The ADT Journey – Week 38

Posted on March 2, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

During this stretch trail angels offered us kindness in a variety of ways; our response varied as well.  On the first day we stopped at a store in a small hamlet and asked the proprietor if he had a bathroom we could use.  Roger Huron overheard us and said he thought he knew a bathroom nearby we could use.  We followed him into an alleyway, up an enclosed stairway and into a sparse corridor with a seemingly private bathroom.  Roger left out details of why he would know about and have access to this bathroom, which gave me an uneasy feeling.  I decided to use the bathroom at the same time as Cindy to be on the safe side.

Roger offered to buy us coffee after our bathroom break but I declined, partly because the short winter day was getting on, partly because of my uneasy feeling.  The conversation we had with Roger should have dispelled those feelings.  In his youth he hitchhiked to Alaska with his fiddle, performing for the locals he met along the way.  Obviously, we reminded him of these glory days and he wanted to relive them with us.  I later received a comment on my blog from someone who knew Roger, confirming his status as a nice guy and an accomplished bluegrass musician.

Later in the week we declined a kind offer of food by two women we met at a convenience store after we had crossed into Ohio.  Linda did treat us to hot chocolate while Roseanna bought a lottery ticket with the number 264, the number of days we had been hiking up until then, but we declined on their offer to load us up with more food. We had received so many offers of food during the course of our journey, I can say that kindness cured me of gluttony.  Yet I remain haunted by the lonely expression on Roger’s countenance when we declined his offer.  Sometimes the kindest thing to do is to accept someone’s kindness.

The day after we met Roger we received kindness by a trick played on us before by trail angels.  We met and chatted with a 911 dispatch worker named Jared.  When I declined his offer for a donation, he then offered for us to exchange cards.  Instead of his card he snuck a twenty in my hand before I realized the deception.

That same day a more unusual act of kindness benefited us.  A snowstorm, the gentle and beautiful kind rather than a raging blizzard, accompanied us throughout the day.  We came to an intersection where the turn our route requested appeared more like a private road.  A short distance away Laughery Creek flowed across the road, appearing more like a river.  We decided not to take the route less traveled.

Shortly after we headed on our new route a salt of the earth farmer named Gene pulled up to us in his truck, wondering why two people were hiking back roads in the middle of a snowstorm.  In my response I confessed we were on our current route to avoid a “river” crossing of Laughery Creek.  He informed us that we would find the same conditions up ahead as well, then continued on while I dealt with some damage control in regards to Cindy.

Cindy’s initial apprehension of the cold during our journey had been appeased by a relatively warm winter, part of the reason she had been in high spirits as we hiked into February.  Yet the warmer winter also brought a wetter winter, with the rivers and streams we encountered often at flood levels.  Jim Shaner, an ADT hiker before us, crossed Laughery Creek without getting his feet wet.  We faced getting wet up to our thighs or higher in the midst of a snowstorm; this alarmed Cindy.

In her precognitive decline days this would have been no big deal for Cindy the Expedition Woman:  “Mind over matter!” she might have declared, despite her abhorrence of the cold.  However, I can tell you now that the earliest signs of dementia are not memory loss, but how people react differently to stress in their lives.  Cindy first ignored stressful situations as I looked back on her overall decline.  Then she went the opposite way and became fatalistic over them; she was in her fatalistic mode of handling stress as we hiked towards Laughery Creek.  I spent the time continually trying to partly reassure Cindy and partly establish that we had no choice.

Except we did have a choice once we reached Laughery Creek.  Gene was there waiting to ferry us across the creek in his truck.  He had to have waited at least twenty minutes for us to get there but that did not matter.  This simple act of kindness from a salt of the earth farmer outshone in our minds some of the more magnanimous acts benefiting us during our journey. 

Overall, we were notably ecumenical with the churches that hosted us with their kindness.  We stayed with the UCC the most often, in large part because of the serendipitous encounter with Missouri conference minister Jeff Whitman.  Methodists came in a close second.  Baptists, Assembly of God, Presbyterians and Episcopalians hosted us as well.  Apparently we now walked through Lutheran country, as they became our hosts both before and after our snow day, with a couple more churches passed by in between.

Before the snow day we stayed in the home of Pastor Ralph and Sue Camden.  The heartwarming tale from this stay was how the congregation assisted their pastor during a time of illness.  Also noteworthy was Ralph’s John Deere tractor collection, located in the room where we spent the night.

In contrast to this quaint stay, we spent the night in a school classroom associated with the St. John Lutheran Church of Aurora.  Ky scouted and secured both of these Lutheran connections for us; in the case of Aurora we did not meet a pastor or church elder.  However, the school hosted a basketball game for their sixth graders that evening and the coach warmly invited us to attend.

Wintry cold joined us again on our last day of hiking in Indiana, with the high temperature in the teens.  Mile for mile we witnessed the most acts of kindness and community building in this state, which made our last lunch break in Indiana particularly fitting.  We noticed activity going on at the First Baptist Church in Greendale; to get out of the cold we entered the building and asked if we could eat our lunch inside.  We discovered a youth basketball tournament occurring and we intended to be inconspicuous, but word got out about us quickly.

Pastor Steve Fagersburg and wife Marcia came to meet us.  In keeping with our mission’s theme, Steve informed us about his friend Ed Casheen and a movement called Hate Busters.  Hate Busters did things like pledge money on behalf of “haters” to the cause they hated, with instructions for a thank you note to be sent.  Their targets included Westboro Baptist Church, the church we learned was running a money-making First Amendment scam from lawyer Reid Nelson in Kansas.  Marcia left during our chat and came back with a bag full of food to take with us.  Maybe kindness had not entirely cured us of gluttony.

Ky again resourcefully scouted, arranged and provided transportation to our last overnight stay in Indiana, this time at the United Methodist Church in Lawrenceburg.  Ky made the arrangement with the church council and we did not meet the church’s pastor as we settled into a classroom for the night.  The next morning Pastor Bob Cannon received a big surprise when he entered his church early in the morning, as the council had not informed him of guests.

After the initial shock of seeing us, Pastor Bob followed the lead of many before him and was delighted to share his church’s humanitarian involvements.  One thing in the works for the church was acquiring a neighboring property to be used as housing for vagabonds passing through.  I imagine we would have qualified.

Soon after entering Ohio we crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky on Anderson’s Ferry, one of three water crossings along the ADT route that officially could not be done on foot.  We were in Kentucky long enough to encounter Rodney and Tara, a young couple who had seen the Evansville coverage of us, then crossed over the Ohio River again on the Roebling Suspension Bridge into Cincinnati.

Ky picked us up on the Cincinnati side of the bridge to bring us to the Convent of the Transfiguration, a connection made while we stayed with Pastors Cynthia and Nancy at the Emmaus Order of Pilgrims in Mt. Vernon, Indiana (where we first heard tornado sirens).  Here we would spend the next five nights and four days while I gave presentations and we took care of a few errands.

There are three categories of women at the Convent. In addition to the Sisters were the Oblates who lived “off campus.” They had yearly vows similar to the Sisters but had one foot in the “real world.” The Postulants were Sisters in training. One Postulant, Nike Spillson, had an appointment with a foot doctor and insisted I come with her to get my left foot checked. Dr. David Zink concluded the problem was due to over pronation and recommended an arch support. The doc was an amiable man who would not charge us for the visit. Well, that did not sit well with Nike, who wanted to pay for us; she paid for my arch supports instead.

During meal times at the convent we each had our own napkin and ring holder with our name. For silent meals the napkins were placed in advance where we were to sit at a table. This occurred at breakfast and lunch. The silence was broken by prayers before and after, along with the ringing of bells by the Sisters heading up each table. At lunch one Sister read a thought-provoking passage while all others listened. The suppers we attended involved the same bell ringing and prayers, but we grabbed our own napkins and determined where we would sit and talk with others.

Staying in one place the whole time made this less hectic than our four day stay in Kansas City, particularly considering that the convent was a sanctuary for peace and tranquility. Their motto was “Simplicity, Kindness, Joy,” which they manifested in their daily lives. Rather than a romantic night out in the big city for Valentine’s Day, we spent the two days leading up to that romantic holiday mainly resting at the convent in peaceful observance of their motto and in reflection of all the ways our journey lived up to a lifestyle of simplicity, kindness and joy.

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The ADT Journey – Week 37

Posted on February 24, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

We depended on Ky to slackpack us along this stretch where we stayed at a church, a hotel and two homes.  Usually, our stays at people’s homes occurred from us meeting them, such as our last stay in the home of the Coopers, but in this case Ky scouted out and arranged for this hospitality before our arrival.  As a result the quotient of kindness received and observed continued to be the highest for Indiana out of all the states we traversed.

Sandwiched in between our two home visits was New Albany, where my contact with Lions Club member Donna Robinson led to a variety of mission related activities.  With her training as a distant runner Donna had no problem coming out to join us on our walk into New Albany.  Ironically, one thing I did not do in town was present at a Lions Club meeting, though we did gather with a few of the members at a Mexican Restaurant our first evening in town.

With Donna as our guide, I instead presented at a bookstore and a church meeting at St. Mark’s UCC.  I also performed at a talent show held at St. Mark’s.  A children’s choral group singing “Seasons of Love” at the show brought me to tears.  The lyrics of the song ask how to measure a year in one’s life, with the resounding refrain:  “How about love?!”  Indeed, with our year long journey focusing on kindness observed and received all across the country, what better theme song for us could there be?

One of our days in New Albany Donna brought us to a community meals program at St. Mark’s for lunch.  There we chatted with Snow about all the different organizations that communicate with and supplement each other to help those in need, similar to the approach in Tell City, Indiana and Marion, Illinois.  Donna also brought us to a clothing thrift shop as part of this network, where I picked up my 6th pair of sneakers to wear.  All our activities required us staying in New Albany a few nights at the Holiday Inn Express, which they comped us thanks to Director of Sales Mandy Cobb.

Before arriving at New Albany we stayed at the home of Frank and Annette Price, thanks to Ky’s diligence on our behalf.  After New Albany we stayed at the home of Jay and Fran Munk near Henryville, also thanks to Ky’s connections.  We arrived at the Munk’s in time to watch the New York Giants win the Super Bowl.

Jay Munk was a contractor who built his own home as well as the one next door for his widowed sister.  Jay and Fran gushed with pride over their children, including their special needs daughter who was a very confident and happy person.  They also had an extended family whose birthdays they celebrated while we were there.  One was for their nephew’s daughter, the other was for an African-American named Rich who called Jay “Pops” in recognition of all Jay did for him.  Rich was attending the University of Kentucky on a football scholarship, drawing an obvious parallel between the Munks and the Tuohy family in “The Blind Side.”

The first morning we were in Henryville, and had yet to visit the Munks, I entered a restaurant to gather information.  My maps indicated a back road that would be more suitable to hike after Henryville than the main road on the ADT route.  I wondered what unforeseen problem might have caused the ADT to avoid the back road and consulted a table of after service gatherers from the local Methodist church, which included the pastor.  They assured us of no problems with the back road alternate route.  They then included us in a prayer circle for our journey and took up a collection for us on the spot.

The morning after we spent the night with the Munks, Jay arranged for me to give a talk at Henryville High School.  We ate breakfast at a diner across from the school, then I spoke to the school’s Key Club, a charity driven organization affiliated with the Kiwanis Club.  As usual for this audience, a couple of young people approached me afterwards to ask what they could do to make a difference in their community.

Little did I know at the time that a couple weeks later an F4 tornado would destroy Henryville High School, while tossing a school bus like a javelin into the diner where we ate.

After Henryville we slackpacked our way into Madison, where we stayed at the St. John’s UCC.  Madison stands out as a town with a part European, part old time feel.  The town survived the 1937 flood that decimated most Ohio River towns.  As other towns were modernizing in the aftermath, Madison focused on maintaining and restoring their existing charm.  To underscore this quaint history, one of the first things we witnessed in Madison was a paperboy, in the employ of the oldest family owned newspaper in Indiana.

St. Johns faced the same struggle of many church denominations with a dwindling congregation served by a now oversized church structure.  They held an intimate soup dinner for us, echoing the homey vibe of Madison as a whole.  I did not give a talk, but rather just ran a slideshow of photos from our journey in the background as we chatted with each other family style.  Pastor Mike Straub and wife Harriet were particularly welcoming to us and we could tell he took great pride in his church in his town. Mike also availed Ky and myself of his familiarity with the region to map out alternatives to some of the main roads on the ADT route.

One thing I noticed in looking back on this week, indeed all of Indiana, are all the gag photos I took of signs and other oddities along our route.  Does Indiana have a greater sense of humor than other states?  Was I naturally in a better mood to see the humor in most things?  Or was Cindy’s increasing health having a positive impact on me as well.

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The ADT Journey – Week 36

Posted on February 18, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

Our 15 miles of fame from Evansville print and television media extended further.  As we continued on roads through this stretch people hailed us from passing cars, from workplaces we passed and even from a graveyard (a live person visiting her Mom’s grave, not a ghost).  This continued until we started hiking by an establishment called Put N Take.

The proprietor and his friend came out to invite us into the store.  I got the sense that they did not know who we were, besides two grungy looking people hiking by on a cold, raw day.  They invited us to join them sitting around a woodstove, amidst a shop that looked like a cross between a firearms and antique store.  They invited us to stay longer, but an impending rainstorm persuaded us to get a few more miles in.  We parted with two multipurpose knives branded with Put N Take advertising, which we discovered was short for “Put down your money and Take away some merchandise.”

We continued to hike as the heavens poured down on us until we reached Waninger Auto Parts.  Since I had another speaking engagement away from the trail, we waited there for Ky to pick us up and bring us to the St. Peters UCC in Lamar.  Pastor Chip and Gayle Jahn welcomed us into their home for our stay there, enabling us to avoid the continuing cold deluge which lasted throughout the following day.

I presented to their Young Disciples program which explored the “fruits of the spirit.”  I wove tales of kindness and community from the journey to easily fit their curriculum, but as was so often the case during the journey I came away with as much inspirational material as I provided.  The story of Young Disciples member Ethan Roos would rival “confuse who is giving and who is receiving” as one of the most inspirational lessons from the journey.

Small towns like Lamar do not have a noticeable homeless population.  Thus ten year old Ethan did not witness his first homeless person until his parents brought him to a Cincinnati Reds baseball game.  On the way back to the hotel from the game Ethan saw them in their urban habitats, such as a parking garage or a bridge.  Once they reached their hotel Ethan cried for an hour (his Mom’s words, Ethan claimed he “had a tear leaked out”) and vowed to do something about such an injustice.

He rallied the Young Disciples group to support a homeless shelter in Aurora, raising $3500 in just a couple months.  They called around for donations with the air and confidence of a 501(c)3 charity.  They had too much compassion and too little experience to know what they were doing was difficult.

We had a great time with our hosts Chip and Gayle during our day off.  Chip and I discovered we had similar entrepreneurial dreams.  I wanted to produce a calendar with road kill photos from our journey; Chip wanted to publish a scratch and sniff road kill book.  We decided we should collaborate on a scratch and sniff roadkill calendar some day.

Our next day of hiking brought us to the town of Santa Claus which, as my research indicated, had the historical lowest temperature on our journey for the same time and place when we would be passing through, twenty-five below zero.  Though the weather remained cold and rainy for us that day, we never got close to that kind of cold during the hike in a year that was warmer and wetter than usual.

We stopped at Holiday Foods in town to supplement our lunch.  Some folks recognized us from the media coverage and stopped to chat; some folks stopped to chat even though they did not recognize us.  Eighty year old Walter Beumel had not seen the publicity but sat down with us at the picnic table outside the store as we were eating lunch.  He invited us to stay at his 100-acre ranch, adding that we were doing what he always wished he had the guts to do.  We really enjoyed Walter’s company; really wanted to stay with him overnight at his ranch, but we had to meet Ky at the end of the day and travel with her to Tell City.

Rebecca Fenn learned about us through a UCC church bulletin, came to see us while I was presenting to the Young Disciples in Lamar and invited us to stay with her and husband Mark in Tell City for the purpose of discovering the vibrant community initiatives going on down there.  Tell City had a coalition of services with a particular emphasis on educating people about generational poverty and addressing the needs through various charitable organizations.  The current model reminded me of our visit to Marion, but their immediate goal was to locate the different services in one building, similar to the Hedges School in Mt. Vernon.

Rebecca’s passion and compassion came through impressively when I interviewed her.  The couple then took us on a tour of Tell City with evident pride that rivaled the pride of Chester being the home of Popeye.  I could hear in the background of the interview that Cindy was engaged.  When Rebecca asked if she talked too long, Cindy responded emphatically that her interview was just right.

The four days of our journey after Newburgh underscored the tradeoffs we made on this hike.  Visiting Lamar and Tell City fueled our public mission for kindness and community.  Without Ky and some publicity those field trips away from our route would not have been made.  Yet the most treasured acts of kindness towards us come from unexpected sources like Put N Take and Walter Beumel, who we meet along our route but know nothing about who we are, except that we are hiking a long way.  We must pass on their offers of kindness and friendship because of obligations resulting from our public mission.

The day after Tell City, unexpected kindness along our route combined with our public mission.  We were full packing for this stretch but on the first day ran into brothers Charlie and Allan Waninger, cousins to Scott Waninger of the Waninger Auto Parts store we visited.  They spotted us as we neared their farm and, having read about us in the paper, came out to talk with us.

Charlie wanted us to join him and his girlfriend for dinner later that day and suggested an alternate route for us to follow that would coincidentally make a rendezvous with him at the end of the day easier.  He even transported our packs for us a few miles along this route to sweeten the offer.  Though we took him up on the alternate route the distance would be too great to make the rendezvous in time and where we might end up guerilla camping that night became a question mark.

Fortunately, another solution presented itself.  Motorists Claire, Ross and Corey had seen our media coverage and stopped to chat.  Claire made some calls and arranged for us to stay with her mother Carla, who was watching Claire’s daughter for that Saturday evening and lived just a few miles further along our route.   Carla was married to Kurt Cooper, a high school English teacher, and both of them gave us a warm welcome into their homes when we arrived.

“Coop” arranged for us to speak at Perry Central School two days later.  Over a hundred students came to my first presentation for a high school.  I also spent time with one of Coop’s classes.  Though I was under the weather with a foggy head that lasted throughout the day, and felt my presentation lacked energy, the students received my message well.  Two students came up to me afterwards to say we were their new heroes.

The Sunday in between our stay with Coop and Carla and our presentation at Perry Central we attended a service and potluck at Crawford Consolidated United Methodist Church (UMC) in Leavenworth.  Pastor Jason Walton’s sermon was about belonging to others.  The potluck was not for our benefit, but rather the tradition of Crawford on every fifth Sunday.  I spoke a little bit about the kindness we witnessed at the luncheon, drawing from Micah 6:8: “Do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God.”

We stayed at the church while Ky slackpacked us on our way into and out of Leavenworth.  Though I may have lacked energy during this stretch, Cindy was in high spirits throughout the whole week.  A look at the photos from this period revealed Cindy to be always smiling, sometimes with her impish grin of old.  The warmer weather than usual for winter accounted for some of this.  The week that historically projected to be our coldest had a couple of cold rainy days, flood causing deluges actually, but we also had late January days when the warm sun shined and flowers temporarily bloomed.

We went on this journey knowing the potential of long distance hiking for alleviating stress, but that was not the only tonic provided.  Awe-inspiring beauty no doubt helped Cindy’s mind as well, but above all else Cindy felt joy.  We felt the joy of life, the joy of living and the joy of sharing these experiences together.  Without at least an MRI scan I suppose there was no way to definitively declare her brain health to be returning, but she certainly felt like that was happening.

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The ADT Journey – Week 35

Posted on February 11, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

The “trail” for this week was all roads, from Shawneetown, Illinois to Newburgh, Indiana.  We encountered scenic moments when our route came next to the Ohio River in Evansville and Newburgh, but otherwise the only memorable part of the “trail” was leaving behind our seventh state and crossing into Indiana.  Most of what was memorable occurred in towns.

Our last town stop in Illinois was Shawneetown, where we continued to run into friendly people wanting to at least chat with us.  One notable thing about Illinois kindness, people did not know about us in advance, yet responded to us as if they were auditioning for a footnote in my kindness and community presentations.  One in particular, James Head, acted as our host while we stayed at the United Methodist Church in town.

James shared some of his stories from his 82 years on earth.  He told us he was an 18 pound baby at birth; his grandpa walked across the Ohio River when there were plenty of trees to control water flow; there were bootleggers back in the day that would have shot us if they saw us hiking; and he lost three toes to a combine.  James was one of those personalities from our journey that I will always remember and miss.

We stopped at a grocery store in Shawneetown that had been in business for only two weeks.  Larry Uselton, the proprietor, recently overcame a slew of health problems before opening the store.  Given his history, we really wanted to pay this new owner for our food items, but he insisted on donating them to our cause.

The last friendly person we encountered in Illinois was a motorist who had five empty beer cans in the passenger seat and another one in her hand.  Had I been by myself I would have suggested, maybe insisted, that I drive her somewhere.  I still wonder if I had been negligent in failing to do so.

Mt. Vernon became our first town stop in Indiana.  Our fortunate chain of UCC connections having ended in Marion, Illinois, Ky “beat the bush” to find us a place to stay.  We landed at the Order of Emmaus Pilgrims, a semi-monastic order founded by Pastors Nancy Johnston and Cynthis Priem.  The Order was a UCC version of living in religious community with objectives of: maintaining a daily rhythm of work, prayer and nurture; spiritual support of each other; rule based living for a spiritual life; and the sharing of material goods.

While in Mt. Vernon I gave a talk at the Trinity UCC church service, as well as sang in the choir.  This time I was not offered a work program in order to stay with the choir.  We also gained the experience of learning what tornado warning alarms sound like, as tornadoes hit surrounding areas.  Our hosts Nancy and Cynthia briefed us on where and how to proceed to the basement during the night if necessary.  We slept lightly on the floor of their first floor den, but the tornadoes spared us.

Even more memorable than the tornadoes was our visit to the Hedges School in Mt. Vernon.  The converted elementary school now provided space for a variety of nonprofit organizations. This centralization of services benefited those in need.  The Red Cross might steer people who have received emergency care to the Food Pantry in the same building to address long term needs.  Parents could bring their kids to the Park and Recreation center while getting assistance from Family Matters.

We stopped in at the Food Pantry, which changed locations from a Baptist Church to a larger Prebysterian Church to the Hedges School, while growing from assisting 50 families a month to over 600.  Like the other food pantries that our journey encountered, they were supported by a ministerial alliance and other local sources while forsaking larger government assistance.  The other food-based nonprofit at the Hedges School was the At the Cross Mission, which offered both a food pantry and a community meals program where we had supper.  The founder, Pastor Hyman Myers, has a restaurant that was going under.  He concluded he needed to be giving out food rather than try to sell it.

The nonprofits at the Hedges School underscored a reality that confronted us during the journey.  A follower of the blog requested at one point that we scouted out more secular examples of community kindness.  Considering that I started out mainly to observe and provide testimony for secular Lions Clubs I wanted to oblige, but my main issues were about “housing, health and hunger.”  Hedges School included secular nonprofits, but the ones addressing the need for food were religious based.  We found this to be true for addressing homelessness as well.

Halfway in between our hike from Mt. Vernon to Evansville we discovered the official ADT Route had been closed and we needed to backtrack 2 miles.  This landed us at Hawg ‘N Sauce along our alternate route, where we asked if we could take a 5 minute break in the warmth of their establishment while contacting Ky to let her know of our change in plans as she slackpacked us along this stretch.

Instead of allowing us five minutes, the staff at Hawg ‘N Sauce sat us at a table, gave us huge cups of hot chocolate, then cooked for us cheeseburgers and french fries.  They gave a Hawg ‘N Sauce T-shirt to Cindy and cap to me upon our departure.  I pointed out that, being from Connecticut, no business would result from us donning their swag, but they insisted on us accepting their gifts anyways.

This bit of trail magic would be the last before a tidal wave of publicity hit the Evansville area.  On our way hiking into Mt. Vernon two newspapers came out to interview us, the Mt. Vernon Democrat and the Evansville Courier Press, the latter putting us in their Sunday feature.  On our way hiking out of Mt. Vernon and through Evansville two television stations came out for a story, the local ABC and NBC affiliates.  This led to what I called our 15 miles of fame.

Many people waved to us in passing, while several motorists stopped to say they saw us on TV or read about us in the Sunday paper.  Two insisted on making a donation (we still were not asking for any), while one went back home to get his daughter because she wanted her picture taken with us.  As we hiked past the Menke muffler shop, the owners Barbara and Vernie invited us inside because the whole crew wanted their picture taken with us.  As they took pictures Barbara kept repeating: “What an honor!”

One motorist, Liz Gilles, turned around her car in order to speak to us, not the first one to do so.  She persuaded us to come home with her where she provided snacks and shared ideas she had about hiking and community.  Then she brought us back to hike with us for a couple miles.  Between the two of us, Cindy warmed up to our hostess more, another positive sign of her recovery.  I wonder now if I deliberately held back just to watch them get along, pleased to witness Cindy’s gregarious nature on the mend.

The highlight of our 15 miles of fame came in a seedy section of Evansville.  An African-American named Joe Lewis recognized us and wanted a picture.  As we went over to him a few of his friends did as well.  We gathered in a convenience store owned by Bashere, a Pakistani, where everyone wanted to shake our hands.  As we took photos, Joe shouted out:  “This is HISTORY, right here!”  In a neighborhood where many with my skin color would not venture we got treated like celebrities.

We had become “famous” not so much because we were walking 5,000 miles across the country, but because the message of kindness and community appealed to depressed areas of the nation.  This positive message ironically helped us secure our next urban base camp.  Pastor Dan Kennedy of the Zion UCC in Newburgh read about us claiming kindness was natural just after delivering a fire and brimstone type sermon that same morning.  Ideally, he wished we could have arranged a discussion with our contrasting points of view in front of his congregation, but he and his wife Amy settled for hosting us a couple evenings while Ky continued slackpacking us beyond Newburgh.  Cindy quickly fell in love with their two dogs.

We had our discussion about kindness over dinner at a restaurant.  Dan cited kids being territorial at a young age as evidence that kindness had to be bred; I cited kids being social at a young age.  Had that discussion occurred now, years after I started researching brain health, I would have cited the evidence from the fields of ethnography, ecology, biochemistry, behavioral economics and even child development connecting altruism to brain health.  Even equipped with that information I doubt I would have persuaded Pastor Dan that humans are naturally kind, but perhaps a walk across the country would do the trick.

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The ADT Journey – Week 34

Posted on February 7, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

The week started with a heavy rain overnight.  Fortunately, I set up the tent where the forest floor featured thick, water-absorbing litter and soil.  Heavy mists enveloped the following morning, as if we were walking through the set for a horror movie.

The River to River Trail came onto a road that we followed to Goreville Waterfall.  After checking out the engorged waterfall, the flooded road in the area suggested that this would be a good time to heed the trail closure warnings.  Our route instead followed a road where we encountered a road sign proclaiming Goreville to have won the Governor’s Home Town Award of 2001.  Given the mission, I naturally had to find out what that was about.

We stopped at Carroll’s Food Market, a family run operation, to grab a snack and ask why Goreville garnered such an honor.  The clerk at the check-out told us to go in the back for coffee and to ask proprietor about the award.  Steve Carroll did not know the official answer, but asserted that Goreville was a place where people took care of their own, including his own food market helping out people in need.

While we were in the back we were invited to join Steve’s Mom and two employees for lunch.  The man who cooked us all hamburgs was not an employee nor a family member; he was taking a break from his own work nearby to cook for everyone in the back.  This added to the neighborly aura of Goreville.

Ky picked us up in Goreville to bring us to the Zion UCC in Marion, Illinois.  This would be the end of the serendipitous chain that began at the Copper Mountain resort in Colorado.  To recap one last time:  because we met Andy Held at Copper Mountain we ended up in Frisco; because we met Ardie and Gretchen at the Frisco Visitor Center we ended up spending several days in Kansas City; because we stayed with Lorene Miller in Kansas City she took us to her church’s KristKindl Markt; because we met the Missouri UCC conference minister at the Kristkindl Markt we stayed with UCC churches all across Missouri.  Jeff Whitman also put us in the conference newsletter, which was read by John Holst of the Zion UCC in Marion, Illinois.  John contacted me via email and invited us to speak at his church and learn about the vibrant community initiatives in Marion.

We had lunch at a community meals program hosted by Marion”s Ministerial Alliance.  While we encountered several Ministerial Alliances already, this one extended beyond churches.  For example, when facility repairs were needed the Lions Club stepped in.  On the flip side, they refused any type of government funding at a higher level, preserving the autonomy to provide assistance in the best way they saw fit.  This vibrant alliance contrasted with Grand Tower, a town that remained anemic after the automation of a power plant despite a federally funded stimulus program.

After lunch we visited the Lighthouse Shelter, an initiative to help the homeless.  Wanda Zwick started the shelter because of a few people she knew to be homeless, acquiring and converting an abandoned elementary school.  Little did she know that “a few” people would turn into hundreds per year.  They house men, women and children for up to a month, while working with partners to find jobs and homes, also providing training when possible.  Residents leave with appliances, small furniture and food for their new homes.  Fifty volunteers help out at the Lighthouse Shelter, which is funded mainly by local churches and foundations.

During our stay in Marion a snowstorm enabled us to spend some cozy family time with the Holsts.  Throughout our journey we avoided hiking during snowstorms pretty well, but this was the best time spent of all.  Drinking hot chocolate, eating pizza, chatting and playing games with a family conjured warm images of being home.  Even for two stout adventurers such as Cindy and myself the lure of the family hearth always resides within.

I gave two presentations to Zion UCC while in Marion to two different audiences.  For the youth group I talked about our hike; for confirmands and their parents I spoke about kindness and community.  They received the presentations well, but upon returning to the trailhead for the River to River Trail we met our most enthusiastic audience.  Three college students out for a birthday hike received the message about kindness and community involvement with the same enthusiasm as Dan Brunson, the young adult who convinced me to start presenting to colleges.  Unfortunately, after four speaking engagements at colleges in Colorado, I had no further engagements since.

Some of my best memories hiking are about waiting out storms with Cindy in our tent, but as we continued hiking on the River to River Trail I acquired some of my worst memories of hiking, caused by being in a tent.  To beat the dark we had to start putting up the tent around 4:30 pm.  While daylight arrived a little before 8:00 am, ice-coated January mornings delayed our starts to no earlier than 9:00 am, often later.  That meant being inside a tent for 16 hours.  Add to that the cold I caught on this stretch, keeping me awake with a runny nose, and the nights became pure torture.

On our final day in the backcountry of the River to River Trail we hiked through an area  of rock formations called the Garden of the Gods.  A lost Basset Hound adopted and followed us as we came out of the backcountry onto roads.  Occasionally the dog would go charging off and then come back to us with an expectant look that seemed to say:  “What is wrong with you guys?! I just tracked down something great!”

As we neared , we flagged down a motorist to make contact with the owner indicated on the dog’s collar.  She was able to contact the father of the dog owner, who came out to meet us.  He said that when the dog ran off in the Garden of the Gods, he put out an overcoat for the scent to attract the dog overnight, but the next morning the coat was gone.

On this last stretch of the River to River Trail people asked us several times to buy us lunch or bring us home, but having spent a rest day in Marion due to the snowstorm we declined.  We also encountered the private landowner who makes his spring available to RtR hikers.  Reuniting a dog with its owner gave us the rare opportunity to pay back the abundant kindness bestowed upon us throughout the journey.

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The ADT Journey – Week 33

Posted on February 1, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

After we endured our coldest night of the journey, clear skies and increasingly warm weather blessed our thirty-third week of hiking, though we still witnessed the effects of the misty, rainy Missouri weather as we walked along the floodplains of the mighty Mississippi River.  We encountered a town, New Valmeyer, created after flooding of Valmeyer led to astronomical insurance rates..

Fortunately, the flooding was not severe as we walked south along the lengthy Bluff Road that sliced between the Mississippi River to the west and limestone bluffs to the east.  The bluffs looked brighter than the ones lining the Missouri River, due to the sunny skies.  Bright red cardinals continued to conspicuously appear amidst the dull winter vegetation, joined now by turkey vultures, flying and resting high up in the bluffs.

We encountered many dogs on this stretch.  Though Cindy loves dogs, she hiked by the side of me away from barking dogs whenever we encountered them.  Having encountered black bears under various circumstances, barking dogs did not concern me, aside from getting tired of listening to them.

We passed one home with a bunch of small dogs yapping, calling their owner’s attention towards us.  Mary came over to find out what we were doing.  That led to a conversation where we learned Mary acquired all the dogs from the humane society.  While many people we encountered had rescue dogs, Mary took adopting a step further.  She acquired guardianship of two boys unrelated to her, one now eighteen, the other ten.  Both their original parents and grandparents were meth users and occasionally in prison.  After we continued on hiking, Cindy chatted about Mary being a saint.

On our last afternoon of hiking on Bluff Road, a car stopped to tell us we went beyond our rendezvous point with Ky at a state park.  Bob and Joan Reid first brought us back to Ky, then invited us all to stay at his Best Western Reid’s Inn in Chester.  That evening Bob took us out to the Harvest House buffet restaurant he owned.  He also called the Ad Editor of the local paper to come and do a story on us; I suspect there was an additional, savvy self-interest involved.

In addition to being a savvy Chester businessman, Bob loved his childhood hometown.  After our buffet dinner he took us on a ride around town which, considering that Chester is the decidedly proud home of Popeye, was akin to a film studio tour.  Murals and statues let tourists know that the Mississippi River was home to the most famous cartoon tug boat.

We headed south from Chester on Illinois 3, which turned out to be the worst stretch of the entire ADT.  I thought that would be the case as we were hiking along the road and now in retrospect I can confirm.  Mainly coal haulers passed us on this narrow road, sending gusts of wind to blow us off balance.  The shoulder sloped treacherously to the side of the road, but our only choices were to either walk with a slant within a very narrow space or to be crushed by a coal hauler.  The only good feature of this stretch was a two-seater outhouse at Rockwood Memorial Park, located where we finally and thankfully left Illinois 3.

From there we got onto the Levee Road, where King Coal was still very much in evidence.  Mountains of pitch black coal delivered by the coal haulers were loaded onto rail cars of the Union Pacific Railroad.  As glimpses of the Mississippi River occasionally came into view we also spotted massive barges carrying coal as well.

Our last town stop along the Mississippi River was Grand Tower, a modern day version of the boom and bust mining towns we encountered in Nevada.  A power plant became the main source of jobs and income for Grand Tower, which built up accordingly.  Then the plant became fully automated and went from employing four hundred to five people.  Not even a government program meant to be a stimulus could reinvigorate the town, according to the hosts we stayed with for two evenings while Ky slack packed us.  Grand Tower, like the old Nevada mining towns, provides a cautionary tale about choosing the short term riches of a sugar daddy corporation over the long term stability of diverse, smaller businesses.

Mike Ellet was the mayor of Grand Tower and former park manager for Devil’s Backbone Campground, which marks one end of the River to River Trail we would be hiking on next.  His wife Joyce was a nurse who engaged Cindy in “shoptalk” while we were there.  Cindy appeared to be completely at ease chatting with Joyce, an unfamiliar person with something in common, more evidence that Cindy was on the mend.

Mike had thru-hiked the River-to-River Trail with mules and welcomed the chance to talk about the trail ahead of us.  He warned us about athletic people being surprised by the trail.  Considering that we looked like “an old man and a young blonde,” he no doubt thought of us as the next “victims” of surprise.  The RtR guidebook supported this cautionary view, informing readers to expect one mph as the pace through the wilderness area the RtR traverses.  As someone for whom only White Mountain Trails in New Hampshire limited me to a one mph pace, I just nodded respectfully at the cautions.

We donned our full packs for the River to River Trail, which slices across the southern tip of Illinois to connect the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers.  Cindy and I were glad as always to get back on trail, though this one was officially closed for the season.  We could understand why that might be so, as the muddy trail we encountered was vulnerable to erosion.  Besides not having much alternative in the midst of a long, cross-country trip, we trusted that being the only hikers on that trail for weeks meant little harm done.

We had three sets of maps to guide us along the RtR Trail.  I plotted the official ADT waypoints on maps I printed out with software from National Geographic, one of our sponsors.  I also had a Forest Service map and the maps that came with the RtR guidebook.  Unfortunately, the three maps did not agree with each other, nor did the actual trail, marked with white blazes on wood nailed to trees, always agreed with the maps.  The numbers designating different trails were also nailed to trees, which caused us a bit of consternation when we could not find the trail marked 001 because the marker had been inverted.

Even with the hindrance of different maps, inverted trail markers and muddy trails we hiked at well over one mph.  Yet after our first night on the trail a sobering realization came to me.  After a week of clear skies, a very light drizzle left us with a thin, brittle sheet of ice on our tent and on the ground.  What if instead we had been hit with a New England type ice storm?  We have hiked during snowstorms and over crusty, slippery snow, but never over a thick sheet of ice.  Under such conditions even one mph might be an unattainable pace.

Occasionally the RtR trail came onto a road.  During one such stretch we happened upon Mike Long, a forester out doing some yard work.  He invited us into his home where his wife Julia made us a lunch of soup and sandwiches.  While there Cindy sat on the floor and played with their three-year-old Amelia.  On occasion where we hiked Cindy would confess that she could not wait to have grandchildren.  Though Cindy’s brain health had been improving, I watched her play with Amelia with a bit of sadness from wondering what will be.

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The ADT Journey – Week 32

Posted on January 24, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

After our talk at the St. John UCC, Ky flew back home to be with family for almost a week while we continued on.  All our hosts through this St. Louis stretch lived far off the trail and Ky left her camper with parishioners of the St. Paul UCC in Oakville, a connection through her nephew who also went back East for a Byrne family reunion.  That left us with the puzzle of getting both ourselves and Ky’s van to rendezvous with her in Oakville on New Year’s Day.

We drove the van to our first hosts, Tom and Anna Sandidge, a Quaker connection that ultimately started with our stay at the Light Center.  Both Quakers, Tom came to that identity from a military background; Anna from the Assembly of God.  Anna taught social justice classes at St. Louis University (SLU), which of course meant I needed to interview her about humanitarian issues.

Anna informed me of two additional demographics in the food challenged category.  College graduates end up with so much debt that many need assistance with food. Surprising to me was that military families often fall in the food challenged category as well, with food pantries located near many military bases.  When you add these two demographics to the ones I discovered in Pueblo … baby boomers let go of work before retirement, grandparents and single fathers … you have the evidence for the middle class shrinking over recent decades.

Anna also provided enlightening details about two tent cities in the St. Louis area.  A tent city in the St. Louis area came into existence organically; homeless people found a place and a means to make the best of their living situation.  As a highly organized, rule-based society the tent city won over the support of officials, including police officers turned advocates for them.

The tent city became such a model of success that a well-intentioned activist for the homeless attempted to imitate their model with homeless people being “evicted” by bridge repair and construction.  Being formed top down by an outsider, rather than organically, could not emulate the order and docility of the original tent city, causing city officials to ban both of the tent cities, though they dragged their feet with dismantling the first one.  The top down approach deprived the new tent city residents of the ownership and responsibility shared by the residents of the first tent city.  When you think about it, my favorite quote from our journey, “confuse who is giving and who is receiving,” stems from this same principle.

Tom dropped us off in the western suburbs of St. Louis for our walk to the Gateway Arch, where Anna picked us up, took us out to dinner and brought us to their home again.  Our route to the Gateway Arch was the most scenic city walk of the journey.  We went by the campuses for both Washington University and SLU, as well as Forest Park, site of the 1904 St. Louis World Fair.  We stopped in briefly to see the free exhibits at the National History Museum at Forest Park.

Our destination came into view while still about a couple miles away, with glimpses of Gateway Arch darting in between and sometimes over tall buildings.   Adrenaline built up inside us as we drew nearer to the famous landmark.  While hiking through Kansas we passed the geographic halfway mark in Kinsley and the journey’s halfway point near Ottawa.  Neither gave us the feeling of transitioning from west to east like the towering man made arch, a feeling rivaled only by cresting the Front Range and first seeing the expansive plains ahead of us.  We now felt homeward bound!  This explains why the Gateway Arch became the most photographed object of our journey.

We “rinsed and repeated” our shuttle routine when we drove Ky’s van to the St. Paul UCC in Oakville the following morning.  Pastor Bruce met us there to drive us back to where we left off at the Gateway Arch.  He also picked us up at the end of the day, after we hiked through East St. Louis on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River.  Not since San Francisco and Oakland had we hiked through such a stark contrast in neighboring cities.

To my knowledge, East St. Louis has the worst reputation of any city along the ADT route, earned in part when an ADT thru-hiker called Lion King got mugged there.  However, we were walking through this area in the middle of the day during winter.  Despite entering an obviously depressed area once we entered Illinois, I had no apprehensions for our safety.

Even if I had apprehensions about East St. Louis they would have been dispelled quickly.  Soon after crossing Eads Bridge over the Mississippi River, we came upon Aintee’s Barbecue, located by the side of a convenience store, which consisted of a grill cut out of a 55 gallon drum, a pair of very long tongs and “Aintee ” herself.  “Aintee,” or Lisa, overcame a troubled background to put her heart and soul into her entrepreneurial barbecue business.  In the process she took care of a nephew and stepdaughter on her own.

While we chatted with “Aintee” the owner of the convenience store came out to give a disheveled man nearby a tool for picking up trash.  I soon learned of the synergy between these three people.  James was a homeless vet whose government check was not enough to keep him from sleeping underneath a bridge, but enough to be occasionally mugged.  Lisa outfitted her pick-up to both transport her barbecue and provide a safe haven for James.  The convenience store proprietor, impressed by Lisa’s entrepreneurial spirit and positivity, allowed her to run her barbecue business by the side of his store without cost.  In the land of diversity, Caucasion, African and Indian (subcontinent) Americans created a circle of support for each other.

As we headed south along the Mississippi River we transitioned from city streets to a state highway passing through an industrial area.  I took a photo of the factories, documenting our journey as always.  Within a minute a police car drove up to us and the officers got out to insist I delete the photo I just took.  When I queried why, the officers responded that the photo needed to be deleted for homeland security.  So as they looked over my shoulder and watched I deleted the photo I just took.  I did not delete any other photos that might have, um, also captured the factories along our route, many of which likely belonged to Monsanto..  Thankfully they did not confiscate my SD card.

Irony saturated this little photo incident.  The “natives” of East St. Louis and the neighboring area did not hassle us, just the police in Monsanto territory.  When I published “Systems out of Balance,” which contributed to my call for increased community involvement, I also faulted the way corporations disguise and/or distort information.  Monsanto was this country’s arch villain in this regard.  I had no idea which factories in my photos belong to Monsanto, since I am not a corporate spy.  Honest to God, I swear I am not.

Fortunately, we were not carrying guns.  I mentioned that the growing trend of carrying guns to protect oneself from hypothetical dangers reflects poorly on the increased apprehensions and even cowardice of the nation.  The ironic flip side is that carrying a gun in certain situations actually increases the hassles faced.  I guarantee we would have missed out on a few heartwarming stories like “Aintee’s Barbecue” along our way if we were packing, while the police likely would have done more than simply look over my shoulder as I deleted a photo.

From Oakville we drove the van north to the home of Debbie and Pat Syano in O’Fallon, Illinois, a significant distance away from our route, but worth the trip because Debbie also hiked the ADT west to east, though taking a couple of extended breaks.  Debbie used her journey to raise awareness and funds for building a library in Kenya, where she met her husband Pat.  She succeeded in raising $47,000 and the library was built.

On our first evening with Debbie she brought us over to her friends Bob and Susan Hoff, where we had dinner and watched Avatar.  I also learned about Susan’s initiative of providing a maternity home for women 18 years or older.  They provide both a safe haven in the present and educational tools for the future.

The next day of New Years Eve we were supposed to hike a stretch of the trail together, with Debbie and Pat dropping us off and meeting us later in the day.  That failed when I attempted to commit the map to memory but made a wrong turn that prevented us from meeting our host until near the end of the day.  Fortunately, we spent New Years Eve together, comparing photos of our ADT journeys past and present.  I enjoyed Pat’s reference to our forests as “jungles” and our deer as “gazelles.”  

We returned to Oakville on New Years day in time for a potluck luncheon at the St. Paul UCC.  We said our final goodbyes to Pastor Bruce and proceeded to spend the night with John and Carolyn Hicks.  John Hicks took charge of the Missions committee upon retirement and proved to be an innovative thinker and leader.  When an elderly woman lamented she could not go on a mission trip he suggested that making and freezing meals for the trip would make her as much a participant as anyone else.  The Hicks also stored Ky’s camper while she was gone and we united with her again that evening, though not for long.

We backpacked for the next two days.  We in fact spent our coldest night of the journey the next evening, when we guerilla camped in a forest depression near the Mississippi River.  One of my lingering apprehensions for Cindy was how she would deal with the cold of winter.  My research indicated the historical coldest temperature along our route, coinciding with the date when we would be at the same place was, ironically, near Santa Claus, Indiana.  That temperature was twenty-five below zero, but we spent no colder night than the low teens on January 3rd.  Cindy did just fine.

In fact, Cindy now could help me set up and take down the tent, something she could not do at the beginning.  The cold might have lent some urgency to her ability to learn, but this still represented encouraging progress for her.

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The ADT Journey – Week 31

Posted on January 16, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

The day after the potluck supper at the St. Paul UCC in Hermann, Jack and Pat Wendleton brought us back to where we left off on the Katy, treating us to breakfast at a trailside restaurant.  We hiked back to the McKittrick station, where the Wendletons invited us into their home for a delicious home cooked meal.  Pat had gone on some trail journeys, such as the Camino de Santiago Trail, with her husband Jack providing support.  No doubt our kindred interests played a role in their sustained kindness to us.

Pastor Jeanne Lischner of the Immanuel UCC in Holstein hosted  us next.  While we were there she took out maps to determine the UCC churches near our route in the upcoming states.  She also came out to hike with us when we left, bringing along her dog.

Pastor Jeanne shared the details of her church’s unique community meals program.  Though open to all, they provided luncheon meals specifically for a senior center, providing transportation to the meals and back.  They charged $3 for the meals, an affordable cost which still would be defeating for a soup kitchen, but not for a community meals program intended to increase social interaction for a demographic that is often neglected.

After Pastor Jeanne came the hosts with whom we would spend Christmas.  From our connection with Jeff Whitman, conference minister for the UCC in Missouri, we came in contact with Senior Pastor Paul Koch of the St. Peter UCC in Washington, MO.  He in turn connected us with his young associate pastor Leah Atkinson Bilinski.  Her and husband Jamie took us in for the two days that spanned Christmas Eve and Christmas.

Fortunate timing once again allowed us to participate in a community meals gathering called Harvest Table, held on Saturday evenings including Christmas Eve.  While at Harvest Table I interviewed the founder, Brigid Reid.  She led five other women through a long process of discernment to discover how they should act on their faith.  They decided on a community meals program but faced an obstacle; their own Catholic parish did not have the space.  That resulted in a partnership with the UCC and the use of their space.  In contrast to Grand Pass, where community meals rotated to different locations, different faith communities took turns hosting Harvest Table at St. Peter’s.

After the meal, Leah brought us to the church foyer where several Christmas trees stood, with stores of food piled like presents under them.  People and groups put up the trees as a competition, with parishioners putting food donations under the tree they like best.  This novel idea was one of the means by which they stocked their sizable food pantry.

We were asked to light the Advent Wreath candle at the Christmas Eve service, where I also sang in the choir.  One more time a choir director suggested I could stay there if I’d like.  I do not want to convey the impression that I have a voice like Josh Groban.  My coveted ability is being able to sight read choral music, a surprisingly rare trait among male choir members.  That allows me to become an anchor for choristers who do have voices like Josh Groban.

We gathered at the home of Elaine Menke and Kim Colter for Christmas dinner the next day.  The Colter family, including daughters Nora and Hannah, are involved in a locally organized program for mission work in Honduras. They hosted their extended family along with Leah, Jamie and three strangers from Connecticut for a bountiful meal and an atmosphere of holiday chatter and cheer.

After dinner, Leah and Jamie joined us to hike a four mile stretch along the Katy Trail as sunset approached.  That was followed by the opening of presents.  To our surprise, Ky collaborated with our previous host Jeanne to thoughtfully make neck warmers for Cindy and me.   We also spoke to our three kids over the phone at day’s end.

I was apprehensive about spending our first and only Christmas away from home, but I need not have been.  Both our hosts and the congregation as a whole took us in as one of their own.  We learned yet another novel community meals approach, as well as other innovative initiatives of kindness.  With all the trail angels we met on Fourth of July weekend, our gracious hosts on Labor Day and Halloween, Thanksgiving on the farm and now a Christmas of kindness and belonging, holidays were the highlights of our journey.

Our next stop provided me an opportunity to give back, in terms of sharing creative community building ideas.  We landed at a Comfort Suites, compliments of a parishioner at St. John UCC, where I gave a presentation that evening.  We first appeared to the clerk at the desk to be homeless people that the church was putting up in response to the wintry storm coming that night.  When I told her our real purpose her demeanor changed dramatically.  Most people probably know conceptually that people perceived to be homeless are treated differently; not many affluent people actually experience what that is like.

Pastor Ric Zuch became our host for the St. John UCC presentation, but was not the only pastor there.  Despite a wintry storm the day after Christmas the attendance included three other pastors who were “higher ups” within the UCC regional hierarchy.  As I faced these learned theologians scattered in the audience for my talk on kindness I felt similar to when I took the oral exams for my dissertation, also similar to when I presented to the country’s most vibrant Lions Club in Grand Junction, a feeling like I may be doing the talking but I am the student.

During the presentation one theologian brought up a penetrating question, pertinent not just for the presentation but for life in general.   Referencing the two great commandments and asked whether I thought loving God was the ticket for loving others, or whether loving others was the ticket for loving God.  I suspected the “right” answer for that audience was that loving God was needed for loving others but, well, I cannot tell a lie.

I bore witness from my various journeys that kindness to strangers and loving others were universal traits, not constrained by which God, if any, somebody worshipped.  To my relief, I apparently “passed my exam” with that answer, when the theologian responded with the passage in 1 John that asks how can we expect to love the intangible God if we are not able to love the tangible presence of others.  Make no mistake, my belief in humanity and our altruistic nature is fueled primarily by science, particularly the fields of ecology, ethnography and biochemistry, but now I added 1 John to my explanatory system as well.

Even more gratifying was the feedback from Pastor Ric that they would be making adjustments to their community meals offerings based on my testimony.  Though I included fine ideas gained recently from Kansas and Missouri, the most influential remained the approach in Leadville, Colorado to “confuse who is giving and who is receiving.”  After a Christmas of receiving kindness and inspiration, I felt like I now gave back.

I took a photo of Cindy sandwiched in between two of the theologians.  Looking back on that photo, I realize the significance of Cindy’s clearly enthusiastic smile among strangers.  Indeed, she was less intimidated by socializing with these esteemed attendees than I was speaking to them.  That was a sign of progress, a sign of health.

Certainly the overall weather did not generate Cindy’s light mood.  The Katy Trail brought us gloomy skies for the most part, accompanied by the shortest days of the year.  That also meant that every day for us would get longer now.  Considering our previous longest journey ended on December 21, the day this Christmas week began, every new day, week and month up until May would be one which never found us still on a long distance hike before.

Most importantly for Cindy’s smiles, we were steadily hiking again, no five day layover like in Kansas City, not even a complete rest day for Christmas.  We engaged in what fed our souls, and apparently Cindy’s brain health.  For even in gloomy weather we noticed the increasing height and grandeur of the limestone cliffs as we continued east along the Katy Trail, as well as the increasing width and grandeur of the Missouri River that occasionally popped into view.  We also noticed the little things like how gray skies had little effect on the chatty birds around us.  Cardinals in particular visually cut through the gray with their vibrant Christmas red.

Even more appropriate to the season were trailside vignettes of red berries and green leaves. The few days of clear mornings added sparkling landscapes, like the silvery tinsel on a Christmas tree.  Every day on the trail delivers a season of joy to those accustomed to look, or hear, or feel the natural good will around them.

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The ADT Journey – Week 30

Posted on January 10, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

The pastor of the UCC in Boonville, Julia Fiocco, and her husband Larry Jones hosted us at the start of this stretch.  While our presence midweek prevented us from attending a service, the Advent season found us participating in a candle lit ritual with our hosts.  While sitting in a circle, we shared our Wows (something good that happened), Pows (something bad) and Hows (how God affected our lives that day.  I do not recall the specifics of what we shared now, but I do recall a feeling of closeness resulting from the ritual.  Evidently Julia felt the same, at least with Cindy, as she commented before we left that she felt a warm glow in Cindy.

Julia’s affirmation of Cindy’s well-being came at an opportune time, as I had just received an email from our last hostess in Kansas City.  She surmised that Cindy had Alzheimer’s and chastised me for bringing her on this journey.  She even demanded that I should get an advocate for my wife, presumably to protect her from me.  Her chastisement shocked me.

I sent an email back with an indignant tone over the implication I was irresponsible with Cindy.  Since five doctors denied Cindy had Alzheimer’s before the journey, I echoed their denial and ironically claimed we would not be doing this if she had Alzheimer’s.  I instead countered we were addressing an anxiety disorder and the journey was working in that regard.

Julia’s counter claim that Cindy glowed also surprised me, but at least in a positive way.  Sure, Cindy showed progress, but any perceived “glow” was just Cindy being who she is, a warm and kind person, without even being fully recovered yet.  In any case, I dismissed the suggestion to get Cindy and advocate to care for her properly.

From Boonville we began our hike along the Katy Trail, a converted rail bed.  For much of the way we followed a level, gravel path that threaded between the Missouri River and neighboring limestone cliffs.  As we were now entering winter the leaves were off, providing scenic glimpses of the radiant cliffs, while blackbirds and cardinals fluttered around us.  In contrast, the Missouri River appeared gloomy, due in part to the often gloomy days that escorted us along the Katy Trail section.

As Ky slackpacked us along the Katy Trail we next stayed with John Hooker in Columbia, MO.  John is the son of my brother Ernie’s significant other, making him the first and only of our hosts during the journey with a family connection.  When not hiking we joined John and his girlfriend Staci in exploring the vibrant college town of Columbia.  

Staci has a hobby of carting her inherited red couch, known as the Divine Divan, to different places and taking pictures of people sitting on it.  John met Staci when she asked him to be a subject and he refused.  Now they both cart the divan around for photo ops, including one of us on the Katy Trail.

The Katy Trail passes near the Peace UCC in Hartsburg, which became our next base camp after John.  I gave a talk about kindness and community to the youth group and parents when we arrived.  Afterwards, Pastor Clairnel Nervik arranged for Ky to stay at the church while Cindy and I went home with Wendy Gustofson.  This turned out to be a great place to stay a week before Christmas, and not just because of the outdoor hot tub.

We first began experiencing Christmas along the American Discovery Trail in early November, with Christmas decorations along the streets of Great Bend, Kansas.  As we continued we witnessed more towns decorated for Christmas, along with attending the KristKindl Markt. Now in the Gustofson home we experienced the anticipation of Christmas by Wendy’s nine year old son, Daniel.  I particularly enjoyed looking on as Wendy helped Daniel read the letter he received from Santa.  This helped put us in the family mood for Christmas.

We learned two tales of kindness speaking to Pastor Clairnel.  One was how the congregation rallied around a homeless family transplanted from Michigan.  Within a week they had a home and the father a job.  If someone thinks this shows no excuses for homeless people they are missing the point; it took a whole congregation to help this family out of homelessness.  The Peace UCC and Hartsburg benefited from kindness as well, being located too near the Missouri River during a flood.  We heard similar rescue efforts occurred for Hartsburg flooding as with the Holly and Wellington tornadoes.

The Katy Trail greeted us with an uptick in coverage, with one article in print media and two radio spots.  Wendy contributed to this further by reaching out to a former work connection at CBS.  The day after the local CBS station interviewed us, we chanced to see the interview in an unexpected way.  

We left the Gustofson home full packing along the Katy Trail to the Turner Katy Trail Shelter in Tebbetts.  A woman bequeathed the shelter to Missouri’s Department of Conservation for the express purpose of being a low expense hostel for Katy Trail travelers.  The hostel was closed for the season but still accessible to two hikers crazy enough to be hiking during winter.  Our contact for an upcoming presentation at the St. Paul UCC in Hermann, Jack Wendleton, came out early to meet us and bring us to a local tavern for dinner.  We were just leaving the tavern when the proprietor rushed out to tell us we were on TV.

In looking back on that television interview now I could see how dedicated I came across to the message of kindness and community.  I could see why a person might get the impression that my dedication to the cause made me oblivious to what was going on with Cindy.  That was not true, but I understand any false impression.  Fortunately, the folks at the bar just offered us a drink instead.

The next day we arrived at the McKittricks stop for the rail trail, where we stayed at “Joey’s Bird House,” a quaint little cottage just recently set up for Katy Trail tourism.  The Katy Trail rail bed traversed private properties via right of way, and were embraced by locals in general because of the revenue brought in by the rail trail.  That was not always the case.  Local landowners were vociferously opposed to this “taking” before the value for generating revenue became evident.

Ky got to experience what that resentment must have been like.  As we hiked on roads in northeast Kansas, Ky explored a portion of rail bed that was destined to become a rail trail and part of the ADT.  An angry landowner chased her away.  I can only wonder if ten years later the folks from Kansas have softened to the idea as much as the folks from Missouri.

Our stay at the Bird House was comped to us, in consideration of the presentation I gave during a potluck supper at the St. Paul UCC in Hermann.  Jack once again met us and became our chauffeur to the presentation.  He also had a friend help out with a little camper repair for Ky. We were far from home, but the spirit of Christmas still found us.

Posted in American Discovery Trail, Brain Health Needs, Building Community, Lasting Love, Love Kindness | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on The ADT Journey – Week 30

Year 2021 Recap

Posted on January 3, 2022 by Humanity Hiker

Last June I started weekly reviews of what happened ten years ago, when Cindy and I walked across the country.  With Cindy going on her third year of hospice there was little new going on in the present, while the journey needed retelling with an open inclusion of what was going on with Cindy at the time.  Here is a recap of what has been happening in the present over the past seven months.

Little has changed with Cindy.  On the plus side her appetite, skin condition and oxygen levels continue to be excellent.  On the negative side she continues to experience minor seizures at about the same, almost monthly rate.

The two further declines since June have been increased incidences of wheezing and coughing fits.  Some type of stress causes the wheezing, while an excess of drool pooling in the wrong places causes the coughing fits.  The fits only last for about a minute or two, but that was enough to cause the hospice volunteer to stop visiting.  She was afraid Cindy might pass away during her watch, but that was four months ago now.

At the start of last year I resolved to find more coverage, in order to work on more projects, in order to preserve my brain health and maintain my role as a caregiver.  During the spring I took the steps for that to happen, during the summer it did happen, but during the fall “the best laid plans” fell apart.  I, in fact, had less coverage in the fall than I did a year ago.

Still, I have been able to move along with the symphony I composed about our walk across the country that I am currently retelling.  In the summer I gave a concert with my live guitar and sythesized music to the neighborhood from our porch; in the fall I gave one at the church; both as preparation for this coming May 24, tenth anniversary of when we finished that journey.  The church performance left some members of the audience in tears.

The Yale Summer School of Music will premier the symphony on the 24th, but this is before the music school officially opens.  I recently found a conductor for that performance; I now have to compile the live orchestra, hopefully by February.  When I know for certain whether I will be performing at Yale with a live orchestra or with synthesized music, and if covid allows the concert to be performed at all, I will announce the ticket sales.

For the coming year I anticipate Cindy’s condition to remain steady.  The mornings of holding her in my lap, the days of “dancing” with her and reliving our ADT journey, and the evenings of kissing her good night, should help continue her will to live throughout the year, despite being fully incapacitated and bedridden.  We experimented with driving Cindy to our daughter Charissa’s place last summer and we may do more of those types of field trips this coming summer.

I anticipate coverage will pick up for me again on a more permanent basis.  I have one person committed to Sundays and has been very reliable so far.  Promise for some evening coverage each week looms around the corner as well.  I hope to do what I planned for last year, expand the projects I am working on for the sake of my well-being.  I also hope, covid willing, to get out and socialize more, perhaps embark on some common hobbies with others, particularly hiking.

Our cats will be gone this coming year, going back to their original owner, our daughter Charissa.  She got them as kittens while we were walking across the country, now going on eleven years ago.  Charissa left them here as therapy for her Mom, but while Cindy has been in hospice care the living room has become our bedroom, with the cats kept outside a gate.  Since then the cats have been relatively deprived of the attention they crave (yes, these cats are like dogs); our granddaughter Lyla should remedy that problem once they arrive at their new home. (Photo below is over 5 years old).

That catches you up to the present here in the Icebox.  May your New Years be filled with hope as well.  Now back to our regular programming, the weekly reports on the ADT journey ten years ago.

Posted in American Discovery Symphony, Care Partner Vignettes, Lasting Love | Tagged , , | 2 Comments