Thoughts on moving forward | In Memory of Warmer Summers

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Missouri connections and other haunts from long ago

Posted in Somber thoughts, Thoughts on moving forward on May 27, 2011| 3 Comments »

Centerville, MO to Eminence, MO

Rude honks: 3 (two from trucks)

Friendly horn taps: 3

Miles: 43

Total so far: 1,746

I love these old barns - there must be rich stories in each one of them

Missouri - your hills are so numerous and our bikes are so few...

Current River - part of the Ozark National Scenic Riverways

Missouri.

I’ve encountered lots of connections to this state through the years, but riding for the last two days has awakened memories of three year old Joshua. It was 1986 and little Joshua was one of those fatal crashes that will stay with me the rest of my life. I’d worked quite a few before him, countless too many after, but that was one that stays with me. Maybe that’s the way it is with the kind of work state troopers, deputy sheriffs, city police, EMT’s and others perform. May be there’s at least one that stays with all of us. There are others, but none so vividly in place.

Joshua’s aunt called about a year and a half after the collision and asked if I remembered it. I couldn’t tell her then that it was one I’d never forget. Every detail.

Joshua was with his mother, Teresa on their way back to Missouri. They didn’t make it. I’d ordered lemon meringue pie that day at Little America outside of Green River on I-80. I didn’t get to finish that pie. Now I think that I’ve never ordered it since.

I remember details as though I am seeing it now. I can tell you exactly what Joshua was wearing. Those little things never seem to gray out in the fog of memory. Not that one. Little Joshua tried so hard to hang onto life, but it slipped away from him in my arms and I could not bring him back.

The next time you see a trooper, EMT,or law enforcement officer, you can ask about such things. They won’t tell you. They can’t. But it’s there. It’s part of who they become.

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Adam Hosinski and Rory Weichbrod

Adam Hosinski and Rory Weichbrod

In the early hours of October 10, 2010, in Rockville, Maryland, good friends Adam Hosinski and Rory Weichbrod lost their lives after being struck by a drunk driver. After making the responsible decision to metro home from a birthday party, a drunk driver with a blood alcohol content at nearly twice the legal limit sped into the two friends as they crossed the street to get home. Adam and Rory lived and loved fiercely – spreading their infectious smiles and laughter to everyone they met. The young men, their friends and family, and those whom they had yet to meet, were robbed of two outstanding people because of one person’s decision to drink and drive.

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On growing

Posted in Thoughts on moving forward on May 21, 2011| 6 Comments »

A rest day at Cave in Rock, IL

Growth is always possible

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Kelly Lea Tharp

Kelly Lea Tharp

Kelly Tharp was killed on 11/11/08 after attending a friend’s 21st “Social Gathering” birthday party. Unfortunately, the party was hosted by adults who permitted underage drinking at their home. The nightmare scenario for Kelly’s mother Myra, played out fifteen minutes after the adults let the young people get into their cars after drinking.

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A new low (speed)

Posted in Thoughts on moving forward on May 19, 2011|

Land Between the Lakes, Tennessee to Grand Rivers, Kentucky

Miles: 52

Total so far: 1,418

Tennessee (state #4) in the rear-view mirror

We put Tennessee behind us today, and entered Kentucky, but we are affected by the beauty not only of the graceful Tennessee landscape, but also by the kind and outgoing people that have touched us in a unique way.

Yes, that sign is bolted on the correct way

The hills were significant, but having gone through them, we are that much more ready for what is to come because of them.

Speaking of hills, I set a new low speed record yesterday climbing some of the steepest challenges Tennessee offered us: 2.4 miles per hour. That’s enough to keep the bike upright and moving, but that gets very close to a stall-speed. We ran across another couple yesterday that were struggling on their trip from Memphis to Ohio. They seemed a little shocked when they asked if we walked many of the hills and we said no, we pedaled all of them. A person can walk at 2.4 miles per hour, but probably not while pushing a bike with gear that together weighs 75 pounds up an incline steep enough to prevent riding. Yes, we continued to ride — that’s how bikes work best.

A morning break with a touring cyclist staple - peanut butter and a tortillas

Our friend, the 13 year cicada. They were very quiet during the cold weather

I’ve stalled before. I used to run to maintain my fitness (a certain requirement of a state trooper). I was fairly faithful to a routine of running early in the morning three times a week regardless of weather. I found it maintained my health and had the side benefit of keeping my sanity and stress levels manageable.

When Carlie was killed, running was one of the tools I used to keep some balance in this “new normal” that was anything but normal for me.

Running. When I could. I suffered greatly from grief spasms. They are hard to describe, but I remember distinctly that at first, I could barely make it down the street, and I would have a thought of something meaningful to us – like how I would make her pancakes after my runs, wake her up and bring her downstairs – and then I would collapse in a heap. When the worst was past, I would walk putting just one foot in front of the other until it was a step. I would focus on my breathing, and I would find a little bit of success just in inhaling and exhaling, just in stepping — not around that pain, but through it. Grief is like that. You can go around it, but it will come back. I found that grief had to be leaned into, like some bitter incessant wind.

As time went on, the spasms became less frequent, a little less severe, and slowly — very, very slowly, I engaged the new normal, that was anything but normal for me. It will aways be that way. I am forever changed. That’s why I am moving forward. I’ll walk a hill if I have to, but I do not intend to stall.

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Jessica Paige Muller

Jessie was killed when a 19 year old drunk driver ran a red light in Nashville, Tennessee on October 26, 2008 . We will live the rest of our lives with the memories of our precious Jessie. Her ear to ear smile, , her pealing laughter, her sheer love of life, family and friends, and her tender heart toward those less fortunate.

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The beauty and the loss

Posted in Somber thoughts, Thoughts on moving forward on May 14, 2011|

Aberdeen, MS to Tishomingo, MS

Friendly horn taps:1

Rude honks: 1

Miles: 82

Total so far: 1,151

Sunset breaks though during the rain last night in Aberdeen, MS

Some views of unique southern architecture in Aberdeen. This home was built in 1852.

Today we rode in the cold. Really. I had a jacket on most of the day until I tried to take it off and ride for awhile in my jersey and had to put the jacket back on. Tomorrow will be colder. In Mississippi. Really.

Nothing could be more chilling than our ride through Smithville, Mississippi today. For years I’ve seen correspondents at tornado sites and other natural disasters posed with destruction behind them, and I know the camera angles are set for maximum effect.

Smithville, MS

What I saw today in Smithville, Mississippi is very difficult to describe. The town was hit by an EF5 tornado on April 27, and — well — there is nothing left. We saw about three houses, none of them habitable in the town that used to hold 857 residents. They are reporting the tornado had winds of 205 miles an hour, was 1/2 mile wide and three miles long.

Our ride through the highway that bisects the town caused me to feel like an intruder. I took but one picture, because this was a private scene. I did not want to intrude. It was not unlike viewing a naked corpse that no one was able to discreetly cover out of respect. The American flags posted on the piles of debris took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. From checking the news reports, they have the death count at 16 which seems proof of miracles. I cannot imagine what those folks lived through, and are living with.

We had lunch in Fulton, MS where all the restaurants closed and the town held a fundraiser for the people of Smithville. The high school drama group in Fulton had been working on a 100 cast member production of the Wizard of Oz, and originally arranged the street celebration and cookout to generate funds for their presenting their play at the Orpheum in Memphis. The young people chose to forfeit their trip and continue with the fundraiser to assist the victims of the tornado in Smithville.

The quiet beauty of the Natchez Trace Parkway

We rode for about 12 miles on the Natchez Trace Parkway towards the end of our ride today. The Natchez Trace Parkway runs 440 miles from Natchez, MS to Nashville, TN. I’m told the forests lining the road is old growth virgin timber and carries the natural diversity in trees and flora that cannot be found anywhere in the south. It was a sensory delight — brilliantly green, quiet, aromatic, and peaceful.

We are camped on the shores of a lake in Tishomingo State Park tonight. I am warm, dry, and comfortable in my tent. I will reflect upon the contrasts I’ve seen today for a long time. There is great beauty here in Mississippi, yet at the same time there is also a ripping sadness and loss. They will rebuild in Smithville, just as people have done so for all of time. They will do so because of the beauty — it will be heartfelt like no other time though, because of the loss.

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Larry Ray Harrison

Larry and his Mother

Larry was 16 years old at the time of his death. He was in special education and won many awards in the Special Olympics at school. He was looking forward to graduating in 2012 and getting his driver’s license. Larry was killed by a drug impaired driver.

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On 13 year cycles

Posted in Thoughts on moving forward on May 11, 2011|

Linden, AL to Cochrane, AL

Friendly horn taps: 4

Miles: 78

Total so far: 973

Looking west from Bluffport Road in Sumter County, Alabama

The Tombigbee River near Warsaw, Alabama

Yesterday at about 8 or 9:00am, we noticed a noise in the forests around us. It was an ongoing thrum of sound, not too much unlike the sound old science fiction movies attributed to flying saucers — a steady, penetrating slightly electric sound, more that a buzz, but less than a musical note. And it was loud and pervasive, and seemed to be growing louder as the day went on. It was everywhere there were trees, and there were trees everywhere.

It turns out we are present in the south for the periodic cicada, or Magicada Brood XIX, the Great Southern Brood that emerges every thirteen years. It is said that in Alabama, as many as 1.5 million cicadas can sometimes be found on one acre of land. Male cicadas produce the loud and incessant buzzing sound as they attempt to attract females. I mentioned to one person I met in Putnam, Alabama that the sound is rather pretty. He looked at me with one raised eyebrow, as said, “You haven’t worked in the woods when they are out. It’s downright spooky.”

13 year cycles. My daughter was killed 13 years ago this year. 13 years before that, I was hired from the police department I worked for to join the Wyoming Highway Patrol. 13 years before that, and well…let’s not date anyone here, but somebody graduated high school.

That puts things in a somewhat shocking perspective for me. riding for the last two days and listening to the cicadas has caused me to deeply reflect on the huge changes that have taken place in my life in the span of 13 years. The emergence of the thirteen year cicada is solid proof that we are but vapor in the span of infinite time. I’m moving forward for the next thirteen and look in anticipation for these landmarks in time.

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Kimberly Grace Barbera

On July 13, 2009, we lost my sister Kimberly Grace Barbera to a drunk driver. She was 20 years old and was in a motorcycle crash in Rhode Island on July 12. The driver was drunk with a blood alcohol concentration of .126%.

Our lives will never be the same again. -Katy Barbera