Improving The World

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. - Anne Frank

When my kids were younger, I used to ask them how they made the world a better place. I wanted to instill in them a sense that they had not only a duty but also the ability to make this world a better place by their day to day actions. It was important to me that they understand that they had the power to make things better, to improve the day for at least one other human being. This ability to make the world a better place one person at a time is a power we all possess. It doesn't take much effort.....a kind word, a helping hand, listening to someone that needs an ear....but this tiny effort has the power to change lives for the better.

Unfortunately, it is a power we don't always put into use. Sometimes, when they came home, they would turn the tables and ask me how I made the world a better place. Usually, I had an example but not always. When I did not, they called me out and let me know I was not fulfilling my duty to my fellow man. I appreciated that they kept me on my toes and, to this day, I consider on a daily basis - on most days -  what I have done to improve the life of my fellow man. My answer to myself is not always what I want to hear and frequently I am saddened that I was focused inward and missed the opportunity to bring a measure of joy to another's life. I am definitely moving in the positive direction but not as quickly as I would like. More often than I like to admit to myself, my selfishness gets in the way of me being the person I desire to be.

What have you done to make the world a better place today? 

10 Hours in a Climate Controlled Box

A happy family is but an earlier heaven. - George Bernard Shaw

When you are on the road for an extended period, there is a lot of time to muse. During the 10 hour car drive home from Tennessee, the outside temp dropped from 73 degrees to an Autumnal 55 reminding me that I lived in a Northern climate and that snow would soon be blanketing those of us living in Chicago. Hopefully, there will not be as much snow as we had last year. Unfortunately, the prognosticators are calling for a whiter winter than 2011.

Some find the change of seasons joyful with each change demarking the important stages of the year - Spring flowers and budding trees, Summer beaches and barbecues, Fall crispness and colors, Winter snow and holidays, changing again to the awakening that is Spring. I am not one of them. I would be most happy if every day was in the 70s and sunny. For me, winter with the short days, with darkness when I arrive at the office and when I leave for home, the bitter cold, and the snow is a dreaded season to endure, a season of the year that is endured rather than enjoyed, a season that if for me rather depressing.

I would love to move to a warmer climate but the move would bring about a change even more depressing than the arctic like days of January and February. That change would take me far from those I cherish most in my life for they (we) all have deep roots in the Chicago area that, if severed, would result in much sadness on many branches of our growing family tree (one of my cousins had his 10th child, still unnamed, on the day of this writing). For my entire immediate family (Mom, Siblings, Children, Grandkids, Nieces, Nephews) and most of my extended family (Uncles, Aunts, Cousins, Cousins kids) live in the greater Chicagoland area and we are a very close knit bunch.

The entire clan gets together at least twice a year. We gather on 4th July at my Mom's as we have for 30ish years and at the Feast of the Epiphany in January a relatively new event to replace those long ago Christmas Eve's at Grandmas. The January has been dubbed the Cousin's Christmas and is a time we use to celebrate our living family members and to honor those who have already passed. We reminisce about our youth, talk of events over the last year, and share dreams of the future. We are a raucous bunch that is quick to share in a hearty laugh or to share in tears from heart wrenching loss. We have no black sheep only cherished family members where all are as close as brothers and sisters.


They say home is where the heart is. Well my heart is definitely with all my loved ones in Chicago so this is where my home will be for as long as blood flows through my heart.

Tennessee Road Trip Part Anim (6) - The End?

You got to be careful if you don't know where you're going, because you might not get there. - Yogi Berra

I have now completed the long road trip home (10 hours and 600 miles) from Tennessee. All in all, the car added about 1600 miles to the speedometer in 5 days. It was an enchanting escapade to the South that gave me time to both relax and engage in vigorous activities which also enhanced the feeling of being relaxed. I will go back to work tomorrow with renewed vigor. The only thing I would do different regarding the trip would be to rent a motorcycle for at least one day.

I saw hundreds of motorcyclists on this trip riding cruisers, sport bikes, touring bikes, and dual purpose bikes. Though the bikes were of many different variety and design and color scheme, all the riders had one thing in common, they all wore smiles that stretched as long as the roads themselves. The Smokey's and Blue Ridge Parkway are a motorcyclists heaven with twisty, turny roads where multiple, consecutive bends are as common place as the unparalleled scenery at the apex of every curve. Watching the riders flying on the snaky roads invoked in me a visceral desire to dump my car and join my flock of like-minded brethren and soar on the mountain roads from the green depths of the canyons to the crystal blue skies.

Riding two wheels is an aspect of my life that, in part, defines who I am. I love the freedom of being on two wheels, the wind blowing in my face, the smells constantly changing, the temperature changes with elevation or sun and shadow, the skill required to navigate roads where straight seems to be a glitch between turns, and, I must admit, I enjoy the feelings that are invoked by the inherent risk of riding on two wheels in a four wheeled world. It's much the same feeling as one gets walking in Grizzly Bear country. The senses become more attuned, the reflexes tight like a spring when there is the very real possibility of danger (death?) lurking around every corner. 

I can't help feeling that I have some unfinished business with the Smoky Mountains. Perhaps I will return next year on my motorcycle. What I thought was the end of my trip appears to be just the beginning of a journey.

Tennessee Road Trip Part Lima (5)

It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony. ~ Benjamin Britten

Music is love in search of a word. ~ Sidney Lanier

River Crossing

Mountain Leaves

I was going to write today about a hike in the woods and the large animal that crashed through the trees and caught my ear but evaded my sight. Based on the ruttings in the soft earth, I believe it was a wild pig but I cannot say that with any certainty. Or I was going to write about the myriad glorious colors that seemed to pop out of the earth whenever I took my eye of the road and glanced at the mountains. Or I was going to write about the otter that came bounding down the river and passed just a few feet beneath the rickety bridge on which I was standing. Was it in search of prey or just prancing about enjoying the gorgeous sunny day. Or I was going to write about the twisty 80 mile ride along the Blue Ridge Parkway with many tunnels and many more steep dropoffs where every bend in the road had an overlook of the stunning mountain scenery. Or about the log I traversed which hung suspended over a river that had more rocks to divert the water than open space for the water to flow causing the water to boil and tumble and rumble. Or about the lady that pushed a stroller down the main streets of Gatlinburg which contained not a child but 3 small dogs. Or about the man that carried his tiny dog in a pouch on the front of his chest like a papoose worn in front instead of on the back. Or how I viewed every trail I walked the past three days in terms of its suitability for a mountain bike of how I looked for lines I could ride for maximum speed and efficiency of how I tried to determine the best techniques for navigating the rock obstacles. I could write of these and many other thoughts that flitted across my consciousness but all would pale when compared to the serendipitous event that touched my soul for nearly two hours.

On a whim, I stopped at the Oconaluftee Visitor Center on my way out of the Smoky Mountain National Park. I really don't know why I stopped. I had already been to two of the other visitor centers and did not need any souvenirs other than the one I had already purchased for my grandson. I poked around the store, viewed the exhibits and was ready to leave when I noticed a gathering out on the side porch. I poked my head out the door and heard music.

This was not just any music, this was mountain music, blue grass music, hillbilly music, original music of these United States born of the people that were one with the land. Music of a people that for a couple hundred years had graced these mountains before they were forced off the land that was to become the National Park. There were a bunch of musicians seated in a circle, sort of, playing guitars, fiddles, a banjo, a bass, mandolins and some harp like instrument I had never before seen. The woman coordinating the activity went musician by musician calling upon them to play a tune of their choosing. Once the person started, the rest of the group joined in for a jamming jam session. Frequently, the person initiating the song would also sing. One blonde women with a wonderful voice crafted beautiful vocals.

Mountain Music Jam

The musicians were some regulars and others who had heard of the event and joined in. Most were in their 50s/60s but two were kids, possibly in their teens. How wonderful that these kids had a chance to jam with their elders and continue a legacy that began in the 1700s. An older gentleman wearing a hat indicating he was a veteran of WWII and Korea arrived shortly after the group had started. He had a very long left pinkie finger nail which he did not appear to use for his playing. I think he was probably the oldest musician in attendance yet he bounded in like a kid with an enthusiasm that was rooted in the music and evident for all to see. He carried both a fiddle and a mandolin. On this occasion, he played only the mandolin.

I was entranced at the event so much so that I was running behind my own self imposed schedule. The pull of the music was such that I could not force myself to leave the intimate gathering. I was listening to music that sprung from these mountains over the course of some 200 years, music that was formed by the people that eked a living out of the mountain soil. This was music that defined the heart and soul of a people. It was at its core, the essence of a very hearty people. 

Though I knew just two of the songs, an Irish melody I had heard in a movie and a spiritual, each drew me in completely and I found my toes and hands tapping to the rhythms as though their very essence ran through my blood, was a component of my genetic makeup, a strand in the DNA that defines who I am.

I soaked in this music and felt it touch my soul. I could not have imagined a more perfect way to end my stay at Smoky Mountain National Park.

Tennessee Road Trip Part Apat (4)

The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls. ~ John Muir

Moon from Newfound Gap

I did something today that I have not done in many years, probably not since my late 20s . I left my hotel early in search of a sunrise. When camping in the Western US in my late 20s, this was a morning ritual - wake before the birds, crawl out of my sleeping bag, emerge from the tent into the brisk morning air, jump in the car, and search for a vantage point to view the rising sun and, hopefully, capture it's essence on film. A sunrise can only be captured in essence. Its grandeur cannot be confined to film or, these days, digital media.

I was rushing Clingman's Dome, the highest point in the Smokys, today for what I thought was an optimal vantage point and was about 15 minutes behind schedule. Those 15 minutes may seem short but they are the difference in seeing the sun peak above the horizon and missing the orange glow that signals the sun is awakening. At Newfound Gap, 20 miles from my destination, there were a host of people with cameras watching the horizon waiting for the sunrise. I hurriedly pulled over and joined them.

Sunrise from Newfound Gap

My current camera is a point and shoot with limited functionality compared to the SLR film cameras I used to use. Its inability to effectively frame and set exposure settings is frustrating. I decided at that moment that my next Christmas gift to myself will be a modern digital SLR. For now, I would have to make do with the camera in my hand.

The sun rose in splendor. The clouds on the horizon both bounded and reflected the orange glow. I snapped pic after pic in the hopes that one, just one, would do justice to the beauty before my eyes. I underexposed, overexposed, framed tight, framed wide, changed vantage points and, in total, shot about 30 photos of the rising sun. Many of them were pleasing to the eye and many of them were a disappointment but that's the nature of photography. I was also able to capture one photo of the moon. The moon in the 'smoke' of the mountains took on an eerie feel.

After the sun rose, I jumped back into the car and went the rest of the way to Clingman's Dome. The smoke was so thick there that visibility was minimal. Had I made it there for sunrise, I would have seen nothing. And I would have froze because the temperature and the fierce wind at the elevation were brutal.

Appalachian trail head at Newfound Gap

Other events today, included seeing a significant amount of red berry infested bear scat, two bear cubs high in a tree feasting on red berries, a snake which elicited a scream and a scramble up a slope, relaxing beside a couple of rock strewn streams where the rushing water created natural music, and a nice hike along 1.7 miles of the Appalachian trail which provided stunning views of the mountain range. I have long had a dream of hiking the entire 2,181 miles of the trail but don't think I will ever turn that dream into reality.

The event that made the biggest impression on me today was being there when the sun, clothed in red splendor made its daily appearance.

Tennessee Road Trip Part Tatlo (3)

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. - Edward Abbey

Entered the park before sun up today in the rain and drove to Cades Cove. Thankfully, there were few people on the road so the 24 miles to Cades went fairly quickly.  The ride in the Cades grew gradually more busy as people drove in. Many never left their cars just looked at the scenery from the safety of their mechanical boxes. I felt especially sorry for those people because you simply can't encounter the outdoors from indoors. The traffic was very heavy on the way out. Almost all the people driving painfully slow could not find the courtesy to go in to the pullouts to let other cars pass. I guess they couldn't read the signs posted in the park to do such a thing.

During the drive in, the first light peeked in and slowly gave form to the trees, animals, mountains, and the to the low hanging clouds that looked like smoke which gives this lovely National Park it's name - The Great Smoky Mountains. As the light grew in intensity the shades of grey gradually took on muted color then burst into abundant color, myriads of colors from deep reds to shocking yellows. The mist in the air ensured the colors were rich and saturated and pleasing to the eyes.




This land which hosts the greatest numbers of tree species of anywhere in the US or Europe also has the greatest variety of autumn color I have ever seen in one location. I was awestruck at the beauty that never seemed to end.

This is not a land of just color and mountains. It is also a land rich in history. A number of old structures are still on hand in the National Park. Homes built by hand in the 1800s still stand as a monument to those that created a living space in the wilderness.

Churches also built by hand were in the Cove. I went into each one, stood behind the pulpit, sat in the pews. I wondered, how many people were touched by the Hand of God in these little churches.

With each of the three churches, there was also an associated cemetery. I looked at the grave stones reading many of the inscriptions. I was shocked at the number of stones dedicated to children many of whom where born and died on the same day. It gave me a shock reminder at the difficulty of living in the 'olden' days. I was saddened by the deaths of those I never met who never had their chance to make a mark in this world. And I was very glad for modern medicine which has ensured my children survived past the day or weeks of their births.

Perhaps the highlight of the day was a 5 mile round trip walk to Abrams falls. The weather was overcast and a bit drizzly. Perfect for hiking. The hike included four significant climbs in each direction. During the 3 hours, the weather was schizophrenic changing from drizzle to bright sunshine and back again a good half dozen times. I quit taking the rain coat off and on and decided to leave it in my backpack. For most of the hike, the river was a companion. The singing river, the trickling river, the surging river, the whispering river.

As the falls loomed close, the river began to talk in loud notes, guttural tones demanding the attention of the ears. Bird song was no longer evident just the roar of the falls. The air around the river smelled fresh and clean. The power of the falls was intense. How much more power did these falls evoke in Spring snow melt. It must be at least double the surging water that was here today. Oh how I would love to see the water crashing over the rocks with double the intensity. Would the noise be so loud that I could not hear myself think? Would the pool be too deep to approach the thunderous churning of the water?


On the way out, I took time to contemplate the grandeur of these mountains. To let the sights and sounds wash over me unfettered and sweep my mind away to careen down the river, bounce over the rocks, swirl in the eddies, caress the legs of the wading birds and filter through the gills of the trout eventually to be sucked up into the clouds and deposited like rain back to my consciousness. Oh what an adventure it must be to live to the rhythms of nature free of the fetters that bind our bodies to our jobs and our minds to making a living.

For now, I do have responsibilities that require me to make a living but someday I will be free of these duties, free to let my wanderlust  take over for travel and time to contemplate wild places for weeks on end instead of a mere days here and there. Until that day comes, I will do all in my power to carve out these brief sojourns, to commune with nature and create memories that will sustain my soul.

Tennessee Road Trip Part Dalawa (2)

Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road. - Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Drove from before sun up until after sun down today. Thirteen hours on the road....the worst of it, the only real bad part, was at the very end in Pigeon Forge, an awful tourist town reminding me of the Dells only much bigger. The stop lights were timed such that you were stuck at everyone and forced to view the "attractions", awful creations for as far as the eye could see. But that is the end...let's start at the beginning.

We started out at 6 am from Chicago. It felt great to be on the road again after so many years. Open air, open skies, watching the miles roll by and the landscape change. Fall colors were evident but not in peak mode. Outside of Lafayette, IN, a windmill farm with windmills turned as far as the eye could see. They each had three massive slow moving blades that, together, looked like Mercedes Benz emblems minus the ring. I expected to see Don Quixote facing down the winged beasts.

Passing into Ohio, the first road sign of note said "loud music is $100 fine". I think that is an idiotic use of tax dollars. So what if cars have loud music. They are moving so you only have to heard the thumping bass for a few seconds. Why must governments continually post laws against victim less activities? Let the fools face the natural consequences of their folly and blow out their ear drums

Somewhere, the landscape changed from flatlands, to rolling hills, to mountains. The mountains are beautiful, especially to us flatlanders, who must suffer the boring landscape of the Midwest. It was good being back in the mountains after so many years away. I longed to jump out of the car and hike amongst the trees to the many peaks. Satisfying that desire must wait one more day.

The saddest part of the scenery had to be the people. The average weight per person seemed to grow the father south we went. We ate in London KY and everyone working in the restaurant would likely be in the obese category. Outside of London was Manchester. Looked for both Arsene Wegner and Sir Alex (or their look alikes) but neither was in their namesake towns. Not sure the people in these little towns would have any idea who these icons of English soccer are. Then, I am sure I would not recognize many of the names of their basketball icons either.

The ride seemed to fly. It was made better by listening to audio books. We both enjoyed most of the series "The Greatest Minds & Ideas of All Time" which discussed the greatest thinkers, poets, and dates. The author had a poetic way which intrigued us both because we share a common love of words.

After about 340 miles, I gave up the driving duties. I wanted to view some of the sights. Was I being unfair? Possibly, because her time as passenger and free viewing was in the flatlands while mine was in the mountains. (I have been told it will be reversed on the way home.)

The hotel is near the end South end of the Pigeon Forge strip. A five mile roadway which is an affront to the sensibilities of man. The juxtaposition of this place with the majestic mountains reminds me of the oddest sight we saw on the drive. In Kentucky, we saw a giant cross perhaps 3 stories high on property adjacent to a XXX adult shop. The road was setup such that anyone driving up to the adult shop had the cross of God standing tall and peering judgement down upon them.

The restaurants within walking distance of the hotel are a collection of the most unhealthy, fat loaded, fast food restaurants imaginable. It's no wonder the people of this country are some of the most overweight in the world. Tomorrow, it's into the Smoky's. The hotel clerk says the colors are peaking. I need the hike to work off the Kentucky Fried Chicken I stuffed down for dinner.