A Plan, My Long-ago Photo Muse, and the Birth of a Mini Girls' Roadtrip (Roadtrip Post #1)

Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs, CO

Yes, I had a spreadsheet for planning my month-long trip. It was pretty detailed to include driving times from place to place, potential things to do in each stop and along the route, reservation numbers, etc. And, yes I got all sorts of grief about it from those that knew of its existence -- namely from my sister, who was on the front portion of the trip with me, from Detroit, through Michigan, and on to Chicago. But those details sure came in handy. I felt like I had a decent sense of ideas, limitations, and a solid plan, even if I didn’t always strictly stick to it.

I had been planning this trip since March 2022, but one of the last stretches to be added to the spreadsheet was how the hell I was going to get back from the Denver area to “civilization.” My goal was to NOT have to drive across Kansas or Nebraska by myself if I didn’t have to. I had done that before with someone else in the car and that was bad enough. There is not much out there even for just a quick roadside amusement along the way. I literally had found one giant outdoor Van Gogh replica painting on the Kansas route, and outside of the far west slice of Nebraska that was already on my route from Hot Springs SD to Boulder CO and included what Nebraska does have to offer in the way of Toadstool Geologic Park, Carhenge, and Dobbey’s Frontier, Nebraska offered little else except the possibility of prairie madness (https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/prairie-madness-study-silence-great-plains), which didn’t seem like a great souvenir.  

About four days before my trip was to start, I had an epiphany. I would go south, to go east! This way I would get to visit one of my favorite places on earth, Garden of the Gods, outside of Colorado Springs, which had been a photo muse of mine since I first discovered it in the early 80s while I was in the Army and stationed at Lowry AFB in Denver. I used to make that hour and a half drive as often as I could, to document the beauty of GOTG and hike the trials. Different times of the year, and even different times of the day afforded distinctive shadows and light so that it was a constantly morphing and always novel experience. And it was amazing to shoot there.

I did get myself into a bit of a pickle once back in the 80s when I started the slow ascent late one afternoon onto Southgate Rock and by the time I reached the summit it was starting to get dark. I knew that I couldn’t go back the way I came up the trail so decided I would brave it and go for a steep decent down the far end of the rock. Unfortunately, I did not have proper climbing gear and had the added challenge of photo gear in tow. About halfway down, with the light fading quickly, I suddenly couldn’t find holds and started to panic a bit. About that time a couple came around the arch in the path below and spotted me. “You ok up there?” they yelled. “Nope” I said. They geared up and climbed up to help belay me down the rest of the way. These days, that irresponsibly would cost a $500 fine. In the 80s, it just cost me a six-pack when we all got back to the parking lot.

This south-then-east route also meant that I could hit a shortened piece of a Route 66 trip. While the girls and I visited my parents during spring break 2005, my dad and I had hammered out a Route 66 Roadtrip from Chicago to LA, drawing it all out on a paper Atlas and planning stops along the way. We had talked about this trip for years and were thinking of doing it in the late summer or early fall of that year. We never made that trip because he died suddenly the week after we returned home. I still have the Atlas.

Within hours of the birth of this brilliant new eastward route plan, my longtime friend, Denitta, who I was crashing with while in Boulder called to ask if I was heading back through Kansas or Nebraska. She was hoping to catch a ride from me to her mom’s outside of Kansas City. I laughed hard and thought, no way am I going to miss out on another Route 66 trip. Instead, I asked her to join me, with the promise that I could get her as close to her destination as Tulsa, Oklahoma. She said she would consider it. The next morning, she called to say she had a rental car in Tulsa and would be joining me on my mini Route 66 jaunt!

Denitta and I rose before sunrise and headed out to Garden of the Gods. The morning light made the place as magical as I remembered. And the Route 66 part of the trip, it was epic – and so much better to have her along with me for the ride. Add that to the spreadsheet!

 

Note: If you came to this first through the blog, know that there are many more photos on the related Facebook post. 

Google Album of these photos:  https://photos.app.goo.gl/oLbh3fL4PBcqJ3zY6 

 

Zero Expectations for 2022

Here we are at the beginning of a new year, and I am wondering why humans continue to set themselves up for failure every year by declaring expectations that the coming year will be better than the last. If 2020 and 2021 have taught us anything, it is that there are no guarantees, and setting expectations can leave you in tattered ruins. So, for 2022, I have decided to have ZERO expectations.

Full disclosure: My 2020 Christmas card was a tongue-out “good riddance” send-off to that year. There was nothing wrong with kicking 2020 to the curb. It sucked! It deserved to be set on fire at the curb. My mistake was expecting that 2021 would be better. Expectations do not always take into consideration things completely out of one’s control. Those expectations only created more angst and pain than I could ever have imagined, because I was dead wrong. 2021 sucked even harder.   

2021 turned out to simply be 2020 v.2.0 for damn near everyone, and for some of us 2021 was like 2020 on steroids, high-octane, and with evil superpowers. I, like many others I know, experienced sheer hell in 2021. As if the magnitude of continued uncertainty due to the pandemic weren’t enough to wear us down, there was personal loss thrown in on top of it.

So, the more I consider this choice of zero expectations for the new year, the more I believe that is a healthier way to go, not just for 2022 but, honestly, in any new year. This measured stance seems far wiser than to expect to do better than last year. Well, the last two years. Even in good times, for anyone to boldly declare that in the new year, “this is the year they will [fill in the blank]” -- i.e. lose weight, get more exercise, be kinder to strangers, spend more time with family and friends, learn to ride a unicycle, etc. -- is pie in the sky bullshit, and not really mentally healthy. Historical data bears this out even with the simplest of expectations; think about those gyms that are always crowded in January and February and then return to “the regulars” around mid-March. And for anyone to take it a step further and espouse that the general state of affairs of their own life, or god forbid, the world at large, will improve simply because the calendar turns over is practicing pure hubris worthy of a Greek tragedy befalling them.

The truth is we simply do not have that kind of control in our lives, and it is these types of unrealistic expectations that are keeping us from true happiness. Aren’t we better off going in without expectations and avoid the disappointment when they go unfulfilled? With zero expectations, I can live in the moment. I can discover unexpected things along my journey. I can then look back when it is over and be thankful and cherish what I had not expected: that gift of the special unplanned time spent with a friend; the fact that I feel stronger because I discovered an unexpected love for pickleball; the joy of learning to say no to endless requests for my time and skills, and instead savoring some extra time for me, doing whatever makes me happy in that moment.

Please, don’t think that I have given up on hope; that is certainly not the case. There is a huge difference between hope and expectations, and as a species it would serve humans well to learn and appreciate the difference.

Having hope means you are trusting the process. I preach this all the time at the shelter to those who complain that they always get “beat out” on the dog/cat/hedgehog that they really wanted. “Trust the universe,” I say. “You with get the dog/cat/hedgehog that you were meant to have.” I do truly believe that, and I find that the statement usually re-centers the individual, they agree, and look forward to finding that furry (or quilly?) friend that is meant to be their true companion. Well, except for the PITA folks who can’t be happy simply that an animal found a home, because it was never really about the animal but about themselves. But, hey, you can’t fix stupid nor cure narcissism! (And they probably are setting expectations for the new year right now!)

Having expectations means you trust the results and that you intend to reach those results. Expectations mean that you are trying to predetermine the future. Good luck with that! Expectations are inflexible and narrow-minded. Expectations will leave you by the side of the road and take your cellphone with them because you hadn’t counted on the unknown variables when calculating them.  

The future is uncertain. Hope can still work with uncertainty. In fact, hope thrives on uncertainty. Hope is a shapeshifter that will stick with you no matter what is thrown your way. Expectations rely on specific stated outcomes, and uncertainty is its nemesis. Expectations set you up for heartbreak nearly every single time.  

So, I hope you all have a Happy New Year. Once we have gotten past this, actually gotten past this pandemic -- hopefully, someday we will, right? this can’t go on indefinitely, can it? -- we will look back and think, “Wow! Yeah, that was some real shit that we all just went through.” And I am not about to add to that shit with the additional weight of expectations.

 

Election Day, COVID-19, and Mississippi Burning all over again

Today would normally be a very long day for me, starting at 5:00 a.m. and concluding around 9:00 p.m. -- assuming everything goes smoothly. Then of course, the late night waiting for results to come in. Even though it is long, I love Election Day! I love seeing democracy in action. I love helping people as they cast their ballot, being a part of their government and their own destiny. I know it is silly, but I even love handing out those “I Voted” stickers! So, while it was a very hard decision for me, I unfortunately will not be working the polls today and here is why.

This election was moved from early June to June 23^rd by the Governor of Virginia because of COVID-19 restrictions, which I hailed as a smart move at the time. I was also excited when Fairfax county encouraged voters to protect their health during the COVID-19 outbreak by voting absentee either by mail and in-person to spread out crowds, for all upcoming elections, and actively pushed this on social media and through aggressive marketing. 

When our election officers’ emails came out in late May, I was impressed with the contingency response plan they had developed. The state would provide PPE kits for polling places and required election officers to wear face masks and gloves at their stations. They would provide hand sanitizer in all polling places. The plan required that voters maintain a 6-foot distance from each other and from election officers at all times and limited the number of voters and companions in the voting room to no more than 10. They would provide voters with single-use pens and single-use privacy folders. There would be no "I Voted" stickers to minimize contact between officers and voters (okay, that one made me a little sad, but it was a good call). They would direct any election officers displaying symptoms of allergies or illness (e.g. coughing, sneezing) that might be interrupted as COVID symptoms to go home.

But then came the kicker. They would "strongly encourage" voters to wear face masks, but they would not be required. This is where I had an enormous problem with the plan. I am REQUIRED to wear a face mask to go and conduct business at the US Post Office, or at any indoor essential or non-essential businesses in Virginia. I am required to wear a mask at libraries; in medical waiting rooms; at indoor church services; while on public transportation and on most domestic airline flights; inside food and beverage establishments, except when eating or drinking; at my own private summer membership club when indoors or interacting with staff; even when accessing Virginia and Fairfax government services. And I am totally fine with that requirement. It protects both me and others. 

There are stated exemptions, of course, situations in which people do not have to wear a cloth face covering while using indoor public spaces. These include: while eating or drinking; while exercising or using exercise equipment; anyone who has a breathing problem or health issue that would put their health at risk by wearing a cloth face covering; anyone communicating with people who are hearing impaired for which the mouth needs to be visible; when temporary removal of the face covering is needed to get medical or governmental services. I DO NOT see going to a polling place to vote on that list of exemptions.

Since receiving our Election Officers email in May, I have been in conversation with state and local authorities about the lack of a requirement that voters wear a face mask. On June 10, I sent a final attempt email to the Fairfax County Office of Elections which stated: “With Phase 2 going into effect on Friday and reading the guidelines as published, I am curious what the rationale is for not requiring masks of voters in the polls? It appears that the governor's order and guidance provided on the Fairfax County site would be read to require masks in these instances. (See, https://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/covid19/face-coverings) I appreciate that you intend to require poll workers to wear face masks throughout their shift, which will make for an especially long day with other added restrictions and safety procedures, even beyond the usual long day, but completely necessary. So it seems particularly perplexing that you wouldn't also require such protection OF voters and BY voters who, although they will only be in the building for a short time, can certainly be a vehicle for contagion to both poll workers and to fellow voters. If the concern is that voters who do not wish to wear a mask, regardless of the governor's orders or those few who might be exempt per the governor’s order, might claim that they are being denied their vote, the simple answer is to allow them to vote absentee OR request a curb-side vote at the polls on election day. I would love nothing more than to serve in the upcoming June 23rd election, but I simply cannot risk my health and the health of my family because someone simply doesn't want to wear a mask, in clear violation of the governor's orders, and when other means are available for them to vote.”

The county election staff’s answer, which came swiftly so was likely a canned response and certainly did not address my suggestions to allow alternate means for those who chose not to where a mask to vote, stated “Based on guidance from the State Board of Elections (issued after the Governor’s order), we cannot require voters to wear masks. In short, a person’s right to vote supersedes the order to wear a face mask. To do otherwise would be considered voter disenfranchisement.  We are simply following the directive from the state on this matter.”

My ultimate answer: Some things are simply not worth dying in a ditch for. I withdrew from working the polls on June 23^rd.

Much like the recently implemented flight screenings at some airports – where they will take your temperature and if you have one will pull you aside for further screening and “recommend” that you not travel, but will not prohibit it (https://www.washingtonpost.com/travel/2020/06/22/lax-is-testing-fever-detecting-cameras-passengers-depart-arrive/) – these efforts to “recommend” a mask to voters are pointless without any enforcement. If you are a Seinfeld fan, you will likely recall the episode about taking a car rental reservation versus holding the reservation. This is similar, except on a very deadly level. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaAeUQrVw4c

Think about who will show up at the polls today. Part of my final decision to not work this election comes from the fact that there are no contested Democratic races so the only candidates on the ballot in my district are a three-way primary race for the Republican challenger to incumbent Senator Mark Warner. Thus, voters showing up today will likely be Republicans, who are largely those adamantly opposed in social media to wearing a mask. That means that my risk of exposure to a potentially deadly disease is highly amplified. Thus, I am good with my decision to sit this one out.

But what about November’s election? Having watched the recent elections in Wisconsin and elsewhere, where masked voters stood in long lines for hours at the height of COVID active cases in highly contested races – God love them for their bravery and dedication to democracy – immediately, the decision becomes a bit more complicated for working November’s election.  
[Note: You can register to vote absentee in Virginia in November here: https://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/elections/absentee] 

A couple of nights ago we watched “Mississippi Burning” a 1988 film about the 1964 murder of three poll workers, Chaney, Goodman and Schwerner who went to Mississippi to register black voters. (***currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video, but due for removal on June 30, so please see it NOW as it is totally worth it and staggeringly on point with today’s issues.) It is a remarkable movie, that makes you sad to realize that we are in fact still dealing with most of the race issues that we were dealing with 50 years ago.

Much of the resurgence of hatred in America I blame on our current President and the ugliness that he and his racist followers have brought again to the forefront of the American experience. Great Again? My ass! He has revived evil itself and it is time that we eliminate it forever rather than simply place it in a neatly contained racist box of controlling African Americans and other minorities through police actions and incarcerations. We have much work to do to make things right, and it starts with police reform, prison reform, and the November election. Please join me in being a part of that change. I will not be missing working the polls at the November election, because that is something absolutely worth dying in a ditch for. 

Renwick Gallery's No Spectator: Art of Burning Man exhibit

What My Dog Taught Me

He was born May 12, 2008 as Lite It Up to a dog track breeder in Florida. He ran only seven races, won one, and placed in two others. It seems that he was clearly destined for better things than just chasing a mechanical rabbit around a track.

When he came off the track in late July of 2010, his foster mom, Becky, called him Mister and wrote in her foster report that he was "a sweet, beautiful, tender boy." He was also a big boy at about 100 pounds, which is huge for a greyhound. Becky noted that he was the gentlest of giants and a bit shy. She also noted that he was truly very special and she would like to know where he ultimately ended up. Clearly he made an impression on her. I have been in touch with Becky over the years and she was, of course, added to my ever-growing Christmas card list.

He joined us on December 31, 2010, and became Fog the Dog, the center of our family, and my own personal teacher, my zen master. Becky's description had left out one key quality of this magnificent creature - namely, that he was wise beyond imagination, and over the years I have learned so much from him.

Fog didn't much care for walks; he was really too shy to be out in the big world. But he loved to run in our backyard, especially if you would clap and cheer for him! "Go, go, go!" "That a boy!" Clap, clap, clap. He would run in huge circles at breakneck speed, zipping past you by a fraction of an inch. Sometimes you could actually feel the breeze as he ran by. Especially exuberant clapping would make him run even faster and garner an extra lap or two. Everyone enjoys praise and encouragement, right? Even from a crowd of one; maybe especially from a crowd of one. Great lesson, Fog.

Some of his favorite running was in snow. During Snowmaggedon, in February 2010, that dog was like a kid on Christmas morning, which was oddly amusing coming from a Florida boy who had never even seen snow, much less had to plow through it chest-deep just to go to the bathroom. But he was so happy during that storm and every year after when snow came. He would run - well more of a hop reminiscent of rabbits or foxes bounding across the surface of the arctic snow. His speed allowed him to almost skim the surface, but his size made him sink ever so slightly. He attacked the snow, biting at it and flipping it into the air, keeping his face up, eyes closed, letting it fall back onto him, enjoying the moment. He even laid down on his back and flailed his legs in the air as if he was making snow angels. My take-away lesson from his sheer joy of snow, unfamiliar things can bring you surprising happiness. Never be afraid to try something new.

Fog enjoyed digging in the kids' sandbox and lying in its coolness on hot summer days. And he dug in Jim's freshly-turned spring vegetable garden soil. Unfortunately, that meant that he was constantly dragging sand into the house and disrupting seedlings struggling to get a start, so we put up barriers to the sandbox and fenced the garden area. I sort of feel a bit guilty about that now, but that's not how he would want it. He was perfectly content to find another place of pleasure, to lie in the soft grass and soak up sunshine instead or contort himself into pretzel-like positions on the thick cushy dog sofa that my mom made for him. Other than the soft, fluffy mediums of sand and highly-improved soil though, he never dug in anything else. The hard work of digging Virginia clay soil held no appeal. I guess maybe he was really onto something -- namely that sometimes it is okay to take the easy way, not try to make something what it is not; to give yourself a break and just enjoy the softness of life. And also to be flexible and not let disappointments get you down but instead move along and find something else that brings you happiness, another soft place to land.

"Outdoor treats" of dog ice cream from Dairy Godmother and pig ears were his favorite treats. He would gingerly take them from you in the kitchen and when you said the words "outdoor treat" he would trot to the back door and patiently wait to be let out. He never ate an outdoor treat in the house. Once our trusty dogsitter gave him a pig ear which we found, untouched, in the center of our livingroom floor when we got home from our trip; she hadn't realized he wouldn't eat it in the house. Lesson learned - know the rules, follow them, and you will be rewarded, but no cheating. Also, be patient and good things will come your way.

Fog was not into dog toys, and trust me we tried them all - rope toys, food related toys like Kongs, squeeky toys, balls, frisbees, soft huggable lovable toys. He had a treasure trove of untouched toys. He just wasn't interested. Like zero interest. What made him happy was a good scratch behind the ears; hearing you talk to him, with those big brown eyes looking as though he was hanging onto and understanding every word; being brushed, endlessly; and a good howl fest, which he would only do if instigated to by one of us and then he would join in and keep going until we quit first. But mostly he was happy just being in the same room with his people, often literally touching me as he laid at my feet. His shared wisdom was simply that a good life is not about things, but about spending simple times with those that you love.

Yesterday, September 29, 2017, we held him and simply loved him as he slipped into another world, a world without the pain that he had endured for weeks now (probably much longer as he was always a stoic guy) from the bone cancer in his leg. He went out with his usual grace and dignity. It made me realize that is how we all should be allowed to go. And to me, he will always be a true winner for the beautiful soul that he was and the things that he taught me. Thank you, Fog, you were a great teacher.

Seekers: And Now For Something Completely Different

This is it. My oldest daughter will be starting her senior year of high school in a couple of days. My youngest just got her driving learner's permit. It is about to get real. Changes are underfoot.

I have never been one to shy away from change. I have been a soldier, a professional photographer, an actress, an elections lawyer, a master gardener, a website developer, a writer, a Chinese brush painter, a gym rat, a circus arts addict, a music and theatre arts promoter, an editor. I usually find myself heading in a completely different direction, reinventing myself before I make it to about the seven year mark, at most, of any endeavor. I guess this makes me sort of a modern-day renaissance woman.

I have joked for years with my husband that he has survived my seven-year-itch affliction several times over. I'm not sure if that is something he actually appreciates or has simply endured. I realize that my life is a bit meandering. Being his wife and mother to our two girls have really been the only things in my entire life so far that I haven't eventually become disenchanted with and walked away.

As a child I recall being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I always hated that question. As if I must choose one thing and be saddled with it for a lifetime. That to me sounded like hell - Sisyphus forever pushing that boulder up the hill, the Death of a Salesman. Even as an adult, one all too often gets the question, "what do you do?" An equally loathsome question for those of us who are always moving forward, looking for the next opening, doing and creating on multiple fronts, both simultaneously and linearly, forever seeking to find the things that will sustain us until we find something else new and exciting.

We are increasingly living in a time that values the expert, the specialist, and to be such requires that one focus on a single subject or discipline. Otherwise one risks the label of an amateur, dabbler, dilettante, dallier, or jack-of-all trades/master of none, which I have learned to wear as a badge of honor. Often, though, such labels leave us feeling confused or ashamed for simply being our true, authentic, multi-dimensional selves. Honestly, humans were not meant to do the same thing for a lifetime; that is what robots are for. As humans, we are meant to be explorers, to experience, to be Seekers. 

Seekers make way for possibility and invention. Seekers see things in a very different way than others do and can often find solutions that elude most. Seekers can actually be quite successful. Here are a few wonderful examples of Seekers in history and the present: Ben Franklin was a politician, writer, musician, scientist and inventor.  Leonardo DaVinci was an inventor, painter, philosopher, poet, architect, engineer, physician, writer, stage designer, theologist, astronomer, actor, singer, and yes, even a court jester. Arnold Schwarzenegger has reinvented himself as a bodybuilder, actor, producer, author, philanthropist, activist, politician, investor and businessman. Temple Grandin, a remarkable modern-day renaissance woman, is a scientist, professor, activist (for autism, animal rights, and food safety), author, inventor, and motivational speaker. Not bad company to be in.  

My oldest daughter doesn't know what she wants to study in college, so right now she is having trouble figuring out where she wants to go. I am having trouble getting through to her that few people do know and that is okay. I want her to be a Seeker. I want her to have diverse experiences and live a life of learning and searching for that next something that will make her happy and challenge her, whether that is in a lifelong pursuit or just for seven years or less at a time. 

A Pained Veteran Seeking the Glorification of Peace

It gets harder and harder to bear. There is Veteran's Day on November 11, and then there is Flag Day (June 14), and Memorial Day (May 29), and Independence Day (July 4). And most of Americans lump them all together and think they are supposed to celebrate the American military and military achievements on those days, thereby creating a culture of Glorification of War. Where, I ask you, is the Glorification of Peace?

In reality, Memorial Day is for those who have paid the ultimate price of war -- death. A truly sacred honor that should not be bestowed on others who simply serve. Something that none of us actually desires for our loved ones, but a commendable state just the same and certainly worth of a moment of recognition. In fact, a long hard moment! I get acknowledging the dead. Those who have died in combat, not just died at a ripe old age, having served their country at some point in their long lifetime, like myself.

I do so very much appreciate soldiers and families that sacrifice a more comfortable life for our freedoms (Veterans Day). It is not an easy job for the service member or their family. Showing appreciation for their sacrifice is long overdue and short on true thanks.

I love our American history, that we decided to break away from England (Independence Day). And I recognize that time in history has brought us all to where we are today. Seriously? I would not want to be involved in Brexit right now, although these days we certainly have our own cross to bear as Americans. But still, hooray for Independence Day. But, that does not mean we should continue our warring ways.

I ask, where is the celebration of the many years of Peace in America. You know, the "good years" without war. Why don't we have a national celebration for that? Why are millions of dollars pumped into war instead of into peace? When will we celebrate Peace?