moments ii

A couple of weeks ago I was driving on 55 South. I approached what I can only assume was a recent accident. An overturned vehicle was on the side of the road. The driver’s legs were hanging out of the window. I had never seen anything like it.

“Moments” I thought to myself as I turned off the radio. I drove the rest of the way in silence.

I sat with that experience, mainly because I wanted to see if my thoughts about it would change after time...nope. There will be moments when we realize that it is too late, that the opportunity has passed us.

My aunt had every chance in the world to spend time with my grandmother during the final years of her life. For some reason unbeknownst to me, she never capitalized on that opportunity. She never did anything until it was too late. It was only after my grandmother was confined to a bed in a nursing home that she started to visit her regularly.

Part of me wonders how much of this was out of genuine compassion.

Part of me wonders how much of this was out of guilt.

Be smart. Spend time with the people who love you. The experiences that you share with them are the most valuable gifts you can give them.

Come on Irene

Hurricanes on a first name basis...

According to the Atlantic Oceanographic and Meteorological Laboratory (AOML) the first use of a proper name for a tropical cyclone was by an Australian forecaster early in the 20th century. He gave tropical cyclone names after political figures whom he disliked. By properly naming a hurricane, the weatherman could publicly describe a politician as 'causing great distress' or 'wandering aimlessly about the Pacific.'

Later, during World War II, US Army Air Corp and Navy meteorologists named Pacific storms after their girlfriends or wives, just like pilots had done with their fighter planes

From 1950 to 1952, tropical cyclones, including hurricanes in the North Atlantic Ocean, were identified by the standard radio names (Able, Baker, Charlie), but in 1953 the US Weather Bureau switched back to women's names. Then, in a politically correct move in 1979, the WMO and the US National Weather Service (NWS) added men's names.

Choosing names for cyclonic events, like hurricanes, that are potential international disasters takes the work of an international group. A committee of the World Meteorological Organization approves names for these storms. There are six lists of hurricane names. The names are reused every six years. Variations are made to the list only in the event of a particularly devastating hurricane. In that case, the name will be removed from the sequence. Katrina, for example, has been retired.

Here is the list for the 2011: Arlene, Bret, Cindy, Don, Emily, Franklin, Gert, Harvey, Irene, Jose, Katia, Lee, Maria, Nate, Ophelia, Philippe, Rena, Sean, Tammy, Vince, and Whitney.

my road

It was a beautiful day...sunny, warm, but not too humid. I refer to these days as “Montana Days” because they remind me of summer time in Helena.

Coffee in hand, I hopped online and made my morning rounds. Many people on facebook were commenting on the gorgeous weather. I paused for a moment of thankfulness, never forgetting how fortunate I am.

I worked for ten years on a longitudinal research study at Temple University. My position was eliminated at the end of data collection and I became one of the VERY many unemployed. It wasn’t exactly the best time to lose my job, but then again, when is?

I spent the first couple months trying to figure out the direction in which I wanted to take my career. Then I thought about whether or not I even wanted a career at all. I’ve never been overly ambitious when it comes to work, never envisioned myself behind a desk or in a 9 to 5 job. The amount of money in my paycheck is of little significance to me.

I picked up a summer job at a ropes course. It paid $10 an hour, but I went to work every day with a smile on my face. Through the fall and winter months, I sent out countless resumes, which got me nowhere. Then one day I received a call about a research position that was opening at Temple. The study was similar to the one I had previously worked on; the only caveat was that it was part-time.

It was feasible. I accepted the position. Working twenty hours a week is right for right now. It affords me the flexibility to do things that most people daydream about while they are sitting at their desk.

It was a beautiful day. I hopped in my wrangler, top down and popped in a Van Morrison CD. Then I drove to the shore and walked on the beach. I played pinball and ate pizza. I took the long way home, thankful for the road that I was on...my road.

Kafka

I don’t particularly enjoy reading. Maybe it’s the fact that I am a perpetual student and have had no choice but to read numerous textbooks and journal articles. Maybe it’s the fact that I have the attention span of a goldfish.

I’ve done well with short stories and memoirs. Books like Naked (David Sedaris) and Running with Scissors (Augusten Burroughs) have kept me engaged, one a chapter at a time.

A couple months ago I was talking to an academic. At the end of our exchange, she commented on the existentialist nature of my thoughts and beliefs. So, I looked it up...enter Franz Kafka (one of the first literary authors important to existentialism).

I picked up a copy of “Franz Kafka: The Complete Stories." I’m working on it, slowly, but frequently find myself at the end of the page, wondering what the hell I just read. Perhaps this is a contributing factor...

Some sources have claimed that Kafka possessed a schizoid personality. His work, they claim, not only in The Metamorphosis, but in various other writings, appear to show medium to low-level schizoid characteristics which explain much of his surprising work.

"The tremendous world I have inside my head. But how [to] free myself and free it without being torn to pieces. And a thousand times [I'd] rather be torn to pieces than rather it in me or bury it. That, indeed, is why I am here, that is quite clear to me."

a thousand words

The clock read 1:30AM. The clock read 2:30AM. I rolled over, convinced that my body was in a battle with that clock. It was almost as if it wanted to say “If you intend on waking me up at 4:30AM then you got another thing coming to you. I’ll just stay awake. Take that.”

And it was 4:30AM before I knew it. And it was dark.

I entered the kitchen and poured some coffee. My bag was already packed. I jotted down a few notes on a piece of paper (my GPS and trail map) and headed out the door.

There was a stack of unmarked cds in the glove compartment. I randomly selected one and inserted it into the cd player. When the first song (Even the Streets by Matt Wertz) played, I knew exactly what would follow...and I allowed myself to remember, which is something that I try not to do.

I arrived at the parking lot shortly after 7AM. There were two cars parked in the lot. I laced up my vasque breeze trail shoes and packed my yellow camelbak fourteener, which included an extra pair of socks, trail mix, an apple and my scarpa boots, just in case I had a change of heart after a few miles. I have learned from experience that dry, comfortable feet can make or break a hike.

I walked across the parking lot toward the (steep and rocky) red dot trail. It was 7:15AM and I was excited about the prospect of being the only one on the trail. The last time I completed this hike was in November. At the time, I was dealing with several health issues, which made for a difficult climb. All of those problems have since been resolved and I am healthy for the first time in nearly three years. I am very thankful for that.

After reaching the summit of Mount Tammany, I briefly followed a blue trail, which lead to a fire road that followed the ridge. It was overgrown (as in knee high grass) and wet (as in my shoes and socks were soaked).

As I walked, I took it all in...the sights, the smells, the sounds.

I saw the bluest bird I had ever seen. When I reached for my camera, it flew to another branch, as I turned it on and zoomed in, it flew to another branch, almost as if to taunt me. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a picture, but I did find out that it was an indigo bunting.

Two deer crossed my path, which scared the shit out of me and I talked to them until they were out of my sight. It made me realize how vulnerable I was out there, alone, on the trail.

It smelled really really good. At first, I didn’t think anything of it, but then I started to look around and realized that I was walking through patches of blueberries.

Walking for what seemed like forever, I became nervous as to whether or not I was going the correct way. What if I wasn’t on the fire road? Just then, a weathered sign that read “heli-spot” appeared to my left. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that I must be on some kind of trail.

Not too long after that I saw the turquoise trail (personally, I think that is kind of a random color for a trail blaze) and turned left onto it. That trail took me off the ridge and down into a wet, rocky area, which crossed over a stream and went back up. It was there that a small, orange lizard came one step away from meeting his demise. Lucky for him, I had looked down at the precise moment our paths intersected.

The turquoise trail was narrow, rocky and overgrown (but not as bad as the fire road). I followed it until I reached Sunfish Pond. I had not seen a single person yet, but could hear voices in the distance and met with two hikers at the intersection of the Turquoise and Appalachian trails.

I encountered several more people who were heading north on the Appalachian Trail. One man took a moment to chat with me. He was in the process of hiking a section of the trail, but said that he had hiked it in its entirely several years ago. I told him about my upcoming trip to Maine and asked whether or not I’d see any thru-hikers completing their journey at Katahdin. He said that it would only be possible if someone had gotten an early start.

The Appalachian Trail hugged the shore of Sunfish Pond and brought me to my favorite spot on the hike.

Just past this section, there was a large area of trees that had burned in a forest fire last summer. The burned forest sat to the right of the trail for the remainder of my walk around Sunfish Pond, where I met two men who had just arrived via the Dunnfield Creek trail. This was the trail I had intended on taking back to the parking lot. I changed my mind after they told me about the knee deep stream crossings they had encountered.

I continued south on the Appalachian Trail, politely saying “hello” to several other people along the way who were making the trip to Sunfish Pond. I always shake my head a little bit when I see people carrying a single, small bottle of water or wearing completely inappropriate hiking attire.

When I returned to the car, the parking lot was full and people had started making their own parking spots wherever they could find them. I grabbed a change of clothes and entered the not so clean port-o-potty. After a quick stretch, I hopped back in the car for the ride home. The coffee in my travel mug was still warm. I took the long way, on scenic country roads, which felt miles away from the places I see every day.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. These are my thousand words.

F.A.Q. (The Remix)

Q: What kind of shoes are those?

A: Vibram Five Fingers.

Q:Where did you get them?

A: REI

Q: Are they comfortable?

A: Yes, they are comfortable. I would not wear them if they were uncomfortable.

Q: Do you run in them? What are they for?

A: Well, personally, I don’t run in them, but there are people that do. I wear them mainly during weight training, to strengthen my feet and improve proprioception.

Q: My husband has a bad back. Do you think those would be good for him?

A: I don’t know and I don’t care. Can I get back to my workout now?

Q: I have flat feet. Do you think I could wear those? Do they have any support in them?

A: I don’t know. I have high arches and they feel fine on me. Can I get back to my workout now?

Q: I bet they’d be really good for running in the sand. Did you try those out on the beach yet?

A: No, I think if I had sand filling the toe pockets of these things it would be quite uncomfortable. Can I get back to my workout now?

rollin' on thirties (millimeters that is)

The Start

Half way point

Family Photo

Post-Ride Recovery

Yeah, it was a good day.