Change

I haven’t written since April. Part of that has been my rationalization that my life ‘narrows’ east of the Mississippi, that while full of refreshing ties with family and friends, time east is still somehow less-than compared to our travels in the expansive, rugged west. Even now, two years into full time nomadic living, my biases and blind spots are tested daily. That’s hard to face, but worth it. The past three months have been packed with heart-bursting truths, grand and tiny, and we – I’ve checked on this with Holly – have in fact changed.

I looked up the term ‘counter-culture’ to see if it fit us. (People love to call us hippies and such, and while well-meant, the words tend to ring hollow.) However, we have changed. It’s complex, but not really. Our fundamental beliefs are the same, but our sense of people, our country, our doom, and acceptance of it all is now sharp and clear. A definition: Counter culture is when “values and norms of behavior differ substantially from those of mainstream society, sometimes diametrically opposed to mainstream cultural mores.” We have faced this question, and have accepted that we do not accept the values and behaviors of our society. We love the earth and air and waters of our country; we love its many people; we love that we get to roam – mostly peacefully; we love the depth of grace that so many of our old and new friends bring to the world. And yet, it has become deeply true to us that, as a nation, we’re lost.

We have a new favorite band, The Felice Brothers. Ian Felice captures our sense of foreboding perfectly. His writing has a sense of optimistic and faithful apocalypse. We love to sing along as we drive . . . I’ll dig more into that next post.

And yet, we have much to celebrate! Our recent travels had us arriving at Chicago for major engine work on the van, and getting to hang with Tate and Drew and Natalie for three wonderful weeks. We got to actually watch Tate grow. Just sitting with him in his Palazzo, twisting clickety sticks or watching him at his ginormous amazing busy board – made by his mega-talented other grandpa – is a study in slow motion art. Watching him learn and laugh from my front row grandfatherly perch is a different joy from my own parenting days, often spent flummoxed and dumb.

After Chicago, we had about six weeks to roam before Tate turned one. We picked a southern loop through Missouri, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana and back to Chicago. This list, I’m aware, doesn’t conjure wanderlust nor visions of soul-churning adventure. To be sure, we did not wander lustfully, nor did our souls churn. But we did see America and met some of her people – including some who are truly brave in the face of the worst America has to offer.

We met Connecticut friends – including Bob and Mylen – in Arkansas to do some mountain biking. The towns of Bella Vista and Bentonville have world class trails built with money from the Walton family. We had a great time riding and visiting and talking around campfires. From there, Holly and I continued to Fayetteville and Mount Nebo State Park in Arkansas for more biking. It was great getting back on the bike – until it wasn’t. More on that later. The highlight of all this was Mount Nebo, an isolated little mountain in the floodplain of the Arkansas River, with views clear to Oklahoma. It was a lovely park with ‘armored’ stone trails and epic views. We got to see the season opener of the Big Mountain Enduro mountain bike races with riders from amateur to professional.

It was refreshing to get back to open road and authentic areas. Holly puts in a lot of work researching stops while I drive. Heading east toward Tennessee, we came across a gorgeous Army Corps of Engineers campground in Tumbling Shoals, AR. We had a perfect spot on the lake, and the bird life was stunning. We had, among many other birds, a pair of scissor tailed flycatchers join us for a while.

We’d both been looking forward to getting back to Tennessee. We have family there – Peter and Judy (Holly’s sister) and their son David and his wife Carrie and three joyful kids, Miles, Kodiak and Luna. I have written before about how our relationships have blossomed in the last two years. We still deeply miss people back in Connecticut, but we have gained new and deep connections. As the Japanese proverb goes, even the reverse side has a reverse side.

So . . . In Tennessee, we got to meet a brand new person, David and Carrie’s daughter Luna Willow. David and Carrie have a beautiful family, and seeing Miles and Kodiak and Luna was a treat.

We got to see more Connecticut friends on the road, when Jeff and Tracy visited Nashville for their anniversary. That was super fun, especially since we got to see a stellar new musician (and transplant from CT) Noah Kesselman. I don’t use last names as a rule, but go find Noah on IG. He’s a super strong bluesman, and he’s working on two new EPs of original work.

We had time to kill leading up to a return to Chicago for Tate’s (!) first birthday. I took the “to kill” part almost literally, and ended up busting two ribs mountain biking in Knoxville. It really hurt, and it was weeks before I could even lie down. Seeking pain medication in Appalachia was eye-opening. As it turned out, a perfect opportunity presented itself for a week to begin my recuperation. A wonderful young man, Aaron, opened his property to us – as he has to other nomads – to stay for a week. He has the perfect spot in rural northern Tennessee where we could relax and enjoy the surroundings, four wonderful dogs, a cat, a groomed ‘barefoot path’ he made in the woods, and warm company and conversation. We couldn’t have imagined a better spot to rest up. That is, until he took us on a death-defying forest ride in his side-by-side. Super scary-fun, but boy was that jouncy!

Leaving Aaron’s – which was pretty hard to do – we meandered through Kentucky, Ohio and Indiana en route to see Natalie and Drew and Tate. We met some inspiring people, two fathers in particular. One was having a challenge raising his boy in Tennessee. The trouble is that for many Americans, the election of Danger Yam (credit James Fell) was permission to be hateful. As an adult he is getting picked on by the same insecure men who picked on him as a kid. Against that backdrop, he is raising his boy to be a decent man. That takes guts. The other dad we were astounded by was preparing to oversee a DIY detox for one of his daughters. He had done it previously for another daughter. His wife is addicted as well. This man – while certainly having dark private moments – brimmed with strength and grace. That these men in Appalachia had to fight for decency and medical care against dire forces speaks ill of our nation. On a personal level, I embrace the people and serene places in the US. On a broader scale, I worry. Here are a few pics of that leg of our travels.

One last joy before Chicago was seeing Jimmy, whom we met at the very onset of journey – Thanksgiving 2021. We followed his journey since, and are super proud of his accomplishments, at present a Level II Wind Technician. We met up at a campground for a day of catching up, fishing and eating.

Of course, making it back to Chicago was the endgame of this loop. It was a joy to be joined by Lyndsay and baby Isabel, along with Auntie Adrienne and Gigi Carole for the celebration. Holly and I are heartened and hopeful for the future when we see Natalie and Drew being such good parents. Tate will be a good man. In fact, all the young parents we know are raising good kids who will be good adults. Maybe we’ll be OK.