds of the Painted Desert. Red mountains like mangled iron rising beyond dunes of gloden sand. Stone ruins nestled in an alcove of a cliff. The cry of a coyote - first one, then a second, then a chorus as a full moon the color of a blood orange sinks beyond the skyline. The aroma of burning mesquite. One dust devil spinning across an alkali flat. . . . Your first sight, at evening, of a file of slick, unbranded, unclaimed, tangle-mained and broomtailed mustangs coming off the ridge for water, old mare in the lead, the stallion at the rear. Wild ones. Wild horses."
And then there is the steaming asphalt of Phoneix, the crowd of SUVs on Highway 1 on the California Coast, the logging mills of Washington, overheated metal trailers lined across reservation land, the stench of a gutter, the sight of another clearing felled for the sake of another box store. But these sights we can see without wandering far from home - these scenes that we justify with the promise of progress, the hope of more jobs to come, the rationale of living with the ugliness of pavement, with the absence of grass, without the call of songbirds. When did we enter the fabled age of the Silent Spring? When bats fall from the skies in California (look at the news), when it is so warm that sparrows mistakenly hatch their young in March, when the glaciers have all but melted? But more than when it happened, I wonder what we can do to reverse the cresting tide before we are all lost at sea.
When the Iraq war first started, I often became frustrated with the peace protestors in the streets. Peace for whom? For us or those in the Middle East? Peace in Darfur? Peace in Isreal? Peace in Syria? In Lebanon? In North Korea? In Argentina? In Venezuela? These people have not known peace for many years. Why cry peace to the elected leaders? It is in our best interest to have war - until we remove the necessity for making war - which is want. Wars have always been fought to gain resources, land - and, most of all, power over these resources and over the people who produce the resources. If we truly want peace, as so many in the streets claim that they do, then we should all - all of us, all over the world - lie down in the streets - literally lie down - and post a big sign that says simply, "Stop." I am convinced that if we all laid there long enough, no sounds of cars in the background, no newscasters, no helicopters overhead, no commercials, no television, no radio, no food, no work, no factory emissions, no prisons, no talking, no buying, no fighting - nothing - if we could all just take a giant, collective breath with the earth - we would gain the rest and knowledge we need to begin again.
All I know is that the frenetic pace of the modern world cannot continue. It is costing us our sanity, our peace of mind, and our lives. We must stop.
As soon as I put this computer away, I will write a letter to myself. It will begin this way:
Dear Self:
Stop.
Unfettered growth is the enemy of progress. Love lies in the quiet places. If you are not willing to be quiet, if you are not willing to rest, then you will not grow. Stop. Be silent. Listen. And when you are finished listening, act out what you learned from the silence. And when the action prevents the silence, it is time to be silent again. This is the cycle of life - one cannot live long if one forgets to breathe. So - breathe - you are alive. Hope is power. And power is informed action, tempered with understanding and compassion.
You can begin again. We all can.
“The problem is, they keep coming up with technology nobody asks for. They believe we want Freeze-Frame Search, and Split Screen, and 14-Day Timers. Clocks that make coffee and cameras that talk. We don’t want that. You know what I want? I just want to lie down. That’s really all I want. If I could lie down for a half-hour. That’s really all I want. If I could lie down for a half-hour, I’d be so happy. I’ve been reading instructions since 1987; my head is pounding. I can’t do it.... I want to write a letter. “Dear Japan, STOP!!! We’re fine. This is plenty of stuff. Why don’t you stop with the VCRs and work on diseases. Go cure a disease – I’m going to figure out my cordless phone”
That quote has stuck with me over the years, and has seemed a more and more urgent message in this age of I-pods and disposable toilet brushes. Why all this waste? Where will it all go? When is the stopping point? (As there must be a stopping point) When will we have enough?
A few years ago, Ted and I were in the Rocky Mountains, prepared for the peace and tranquility of the wilderness. Instead, we went from a tent site nestled among gigantic RVS running generators from 7AM-10PM, to a park bus leading us to the trail head to which we were prohibited from walking due to the danger of the road construction, to a trail watched over by men in hard hats with jackhammers, paving the way for future cars. While in the single file line leading from the bus to the trail, we were jostled by tourists with oversized video recorders and accosted with construction noise from all sides. Our company remained with us until they glimpsed the waterfall, whereupon most took family photos and returned to the bus. A zealous few climbed onto rocks to video a better shot of the rapids. We climbed upwards, miles and miles into the wilderness until we reached Storm Pass, utterly alone for the first time all day. At this moment, when the wind reddened our cheeks, when the clouds gathered threateningly over the pass, when the lake lapped against the shore - we felt at peace. Though nature was brewing a storm - we preferred the threatening thunder to the roar of generators, the wind through the trees to the jackhammers, the company of bears to the video happy tourists. I wanted to lie down - to breathe with the earth - because it is getting harder and harder to breathe in the cities that encroach from all sides. No matter how mighty the wilderness seems when you are caught in the elements - it is threatened from all sides by us - by our excesses - by excesses in which I myself am still overly compliant and reliant.
Edward Abbey, in an article entitled "Wild Horses" writes, "What words, what images, what memories, best evoke the essence of the American West? These are some of the first to come to mind: The odor of crushed sage in the hand. The fragrance of burning juniper. A mountain lion crouched on a canyon ledge. The word canyon itself. One black vulture soaring in lazy circles above the burning hills and ice-cream-tinted folds of the Painted Desert. Red mountains like mangled iron rising beyond dunes of gloden sand. Stone ruins nestled in an alcove of a cliff. The cry of a coyote - first one, then a second, then a chorus as a full moon the color of a blood orange sinks beyond the skyline. The aroma of burning mesquite. One dust devil spinning across an alkali flat. . . . Your first sight, at evening, of a file of slick, unbranded, unclaimed, tangle-mained and broomtailed mustangs coming off the ridge for water, old mare in the lead, the stallion at the rear. Wild ones. Wild horses."
And then there is the steaming asphalt of Phoneix, the crowd of SUVs on Highway 1 on the California Coast, the logging mills of Washington, overheated metal trailers lined across reservation land, the stench of a gutter, the sight of another clearing felled for the sake of another box store. But these sights we can see without wandering far from home - these scenes that we justify with the promise of progress, the hope of more jobs to come, the rationale of living with the ugliness of pavement, with the absence of grass, without the call of songbirds. When did we enter the fabled age of the Silent Spring? When bats fall from the skies in California (look at the news), when it is so warm that sparrows mistakenly hatch their young in March, when the glaciers have all but melted? But more than when it happened, I wonder what we can do to reverse the cresting tide before we are all lost at sea.
When the Iraq war first started, I often became frustrated with the peace protestors in the streets. Peace for whom? For us or those in the Middle East? Peace in Darfur? Peace in Isreal? Peace in Syria? In Lebanon? In North Korea? In Argentina? In Venezuela? These people have not known peace for many years. Why cry peace to the elected leaders? It is in our best interest to have war - until we remove the necessity for making war - which is want. Wars have always been fought to gain resources, land - and, most of all, power over these resources and over the people who produce the resources. If we truly want peace, as so many in the streets claim that they do, then we should all - all of us, all over the world - lie down in the streets - literally lie down - and post a big sign that says simply, "Stop." I am convinced that if we all laid there long enough, no sounds of cars in the background, no newscasters, no helicopters overhead, no commercials, no television, no radio, no food, no work, no factory emissions, no prisons, no talking, no buying, no fighting - nothing - if we could all just take a giant, collective breath with the earth - we would gain the rest and knowledge we need to begin again.
All I know is that the frenetic pace of the modern world cannot continue. It is costing us our sanity, our peace of mind, and our lives. We must stop.
As soon as I put this computer away, I will write a letter to myself. It will begin this way:
Dear Self:
Stop.
Unfettered growth is the enemy of progress. Love lies in the quiet places. If you are not willing to be quiet, if you are not willing to rest, then you will not grow. Stop. Be silent. Listen. And when you are finished listening, act out what you learned from the silence. And when the action prevents the silence, it is time to be silent again. This is the cycle of life - one cannot live long if one forgets to breathe. So - breathe - you are alive. Hope is power. And power is informed action, tempered with understanding and compassion.
You can begin again. We all can.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
New York, New York
Well, it's finally happening! Everything seems to be falling in place for us to go to New York City in September. We've signed a rental agreement to sublet a beautiful apartment across from the City College of New York, complete with fireplaces in both the bedroom and the living room, a simple writing desk by the bedroom window, and our very own covered deck! Just in case I'm jinxing everything by posting this before Ted signs a contract with a New York hospital, everybody keep your fingers crossed that everything goes well with his job situation! For those of you who don't know, we're moving to New York because I secured an internship with the Human Rights Education division of Amnesty International. We'll be there for three months before (hopefully) transferring to San Francisco. Ted received an amazing offer to become a permanent staff member at Stanford, and the director of the HRE division of Amnesty told me I should be able to transfer to the San Francisco office with no problems. Two cross country moves in six months? No problem for two veteran travelers! :-)
Working for Amnesty, or at least working for a non-profit at a global or national level, has been my dream ever since I can remember. When I was young, I wanted to be a doctor in South America, traveling from village to village healing the sick. When I was older, I dreamed of joining the Peace Corps. During college, I wanted to work for the UN in order to help on a more global scale. Now, I have the opportunity to work with both Amnesty and the UN to contribute to educational reform on a fundamental level! I couldn't have dreamed of a better opportunity than the one I have been offered! And Ted has been offered the ultimate opportunity to sign on permanently with Stanford! It is an amazing time in our lives!
My Mom and Bill just came to stay with us for a week, and overlapped with Vonda, Ted, and Forrest, Ted's parents and younger brother, who stayed for two weeks! We spent the past three weeks traveling all over Arizona, having the Great Western Adventure of a lifetime! Dad is coming to stay with us in the middle of August, which means we will have seen almost all of our parents in Flagstaff. (Julia - we still wish you could come!) I'll post more about our family adventures later, but I just want to say - it was amazing to see everyone here in Arizona at our house. We miss you all! And Dad - we can't wait to see you in a few short weeks!
Blog By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Taken at the park near our apartment in AZ)
Working for Amnesty, or at least working for a non-profit at a global or national level, has been my dream ever since I can remember. When I was young, I wanted to be a doctor in South America, traveling from village to village healing the sick. When I was older, I dreamed of joining the Peace Corps. During college, I wanted to work for the UN in order to help on a more global scale. Now, I have the opportunity to work with both Amnesty and the UN to contribute to educational reform on a fundamental level! I couldn't have dreamed of a better opportunity than the one I have been offered! And Ted has been offered the ultimate opportunity to sign on permanently with Stanford! It is an amazing time in our lives!
My Mom and Bill just came to stay with us for a week, and overlapped with Vonda, Ted, and Forrest, Ted's parents and younger brother, who stayed for two weeks! We spent the past three weeks traveling all over Arizona, having the Great Western Adventure of a lifetime! Dad is coming to stay with us in the middle of August, which means we will have seen almost all of our parents in Flagstaff. (Julia - we still wish you could come!) I'll post more about our family adventures later, but I just want to say - it was amazing to see everyone here in Arizona at our house. We miss you all! And Dad - we can't wait to see you in a few short weeks!
Blog By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Taken at the park near our apartment in AZ)
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Color Theory
About a month ago, I was sitting with Ted watching a fire burn in our fireplace in Olympia, when I began to think about the nature of color. I thought back to an elementary school science experiment when we held a crystal up to a window to catch the sunlight. In amazement, we watched as the prism radiated all the colors of the rainbow! I know now that the prism merely reflected the colors that exist all around us at all times, and that an opaque object absorbs colors, thereby appearing dark. But what I still do not understand is how we are able to see so many colors at the same time!?! Think about it - all colors exist at all times, but we do not perceive all colors at all times. Instead, we see an incredibly complex array of colors and shades, which we can perceive and discern simultaneously. In fact, if we looked at a wall containing all the colors of the world, we would be able to perceive all the various shades all at the same time with no trouble! What an incredible feat!
And yet, behind the colors that we do see are all the colors that we do not see. For example, if we look at a dark blue couch, we do not see all the colors that the couch absorbed to appear dark blue. But those colors still exist! Behind everything seen is a whole array of things that are unseen!
This concept was reinforced to me on our flight back from Memphis to Seattle. Seattle, like Eor from Winnie the Pooh, always seems to have a grey cloud hanging over it, as those of you who live near there can attest :-) But as we were flying towards Seattle, all we could see was a brilliant sunny sky framing the low hanging grey clouds. Though the people on the ground could not perceive the beautiful blue sky - it was there just above the clouds. Behind everything seen is a whole array of things that are unseen!
I find this thought wonderfully comforting! Imagine walking out on a rainy, cloudy day. The sky is oppressively low and dark, the rain pounding, everyting cast in a pallor of gloom. Of course, you might feel overcast as well. But all is not as it seems! Above the clouds is a sunny sky, just waiting for the clouds to pass before it can become visible!
We should always question what is lying just beyond the edges of our perceptions - just behind the veil of what we can see and what we think we know. We may just find all the colors of the rainbow!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (taken in California)
And yet, behind the colors that we do see are all the colors that we do not see. For example, if we look at a dark blue couch, we do not see all the colors that the couch absorbed to appear dark blue. But those colors still exist! Behind everything seen is a whole array of things that are unseen!
This concept was reinforced to me on our flight back from Memphis to Seattle. Seattle, like Eor from Winnie the Pooh, always seems to have a grey cloud hanging over it, as those of you who live near there can attest :-) But as we were flying towards Seattle, all we could see was a brilliant sunny sky framing the low hanging grey clouds. Though the people on the ground could not perceive the beautiful blue sky - it was there just above the clouds. Behind everything seen is a whole array of things that are unseen!
I find this thought wonderfully comforting! Imagine walking out on a rainy, cloudy day. The sky is oppressively low and dark, the rain pounding, everyting cast in a pallor of gloom. Of course, you might feel overcast as well. But all is not as it seems! Above the clouds is a sunny sky, just waiting for the clouds to pass before it can become visible!
We should always question what is lying just beyond the edges of our perceptions - just behind the veil of what we can see and what we think we know. We may just find all the colors of the rainbow!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (taken in California)
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
What If?
What would happen if everyone recycled at least the bare essentials?
What would happen if everyone switched the lightbulbs in their homes to the new energy efficient kind?
What would happen if half the people who owned a home had a compost pile?
What would happen if half the population grew their own vegetables?
What would happen if half the population bought only organic foods?
What would happen if everyone carpooled to work?
What would happen if every car was a hybrid?
What would happen if we all drove fifty miles less per week and walked to get the essentials?
What would happen if we all exercised outside?
What would happen if jet skis and snowmobiles were also hybrid?
What would happen if everyone planted one tree?
What would happen if everyone turned the water off while they were brushing their teeth?
What would happen if everyone switched to energy safe appliances?
What would happen if we all stopped investing money in throw away technology?
What happens to the clothes in clothing stores when no one buys them?
What happens to the food in supermarkets if no one buys it?
Is it really cost effective to throw the food away?
Is it hurting anyone to give it away?
What would happen if McDonald’s and other fast food chains stopped putting plastic toys in their meals?
What would happen if cities only allowed one type of each store per 50,000 people?
What would happen if people stopped using plastic diapers and more diaper cleaning services were available?
What would happen if all the hydrogen being produced from nuclear waste were harvested for energy?
What would happen if everyone had solar paneling?
What would happen if people built only what they needed, not what they wanted?
What would happen if every town had a farmer’s market?
Serious Questions - Let me know if you come up with any answers! If we all put our minds together - I bet we could come up with at least a few solutions!
Posting By: Rebecca
What would happen if everyone switched the lightbulbs in their homes to the new energy efficient kind?
What would happen if half the people who owned a home had a compost pile?
What would happen if half the population grew their own vegetables?
What would happen if half the population bought only organic foods?
What would happen if everyone carpooled to work?
What would happen if every car was a hybrid?
What would happen if we all drove fifty miles less per week and walked to get the essentials?
What would happen if we all exercised outside?
What would happen if jet skis and snowmobiles were also hybrid?
What would happen if everyone planted one tree?
What would happen if everyone turned the water off while they were brushing their teeth?
What would happen if everyone switched to energy safe appliances?
What would happen if we all stopped investing money in throw away technology?
What happens to the clothes in clothing stores when no one buys them?
What happens to the food in supermarkets if no one buys it?
Is it really cost effective to throw the food away?
Is it hurting anyone to give it away?
What would happen if McDonald’s and other fast food chains stopped putting plastic toys in their meals?
What would happen if cities only allowed one type of each store per 50,000 people?
What would happen if people stopped using plastic diapers and more diaper cleaning services were available?
What would happen if all the hydrogen being produced from nuclear waste were harvested for energy?
What would happen if everyone had solar paneling?
What would happen if people built only what they needed, not what they wanted?
What would happen if every town had a farmer’s market?
Serious Questions - Let me know if you come up with any answers! If we all put our minds together - I bet we could come up with at least a few solutions!
Posting By: Rebecca
A Book Review and My Thoughts
I was looking through some of my old writing for magazine ideas, and stumbled upon a book review I wrote this past September. It is a testament to how powerfully the book affected me that I wrote pages and pages about the thoughts it inspired. I've included an excerpt of the review here. This entry is a little more personal than usual - but the book touched me and it might touch someone else as well - so here goes.
September 14, 2005
Last night I read the book "The Myth of You and Me" by Leah Stewart. It moved me and touched me in a way that few books do. Sonia and Cameron had been friends since they were 14, but the close friendship ended tragically eight years later when Sonia confessed she had slept with Owen, Cameron’s college boyfriend. Eight years later, shortly before her wedding, Sonia attempted to contact Cameron, who was working for Oliver Doucet, a famous historian, as a live-in caretaker and research assistant. After Oliver died, he left instructions for Cameron to contact Sonia in order to deliver a mysterious package. Her curiosity peaked, Cameron left Oxford and headed to Boston, ostensibly to find Sonia and deliver the package. Cameron ends up back at the same fork in the road that she faced eight years before, and is forced to relive all the moments that led to her decision to end her friendship with Sonia. Over several days, she begins to heal old wounds and stir up old relationships. In a sense, she returns to the fork in the road and chooses the other direction.
Stewart talks a great deal about the fact that many truths coexist at the same time. Life is not linear, as most people view it, but like a string that continuously crosses over itself and reconnects. She theorizes that the end result is evident in every choice, and that once a choice is made, a new, alternate life forms alongside our own, in which the opposite choice was made. Though I have heard this theory before, it was not compelling to me until now. Each fork in the road would have an infinite number of forks alongside it. Stewart also discusses the fact that it is impossible to ever know all sides of a person because each person is a world. I find this thought to be immensely comforting. In each of us lies the destruction and creation of a world. Which path we take becomes a matter of choices converged with circumstance. No, more it is a matter of choice. Many bad things happen to people who choose to remain basically good, and many good things happen to people who choose to become derelict. It is not that some people have better luck than others, merely that some people have better attitudes. Is a good attitude an inherent personality trait? I think not. I choose to believe we are all blessed with the ability to choose how we want to act, despite whatever circumstances may have befallen us at whatever age. From then on, life is about continually choosing the best attitude. Many people do not want to believe that life is a series of choices, but instead choose to believe that life is a series of good or bad things that happen to them. In this view, they bear no personal responsibility for their actions or reactions. It is an easier view to be sure. I personally like the complexity and responsibility of the former view.
I began thinking about all the different choices I have made in my life, and all the different people I could have become as a result of these choices. The possibilities are infinite! All of my choices and attitudes have led me here - to an apartment in Palo Alto, California, agonizing over writing, and chasing the days away with the love of my life, as we explore all that the world has to offer us. At times, I think I have been very lucky indeed. But I also realize that I am here because I chose to be here all along. I am still choosing. Where will I be in five years? I have no idea, but I do know that where I will be is beginning now, in the decision to stay in today to write, in the decision to be mindful of the moment, in the decision to be aware of my blessings, in the decision to be aware of other’s needs, and the decision to be aware of our connectedness to the world.
Ted and I have often stayed up late imagining versions of our lives together. A few of our favorites:
Version One- Nomadic adventurers - We do travel nursing until we save up enough to have a good nest egg. We hike the entire Appalachian trail before joining the Peace Corps. After returning, we work for Doctors Without Borders, he as an FNP, and I as a coordinator and UN liaison. As a hobby, we work for National Geographic, detailing our travels, Ted with photos and I with words. When we do want to settle down, we move to a small North Carolina town, or possibly Rogersville. I teach and work part time in the coffee shop that we both own. He works at the shop full time. We adopt several children and own a self-sustaining farm. Both of us continue to do freelance work.
Version Two - A variation of Version One, but diverging after hiking the AT. Ted goes to school to become a FNP. I go to school to major in International Relations. I work for a nonprofit, while Ted works for a rural clinic. We have children. Eventually, we open a coffee shop and own a self-sustaining farm while doing some freelance work. We continue to travel the world for fun.
There are many versions of these plans, but all with the basic thrust of traveling, helping others, and owning a coffee shop or a self-sustaining farm. In some versions, our son is Byron Charles. In others, he is Gabriel. In others, Isaiah. Our daughter is Isabelle, or Zara, or Elizabeth. In some versions, we have no children at all. The best part of all these versions is the pleasure we derive from dreaming together of all these different lives, all our different selves. All the different roads we could take together. And we know, even in the midst of these plans, that life can change in a moment, that we are not guaranteed the breath of tomorrow. And yet we dream, because we can and because we hope, and because we trust.
I try to imagine sometimes what life would be like if Ted were to suddenly die tomorrow, in the same way that mothers try to picture losing their children, in an effort to somehow prepare for an almost inevitable blow. I try to picture myself getting out of bed, making myself get a job, sorting out the bills, eating meals that all taste bland. Once you have found your other half, it is difficult to imagine being alone again. Perhaps in this version of my life I would still travel overseas, join the Peace Corps, and basically continue along as in Version One, except without the coffee shop, and perhaps with fewer adopted children. I really don’t know. I pray that Ted and I will be able to go on like we are now, hand in hand, for as long as we both shall live, which is hopefully to the same exact moment, although I know that the chances of us both dying at the same time are slim. And yet, when one or the other of us goes, the one who remains still has choices about how he or she will live. We can choose to get out of bed in the morning and face the day. We can choose to go on, as a testimony to the strength of our love.
Life does not happen to us - we mold our lives. I, for one, will continue choosing to be happy. And alive. And in love.
September 14, 2005
Last night I read the book "The Myth of You and Me" by Leah Stewart. It moved me and touched me in a way that few books do. Sonia and Cameron had been friends since they were 14, but the close friendship ended tragically eight years later when Sonia confessed she had slept with Owen, Cameron’s college boyfriend. Eight years later, shortly before her wedding, Sonia attempted to contact Cameron, who was working for Oliver Doucet, a famous historian, as a live-in caretaker and research assistant. After Oliver died, he left instructions for Cameron to contact Sonia in order to deliver a mysterious package. Her curiosity peaked, Cameron left Oxford and headed to Boston, ostensibly to find Sonia and deliver the package. Cameron ends up back at the same fork in the road that she faced eight years before, and is forced to relive all the moments that led to her decision to end her friendship with Sonia. Over several days, she begins to heal old wounds and stir up old relationships. In a sense, she returns to the fork in the road and chooses the other direction.
Stewart talks a great deal about the fact that many truths coexist at the same time. Life is not linear, as most people view it, but like a string that continuously crosses over itself and reconnects. She theorizes that the end result is evident in every choice, and that once a choice is made, a new, alternate life forms alongside our own, in which the opposite choice was made. Though I have heard this theory before, it was not compelling to me until now. Each fork in the road would have an infinite number of forks alongside it. Stewart also discusses the fact that it is impossible to ever know all sides of a person because each person is a world. I find this thought to be immensely comforting. In each of us lies the destruction and creation of a world. Which path we take becomes a matter of choices converged with circumstance. No, more it is a matter of choice. Many bad things happen to people who choose to remain basically good, and many good things happen to people who choose to become derelict. It is not that some people have better luck than others, merely that some people have better attitudes. Is a good attitude an inherent personality trait? I think not. I choose to believe we are all blessed with the ability to choose how we want to act, despite whatever circumstances may have befallen us at whatever age. From then on, life is about continually choosing the best attitude. Many people do not want to believe that life is a series of choices, but instead choose to believe that life is a series of good or bad things that happen to them. In this view, they bear no personal responsibility for their actions or reactions. It is an easier view to be sure. I personally like the complexity and responsibility of the former view.
I began thinking about all the different choices I have made in my life, and all the different people I could have become as a result of these choices. The possibilities are infinite! All of my choices and attitudes have led me here - to an apartment in Palo Alto, California, agonizing over writing, and chasing the days away with the love of my life, as we explore all that the world has to offer us. At times, I think I have been very lucky indeed. But I also realize that I am here because I chose to be here all along. I am still choosing. Where will I be in five years? I have no idea, but I do know that where I will be is beginning now, in the decision to stay in today to write, in the decision to be mindful of the moment, in the decision to be aware of my blessings, in the decision to be aware of other’s needs, and the decision to be aware of our connectedness to the world.
Ted and I have often stayed up late imagining versions of our lives together. A few of our favorites:
Version One- Nomadic adventurers - We do travel nursing until we save up enough to have a good nest egg. We hike the entire Appalachian trail before joining the Peace Corps. After returning, we work for Doctors Without Borders, he as an FNP, and I as a coordinator and UN liaison. As a hobby, we work for National Geographic, detailing our travels, Ted with photos and I with words. When we do want to settle down, we move to a small North Carolina town, or possibly Rogersville. I teach and work part time in the coffee shop that we both own. He works at the shop full time. We adopt several children and own a self-sustaining farm. Both of us continue to do freelance work.
Version Two - A variation of Version One, but diverging after hiking the AT. Ted goes to school to become a FNP. I go to school to major in International Relations. I work for a nonprofit, while Ted works for a rural clinic. We have children. Eventually, we open a coffee shop and own a self-sustaining farm while doing some freelance work. We continue to travel the world for fun.
There are many versions of these plans, but all with the basic thrust of traveling, helping others, and owning a coffee shop or a self-sustaining farm. In some versions, our son is Byron Charles. In others, he is Gabriel. In others, Isaiah. Our daughter is Isabelle, or Zara, or Elizabeth. In some versions, we have no children at all. The best part of all these versions is the pleasure we derive from dreaming together of all these different lives, all our different selves. All the different roads we could take together. And we know, even in the midst of these plans, that life can change in a moment, that we are not guaranteed the breath of tomorrow. And yet we dream, because we can and because we hope, and because we trust.
I try to imagine sometimes what life would be like if Ted were to suddenly die tomorrow, in the same way that mothers try to picture losing their children, in an effort to somehow prepare for an almost inevitable blow. I try to picture myself getting out of bed, making myself get a job, sorting out the bills, eating meals that all taste bland. Once you have found your other half, it is difficult to imagine being alone again. Perhaps in this version of my life I would still travel overseas, join the Peace Corps, and basically continue along as in Version One, except without the coffee shop, and perhaps with fewer adopted children. I really don’t know. I pray that Ted and I will be able to go on like we are now, hand in hand, for as long as we both shall live, which is hopefully to the same exact moment, although I know that the chances of us both dying at the same time are slim. And yet, when one or the other of us goes, the one who remains still has choices about how he or she will live. We can choose to get out of bed in the morning and face the day. We can choose to go on, as a testimony to the strength of our love.
Life does not happen to us - we mold our lives. I, for one, will continue choosing to be happy. And alive. And in love.
Lee's Ferry Hike
In the hiker's paradise of northern Arizona, every day counts, especially when you only have three months to explore all that the area has to offer. Because the Coconino National Forest, which includes Sunset Crater, the Wupatki Ruins, Mt. Humphreys, Mt. Elden, and most other trails near us, is closed due to the Brins Fire, we decided to drive two hours north to Lee's Ferry for a weekend of camping and hiking the first chance we got. Situated off Route 89A just past the Navajo Bridge is the Lee's Ferry recreation area, a remote park which marks the point where the Paria River joins the Colorado River and also affords breathtaking views of the mouth of the Grand Canyon - if you're willing to climb a few strenuous trails.
Even though we got an early start on Saturday morning, we did not arrive at the campground until noon, which translates into triple digit desert heat. We set up the tent and waited for the harsh afternoon sun to fade before setting out on the Spencer Trail - a three mile round trip vertical climb to the top of a 4,740 foot plateau. From the ground we could not see the trail, or even the top of the plateau. All that we could see was a 1,560 foot red rock towering over the winding Colorado River. I started to have second thoughts about the climb, but the guide book assured us that the top afforded incredible views of the river valley. Anything for a photo, right? Any time we feel intimidated by a trail, we pretend that we're members of a National Geographic photography team. Do you think those guys get those incredible photos by sticking to the comfortable trails? No way! In fact, when we visited Washington, D.C., we stopped by the National Geographic museum where we saw an underwater photo of a trout swimming through an Alasakan stream. The photographer wrote that he waited for hours IN the freezing stream to get that shot. Needless to say, we were willing to climb 1.5 miles up a trail to reach the promised views.
Though we had each come prepared with a gallon of water, we were not prepared for the intensity of the heat. Within ten minutes, the cool water in our Nalgene bottles was steaming hot, and the heat settled on us in unrelenting waves. There was no way that we could make the climb even in the late afternoon, as there were no water sources or shaded areas along the trail. Reluctantly, we turned back for the day with a resolution to awake early and try again. The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging on the white sands of the Paria beach, immersing ourselves in the chilly Colorado River, and watching rafters float by on their way towards Phantom Ranch.
At four thirty the next morning, we awoke to an amazing sunrise bathing the cliffs in soft red light. We sat for a while enjoying the sunrise before heading back to the Spencer Trail. Already the day was warm, but bearable, as the side of the cliff was still covered in shade. As we climbed steadily upward and navigated the loose rocks, we were rewarded with increasingly grand views of the valley below - red rock reflected in the river, stretches of buttes and canyon valleys, the winding blue and green of the Colorado River. Darting lizards, desert flowers, odd rock formations, and steep drop-offs punctuated the trail. At several points in the trail, we could not see where the trail led next, or where we had been previously due to the vertical nature of the climb. We hugged the cliff walls until we reached the top of the plateau.
Upon reaching the summit - we felt we were on top of the world! In one direction, we could see the beginning of the Grand Canyon and the winding Colorado, in the other we could see the Echo and Vermillion Cliffs, Lake Powell, and Navajo Mountain. All along the ridge were cairns, or rock piles, left by previous hikers to mark the summit. We added our own rocks to commemorate the occasion.
Though we could have sat for hours, we knew that we had to be back by ten in order to make the descent before the heat of the day set in. Reluctantly, we gathered the camera equipment and made our way back down the trail. We could still see rafters preparing to go down river and fishermen heading upstream to catch trout. The colors of the place are so vivid - as though a veil has been pulled away to reveal their true colors. Never have I see such blue sky or such red rock - the pictures, as stunning as they are, do the scene no justice!
After an afternoon of playing in the river, we headed back home - and none too soon. The day after we returned, the Forest Service closed down route 89A due to the raging North Rim fire. The Brins Fire (near Sedona) is now nearly 90% contained, but the North Rim fire is still steadily burning. Although the South Rim is still open, the entire canyon is fillled with smoke from the fire. Everybody should pray for rain, as that is probably going to be the only thing that will stop the wildfires from consuming the drought ridden Southwest! We live up on a mesa, and the fires have not come near Flagstaff, so you don't need to worry about us. We're more worried about the state of the forests and anxiously awaiting the reopening of the Coconino National Forest. Can't wait to see all of you who are coming to visit! Don't worry - we'll find something to do around here. You're probably breathing a sigh of relief that we can't take you hiking. HaHa!
We miss you all!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted
Even though we got an early start on Saturday morning, we did not arrive at the campground until noon, which translates into triple digit desert heat. We set up the tent and waited for the harsh afternoon sun to fade before setting out on the Spencer Trail - a three mile round trip vertical climb to the top of a 4,740 foot plateau. From the ground we could not see the trail, or even the top of the plateau. All that we could see was a 1,560 foot red rock towering over the winding Colorado River. I started to have second thoughts about the climb, but the guide book assured us that the top afforded incredible views of the river valley. Anything for a photo, right? Any time we feel intimidated by a trail, we pretend that we're members of a National Geographic photography team. Do you think those guys get those incredible photos by sticking to the comfortable trails? No way! In fact, when we visited Washington, D.C., we stopped by the National Geographic museum where we saw an underwater photo of a trout swimming through an Alasakan stream. The photographer wrote that he waited for hours IN the freezing stream to get that shot. Needless to say, we were willing to climb 1.5 miles up a trail to reach the promised views.
Though we had each come prepared with a gallon of water, we were not prepared for the intensity of the heat. Within ten minutes, the cool water in our Nalgene bottles was steaming hot, and the heat settled on us in unrelenting waves. There was no way that we could make the climb even in the late afternoon, as there were no water sources or shaded areas along the trail. Reluctantly, we turned back for the day with a resolution to awake early and try again. The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging on the white sands of the Paria beach, immersing ourselves in the chilly Colorado River, and watching rafters float by on their way towards Phantom Ranch.
At four thirty the next morning, we awoke to an amazing sunrise bathing the cliffs in soft red light. We sat for a while enjoying the sunrise before heading back to the Spencer Trail. Already the day was warm, but bearable, as the side of the cliff was still covered in shade. As we climbed steadily upward and navigated the loose rocks, we were rewarded with increasingly grand views of the valley below - red rock reflected in the river, stretches of buttes and canyon valleys, the winding blue and green of the Colorado River. Darting lizards, desert flowers, odd rock formations, and steep drop-offs punctuated the trail. At several points in the trail, we could not see where the trail led next, or where we had been previously due to the vertical nature of the climb. We hugged the cliff walls until we reached the top of the plateau.
Upon reaching the summit - we felt we were on top of the world! In one direction, we could see the beginning of the Grand Canyon and the winding Colorado, in the other we could see the Echo and Vermillion Cliffs, Lake Powell, and Navajo Mountain. All along the ridge were cairns, or rock piles, left by previous hikers to mark the summit. We added our own rocks to commemorate the occasion.
Though we could have sat for hours, we knew that we had to be back by ten in order to make the descent before the heat of the day set in. Reluctantly, we gathered the camera equipment and made our way back down the trail. We could still see rafters preparing to go down river and fishermen heading upstream to catch trout. The colors of the place are so vivid - as though a veil has been pulled away to reveal their true colors. Never have I see such blue sky or such red rock - the pictures, as stunning as they are, do the scene no justice!
After an afternoon of playing in the river, we headed back home - and none too soon. The day after we returned, the Forest Service closed down route 89A due to the raging North Rim fire. The Brins Fire (near Sedona) is now nearly 90% contained, but the North Rim fire is still steadily burning. Although the South Rim is still open, the entire canyon is fillled with smoke from the fire. Everybody should pray for rain, as that is probably going to be the only thing that will stop the wildfires from consuming the drought ridden Southwest! We live up on a mesa, and the fires have not come near Flagstaff, so you don't need to worry about us. We're more worried about the state of the forests and anxiously awaiting the reopening of the Coconino National Forest. Can't wait to see all of you who are coming to visit! Don't worry - we'll find something to do around here. You're probably breathing a sigh of relief that we can't take you hiking. HaHa!
We miss you all!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted
New Website for Ted's Photos
First, let me apologize for not posting sooner. I haven't forgotten about everyone who checks the site every day hoping for a new posting. During our week out of town, we had no internet access, and this week we've had trouble uploading Ted's photos. We finally figured out the problem - and a solution. Because Ted is hoping to get some of his work published, he has started taking photos in raw format, which is too large a format to post on this blog site. On our last hiking trip, he took some photos in fine format so that I could post them here, but that format is also incompatible with this site. Instead of trying to take shots in simple format, we've decided to post his photos on another website so that you can look at more photos and view them in a higher resolution. The website is:
www.flickr.com/photos/infinitehorizons/
I will add this website as a link in the sidebar as well. So far we've only uploaded the photos of our most recent hike to Lee's Ferry and our trip last summer to Santa Fe. We'll add more as we have time. Since we will be maintaining a separate photo page, I won't have to deal with the frustrations of posting photos on this blog, which should free up more time to post. E-mail me if you have any trouble accessing the new website, and I'll try to fix the problem. Enjoy all the new photos! Also, the blog site sometimes takes a day to show my new postings on the front page. If you don't see a new posting, go down to the Archives list on the sidebar, and click the current month. The new postings will then appear on the screen. Hope you like today's post about the Lee's Ferry Hike!
Posting By: Rebecca
www.flickr.com/photos/infinitehorizons/
I will add this website as a link in the sidebar as well. So far we've only uploaded the photos of our most recent hike to Lee's Ferry and our trip last summer to Santa Fe. We'll add more as we have time. Since we will be maintaining a separate photo page, I won't have to deal with the frustrations of posting photos on this blog, which should free up more time to post. E-mail me if you have any trouble accessing the new website, and I'll try to fix the problem. Enjoy all the new photos! Also, the blog site sometimes takes a day to show my new postings on the front page. If you don't see a new posting, go down to the Archives list on the sidebar, and click the current month. The new postings will then appear on the screen. Hope you like today's post about the Lee's Ferry Hike!
Posting By: Rebecca
Monday, June 12, 2006
Flying Home
We're sitting in the Phoenix airport waiting for our plane to Knoxville, looking out at the rocky peaks in the Phoenix horizon and discussing all the airports we've flown out of just this year alone: San Francisco, Memphis, Knoxville, Salt Lake City, Houston, Dallas, Chicago, and Atlanta. Shouldn't we be getting some frequent flyer miles by now? Small planes, large planes, planes that serve meals, planes that don't, planes with passengers squeezed in like cattle, and planes with leather reclining seats - all the options that United States airline travel offers. In this age of easy travel - where we can fly from 116 degree arid desert heat to 90 degree humidity - from miles of red rock to acres of lush forest - all in a day's travel, it's easy to forget what an amazing feat it is to propel a muti-ton steel plane into the air, keep it as well as all the passengers and luggage aloft, and fly at an altitude as high or higher than the peaks of Mt. Everest. Mankind can do incredible things!
Among these incredible feats is man's ability to reflect on and imrove upon past actions. Those who travel frequently have begun to think about the environmental impact of traveling, and have begun to develop solutions to offset the negative effects of flying. One of the most exciting developments is the idea of offsetting carbon emissions by investing in things that absorb carbon. For example, Al Gore, who travels frequently to lecture on global warming, offsets the carbon he produces through flying by investing in mango groves in India. The women in Indian villages benefit from planting a sustainable and marketable crop, and the environment benefits because the mango trees absorb carbon. (Check out this month's Wired magazine for the complete article about Al Gore's environemntal efforts) Though carbon offsetting is in its early stages, many up and coming companies are beginning to develop plans to make the idea mainstream. Definitely a trend to watch!
Speaking of people who are interested in the environment, we attended an informal party last night hosted by one of the nurses on Ted's floor. Everyone was laid back, interesting to talk to, eco-savvy, and eager to discuss outdoor adventures as well as our environmental footprints. Tevas (sandals) and dogs abounded, and the conversation focused on one group's fishing expedition to Mexico, another couple's road trip to Canada, and frequent fishing trips to Lake Powell and hiking excursions to Buckskin Gulch. Needless to say, we fit right in! As we cooked out on the grill, exchanged stories, and shared insights - we knew that we had found a place we would love to call home for three months (and maybe longer.)
By: Rebecca
P.S. Sorry no picture. Typing in the airport in a hurry!
Among these incredible feats is man's ability to reflect on and imrove upon past actions. Those who travel frequently have begun to think about the environmental impact of traveling, and have begun to develop solutions to offset the negative effects of flying. One of the most exciting developments is the idea of offsetting carbon emissions by investing in things that absorb carbon. For example, Al Gore, who travels frequently to lecture on global warming, offsets the carbon he produces through flying by investing in mango groves in India. The women in Indian villages benefit from planting a sustainable and marketable crop, and the environment benefits because the mango trees absorb carbon. (Check out this month's Wired magazine for the complete article about Al Gore's environemntal efforts) Though carbon offsetting is in its early stages, many up and coming companies are beginning to develop plans to make the idea mainstream. Definitely a trend to watch!
Speaking of people who are interested in the environment, we attended an informal party last night hosted by one of the nurses on Ted's floor. Everyone was laid back, interesting to talk to, eco-savvy, and eager to discuss outdoor adventures as well as our environmental footprints. Tevas (sandals) and dogs abounded, and the conversation focused on one group's fishing expedition to Mexico, another couple's road trip to Canada, and frequent fishing trips to Lake Powell and hiking excursions to Buckskin Gulch. Needless to say, we fit right in! As we cooked out on the grill, exchanged stories, and shared insights - we knew that we had found a place we would love to call home for three months (and maybe longer.)
By: Rebecca
P.S. Sorry no picture. Typing in the airport in a hurry!
Saturday, June 10, 2006
A Sunset reflection
We're safe in Flagstaff, and now have internet access up and running. Yeah! Already there is much to report - from the drive down through Idaho and Utah, to our two (short) hiking excursions, to our adventures in downtown. I said in an earlier post that I left my heart in San Francisco, but it's starting to catch up to me here in Flagstaff. The aromatic desert air, the colors of the sky at sunset, the smell of an approaching storm, brilliant flashes of lightning, and hiking trails galore- including a trail leading to Mt. Elden that starts at the end of our street - all combine to make Flagstaff one of our favorite destinations to date. Of course, we could never replace the wonderful friends we made in Palo Alto and Olympia, and we miss San Francisco and walking to downtown Olympia, but there is something about the desert that quiets the soul - that exudes peace.
Yesterday, I picked Ted up from his last day of classroom orientation, and we headed to Sunset Crater for a short hike. Our timing was perfect - the sun was just beginning to sink behind the San Francisco mountains, and the nearly full moon glowed behind the pink and orange tip of Sunset Crater. Sage and cedar filled the air with a sweet and musky aroma while we wound our way through lava rocks and cinder. Though Sunset Crater erupted in 1065 A.D., we passed a tree with a volcanic rock melded into its roots - meaning that that particluar tree has been around since the time of the eruption! Touching its smooth, driftwood like branches and running our hands through the slowly decaying mulch at its base was like touching a moment in time. I could almost see the terror of the Sinagua people who used to inhabit the valley as the ground began to shake - see the lava as it crashed through farm land, houses, trees and boulders on its innocently destructive course - see the simmering molten lava and the black ash as it fell for years after the eruption, forcing the people to move into new territories.
And yet, in the peaceful moment of a warm sunset, touching a thousand year old tree, looking out at the forest regenerating in the crater, and brilliant red flowers growing in the cinder - I could see how beautifully the landscape had been shaped in the centuries following the destruction. I thought, too, of the Sinagua people, whose new home we had visited a few days before in the cliff dwellings of Walnut Canyon. They, too, had adapted to a new environement, learned to make their homes in cliffs and to grow crops on the sides of mountains. Their cliff homes are empty now too, the stones they used worn white as the bark of the incredible tree by the centuries. Yet, their cliff dwellings, like the remnant of their valley dwellings, remain a windswept testament to our ability to adapt, to live in harmony with what is around us, and to move forward from areas of destruction to small, carefully carved havens of peace.
Posting By: Rebecca
Photos By: Ted (Taken during our June 2004 trip to AZ)
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Touching the Earth
The other day, Ted asked me if I had touched the ground over the course of the day. Of course I had touched the ground that day - hadn't I? After all, I had walked downtown, walked to the mailbox, and sat on the porch. Walking requires touching the ground, right? Wrong-if you define the ground as the earth. My feet had touched pavement, but my feet had not touched the earth itself. All of a sudden, the thought struck me that touching the earth requires a conscious and mindful act in most parts of the country. The simple act of sinking my feet into the grass (or dirt, depending on the area of the country I'm in) requires me to find an area that is not covered in pavement, to take off my shoes, and to intentionally linger with the earth.Touching the earth has always been an act of renewal and regeneration, as it connects us to something larger than ourselves. Many of us who have homes with yards frequently interact with the earth - mowing, pruning, shaping, and fertilizing, until the ideal landscape has been achieved - so that we can sit on our porches and enjoy the views. But how many of us lay in our front yards to look at the clouds or the stars? Or climb our trees? Or walk barefoot in the backyard? Or leave our chairs on the porch in favor of a picnic in the grass? Perhaps the simple act of choosing to touch the earth each day will lead us to make the choice to connect to life in other ways - by reaching out to our communities, and to all the other areas of life that we often take for granted, but which are actually the very things that will strengthen, enliven, and reconnect us, if we are willing to risk the connection.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Scaring the Wildlife, and Other Tall Tales
For our fourth wedding anniversary, we decided to celebrate by backpacking a section of Mt. Rainier National Park. When we arrived at the Longmire Visitor's Center, we asked the ranger for his recommendation of a ten to fifteen mile overnight hike. He pulled out several maps, rubbed his beard, and mumbled, "Well, let's see," repeatedly. Not necessarily encouraging! He first recommended a trail leading to the Pyramid Creek wilderness camp, but changed his mind when he remembered the bridge was out. Then he pointed us towards a trail leading out from Paradise, but soon remembered the trail was still closed for the winter. Finally, he directed us to the Kautz Creek trail, though he warned us that we would have to forge the creek, and that we might need snowshoes in order to complete the trail. As it was warm enough to wear a tank top, we were sure that he was perhaps confused about just how much snow we would encounter, and forging a creek didn't sound like anything we couldn't handle. So we signed up for our wilderness permit (which is always a bit disconcerting, as you have to give an emergency number "just in case"), laced up our hiking boots, strapped on our packs, and headed out into the wilderness.During the first mile of the trail, we met a group of rangers who warned us that we would have to forge the river up ahead, but were quick to tell us that we could do it without any problems. Despite the fact that what one ranger called a creek, another had called a river, we were not yet worried. Before we could reach the section of waterway in question, we had to walk across a rickety log precariously perched above a raging, five-star rapid river - not exactly my favorite moment of the trip. But we made it, and Ted, as usual, paused to enjoy the view from the bridge while I put one foot in front of the other and reminded myself to breathe until I touched dry land. Once we were safely across, we made our way through mounds of gray volcanic soil, and came upon the part of the river that we would have to forge. Though the path was treacherous, we managed to wend our way between rocks, tree stumps, felled logs, and mud to get to the other side (with the ranger's help). With the river behind us, we were free to climb 2,000 feet in three miles unimpeded. And we thought it would get easier after the river!!!
It took us nearly four hours to reach a vista point for lunch, and we had barely been three miles! Between the weight of the packs, and the steep incline, we were making terrible time. But we had gotten an early start, the day was unseasonably warm, the sun was shining, and the forrest smelled of warmed pine and cedar. And at least we were back in the wilderness, and away from the noises and stressors of civilized life. There is something about feeling my muscles stretch and strain that makes me feel euphoric and alive, as does pumping and filtering my own water, and preparing food under the open sky. It feels right - as though my body remembers how to live more simply, and wants more of the same. I feel more calm, more at peace, when the only thing required of me is to touch the earth, breathe the aromas of the forest, and scout out a place to pitch my tent. Laughing comes more easily, as does breathing fully and being able to empty my mind. For these reasons, backpacking is addictive, and we literally go through withdrawal if too many weeks pass without an excursion into the wilderness to renew us.
After lunch, we pulled on our packs and forced our legs to continue the uphill climb. Barely a half mile into the climb, we encountered a strange bird that we had never before seen - a small bird with a black body and a fuzzy white crest who had a deep, rumbling call. At least, Ted thought the bird was making the noise in question, and began to imitate it to entice the bird closer. The noise became louder with each imitation, and the bird began to look around, as though confused about the source of the sound. All of this was rather amusing, until the bird flew away, and the rumbling became a growl. We quickly realized we were not dealing with a mere bird. Though we never saw the creature from which the sound emanated (and let me mention that we were glad not to meet it face to face), we were frightened enough to use "the whistle" (every backcountry hiker's standby), and stood close together so as to appear bigger to the animal in question. After several loud whistles, the creature stopped growling, and we continued along the trail, albeit with trembling legs and racing hearts. Thank goodness for the whistle!
Shortly after passing the creature's territory, we came upon another bridge that led to . . . Snow! Yes, feet upon feet of snow, despite the fact that it was nearly seventy degrees. The snow was so deep and covered so much land, that we were not able to continue further without snowshoes and a topo map. So - two points for the ranger, and 0 points for us on the "well, I know what the ranger said, but we are master hikers capable of any feat" scale. So, it was back through the creature's territory and towards a precariously placed camping spot on the side of a hill (though we did have amazing views of what we named "Bat Cave Mountain" due to the fact there was a snow spot in the exact shape of the Batman crest). We slept soundly through the night, and though some creature ate a bit of our trail mix during our slumber, it obviously did not like M&M's and saved the majority of the trail mix for us.
The hike down the mountain only took an hour, which was good, as we were racing to beat the rain across the river. We drove towards Paradise, but the main portion of Rainier was hiding behind ominous grey clouds. Because of the impending weather, we opted to cut our outing short and finish celebrating our anniversary with the traditional dinner and a movie. And if you have to know - we did go see the "Da Vinci Code", and it was incredibly thought provoking. But I'll save the movie review for another blog. Hope you are all out enjoying the spring weather!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Kautz Creek - taken at the "three mile bridge")
P.S. Thank you to all of you readers who lovingly reminded me to get on and post more material. I appreciate your comments!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Pike Place Market
"Fresh Fish! Right Here! Come and Get It!""Do you see how big those fish are?"
"What kind of fish is that?"
"Take my picture!"
"Do you smell those roasted apples?"
"Look at those pastries!"
"I've never seen flower arrangements like that before!"
"Let's taste that marionberry jelly."
"Dried apples only three dollars a bag! We have cherry flavored apples. We have blackberry. Take your pick!"
"I think the guidebook said to try Jack's Fish Spot."
"I don't know. I think I'm hungry for some clam chowder. Let's stop here."
"Seattle's Best Coffee!"
"Do you want a double shot or single shot? 8 0z., 12 oz., or 16 oz.? What kind of milk? Whipped cream? Any syrup? OK. Next!"
"Piroshkies and borscht soup! I've never seen that before. I think the apple cinnamon ones are supposed to be good."
"I wish I could buy one of those flower arrangements and take it home!"
"Wouldn't it be amazing to live here? Every day we could stroll down to the market to get what we need. I could imagine us in one of those brick lofts right past Post Alley. I would walk down to buy fresh flowers for the dining room. You'd buy fresh fish for dinner. Then we could have coffee and piroshkies and walk by the water."
"That would be amazing!"
"Freshly made doughnuts! Five for a Dollar!"
"Get Today's News! Right Here!"
"Can you smell those roast chestnuts? I can't believe I'm still hungry!"
"Save some room because we haven't even found the famous crab cake place yet."
Overwhelming. That's the best word to describe Pike Place Market. A cacophony of sounds and aromas. Hundreds of tourists crowding around the locals who are actually trying to buy food. Myriad small food stands and taste samples. Creamy clam chowder. Melt-in-your-mouth crab cakes. Aromatic coffee. Daffodils, cinnamon roles, homemade jam, hand crafted jewelry, specialty soaps, leather journals, fresh herbs - all of this and more is packed into the stalls of the market. Extending for blocks, the market is a collection of food stands, artisan booths, restaurants, pubs, coffee houses, newsstands, and florists. Surrounded by food and community, we felt as though we were in another country! People slowed down to speak to one another, others were talking through open upstairs windows, or pausing for a drink in Post Alley. The world moved a little bit slower - probably because everyone, including us, had eaten one sample too many! The excitement of the crowds, the unexpected thrill of smells, and the abundance of locally grown food and coffee keeps us coming back to Pike Place on trip after trip to Seattle. I think I can smell the cranberry and white chocolate piroshky from here!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Olympia and Seattle - A Photo Collage
The lush evergreen forests in the South Sound.
Amazing sunset right outside our front door!
View of Seattle from Bainbridge Island
Fish Stand in Pike Place Market - Seattle
Ted in front of the Space Needle on a typical Seattle afternoon!
Photos: Top four by Ted; Last one by Rebecca
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Spring Is In The Air
Spring is upon us now. I can feel it in the warm breezes, the increasing number of sunny days, the scent of lilacs, the rows of daffodils and tulips. The world is opening up, as is the town. After a month of hard work, we are finally beginning to get to know the area, to understand its quirks, and to appreciate its beauty.We've discovered our favorite hangouts - Darby's and Otto's for breakfast, Batdorf and Bronson for coffee, and Fishtail's or The Oyster House for excellent fish and chips. One unique and wonderful aspect of the Olympia dining experience is that so many of the restaurants pride themselves on using mainly local and organic foods. It seems that everything from the eggs, to the potatoes, to the oysters, to the coffee and beer is produced and sold locally. The Oyster House boasts that "the oysters [they] serve today, spent last night in the bay." Otto's and Darby's post a list of their organic ingredients and the names of the farmers who supply them. Most restaurants also serve vegetarian options as well.
In addition to the local food, we have come to respect the variety and quality of the local music scene. Last Wednesday we went to see Matt Costa play a concert at the Crocodile Cafe in Seattle, an amazingly clean and intimate venue for an extremely talented musician. But we don't have to drive all the way to Seattle to see quality music. Olympia's thriving downtown offers a wider selection of music venues than most cities I've visited. Any given night of the week, I can slip into a booth to hear a jazz show, sit on a bench in the park to listen to acoustic guitar, or rock in front of a stage to one of the local punk bands. Last Monday, the local art hosue theatre even offered a rap show featuring Pharcyde, a group respected in many circles for their political and articulate music.
And the list of things to do doesn't stop at music and food. Last weekend marked the reopening of the Olympia Farmer's Market, and though it was still too early for much local produce other than apples, artisans, farmers, and members of the community gathered together to sing, dance, and eat under a rare sunny spring sky. The opening of the Farmer's Market (which was mentioned in Jane Goodall's book Harvest for Hope) also signaled the beginning of the Olympia Film Festival, sponsored by the New York Times. Though the downtown theatre is small, it offers a surprisingly wide variety of art hosue films, including Why We Fight and Cache this week. Priest Point Park and Bud Bay beach are surprisingly large parks for a city as small as Olympia, and offer acres of relaxing waterfront and walking trails. Though we have not yet had the opportunity to explore the waterways by boat, we have seen seals, crabs, and other sea life from the bridge at Percival Landing, which is about a mile of pleasant walking from our front door.
In addition to sightseeing, we have kept busy in more productive ways this trip. Ted has focused on developing his photography skills, and I tutor two to three times per week at a local middle school. Also, I have spent the majority of this assignment honing my writing skills and researching material for the book I am working towards completing by the end of the year. The past six weeks has passed quickly between trips to Seattle and forays into local parks, but the next six weeks will pass even faster now that hiking trails are beginning to open to the public after long winter closings. Our plans for the next few weeks include kayaking, sailing, camping in Mt. Rainier, driving the Cascade Loop, biking through the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival, visiting Portland, and, of course, hanging out at the Pike Place Market in Seattle at least a few more times. Last, but not least, a Mariners baseball game will round out our experience in the Pacific Northwest before we move to the desert for the summer. Every day will count, and I'll try to find time to update you all about the new adventures coming our way!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Bud Bay Inlet in Olympia, WA)
Thursday, March 09, 2006
First Snow
It's snowing!!! It's snowing!!! Experts say that the coastal areas of Washington get, on average, only two to three days of snow per year due to the "warm" Pacific breezes that keep the temperature hovering just above freezing, but we were lucky enough to move just in time for this year's two days of snow. The only snow we saw in California was in Tahoe when we were snowshoeing! I didn't realize how much I missed the changing seasons until I saw the giant white drops of snow outside our window this morning. Hot chocolate, days spent by the fire, bowls set out to catch snow for snow cream, snow balls, snow angels, sledding - all the wonderful things about winter almost passed us by this season. In fact, the week before Thanksgiving was spent sunning on the beach, and the week of Christmas, oranges waited unpicked on many front yard trees.
Today, however, I plan to pack all of winter's wonders into one day. As I sat down to write this, I opened a Dove dark chocolate candy, a chocolate lover's fortune cookie, which instructed me to "find my passion". Well, find it I have. I am drinking fair trade hot chocolate, enjoying a fire in the fire place, looking at a new book I can't wait to curl up and read, and seriously considering bundling up in my coat, scarf, and earmuffs to walk in the snow to the nearest coffee shop. Ted and I visited two coffee shops on Tuesday, and found that there is much more to the local coffee scene than Starbuck's. These people are as serious about their coffee as Napa Valley vintners are about their wine! To the residents of Olympia, coffee making, and coffee drinking, are art forms. The local blends have a deep, rich, dark flavor - lacking the bitterness of some dark roasts. My favorite out of the two coffee shops was Batdorf and Bronson, a small local chain that roasts and brews their coffee right in the city limits. Talk about fresh! I have a feeling that everyone who received a surprise day off work or school to enjoy the fresh snow will also be visiting the warm environs of one of the local cafes. And walking, bundled up in the snow, to enjoy a break from the rain, and the richness of this seldom seen winter wonderland.
Right now, a young girl is passing my window, face upturned, catching snowflakes with her tongue. Does life get any better or any simpler? Enjoy the day.
Post By: Rebecca
Photo By: Alan (Taken while snowshoeing in Tahoe in February)
Monday, March 06, 2006
What We Don't Know Can Hurt Us
This is the Washington we have seen so far - strikingly beautiful, but scarred by man's ever increasing footprint. As we drove towards Ocean Beach on Saturday afternoon, we passed a sign advertising a scenic view ahead. Naturally we pulled over, expecting a view of the ocean or the mountains in Olympic Cascades Park. Instead, we saw thousands of felled trees waiting to be processed by the adjacent paper mill, framed by the smoking twin towers of a nuclear power plant. Not quite the view we were hoping for, but one we needed to see nonetheless.
On the two hour drive to the beach, we passed hundreds of acres of clear cut forest, rows of pines replanted with military precision, steaming paper mills, mountains of sawdust, clusters of houses with peeled paint and sagging roofs, and miles of steel bridges and pipelines. When at last we arrived at the beach, we were amazed to see SUVs driving through the surf and clunkers parked on the beach, dripping oil and depositing road sediment in the sand. Fast food wrappers and empty coffee cups were strewn next to the parked cars, and people stared vacantly into the grey surf as they listened to music turned two notches too loud. Dogs, horses, cars, and people all shared the miles of beach front - each depositing their own forms of waste in the sand, hoping it would be washed out to sea. A little girl was forced to look both ways for cars before trotting back to her sand castle!
We were too disgusted to walk the beach, so we drove to the nearest Irish pub to discuss the situation. Thankfully, Galway's By the Bay offered a comforting fire, authentic and delicious Irish fare, and warm and friendly service. A few hours by the fire and a shepherd's pie made everything seem a little better, and we talked about other areas that may be more pristine and suitable for hiking. In the middle of the conversation, however, we both realized we cannot, as a couple or a nation, continue to run away to the dwindling wilderness to calm our fears about environmental disaster. In a way, it was good to see the effects of our wants and waste firsthand. I know I will think twice the next time I grab a "scrap" piece of paper, leave the lights on when I'm not in the room, buy coffee in a disposable cup, or throw something usable away. We were both able to see the width of our own footprints more clearly, which led to an honest discussion about ways to improve our own lifestyles.
I struggled with putting this on the blog, since I know most of you like to read about the fun adventures we have. But I feel it is also important to truthfully report what we see. Part of traveling is seeing the good and the bad of what this country has to offer. John Muir, famed environmentalist and founder of the Sierra club, was able to preserve thousands of acres of forest because of his beautiful and descriptive writing coupled with his activism. When he saw the effects that people were having on the land, he wrote about it and petitioned for change. I believe it is important for us to do the same. Living in the utopic bubble of Palo Alto allowed us to temporarily forget the urgent nature of our world's environmental and political crises. Now that we are seeing them firsthand, we realize that our immediate action, along with the actions of everyone we know, and everyone they know, is vitally important to the success and effectiveness of the solutions to these issues.
So please tell the truth that we have seen to others and know that your actions matter too. For a few heartening examples, turn to this month's issue of Utne magazine. Andy Isaacson, in his article "Mimicking Nature", reports that scientists at PAX Scientific are developing new energy-efficient air conditioners and fans that are 25% more efficient than the current models. He hopes to continue to develop energy efficient industrial models as well, which will "decrease dependency on fuel by at least 50 percent" (60). DaimlerChrysler has developed a prototype vehicle modeled after a coral reef fish that is composed of hexagonal plates rather than panels, making the car two-thirds lighter than today's car, and thereby more fuel efficient (62). The list goes on and on. On a more localized scale, people are turning towards organic foods and local farmer's markets as alternatives to large corporate brands, thereby cutting down on packaging waste and shipping costs. (See Harvest for Hope by Jane Goodall for more information about organic and local foods). Also, people are forming bartering coalitions to trade goods rather than buy new things, which also reduces waste. (See craigslist.com for a bartering resource near you.) For more information about reducing waste, refer to Garbage Land by Elizabeth Royte or check out www.earth911.org for a list of local recycling options. Every change we can make, no matter how small, makes a huge difference in the types of products that will be produced, and the ways in which they will be manufactured and transported. As I told my students last year, it is vital that we all become citizens of the world. Seeing the devastation of the land in coastal Washington has only reinforced the necessity of mindful eating and shopping. And, as this famous quotation states, "The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." So take the initiative, spread the word, and lighten your own global footprint for the good of everyone. And remember that you're not alone.
Post By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Taken near a state park, fifteen miles south of Olympia)
Saturday, March 04, 2006
More Pictures
Puget Sound framed by the Olympic Cascade Mountains
Rebecca on Percival Landing.
All Photos By: Ted
People Are Strange When You're a Stranger
You all probably recognize the title as a verse from "People Are Strange", one of The Doors' many hits. As Jim Morrison eloquently vocalizes, it is disconcerting to feel alone in a city of unfamiliar places and strange faces. A city that may be beautiful and vibrant feels depressing and empty until you begin to get settled and have time to focus on getting involved with the town.
As we pulled into Olympia in the rain, we could not yet see the majestic peak of Mt. Rainier or the towering Olympic Cascade mountains. All the downtown storefronts were dark, and the steely water of Puget sound seemed oppressive. Hoodies, jeans, and sneakers seemed to be the uniform of choice for the locals, and not a single person returned our greetings. Couple this depressing reception with the warmth of our farewell party in Palo Alto and the sunny weather we had forsaken for our new home, and it is easy to see why reality was not meeting our expectations. Before we left, I spent three straight days packing and trying to trim down our posessions to only what would fit in the car, Ted spent his last three nights at work, and then we both spent a harrowing day packing and debating over exactly what "necessities" we could afford to leave behind. After our day of packing, we went straight to our farewell party, stayed for an hour, then left the party to drive through the night to Washington.
Thirteen hours and a brief hotel stay later, we pulled into our new home. On the up side, we were thrilled to have a woodburning fireplace, and the apartment is the biggest one bedroom I have ever seen! I have my own office space now, and we have a walk in closet big enough to sleep in, which is a nice change. The first rainy night was spent finding food, restocking essential supplies, and locating Ted's hospital. But the apartment is quiet and well insulated, and we spent a warm, restful night together before Ted had to work the next day.
Exploring the town and continuously quizzing locals about resident hot spots is the only way to defeat the depression that accompanies any move, so we set out yesterday to do just that. The sun was shining for the first time in days, and we awoke early enough to enjoy a cup of locally brewed coffee and breakfast delights at Darby's Cafe downtown. After a leisurely breakfast, we wandered in and out of downtown shops where we successfully started a few conversations with local residents. From the woman at the Scarlett Empress, a scrapbook and stationary store, I learned of a scrapbooking club which I plan to attend next Friday. The owner of Hoopla!, a hip clothing boutique, clued me in to the best shopping sites, and the librarian told me about a parade coming up in less than a month. Tammy at Ace Hardware wrote down her favorite hiking spots, and Dave the cable man mapped out his favorite beach for us. The cashier at the pizzeria told us about the local music scene, and the grocer suggested weekly cooking classes we might be interested in. So over the course of a day, through careful research and gregarious questioning, we learned about ways to get involved in the fabric of the community.
In addition to these local tips, we've planned weekend trips to Portland and Seattle, outings to the local farmer's market, which Jane Goodall praised in her new book Harvest for Hope, sailing lessons, and hikes in the local state parks. Seeing everything this area has to offer will take up three months and more, and we are beginning to see that the people here aren't so strange after all!
P.S. February went by so quickly with last minute trips with friends and frenzied touring of some of the sites we had not yet seen, that I didn't have time to update. I apologize for the delay, but I do plan to update daily now that we are settled in to our new home. Each posting will not be as detailed as this one, but I want to write daily to let you all know what we are up to, which is the mission of this blog. Until tomorrow, then . . . . .
Posted By: Rebecca
Photo of Mt. Rainier By: Ted (taken on 03-03)
Mt. Rainier, at over 14,000 feet is the second tallest mountain in North America, and, along with the Cascade Range, provides the backdrop for Olympia and the surrounding towns.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Partners in Adventure
For the past few weeks, I've been scanning in all our family photos so that we can send the bulky albums back to storage. With the going price to rent a U-Haul trailer in our area of the world at $420, we're sending back or giving away everything but the "bare necessities, the simple bare necessities of life!" (To quote Baloo from the animated version of The Jungle Book.) While scanning in the photos, I've had time to reflect upon all the stories that we've accumulated since being together, and the ways that our individual stories intertwined to bring us to the point we are today. Through this project I have realized that we have many stories that no one else knows but the two of us, not because they are secret (though some are, of course), but because they are the stories between the ones that you repeat to friends and family. How do you begin to relate all the minor details that make a story special, that make it memorable? How many times have you heard someone say, "You just should have been there" or "This picture doesn't do it justice" or "I just can't explain how wonderful it was!"? We've all been in that situation when words, no matter how grand, simply cannot describe an experience. The best part of having a partner in adventure, however, is that they have been there, and they do know what you are talking about.Over time, Ted and I have developed our own encyclopedia of memories and experiences, some trivial and some amazing. I can always say, "Remember when . . . " and he does, in perfect detail. We've lived the same stories, though we tell them and process them in different ways. We live one experience, but gather two perspectives. Traveling the country with Ted has been an experience I have treasured. We are both observers, we treasure the silent times, we agree on destinations, we seek the less traveled trails, we think deeply about the world around us, and we always remember to have fun. He is my perfect partner!
Scanning our photos and arranging our scrapbook has reminded me of the importance of trying to tell our story before we both get too old to remember the details. Trying to write our stories, however, has shown me the futility of conveying anything but the diffused essence of the memory. One story is related to countless others and requires a shared experience to fully understand all the nuances of the tale. Great authors try to create a sense of shared experience with the reader, but it is an effort that takes years and countless drafts. I can only imagine telling all of our stories in such minute detail! But, tis better to convey a whisper of the past, and let the mystery take hold of someone new, than to let all of our stories be whisked away into the dream fever of time. I am thankful that I have a venue to write about our adventures, and a partner who lives these adventures with me.
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Cruise ship passenger, Alaskan cruise, May of 2002
Monday, January 23, 2006
I Left My Heart in San Francisco
Sometimes it feels that we have lived in San Francisco for years - until someone from home says, "My stars! California? How'd you end up plum over there?"I'm not exaggerating. When I called to change my address with the school system I worked for last year, I was the talk of the office for the afternoon! And I was reminded of just how lucky I am to be living this lifestyle. The past week has been so busy that I've barely had time to write, but I wanted to post a quick update to let everyone know our plans.
Ted interviewed with a hospital in Olympia, Washington, and was offered a position there, which we accepted. Olympia is an hour and a half north of Portland, an hour south of Seattle, and an hour and a half west of Mt. Rainier, so we will be near two big cities and plenty of recreational opportunities! Portland hails itself as the city of beer, books, and bikes, Seattle is known as the rock and coffee capitol of the US, and at 14, 110 feet, Mt. Rainier is the precursor for Americans who want to climb Everest, so we should have plenty to keep us busy! Ted will finally be near some fly fishing streams again, and I will have the opportunity to learn to sail after spring thaw, one of the many items on my "Things To Do Before I Die" list. We move at the end of February, and Ted starts his new position on February 27.
What will we do with our last month here, you might ask? Here is a rundown of some of our plans for the next month. We're planning to go to Sonoma with our friends from Chicago this weekend, hike in Ano Nuevo State Reserve to see the Elephant seals up close and personal, backpack for three days in Point Reyes National Seashore, see Aerosmith and Lenny Kravitz in concert (yes, Aerosmith is still touring), and go snowshoeing in Lake Tahoe. My dad is coming to visit for a week, and we're going to drag him to all our favorite sites along with some ones we haven't yet seen, like the particle accelerator near Stanford, the satellite dish on Woodland road, and the NASA facility at Moffett field. Don't worry, Dad, we'll actually let you relax a few days too!
We're finding it is harder to leave our home here than we thought it would be when we first began this journey. Clam chowder at Fisherman's Wharf, sunsets over the rocks at Rodeo Beach, light illuminating the Golden Gate Bridge, sea lions in Santa Cruz, rocky cliffs along Hwy 1, bustling streets, and new friends are just a few things we will miss when we leave. We have grown up a little here, have learned to be more self-confident, learned to enjoy life to the fullest, and learned that adventure can happen anywhere, anytime. Though we have only lived here six months, they have been a full and beautiful six months, and they have tied us to this place in a way we never expected. So, I leave a part of my heart in San Francisco, though I look forward to our new adventures in Olympia. Wish us luck!
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Reasons for Hope
"Blow out the candles on the count of three and make a wish! One! Two! Three!"
Three candles go out nearly simulateneously as Dede, Gilbert, and Rebecca all blow out their birthday candles at their surprise party in San Francisco. Dede and Gilbert are both married to nurses who work on Ted's floor of the hopital, and all the spouses decided to hold a surprise party for the three January birthdays. Gilbert turned 29, Rebecca turned 24, and Dede would never say, but she probably turned 25 or 26. An informal dinner of meatballs, chicken marsala, spaghetti, salad, and fried calamari turned into an evening of music and dancing as more and more guests arrived. By nine in the evening, fifteen people were squeezed into a two bedroom apartment, but fresh air was readily available on the large patio overlooking Fillmore Street. Seeing my name on a birthday cake while surrounded with new friends was the last thing I expected for my birthday when we started traveling! It seems that the surprises and adventures are never ending, and I never know what to expect around the next corner anymore, which I love! The thoughtfulness, kindness, and generosity of the people we have met here has helped to restore my faith in others, and I can only expect that we will encounter similar friendliness and kindness in Seattle.
I happened upon a television show tonight that also reminded me of the kindness and compassion of which all of us are capable: Extreme Makeover - Home Edition. (http://abc.go.com/primetime/xtremehome/) In the particular episode I watched, the Kirkwood family had been forced from their home due to toxic mold that had developed from an undetected leak in the basement. All seven members of the family were living in a single hotel room at the time of the taping. The eleven year old had continuously called the show asking that they help her family. Her persistence and hope in the show eventually won over the producers, and they decided to rebuild the Kirkwood home. While the family was away, the design team and 3,800 volunteer members of the community tore down the mold infested house and built the family a new house in seven days! Rain, mudslides, and mold slowed the progress of the team, but the spirit of the workers was truly inspiring! Everyone building the home was there because they believed in helping a family in need. Needless to say, the house was incredibly beautiful, and the family was deeply touched by the show of support from their community. The show ended with an impromptu group rendintion of "This Little Light of Mine." I was moved to tears by the girl's hope, and the community's desire to help make her hope a reality.
I also read a blog last night that detailed one woman's fight with a rare type of cancer. Her story was at turns inspiring, sad, and frustrating. The most depressing aspect of the site was the fact that she lost her job, and thereby her insurance, due to her progressing cancer. Not only did she have to battle cancer, but she also had to face mounting medical expenses and other bills. As a result of the blog site, however, she was able to generate enough support, both financial and spiritual, to keep the creditors at bay until she died last April. Though the story brought about a host of reactions in me, from anger at the injustice of the American insurance system, to extreme empathy for her husband and children, the overwhelming feeling was one of hope. Other people sensed the injustice of the situation and went out of their way to help, which is probably why she named her blog "Karma Works."
When I was watching The Constant Gardener the other night, I was struck by a scene in which the main character is driving his wife home from the hospital when they happen to pass another family walking home from the hospital. The wife asks the husband to give the other family a ride and he replies, "We can't give everyone a ride. We can't help everyone." She says, "No, but we have the power to help them." Though the husband drives on, I realized that the world would change more quickly if we all helped the people we have the power to help. We may not be able to help everyone or change government policies, but we can change our corner of the world by proving to others that they do not hope in vain - just as the community of Seattle showed the Kirkwood family that their daughter did not hope in vain, and the internet community showed one cancer sufferer that she she was not alone in the fight, and on a smaller scale, the nurses at Ted's hospital showed me that generosity of spirit does exist. We can all give someone a reason for hope.
By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted
Friday, January 13, 2006
Yosemite (part 3)
Ted on top of Buena Vista Pass.
Rebecca sitting in a dry riverbed in Yosemite.
Photos By: Ted and Rebecca
Yosemite (Part 2)
Fall colors in Yosemite Valley.The lake where we stopped for breakfast.
Photos By: Ted
Places We've Been - Yosemite
"I'm freezing!"
"Just curl up in your sleeping bag and concentrate on being warm."
"Do you feel sick to your stomach?"
"Yeah, do you?"
"I don't think we should have eaten those instant Thai noodles."
"Me either."
We were silent then as we concentrated on being warm, a difficult task as we were camping on the sheer granite face of Buena Vista Pass in temperatures well below zero in sleeping bags that were designed for twenty degree weather. My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, and I felt the achy familiarity of a fever coming on. I thought perhaps we had filtered bad water, though the water filter we bought promised to make even sewage safe to drink. At the top of Buena Vista Pass, nearly 10,000 feet above the valley floor, we were especially vulnerable to lower than average temperature, surprise snow storms, or lightning strikes from passing storm fronts. Though it was not the ideal place to camp, the sun was already setting, a storm was brewing, and we had already hiked over 13 miles and climbed 2,500 feet since we had broken camp that morning. Our bodies literally would not go another step. I pulled my sleeping bag over my head, hoping that my breath would provide some warmth, and I wondered for a moment if we would make it through the frigid night.
If we were suffering from the effects of bad water, we would still have to hike more than twenty miles in either direction before we could reach help. (We found out later that we were suffering from a mild case of altitude sickness) Our total isolation suddenly seemed frightening rather than peaceful, and I wondered what would happen if one of us broke an ankle or became seriously ill. We had not seen another person, or signs that people had even recently been camping there in the two days we had been on the trail. I shut my eyes and tried to force the negative images from my mind. That night, I dreamed a mountain lion was chasing me along Buena Vista Pass, when I suddenly noticed a staircase leading down the mountain. I ran towards the staircase and was transported to a roller skating rink filled with all my friends and family, and everyone was standing in line to buy me a hotdog. It was heaven!
Streams of golden sunlight awoke us from our fitful sleep, and we emerged from the tent to find that it was covered in a layer of ice! Even inside wool gloves, our hands felt numb and frozen. As we were still nauseous, we opted to wait a while for breakfast, and we set about laboriously packing up camp, a task that was made more difficult by the stiffness of our fingers.
Despite the freezing temperatures, a feeling of optimism overtook us. The storm had passed, the sun was shining, the air was crisp and clear, and we lived through the night! Early morning sunlight reflected off the sheer granite wall behind Buena Vista Lake, creating a golden crown for the pass's peak. When we filtered water from the clear alpine lake, we marveled at the clarity of the water, and the perfect reflection of the mountain on its mirrorlike surface. We started hiking as soon as possible in order to generate warmth, and didn't stop until we reached a sunny spot near a lake three miles away. By the time we reached the lake, it was already nine and the sun had begun to melt the icy layer leftover from the night before. We sat on a rock overlooking another prisine lake and began to cook a modest breakfast of oatmeal and tea. It was hard to believe that we were the only ones in this vast stretch of wilderness to observe the fall colors and changing beauty of the scene before us! The forest was literally alive with color - the grass was the color of burnt umber, the foliage a mixture of cranberry, gold, and fire red. Walking the twisting narrow path through the fall wilderness was like walking into an enchanted forest: beautiful, mysterious, magical, and alive. The 98% of visitors who only see Yosemite's main valley have no idea what they are missing! As we wandered along in silence, I was again thankful that we have this wilderness to enjoy and that we are healthy and able enough to hike it!
After three days and thirty-five miles, we finally reached the edge of the wilderness and began the trek back to Yosemite valley and then to civilization. As much as I craved a shower and solid food, I was loathe to leave the solitude and simple beauty of the forest, the surprise of bear prints or deer tracks, the straightforward challenge of climbing a towering ridge, the twisting trail, the cool water of the alpine lakes, the solidarity which comes from being alone together with no outside distractions. I hoped I could incorporate the wonder and uncluttered nature of the solitude into the distracting day to day of civilization. But, in the words of Robert Frost:
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep/but I have promises to keep/ and miles to go before I sleep."
By: Rebecca
Photos By: Ted (Taken in October 2005 at Yosemite)
Thursday, January 12, 2006
What a Weekend!
As soon as Ted got off work Saturday morning, we began packing for our weekend trip to Petaluma, a small town twenty minutes east of Sonoma and the famous wine country. We were a little concerned that the bed and breakfast Ted booked may be closed due to the recent flooding in Napa, but we decided to check it out anyway.
On our way to Petaluma, Ted took what I thought to be a wrong turn in San Francisco, but the twinkle in his eye convinced me he knew exactly where he was going. As soon as I saw the Ashbury street sign, I did too. Ted planned for us to spend the morning in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, once famous as a hippie enclave, but now known for its eclectic boutiques and vintage shopping. Ted led me to a cafe called All You Knead, and we sat at a booth in the back corner where we could observe the passerby on the street as well as the other customers. I've wanted to visit the Haight-Ashbury district since I can remember, and there I was eating breakfast at a cafe in the heart of it all! I couldn't believe it!
As we drank coffee strong enough to wake the dead, and ate an eclectic breakfast featuring spinach, tomatoes, and feta cheese, we watched as more and more people crowded into this Haight hotspot. Six members of a gothic band who all had British accents sat to the left of us, two girls in their twenties wearing classic vintage garb sat in front of us, and an obvious tourist couple sat across the way. After years of trying to approximate the experience by shopping at vintage stores in midtown Memphis, and frequenting the hippie hangouts in Asheville, I had finally arrived at the real deal! After breakfast, Ted took me vintage store shopping, where he found an old tweed coat, several classic button-up shirts, and a fringed leather jacket. I found countless peasant tops, silk Kimono style robes, and beautifully patterned dresses. We promised to return to buy a few of the treasures, and headed on to Petaluma.
From the moment that we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge until we reached our bed and breakfast in Petaluma, we counted seven rainbows! We saw the beginning and end of two rainbows, which is a rare sight in and of itself. One rainbow began in the water, framed a section of woods, and ended in a nearby field. The second complete rainbow stretched across a verdant hillside, highlighting several cows grazing at the top of the hill. We felt as though we were in a painting! Seeing seven rainbows on the seventh day of the new year has to be a good sign!
Ted booked a room at the Metro Cafe and Hotel, an intimate bed and breakfast founded by a man who was married to a French wife. French themed rooms, books written in French, and a romantic cafe made us feel as though we were in Paris rather than Petaluma! We quickly unpacked and drove the twenty miles to Sonoma, the southern tip of wine country. Miles of lush fields undulating under a canopy of pink clouds made the scene as picturesque as all the postcards we had seen of the valley. With all the famous wineries in Sonoma and Napa, it was difficult to pick just a few, but we were able to narrow our selection to five. The first two on our list for the evening were Buena Vista vineyards and Ravenswood vineyards.
Buena Vista is the oldest winery in Sonoma, and was founded by a count from Europe. His goal was to make wines that were as good as the French wines he knew and loved. After several failed attempts in other counties, he settled in Carneros valley in Sonoma and began to produce some of the first quality wine in America. According to the Buena Vista vintner, he succeeded in surpassing the quality of French wines, though I'm sure that's open to interpretation! Our favorite wine from this stop was the syrah, a medium bodied red wine with a sweet, yet bold flavor. After the tasting, we walked some of the trails along the property and marveled at the beauty surrounding the vineyard.
At Ravenswood winery, we learned a great deal about wine, although we did not like any of the varieties we tried. After this tasting, we drove back to Petaluma, one of the few towns near San Francisco to survive the 1906 earthquake virtually intact. Because many of its buildings date back to 1857, and the town has maintained its Main Street appeal, it is a favorite set for movie producers looking for a small slice of Americana. American Graffiti, Phenomenon, Peggy Sue Got Married, and Basic Instinct were all filmed in Petaluma. McNear's, a typical pub style restaurant housed in an original saloon, still features a hitching post outside the front doors. In an attempt to sample the local culture, we decided to dine on burgers and fish n' chips at McNear's.
The next morning, we awoke in our sinfully comfortable down bed, and began to plan the day. Ted picked an orange from the tree outside our room, and we talked over which vineyards to visit while seated at our own bistro table. Breakfast was at Della Fraitorria, the oldest bread making company in northern California. I ate a cinnamon role made from buttery croissant dough that literally melted in my mouth, while Ted feasted on a marscapone and jam filled croissant. We decided to visit Viansaa Vineyards, Cline Vineyards, and Chateau St. Jean, with a break for lunch in between. Breathtaking views, delicious wines, and excellent conversation filled the day, and it was over seemingly before it had begun. Our favorite vineyard was Viansa, as it was more novice friendly than some of the others. Viansa also offered a complete line of sauces and condiments that were available for tasting as well. Their Cento por Cento, a buttery white wine with complex pear flavors, was our favorite white wine of all time, and definitely of the trip.
As we crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge to go home, Ted took another surprise turn in San Francisco. He took me to Ghiradelli Square for a decadent ice cream sundae instead of the traditional birthday cake. He even sang me "Happy Birthday" in the middle of the restaurant! Watching Under the Tuscan Sun, at Ted's request, rounded out the weekend. The weekend was perfect in every detail, making this my best birthday yet!
By: Rebecca
Photos: Ted (The photos are of Pietra Santa vineyards, which we visited in November. Their website is: www.pietrasantawinery.com We recommend their dolcetto.)
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