America, Roadside Attractions & 4,735 Miles (Part One)

“And he would take a roadside attraction, no matter how cheap, how crossed, or how sad, over a shopping mall, any day.”
–Neil Gaiman, American Gods

What do a naked bookseller, a pair of shoes made of human flesh and a giant meteor crater have in common? No idea? Well, they were all part of my recent cross-country road trip with my friend and regular road buddy Tim. We have been talking for years about making such a trip, but work and life always seemed to get in the way of a long trip like that. But, with each of us losing a parent within six weeks of each other, we knew that hitting the road was the best way to take care of ourselves amid the wave of grief and emotion that follows such loss.

Our trip was planned around a second memorial service for Tim’s mom in her hometown of Bushnell, Illinois, and it had only been a few weeks since my dad died when we set off on the road. The two months leading up to the road trip had been filled with picking up the pieces after the loss of both our parents and all the crazy emotions that go with that. We both knew that simply going back to our normal lives right after we had been through all that was not an option. I could write pages and pages about the emotion of losing a parent for the second time and finding myself suddenly an adult orphan, but this isn’t that kind of story. The first time I dealt with this kind of loss, I was not so good at taking care of myself. This time I want to make things different. And that is what inspired me to get on the road.

Tim had made the drive to Bushnell many times with his mom, but I had never driven through the states on our route. Armed with my trusty Honda Civic filled with luggage and snacks, the Roadside America app and a sense of adventure, we hit the road on Monday, July 4. Road trips seem like such a strong part of American culture, especially for someone who grew up in the LA area where our entire existence is designed around freeways, traffic and the almighty car. Thus, it seemed fitting to set off on Independence Day.

In a time where a family can make a whole trip out of just visiting the Disneyland resort, and attractions are often fine-tuned operations that run with high levels of precision in order to maximize the guest experience, it is easy to miss the humble roadside attractions–many of which are relics of days gone by when they littered the highways of America to provide entertainment to weary travelers making their way across the country by car. I have always been fascinated by these old museums, oversized statues and roadside oddities. These are the places that really tell the story of this country, and they are often run by some of the most fascinating and dedicated people I have ever met on my travels. I think Neil Gaiman is onto something in American Gods, when he points out that roadside attractions are some of the most sacred spots in the U.S.

I have often felt the pull of a sign that notes a historical site or a billboard announcing some strange artifact. It is in these places that we find the stories that weave together into defining American culture. We are more than flashy, high tech attractions–such places may be entertaining, but they really do not even break the surface of our histories. Americans often lament that we have no unique culture, but I disagree with this. Our culture and our history can be found if you look in the right places. Our real stories are found in the dusty roadside oddities and the people who care for them. And if this trip was truly going to be a reset for us after the difficult couple months we had just experienced, it was going to have to involve some interesting stops along the way.

Our first overnight was in Flagstaff, Arizona with a stop for dinner with Tim’s awesome Uncle Mel and Aunt Marcia just outside of Phoenix. On our way there, I decided to test out the Roadside America app, which immediately proved that it was worth every penny I spent on it. As we drove along the 10 East, I tried out the “Near Me” feature on the app and saw a listing for “Naked Bookstore Owner.” I turned to Tim and said, “Oh, we have to go here.” Then I proceeded to give him directions to Reader’s Oasis in Quartzsite, Arizona, a dusty used bookstore just off the 10 in the middle of the desert. The store lacks air conditioning, but there are fans and the owner is generous with offers of ice water while you browse.  There are shelves stacked high with books that wind all over in a strange desert labyrinth that any reader would celebrate getting lost in. A trailer sticks out of the front of the store, which provides even more space for books.

Reader’s Oasis  is run by Paul Winer, also known as Sweetie Pie. Paul is a bit of a legend, and he has been running the bookstore in Quartzite for more than 20 years. A quick Google search will turn up a number of pictures and stories about this unusual man who freely welcomes visitors to take his picture. My first introduction to Paul was walking around a shelf filled with old volumes covered in plastic to keep the desert dust from filling the pages. There was Paul’s very tanned, bare butt as he bent over a stack of books he was stocking on a shelf that he later told us had tragically collapsed that morning. I have been in a lot of bookstores, and I have to see that this was the first time I had encountered such a view.

Once you get over the fact that Paul is wearing no more than a hat, flip flops and a strategically placed pouch, he’s really a nice and interesting guy. He is an accomplished blues musician and has a piano in his store. We had a nice talk with him about the purpose of our trip and a touching conversation about the difficulties of losing a parent and grief in general. Paul is a one-of-a-kind bookseller, and I highly recommend taking the time to visit him out in Quartzsite if your travels take you that way.

Paul welcomes pictures, so make sure to bring the camera.

An oasis filled with books?! Yes, please!

Of course I bought books! It’s a bookstore, isn’t it?

Our drive on the first day also took us by the Hobo Joe statue, which was a bit off the highway but worth a stop for a quick picture in the 100+ degree heat. We followed the directions to the address for Hobo Joe and were about to turn back because we ended up turning down a lonely, desolate road in an industrial area, but suddenly he popped up as we made our way down the street. Hobo Joe is 25-feet tall and stands in front of a slaughterhouse. He was meant to stand in front of a Hobo Joe Coffee Shop, but the chain closed, and a friend of the deceased owner gave Hobo Joe a home in this spot in 1989. If you have the hobo spirit in you, throw a bindle over your shoulder and take a detour to meet Hobo Joe.

The next day, we drove on to visit friends in Antonito, Colorado, a drive that included a stop at the Bicentennial Moon Tree in Flagstaff, Arizona–a tree that was supposedly grown from seeds that had been to the moon. The story goes that someone pulled out the original tree out of the ground three days after it was planted in April 1976. The faded, old sign for the tree is still there as well as the replacement tree (from non-moon seeds), and it sits on the edge of a beautiful pond. Go visit to remember the moon tree that once was, and let your imagination take over and pretend that the stunted tree that grows there now came from seeds that had journeyed to the moon.

On the drive to Antonito, we also visited the Meteor Crater outside of Winslow, Arizona. The crater was formed approximately 50,000 years ago and is nearly one mile across, 2.4 miles in circumference and over 550 feet deep. There is a museum that contains exhibits on the space program and meteors. The crater was used as a training ground for astronauts preparing to travel to the moon, so it has a strong link to the history of American space travel. As the daughter of two people who met while working as computer programmers at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, this place was a real treat.

The Meteor Crater–astronauts trained down there

Me experiencing the impact!

Rocks at the meteor crater that look out of this world

When I was in the passenger seat, I had started going through the app and looking at attractions on our route. I kept saving the ones I wanted to see, and it became a game to mark things as “Been There.” As the rest of the country was getting hooked on Pokemon Go, I was creating my own little Roadside Attractions scavenger hunt.

I have travelled in the U.S., but aside from numerous west coast road trips, all my travels in the U.S. involved air travel. Seeing the U.S. form the car with the option of  stopping to see fun and quirky pieces of Americana really gave me a version of the country that hopping around by plane doesn’t provide.

Our friends Earl and Louise in Antonito drove us around the town, which had a population of 781 as of the 2010 census. The town boasts several interesting landmarks, including the house that was used as Indiana Jones’s childhood home in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade as well as a junk castle built by a man named Cano. Cano calls it Jesus’s Castle, and he claims that Jesus has been living there since 1987. We just drove by, and this is a private residence, so I didn’t take pictures. You can follow the link above to read more about Cano’s story and to see pictures from when the Roadside America people visited the castle and talked to Cano himself.

Our view in Antonito

Met these two friendly horses during our Colorado visit

We had a relaxing couple days with our friends in Antonito before hitting the road again–a drive that took us through Southern Colorado and across Kansas before settling in Junction City for the night. A number of people had told me that parts of the drive would be long and flat. As a California girl who grew up in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, the flat, open spaces that stretched for miles and miles were a bit jarring. It finally dawned on me that when you grow up in a place with varied geography and plenty of mountain ranges in the distance, there is always some sense that there is more and that there are all kinds of things over the mountains. With the flatness of the Midwest, especially when out in rural areas, the fields just seem to stretch out forever as though that is all the world is made up of.

Somewhere on the road between Antonito, CO & Junction City, KS

Now, I don’t want you to think I don’t like the Midwest because of this. There are actually quite a few things to like about the middle of America, which I will elaborate on in my next post. I just need to admit that I am spoiled by living in California when it comes to the view. I don’t think our geography can be beat, and it sets the bar quite high.

Our drive from Junction City to Bushnell, Illinois included a stop at the General John J. Pershing Boyhood Home in Laclede, Missouri. Tim’s last name is Pershing, and the General is a distant relation of his, so I knew we had to make a stop.  The site includes the home, a schoolhouse and museum. Perhaps the most interesting bit of history for me was General Pershing’s connection to the Patton family. My great-grandmother Ellen Dyer Stephens was the cook for the parents of General George Patton for years in San Marino, California. Even after she stopped working for the family, she maintained a good relationship with them, and they helped pay for a private room and nurse for my grandma when she broke her hip tobogganing at age 19.  I even found General Patton’s sister’s name in the guest book for my grandma’s bridal shower. At the museum, I learned that General Pershing had a brief relationship with General Patton’s sister Nita. It’s just a reminder that even when traveling thousands of miles, you find that the world is indeed a small place.

What’s that lurking behind that tree? Is it a Pershing?

There are two Pershings in this picture. Can you find both?

The Pershing/Patton Conneciton

So, I am going to leave off here for this post and pick up this story in my next post. If you want to know what is happening in the pictures below, be sure to visit my blog later this month. And, of course, you will hear the story of the shoes made of human skin in Wyoming. You may even be treated to tales of ham salad. Don’t miss out!

GI Body Shop

As if his stare wasn’t creepy enough, this poor fellow has no body.

Little America

For anyone planning a road trip, I highly recommend the Roadside America app. I am not being paid to endorse their app or website; I am just a huge fun. I opted for the full version (includes attractions in the U.S. and Canada) at $8.98–less than what you would pay for most travel books. You can get just one region for $2.99 if you don’t want the full version, but I would recommend getting all of it to inspire future travels. 

Pictures at Reader’s Oasis, me at the Meteor Crater and the horses in Antonito were taken by Tim Pershing. All other photos are by me.

Bookstore Adventures in Reno, NV

When you think of Reno, Nevada, images of casinos and the iconic “The Biggest Little City in the World” sign probably spring to mind. In fact, you may be wondering, “Reno? Isn’t that by Las Vegas?” Actually, it’s not, and my friends from Nevada get annoyed by this question almost as much as hearing the name of their state pronounced Nev-ah-da. Regardless of how you view the biggest little city, charming bookstores probably are not the first things you think of when you hear Reno. But you would be surprised. On a recent visit to Reno, I had the chance to spend an afternoon visiting two wonderful bookstores.

My afternoon started with a stop at Sundance Books & Music, which is located in the Levy Mansion on the corner of Sierra Street and California Avenue. Yes, you read that correctly: it’s in a mansion. This means that all the different sections are stashed away in their own rooms. The place is full of cozy nooks and crannies and comfortable chairs waiting for a reader to curl up with the perfect book. Sundance offers a wide variety of books, and the store is so lovingly put together that the books and items available for sale appear to be carefully curated. Walking up the stairs brings you up close to a dragon, and bookish quotes take up space on the walls. To top it all off, the staff is friendly. This is a place I will make sure to visit every time I find myself in Reno.

If you have time, stop by the Nevada Museum of Art, which is around the corner from Sundance. On a past trip I saw their exhibit of some of Frida Kahlo’s photographs. If you visit, be sure to make it to the top floor for an amazing view of the city.

My next stop was Grassroots Books, which is an excellent place for used books. My Reno friends tell me that Grassroots has an ever-changing stock of books, so it is a good place to visit regularly to stock up on some inexpensive used finds. There are a lot of shelves to browse, and while I was there, I could see that they were doing a steady trade in both buying and selling used books. Grassroots is a good place to give your old books a new home if you are cleaning your own bookshelves. Just as with Sundance, the staff at Grassroots is friendly. This is another place that I will be adding to my regular rotation on my visits to Reno.

If you happen to be in the Reno area this week, there is still time to check out the Friends of Washoe County Libraries book sale, which is happening through May 22 at the Reno Town Mall. The sale is from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily, and it concludes with Sunday, May 22 giving shoppers the chance to pay $5 for a bag of books.

Happy reading!

Celebrating Fictional Female Friendships

If you took your cues from the Real Housewives franchise or other such shows, it would appear that female friendships are full of constant bickering, going behind each other’s backs and betrayal. Whenever I see relationships between women represented this way, I cringe. I think of my own female friendships and just how far they are from this version of so-called friendship we see on TV. I know reality shows and other programs that play up the antagonism in relationships are doing so to build drama, but such representations of friendships between women unfortunately reinforce the stereotype that women are catty, petty and will stop at nothing to tear another person down.

I have some amazing female friends. We have been through ups and downs together, and even when we disagree about something or get into an argument, it is never petty and vindictive and usually ends with a quick resolution that involves profuse apologies. These are relationships full of laughing together, crying together and being unconditionally supportive. So, rather than spending any more time on the negative representations of female friendships, let’s take some time to celebrate some of my favorite fictional female friendships.

Leslie Knope & Ann Perkins

I love Parks & Recreation so much that I even wrote about HR lessons that could be learned from the show. The show is peppered with excellent examples of powerful friendship, but at the heart of it all is the friendship between Leslie and Ann. What I like is how easily these two accept each other’s flaws and are there through whatever life throws at each of them. There is no jealousy or bitterness. Leslie is such a fan of her awesome friends that she throws Galentine’s Day every year on February 13 to celebrate female friendship.

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“Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It’s splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.”
–L.M. Montgomery

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Anne Shirley & Diana Barry

I can’t avoid mentioning “bosom friends” Anne and Diana from the Anne of Green Gables series. These two form a friendship right away and their loyalty toward each other has brought joy to readers for years. What I like about this friendship is that it was formed so easily. Some of my closest friendships started in this effortless way where we became friends because life brought us together.

Celie, Shug Avery & Sisterhood in The Color Purple

Sisterhood is a powerful theme in Alice Walker’s novel. Celie is at the center of this story, but the novel has other strong female characters in Shug, Nettie and Sofia. And each gains awareness of her own situation through their relationships with other women. These women experience difficult struggles through the course of the story, but their friendships endure. The book even ends with a touching reunion that further emphasizes how sisterhood can endure.

Idgie Threadgoode & Ruth Jamison

We meet Idgie and Ruth in Fannie Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, which was eventually made into a movie. The two are very different but form a tight friendship that spans the book. Flagg’s novel also shows us the development of the friendship between Evelyn Couch and Ninny Threadgoode.

The Mothers of The Joy Luck Club

I recently read Amy Tan’s book, so this one is fresh in my mind. The novel goes back and forth between the lives of four mothers and four daughters. The mothers are Suyuan Woo, An-Mei Hsu, Lindo Jobg and Ying-Ying St. Clair. At the center of the story is Jing-Mei “June” Woo, whose mother recently died. The other mothers tell her the story of the twin baby girls her mother left behind long ago in China, and they help June to get to China to meet her older half sisters. Through this action, you see the deep bond these four women formed.

The Women of Gilmore Girls

Like Parks & Rec, Gilmore Girls gives us some dynamic female friendships on TV. Really, we can easily say that the relationship between mother and daughter is the heart of the show, but each of these women has strong female friendships as well. Whether it’s Rory’s friends Lane and Paris or Lorelei’s friendship with Sookie (just to name a few), the women of Star’s Hollow would be more than ready for a crossover that involves Leslie Knope arriving to throw a big Galentine’s celebration in Stars Hollow.

Of course there are many more female friendships. These are just a few. Be sure to share your favorites in the comments.

Readathon Wrap Up

So the Readathon officially ended today at 5 a.m. here in California. I’d like to say I met that early hour with cheers and dancing, but I missed out on that part of the festivities. I decided to rest my eyes at about 1 a.m. and did not emerge from a book-induced coma until about 8:45 a.m. A day full of reading can do that to a person, but I am sure some literary characters snuck into my dreams, so I was not completely detached from reading.

To me, this event is not about how many pages were read or how many books were finished. It’s about celebrating reading. As the event organizer’s describe it, the Readathon is, “a ‘choose your own’ type of adventure.” In the days leading up to the event and throughout the course of the Readathon, readers posted pictures of the books they were reading, their snacks, cozy reading spots and furry friends snoozing alongside their reading humans.

I’m no stranger to forgoing my to-do list for a day spent immersed in books, so the Readathon seemed like a good fit. I knew that part would be fun, but I did not anticipate how exciting the online community created around the event would be. All throughout the 24 hours of the Readathon, other readers were posting pictures on social media, and each hour brought a different blog hosting mini challenges that offered a chance to win book-related prizes. I kept to Facebook and Twitter for my updates, but there was also activity over on GoodReads and Instagram. It was a supportive and fun community of people who connected over their love of books and reading, and I had a number of interesting exchanges with other readers. As I said in my last post, it was a reminder that there are corners of the Internet where kindness exists.

As for my reading, I started by finishing up March by Geraldine Brooks. I then moved into Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s We Should All be Feminists. After that I switched off between Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls by David Sedaris and Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell. I also listened to two episodes of the Selected Shorts podcasts so that I was able to go for a walk and get a few things done while listening to short stories. All in all, it was a successful day of reading that is spilling over into Sunday while thoughts of having to work tomorrow are still far enough in the distance that they are not bothering me.

Special thanks to the hosts, volunteers and all the amazing readers who made my first Readathon quite enjoyable. If you haven’t had a chance, check out #readathon on Twitter for some fun posts about the event. The next Dewey’s 24-Hour Readathon will take place on October 22. Start working on preparing your to-be-read stack now!

Getting Ready for the Readathon

Last year I achieved a win in my first NaNoWriMo back in November, and I am very much ready for another challenge in the reading/writing world. One of my friends shared a link to Dewey’s 24-Hour Readathon, and I knew I had found my challenge. It’s quite simple: prepare a stack of books and attempt to keep reading for 24 hours. I feel like this is an event I have been training for since I first started to read.

Of course committing to reading for a full 24 hours is not without it’s hazards. Staying awake for the whole Readathon is probably not going to happen for me, but I do plan to get started at 5 a.m. on Saturday morning, which is the start time for my time zone. I will program the coffee maker, so it is ready to go when the clock hits 5! Participants are encouraged to share their Readathon progress on social media, so I will also be taking periodic breaks to leave updates here and on Twitter and Facebook.

A full 24 hours is a long stretch to commit to reading. I have saved up a few episodes of the podcast Selected Shorts to give myself a way to listen to stories when I can’t commit to sitting and reading paper books. This should have me covered during walks, cooking or anything else that takes my attention away from the printed word.

One of the best things about the Readathon has been the community of readers interacting online. The Readathon Facebook group has been a never-ending stream of stacks of books and comments about how each reader plans to attack their pile when the event starts. Reading a book is often a solitary activity, but if you are a bibliophile or have friends who are, you know that we cannot resist talking about our favorite books and what we are reading. Now imagine what happens when a bunch of avid readers share beautiful pictures of stacks of carefully curated books. More than one reader has lamented that their stack is growing bigger through suggestions from other readers. Yeah, book nerd problems!

In an age when so many articles online have comments sections riddled with hateful speech and insults, it is nice to have an online community that is dedicated to the love of reading. I found something similar in the online NaNoWriMo community where comments all tended to be supportive and friendly. It’s refreshing.

A number of people asked me why I did NaNoWriMo. After all, there are no prizes for a win other than a completed first draft. I can anticipate some folks have a similar question about the Readathon. To me, it’s like any challenge. Take a marathon. Most people who run such a race don’t expect to win. They do it for the joy of completing something that pushes and challenges them. I see NaNoWriMo and the Readathon in the same way, and I also like the idea of people all over the world attempting to spend 24 hours immersed in books.

Stay tuned for more updates. To see when the Readathon starts in your timezone, check out this list of times around the world.

 

My Love Affair with Notebooks

As I sit down to write this, I am looking at the Moleskine Wine Journal I bought earlier today. I am currently taking an “Introduction to Wine Appreciation” class and thought this was a good excuse to buy another notebook (as if I really needed an excuse). I have had a long love affair with notebooks that goes back to the days when I would pick out the perfect spiral notebook for school.

I remember the day when I fell in love with my first Moleskine notebook. It was in the now defunct Borders in Santa Cruz, CA. I was living up there at the time and stopped in the bookstore just to browse. There it was. On one of the display shelves near the bank of cash registers in the middle of the store. I picked up the traditional ruled notebook. It was love at first sight. This was long before Moleskine introduced its limited edition, passion and other specialty journals. I took it home and started filling the pages with snippets of stories, ideas and whatever musings filtered down from my brain to the page.

Since that day I have made friends with a number of other Moleskine notebooks, including the book and travel journals. But my love of notebooks is not limited to Moleskines. I also have a number of other notebooks I have collected over the years. Some are filled with writing, and others are waiting for the day they can fulfill their notebook destiny.

Although I generally do my fiction writing on a computer, my planning is always in a notebook. There is something different about scribbling out ideas by hand rather than on a screen. It’s more tangible in a way, and pen and paper give me the freedom to draw arrows, diagrams and doodles in a way a keyboard can’t. It gives me more room to plan without being confined to what a computer program will allow me to do. And science seems to back up the theory that note-taking by hand is more effective than by computer when it comes to retention of information, so clearly writing by hand has its benefits.

It is always bittersweet when there are only a few pages left in a notebook. By the time I reach that point, I feel like that notebook and I have had a long relationship. Pages have been torn and dog-eared, words have been scratched out, notes are squeezed into tiny spaces between diagrams and story ideas, there are coffee ring stains on pages that served as temporary coasters, and the pages make a delightful crinkly sound when thumbed through. I love the life that those pages take on, but I am also sad that my time of making practical use of that notebook has come to an end. But it’s not all bad: it means I have a good excuse to buy a new notebook.

I want to take a quick moment to acknowledge those who love pens because I think a good pen can compliment the perfect notebook quite nicely. Check out Wendy Van Camp’s blog for a good article on fountain pens.

Happy St. Fiona Day!

Ever since the first St. Fiona Day in 1997, my friends and I have celebrated this little known saint on April 1. While her day may coincide with April Fools’ Day, I assure you that she is no joke. One day back in 1997 when two young women were hanging out in their dorm room, the story of St. Fiona made itself known to them. Call it divine intervention or a whimsy of imagination, but that was the moment that St. Fiona Day was invented. This story is dedicated to Ann, the co-discoverer of St. Fiona. Here’s to our 19th year celebrating this day! May the spirit of St. Fiona inspire poems, stargazing & tasty beverages!

St. Fiona O’Shniggy of the Village Kincaid
Patron Saint of Drunkards, Poets & Stargazers
St. Fiona Day: April 1

St. Fiona O’Shniggy is the patron saint of drunkards, poets and stargazers. She lived during the tenth century in Ireland when she popularized the constellation Orion in song and verse. Unfortunately her songs have not survived over the centuries as they were destroyed shortly after her death at the tender age of 23. After her death, Fiona’s ideas were found to be against those held by the Catholic Church. This led to her eventual excommunication and the destruction of all of her work. Fiona wrote extensively in her journal about the equality that should exist between women and men. These private journals were found by her uncle shortly after her death. Unfortunately, he passed them on to the Catholic Church, thinking this is what Fiona would have wanted due to her extreme devotion to God. Although this is what led to the destruction of her writings, brief glimpses into Fiona’s life and ideas live on through the writings of her uncle. After handing over the journals to the church, he was so moved by his gifted niece that he put down his own thoughts on her writings in his journals and letters.

Fiona had learned to write in secret from her brother, who was four years her senior. Very few women were allowed to write at this time in Ireland. Ever since she was a child, Fiona was fascinated by everything around her in nature and in the human spirit. Fiona would often wander around at night, looking up at the stars, and Orion came to be her favorite constellation. In a letter to her brother she remarked, “Something so beautiful must surely be a gift from God.” She wrote seventeen poems and six songs about it. Several of her songs were turned into drinking songs by the locals that she helped when they passed out drunk in one of the many local pubs. As a devout Catholic and the daughter of two alcoholic parents, Fiona felt it was important to help those less fortunate than her (this of course included the town drunks).

As for her fascination with Orion, it eventually killed her at the age of 23. One night she was out wandering through an open field, admiring her favorite grouping of stars. She never saw the well below her feet, and fell down it. Nobody knows how long she was there. They found scratch marks on the side of the well like she had tried to get out. The most remarkable thing about the scene was the position of the body. Fiona’s head was tilted up as if to take one last glance from earth at Orion. The last that anyone heard from her was what she said to her brother before she left on that fateful night. She told him that she was going to look at her beautiful Orion that God had given to her and all the world.

Several years after her excommunication, a man that she knew when he was a child became Pope. He had remembered the wonderful soda bread that Fiona had made for him as well as her stimulating philosophical conversation, and he figured that maybe she was not as bad as the Catholic Church originally had said she was. His first official act was to see to Fiona’s canonization.

UPDATE : Want more about St. Fiona? Check out this April 2017 post, which includes part of a lost poem of St. Fiona and more details about her life.

Why I Ditched my Gym Membership for a Pair of Hiking Boots

I did a funny thing at the start of the year. When most people are making resolutions to join a gym and lose weight, I decided to cancel my gym membership. I had not been much of a gym person, but I had decided to sign up for a membership in the spring of 2014 in the hopes that it would get me to be a bit more active. Working from home had made me less active, and I knew I needed to do something. Going to the gym got me moving, and I found that the stationary bike was an excellent place to read while getting a little exercise. But I started noticing a problem after about a year and a half of that form of exercise. Not only was I getting bored staring at the same walls of the gym, but I was also getting lazy in the way I worked out.

Becoming engrossed in a really good book on the bike or an interesting podcast while on the elliptical often meant I was putting less effort into moving my legs. Of course, I was very good at convincing myself that I was doing a good job. I just spent an hour at the gym after all! But I could see the lack of results in my body, and I knew I had to make a change. The gym works for people who put the effort in, but for me it was becoming a lazy way to think I was getting the exercise I needed. I realized it was time to break up with the gym. It was no longer a healthy relationship.

I am lucky to live in Southern California, where the weather is nice for most of the year. I also live in a place that has easy access to wilderness areas and walking paths. Despite predictions of heavy rain from El Niño, this has been a rather dry winter, which means there has been a lot of opportunity to get outside. I have always enjoyed walking, so I made the decision in January that I was going to commit to walking approximately an hour (or more!) a day. So far, I have been successful at achieving this goal.

Walking has changed the way I think about exercise. In the gym, I kept thinking about the endless battle to lose weight. When I am out walking, it is about being out in the world, breathing in fresh air and taking in nature. Yeah, I know that sounds cliché, but head out for an hour-long hike in a park, and you’ll be throwing clichés around all over the place.

I am trying to make at least one walk a week a hike in one of the wilderness areas in my area. Recently, I have been able to take advantage of the nearby Laguna Canyon hiking trails with a good friend. The first time we went, we took a route that started in a steady two-mile hike uphill before giving way to a beautiful view from atop a ridge and an easy downhill hike back to our car. The next time we went, we decided to try a different trail—one that took us up an extremely steep 1.5-mile climb that made the previous uphill hike seem easy. There were several times I found myself scrambling up using my hands and feet as I hoped and prayed that I would not slide down the hill. I have not done a lot of hiking in my life, so I am still relatively new to this activity. I can easily say this was one of the most challenging hikes I have done.

I could rely on another cliché here and say something like, “There were times I wanted to give up,” but that was not really an option, so it did not cross my mind. By the time we got far enough in that I was struggling and wishing the endless uphill would give way to some level ground, we were nearing the mid-way point. It would have been more treacherous to turn around and try to go down those steep hills. I knew it would be better to tough it out and take the less steep downhill path we had planned to take on the second half of the hike.

Given that I have been walking several miles a day for the past couple months, I do not tire easily after only a mile, but this hike was different. My anxiety about making it safely up the hill was taking all my strength, and I kept finding myself out of breath and needing to stop frequently. My friend kept saying, “Take a step, take a breath. Take a step. Take a breath.” And eventually I made it up the hill even if it took a helpful hand reaching out and giving myself permission to take frequent breaks. And the view was amazing.

   

I’m just going to leave this story here without getting too philosophical or turning it into a metaphor for some life lesson. But I will say this: when we walk and get out in the world it gives us so much more than the walls of a gym can offer. It is something more than mere physical exercise, and it charges the soul. In all my walking and hiking in the past couple months, I have felt more alive than I ever felt spending an hour at the gym.

The first photo of the John Muir quote is by Tim Pershing. All other photos are by Stephanie Hammerwold in Laguna Canyon and Aliso & Wood Canyons.

In Praise of Handwritten Letters

We are a society obsessed with communicating quickly. News barely happens before there is a story about, and whole conversations happen via text message. Electronic communication has evolved so fast that email already seems antiquated. But in a sea of messages zooming around invisibly from device to device, the handwritten letter still manages to survive—even if its not nearly as popular as it once was.

I admit that I regularly use text and email to communicate with people. Three of my best friends and I are spread out around the country and regularly have a conversation going that bounces back and forth between group text and email, and I like how easy it is for us to be present in each other’s lives because of technology. But sometimes the urge to slow down pulls at me, and I pick up pen and paper and write.

It’s strange to think of a time when the primary form of communication was the handwritten letter. Rather than checking Facebook or even picking up the phone, people would rely on the mail to deliver news of major events in their loved ones’ lives. I think this is part of what has contributed to the thrill of seeing a letter in the mail. Even when I was in college in the mid-90s, my friends and I would still exchange letters. But with email quickly gaining popularity at that time, letters started to become infrequent and much of what used to be written by hand was typed out and sent off through cyberspace.

Because so much communication happens electronically now, mail is mostly junk and bills. It has become rare to see the familiar writing of a friend scrawled across the front of an envelope and tucked amidst a stack of grocery store ads and requests to donate to a wildlife charity. Finding a handwritten letter in the mail brings a smile to my face, and I find myself rushing inside so I can curl up in a chair with the letter. It does not matter that I saw pictures of that friend’s latest trip on Facebook earlier that day or even if we exchanged a few texts the day before.

Writing by hand requires a different kind of thinking than typing on a keyboard. For one thing, it is a slower process, and I think that is what makes it more meditative. Writing by hand also takes away the distractions that often come with staring at a screen. Gone are the temptations to check Facebook or to watch cute puppy videos. It’s just you, a pen and paper. To write someone a letter is to say communication with them is worth your undivided time.

I have a few friends who appreciate the handwritten letter, so we try to exchange letters on a regular basis. I have to admit that I have been lax on my letter writing in the last few months, so I have made an effort this week to get caught up. Two nights ago I sat with a friend’s letter from September in front of me. Yeah, that is way too long without writing back. I cleared my desk and focused on the page in front of me. It was a relaxing process. Online communication is busy and full of flashing lights and noises. Letter writing carries none of that and it felt quite freeing to get back to that form of communication.

When I did a semester in London back in college, I often wandered through the British Museum and looked at the old manuscripts and letters of some of the greatest British writers. They were beautiful handwritten records of the creative process and the lives these great minds lived. I think we lose out on that in an era where most of our writing happens on computers, tablets and smart phones. I save the handwritten letters I get from people, and I enjoy going back through them years later. It is as though a part of that person from that particular moment is captured in the loops and lines of their handwriting—you just can’t get that same feeling from an old email.

Set aside some time to write to a friend. Even if it is a note that you write to someone you live with and slip into their bag or a letter that you send to the other side of the world, take a moment to put pen to paper.

Photo by Tim Pershing

Why Diversity in Storytelling Matters

With the recent announcement of the Oscar nominations, quite a bit of attention has been directed toward the type of stories that get told in movies, on TV and in books. We live in a world where there are many different stories, and to me it gets a bit tiring to see most stories on the screen and page representing such a narrow range of experience and identity. There is tremendous value in diversity in stories. Not only does it give us a chance to see ourselves represented, but it is also a way for us to connect with and learn about those different from us.

Inclusion Doesn’t Mean Exclusion

I have heard the argument that often shows up in Internet comments sections that the call to add more diverse stories is racist. The claim is that by focusing on creating more movies, TV shows and books by black people, for example, we are privileging black stories above all others. This is a false connection. Bringing more stories to the table is not a matter of pushing others out. It is really a matter of bringing more voices to the conversation.

The truth is we need more variety in the stories we read and watch. The U.S. is a nation of people from countless backgrounds, races, ethnicities, sexualities, genders and more. If what gets represented on the page and screen represents only a small percentage of that, we are missing out on a lot of interesting stories. Talking about having more roles for people of color to play in movies or stories that reflect the immigrant experience is not a way to exclude others. Being inclusive is also a good way to break down stereotypes, and stories offer us an excellent way to understand others simply by picking up a book or turning on the TV.

Learning About Others Through Stories

If we only read and watched stories about characters that were exactly like us, things might get a little repetitive after awhile. While it is nice to see people like me represented in stories, I also like to gain a deeper understand of what it is like to live outside of my own identity and worldview.

I recently watched Master of None, a new show available on Netflix starring Aziz Ansari. The show was created by Ansari and Alan Yang. While stories of people in their 20s and early 30s struggling with careers, relationships and identity are nothing new, what makes this show different is that its cast is not all (or mostly) white as we often see in such shows. In addition, the characters on the show are not the one-dimensional versions of people of color often portrayed. Instead we get complex, interesting characters that are more than stereotypes.

Ansari’s character Dev is a first-generation American, but that does not mean that the viewer must also be such to enjoy the show. There are parts of the show that revolve around Dev and his parents (delightfully played by Ansari’s real-life parents) and the life experiences specific to immigrant families. Being a country with a strong history of immigration, there have been stories like this for generations in the U.S., yet we do not get much of a chance to see them represented in mainstream entertainment. With the success of Master of None, I hope we can see more stories like this that truly represent the variety of stories in the American experience.

Seeing Myself in Stories

Up until recently, I did not care much for sports. While everyone else was recently gearing up to watch the Super Bowl, I was the one running around telling everyone how excited I was about Puppy Bowl. But something strange has happened over the last couple years. One of my good friends has helped me cultivate an interest in soccer. He is a lifelong fan of the sport. I started watching games with him and started to enjoy the sport, and I finally got excited about it as we watched the 2015 women’s World Cup, which culminated in a victory for the U.S. I started to learn the names of female soccer players and even went to a recent game where the U.S. played Ireland in San Diego.

While watching the match, I came to the realization that I enjoy watching women’s soccer more than men’s soccer, and I questioned why. And I finally realized that there was something about watching players I could identify with that fueled my interest. Perhaps it is this idea that I could be out there playing. Of course, that’s not a reality. I’m too old for professional sports and I’m not athletic, but it is nice to have that fantasy in the same way that going to a rock concert fills one with the fantasy of being up on stage in front of a sea of screaming fans or reading the Harry Potter books makes readers dream of getting their own Hogwarts letter. We connect to those stories and experiences through sensing some kind of similarity or likeness. Such a connection can serve as a gateway into a story or world we might not have otherwise thought of joining.

I like when I see a bit of myself reflected in the stories I watch and read. As I wrote about in my last post, I have a particular affinity for fictional females who love reading. It is an easy way to imagine myself within the story. This is another reason it is important to see a diversity of stories told on TV, in film and in books. All readers and viewers deserve to see representations of themselves in stories. It is just as valuable as having access to see the stories of others represented.

Be sure to check out what 11-year-old Marley Dias has to say on this subject. She launched #1000BlackGirlBooks. She made a goal of collecting 1,000 books that feature black girl protagonists in response to the fact that most of the books she read in school centered around a white boy and his dog. She distributed the books to schools in the U.S. and Jamaica. Dias’s activism is a reminder of why it is important to have diversity in the books available to children. As I have said, everyone needs to see themselves represented in the stories we read and watch.