Q: What's better than getting a "personal message" from Ted Kennedy, which happens to me occasionally? ( I didn't think Teddy knew I was alive until he started sending me personal messages in the mail, and I don't even live in his district!)
A: Getting a friendly response from your own Congressional representative! Or, better still, how about being an eligible voter in America and actually having Congressional representation?!?
Yesterday I received two letters of response from my U.S. Congressional Representative, form letters which were electronically but cheerfully signed "Sincerely, Marcy." I had written to her several weeks ago regarding two separate issues, one of them being the situation in the District of Columbia which leaves residents there without Congressional representation. (A friend who lives in DC was asking people to write to their reps and prod them to get the ball rolling so that DC residents might be able to feel like their vote counts, too, sometime in this century. By coincidence, I received Marcy's newsletter via email that same week, asking me to tell her just what was on my mind, so I did.) Marcy's first reply thanked me for urging her to support HR 5388, the DC Voting Rights Act, which has not yet been given full consideration by the House Judiciary Committee and is therefore not yet scheduled for a vote in the House of Representatives. Then my new pal assured me that she will keep my views in mind, and that she expects to support the measure if and when it does come up for a vote.
My second message to Marcy had been on the subject of US-Cuban relations and what I see as our policy of attempting to either strangle the government of Cuba into submission or frustrate the people of Cuba into revolt. (It's my blog, people, and I'll say what I want to.) I expressed to Marcy my belief that it's time to lift the embargo on Cuba. Her response on that subject was a little more wishy-washy (cagey, almost) than the one regarding DC voting rights. Marcy explained to me that two bills which were introduced in early 2005 are pretty much stalled awaiting review by a wide variety of House committees. She didn't use the word "stalled" though, I did. Again, she went on to assure me that though she doesn't sit on any of those committees she will keep my thoughts in mind when she does have the opportunity to vote on these bills or any similar legislation. This time, though, she was noncommittal when it came to saying just how she would expect to vote. Reading between the lines of her official recycled stationery (but not the good, embossed stuff) I don't think Marcy is totally with me on this one. That's certainly her right, but she didn't seem to have the cajones to actually say it, and I want U.S. House Representative Marcy Kaptur to show some cajones if she wants to keep getting my vote. The next time she comes for a town meetin' I plan to go and see if I can get her to clarify things for me and others on the subject of Cuba.
If you wonder where your representative in Congress stands on an issue, or want to tell them how you feel, write!
________________
I've recently read that GOP party folks who had formerly distanced themselves from certain candidates are now being left with little choice but to embrace (sort of) both the scary Katherine Harris in Florida and the more moderate Lincoln Chafee in Rhode Island because this time around, every seat counts. Even though I like to be reasonably informed, reading about GOP embraces of any kind makes me feel icky.
________________
Got allergies? Love cats? There's already a waiting list for a new breed of hypoallergenic cat, at $3950.00 a pop. Reserve yours today!
21 September 2006
16 September 2006
Make a Little Noise
I have no direct quotation for this post, but Jon Stewart recently talked on his show about a certain television network phrasing its news headlines in question form, and pointed out that doing so makes it possible to get away with saying something without actually saying it. He asked quite a few questions that night, and it was pretty damned funny. It reminded me that a few weeks ago, my sister sent me an email telling me to google the word “failure”, and the number one result was... well, try it yourself and see! I haven’t heard of any heads rolling at Google central as a result of employees manipulating the search engine’s giant brain, so I can only assume that either the people over there have a great sense of humor, or the results don’t lie.
Unfortunately, the situation in which we find ourselves these days is no laughing matter to many of us. I think it’s way beyond time for the tide to be turning. Friday night, as I drifted off to sleep with my television on, I saw a replay of Keith Olbermann’s impassioned commentary on the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. I had pretty much not watched any television or surfed the internet all week, as I was busy doing other things, so I was a few days late on this one. Saturday evening, I watched it again online and checked out several blogs about it -- some were full of praise, others rebuked his comments. I don’t know the specific politics of why the hole in the ground that was WTC remains as it is, but I wholeheartedly agree that it represents an open wound to this country, and that it’s especially shameful for the president and those around him to continue to attempt manipulate our collective memory of the events of 9/11 for political gain (some of the blogs I read seem to have missed this, the other point that Olbermann was making). I was moved by Olbermann’s remarks, thought he maintained professionalism in their delivery, and applaud his courage for speaking out. The whole thing made me wonder yet again why we aren’t all out in the streets making noise.
I have dreamed about making noise, which brings me to the Great Vehicular Domicile Tour 2006. This year, as spring approached and my End of Oil obsession subsided, I began to think “road trip” as I do every year around that time. Prior to the 2004 election, I had fantasized about somehow coming into a large enough sum of money (perhaps by winning the lottery -- the other American dream) which would allow me to quit my job and travel the country in a minivan equipped with a loudspeaker system, so that I could cruise down every Main Street in America spewing my thoughts about GWB. I was sure that my doing so would sway the opinion of anyone who had been previously inclined to vote for him and that my grand plan would help save the nation from those “four more years” we were so fervently being promised. Needless to say, the official results of the election that year did nothing to bring me any peace of mind (or peace to the world, but I’ll leave that subject for perhaps another day).
I don’t own a car. I hesitate to buy one because I live and work in a small town, and it seems ridiculous to me at this point to have one. In the winter, it would take me longer to dig out of the snow than it would to simply trudge to work. Walking to work is actually about the only exercise I get. I don’t object to driving. I can borrow a car if I need to, and if I really want to make a long trip by car, I can rent one. Not owning a car is sometimes inconvenient but for me, the cost of a car payment, insurance, and gas could easily work out to the absolutely silly amount of over five dollars per mile for my actual travel needs. While I occasionally enjoy being quite silly, and I’m all for stimulating the economy, anyone with as little as half of W’s brain should still be able to wrap it all the way around what I'm saying. Cars serve (in part) to stimulate overconsumption, not only of fossil fuels, but of every other product in the world. One possible equation (true in my case) is something like this:
These days, I’m making somewhat of an attempt to be about downsizing in my life. I’m far from perfect about it, but I’m working at it. And I’m better off not being able to shop as easily.
Now, back to the tour. This year, the combination of spring road trip fever and coming down from my End of Oil craze had me thinking that for me to consume my personal share of whatever fossil fuels remain on this planet for one last glorious overpriced oil-fed road trip extravaganza (my right to that excessive share having been granted to me, an American citizen, by W himself, I think) would not necessarily be wrong, as long as it was done for good reason. Thus, the Great Vehicular Domicile Tour 2006 was conceived. I dreamed of buying a minivan, maybe the used one I saw for sale every day as I walked to work (so as not to boost the profits of any automaker), and hitting the road. I’d bring along a dog for companionship, live in the van (get it?) and carpet bomb the country with flyers (what's a little wasted paper?) telling people to wake up and smell the four dollar cup of coffee (fair trade, if at all possible) about what is going on in the world beyond the WalMart at the edge of town. I would roll across America blasting the word from my bullhorn. Everyone whose path I crossed would see the light. The tour would be well-publicized, of course. I’d have a blog about it, an entire web site dedicated to video clips of and testimony by all the converts I’d created -- ordinary Americans who would pledge to vote to roll back those tantalizing tax cuts in the future (the ones they were tricked into believing made a real difference in the quality of their lives), all for the cause! To top it all off, I'd work in some way to help homelesss people (there's the domicile tie-in again) and I’d spread the message of Peak Oil. No matter that the van would surely get lousy gas mileage and I’d be hastening the demise of the planet, it was a recycled vehicle, and I would be on the fantasy mission of a lifetime.
________________
Many years ago I owned a 1979 Honda Civic which I drove all over the country. I seem to recall that it got around 40 MPG/highway, actual gas mileage, air conditioning and all. It’s been awhile, but I don’t believe I’m making that up. Really, can anyone tell me what all of those engineers have been doing for the past quarter of a century or so?
________________
Now is as good a time as any to mention my hood latch compulsion. About twenty years ago, after picking my car up from a repair shop, my hood flew all the way open in some fairly heavy traffic when I reached a speed of 45 mph or so because it hadn't been closed properly. It was a very frightening experience. For what I'm guessing was at least ten years after that I would frequently feel the urge to check the security of my car's hood, while I was driving and by pulling on the interior hood release! I'm happy to report that I'm over that one.
Unfortunately, the situation in which we find ourselves these days is no laughing matter to many of us. I think it’s way beyond time for the tide to be turning. Friday night, as I drifted off to sleep with my television on, I saw a replay of Keith Olbermann’s impassioned commentary on the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. I had pretty much not watched any television or surfed the internet all week, as I was busy doing other things, so I was a few days late on this one. Saturday evening, I watched it again online and checked out several blogs about it -- some were full of praise, others rebuked his comments. I don’t know the specific politics of why the hole in the ground that was WTC remains as it is, but I wholeheartedly agree that it represents an open wound to this country, and that it’s especially shameful for the president and those around him to continue to attempt manipulate our collective memory of the events of 9/11 for political gain (some of the blogs I read seem to have missed this, the other point that Olbermann was making). I was moved by Olbermann’s remarks, thought he maintained professionalism in their delivery, and applaud his courage for speaking out. The whole thing made me wonder yet again why we aren’t all out in the streets making noise.
I have dreamed about making noise, which brings me to the Great Vehicular Domicile Tour 2006. This year, as spring approached and my End of Oil obsession subsided, I began to think “road trip” as I do every year around that time. Prior to the 2004 election, I had fantasized about somehow coming into a large enough sum of money (perhaps by winning the lottery -- the other American dream) which would allow me to quit my job and travel the country in a minivan equipped with a loudspeaker system, so that I could cruise down every Main Street in America spewing my thoughts about GWB. I was sure that my doing so would sway the opinion of anyone who had been previously inclined to vote for him and that my grand plan would help save the nation from those “four more years” we were so fervently being promised. Needless to say, the official results of the election that year did nothing to bring me any peace of mind (or peace to the world, but I’ll leave that subject for perhaps another day).
I don’t own a car. I hesitate to buy one because I live and work in a small town, and it seems ridiculous to me at this point to have one. In the winter, it would take me longer to dig out of the snow than it would to simply trudge to work. Walking to work is actually about the only exercise I get. I don’t object to driving. I can borrow a car if I need to, and if I really want to make a long trip by car, I can rent one. Not owning a car is sometimes inconvenient but for me, the cost of a car payment, insurance, and gas could easily work out to the absolutely silly amount of over five dollars per mile for my actual travel needs. While I occasionally enjoy being quite silly, and I’m all for stimulating the economy, anyone with as little as half of W’s brain should still be able to wrap it all the way around what I'm saying. Cars serve (in part) to stimulate overconsumption, not only of fossil fuels, but of every other product in the world. One possible equation (true in my case) is something like this:
Advertising + Time + Mobility/Accessibility = Excessive Consumer Spending
These days, I’m making somewhat of an attempt to be about downsizing in my life. I’m far from perfect about it, but I’m working at it. And I’m better off not being able to shop as easily.
Now, back to the tour. This year, the combination of spring road trip fever and coming down from my End of Oil craze had me thinking that for me to consume my personal share of whatever fossil fuels remain on this planet for one last glorious overpriced oil-fed road trip extravaganza (my right to that excessive share having been granted to me, an American citizen, by W himself, I think) would not necessarily be wrong, as long as it was done for good reason. Thus, the Great Vehicular Domicile Tour 2006 was conceived. I dreamed of buying a minivan, maybe the used one I saw for sale every day as I walked to work (so as not to boost the profits of any automaker), and hitting the road. I’d bring along a dog for companionship, live in the van (get it?) and carpet bomb the country with flyers (what's a little wasted paper?) telling people to wake up and smell the four dollar cup of coffee (fair trade, if at all possible) about what is going on in the world beyond the WalMart at the edge of town. I would roll across America blasting the word from my bullhorn. Everyone whose path I crossed would see the light. The tour would be well-publicized, of course. I’d have a blog about it, an entire web site dedicated to video clips of and testimony by all the converts I’d created -- ordinary Americans who would pledge to vote to roll back those tantalizing tax cuts in the future (the ones they were tricked into believing made a real difference in the quality of their lives), all for the cause! To top it all off, I'd work in some way to help homelesss people (there's the domicile tie-in again) and I’d spread the message of Peak Oil. No matter that the van would surely get lousy gas mileage and I’d be hastening the demise of the planet, it was a recycled vehicle, and I would be on the fantasy mission of a lifetime.
________________
Many years ago I owned a 1979 Honda Civic which I drove all over the country. I seem to recall that it got around 40 MPG/highway, actual gas mileage, air conditioning and all. It’s been awhile, but I don’t believe I’m making that up. Really, can anyone tell me what all of those engineers have been doing for the past quarter of a century or so?
________________
Now is as good a time as any to mention my hood latch compulsion. About twenty years ago, after picking my car up from a repair shop, my hood flew all the way open in some fairly heavy traffic when I reached a speed of 45 mph or so because it hadn't been closed properly. It was a very frightening experience. For what I'm guessing was at least ten years after that I would frequently feel the urge to check the security of my car's hood, while I was driving and by pulling on the interior hood release! I'm happy to report that I'm over that one.
13 September 2006
Friends, Beware!
My quote of the post, week, or month -- depending entirely upon how often I choose to post or quote -- comes from a friend who is currently working with an NGO in Afghanistan: "... if i leave the house or office, it is because my transport, destination and route have been approved pursuant to careful consideration (case in point: i had to ask permission to go get my eyebrows done this evening)." xoxo to you, Miss B., a girl's gotta look good...
________________
Now that I’m into blogging for the time being, I might be making mention of people I know. Friends, for example. I will probably mention at least one of you in each post. I promise not to reveal any of your secrets, and may only mention you in passing, without even naming you, but I probably won’t be disguising anyone’s identity in order to protect the innocent either. So, heads up to anyone out there -- if you’re a friend of mine, and you don’t want me to mention you, let me know now.
The title of today’s blog might also refer to much more serious things. I’ve been known to warn friends about lots of things. Last winter, when I was reading James Howard Kunstler's book, The Long Emergency: Surviving the Converging Catastrophes of the Twenty-First Century, I was telling friends, coworkers, just about anyone who happened to be standing in front of me that the end of oil is coming sooner than we think, and we’d better get ourselves ready for it. In case they hadn’t heard, when the oil runs out, and it will run out someday, we’ll be looking at a drastically different world, but more germane to our lives, a vastly different America. No cars, no electricity, no well-stocked supermarkets, no jobs, no economy. I had little confidence that alternative forms of energy would be developed and implemented in time to save us from reverting to horse and buggy days. I don’t necessarily have that confidence now, either, but I’ve recovered from the sense of urgency I was feeling then. So, right around that time, I ordered a book about building cheap underground structures in which to live. I began to spend my evenings at home madly designing my crude underground hovel, drawing pictures, making notes about what sort of materials my dirt floors would be covered with, everything. This was no joke -- anyone who knows me can tell you that these are the things I was talking about on a daily basis. In case you’re wondering, it was smooth pebbles on the floor in the bathroom area, and the water from the gravity-fed shower, when available, would drain right through them and somehow be recycled to water my little greenhouse garden. I had it all planned out. When I was told that the earth around here contains too much clay, and maybe radon, to build that particular kind of underground house, I decided I’d probably be needing to buy an old school bus, dig a hole into a hillside, park the bus there and partially bury it, and get busy decorating my earth-bermed, hard-times-are-upon-us abode. I actually looked online and found a place in Indiana to buy the bus (dead ones can be had for a mere $1500 or so, cash and carry). All I needed was to find and buy the perfect hillside property and I was on my way. I had visions of stringing little wires across my property with bells attached, to warn of approaching intruders, because times are gonna be rough, people, some folks might not have the knowhow to do for themselves, and those people will be coming after the ones who have prepared -- in other words, me, my school bus, and my stuff. Of course, my friends and other good people would live nearby -- there would be a sort of survivalist commune thing going on. I preferred to imagine it more along the lines of a sharing, caring community, but yes, I did find myself beginning to think that maybe, at least in some ways, those survivalists we hear about might actually just be a little ahead of the curve. Please note that I said in some ways, that's very important. Scary, yes, but I was determined to be prepared. I tell you this story only slightly tongue in cheek, and I fully recognize the absurd and extremist quality of it all, but it’s nonetheless a true story. And another example of how obsessions can take over our thoughts. Well, my thoughts, anyhow.
I think I see a pattern developing. What this blog may very well become is a review of my various obsessions and compulsions, sort of a DIY therapy, though I do hope it occasionally motivates others to either think or act in a positive way. Or, at the very least, that it amuses someone. The hardcore portion of my End of Oil obsession began to wane after a few weeks or so, and within a couple of months the whole thing was nearly forgotten -- and replaced by the Great Vehicular Domicile Tour 2006. Maybe I’ll write about that some day. Or hood latches.
________________
Now that I’m into blogging for the time being, I might be making mention of people I know. Friends, for example. I will probably mention at least one of you in each post. I promise not to reveal any of your secrets, and may only mention you in passing, without even naming you, but I probably won’t be disguising anyone’s identity in order to protect the innocent either. So, heads up to anyone out there -- if you’re a friend of mine, and you don’t want me to mention you, let me know now.
The title of today’s blog might also refer to much more serious things. I’ve been known to warn friends about lots of things. Last winter, when I was reading James Howard Kunstler's book, The Long Emergency: Surviving the Converging Catastrophes of the Twenty-First Century, I was telling friends, coworkers, just about anyone who happened to be standing in front of me that the end of oil is coming sooner than we think, and we’d better get ourselves ready for it. In case they hadn’t heard, when the oil runs out, and it will run out someday, we’ll be looking at a drastically different world, but more germane to our lives, a vastly different America. No cars, no electricity, no well-stocked supermarkets, no jobs, no economy. I had little confidence that alternative forms of energy would be developed and implemented in time to save us from reverting to horse and buggy days. I don’t necessarily have that confidence now, either, but I’ve recovered from the sense of urgency I was feeling then. So, right around that time, I ordered a book about building cheap underground structures in which to live. I began to spend my evenings at home madly designing my crude underground hovel, drawing pictures, making notes about what sort of materials my dirt floors would be covered with, everything. This was no joke -- anyone who knows me can tell you that these are the things I was talking about on a daily basis. In case you’re wondering, it was smooth pebbles on the floor in the bathroom area, and the water from the gravity-fed shower, when available, would drain right through them and somehow be recycled to water my little greenhouse garden. I had it all planned out. When I was told that the earth around here contains too much clay, and maybe radon, to build that particular kind of underground house, I decided I’d probably be needing to buy an old school bus, dig a hole into a hillside, park the bus there and partially bury it, and get busy decorating my earth-bermed, hard-times-are-upon-us abode. I actually looked online and found a place in Indiana to buy the bus (dead ones can be had for a mere $1500 or so, cash and carry). All I needed was to find and buy the perfect hillside property and I was on my way. I had visions of stringing little wires across my property with bells attached, to warn of approaching intruders, because times are gonna be rough, people, some folks might not have the knowhow to do for themselves, and those people will be coming after the ones who have prepared -- in other words, me, my school bus, and my stuff. Of course, my friends and other good people would live nearby -- there would be a sort of survivalist commune thing going on. I preferred to imagine it more along the lines of a sharing, caring community, but yes, I did find myself beginning to think that maybe, at least in some ways, those survivalists we hear about might actually just be a little ahead of the curve. Please note that I said in some ways, that's very important. Scary, yes, but I was determined to be prepared. I tell you this story only slightly tongue in cheek, and I fully recognize the absurd and extremist quality of it all, but it’s nonetheless a true story. And another example of how obsessions can take over our thoughts. Well, my thoughts, anyhow.
I think I see a pattern developing. What this blog may very well become is a review of my various obsessions and compulsions, sort of a DIY therapy, though I do hope it occasionally motivates others to either think or act in a positive way. Or, at the very least, that it amuses someone. The hardcore portion of my End of Oil obsession began to wane after a few weeks or so, and within a couple of months the whole thing was nearly forgotten -- and replaced by the Great Vehicular Domicile Tour 2006. Maybe I’ll write about that some day. Or hood latches.
10 September 2006
On Being Shameless...
Today I’ve come to the realization that sometimes being shameless is the only way to be, the only way to accomplish things. I really haven’t pondered the concept of shamelessness before; I have a friend who is shamelessly (and absolutely harmlessly) flirtatious and like to point that out to her when I see her in action; it’s very amusing. There are those who will vouch for the fact that I am often shamelessly blunt in my choice of words when it comes to expressing my opinion. But I just haven’t given much thought to things like brazenly asking for something. Until today.
Two young men who live in my home town of Oberlin, Ohio are planning a cross-country bike ride to raise awareness and money for pancreatic cancer research. John Romano, whose aunt was diagnosed just a few months ago (and who, sadly, died this past week), will leave Oberlin on September 23rd and ambitiously plans to arrive in San Francisco in early November, right around the time of a Pancreatic Cancer Action Network event in California. His good friend Eddie D’Agostino is joining him for the adventure. You can read a little about it (and donate some money to PanCAN, if you wish) at www.ridetothebay.com How’s that for a bit of shameless promotion?
The guys have forsaken employment, for now, in order to train daily in preparation for their ride. They want to follow old US Route 66 across the country, not the most direct route from northern Ohio to San Francisco, but that’s the plan. This is a home-grown effort --- there will be no chase car, no backup or assistance when they need to stop for a flat tire or first aid, no SUV to jump into when they get caught in a thunderstorm in the middle of nowhere. Just John and Eddie heading west on their bikes. I’m sure their families and friends who proudly wish them well as they leave town will also harbor some degree of worry for their safety.
They also plan to camp out along the way. As a middle-aged person (I can't believe I'm saying that here, by the way) whose bones ache at the mere thought of sleeping on the ground every night and then biking a hundred miles or so day after day, a few things have occurred to me:
1) this trip will probably be more physically taxing than they now imagine or expect,
2) there are surely lots of folks along the way who will respect and admire their determination and who would be willing to provide the guys a roof (maybe even a couch or a bed) for a night, and a shower, and
3) since they are funding the actual trip themselves while raising money for a good cause, they could probably use some sort of sponsorship or assistance with daily expenses for things like food and water and whatever incidentals might arise.
I am barely acquainted with John and don’t know Eddie at all. A few weeks ago, I had a brief conversation with John about their plans and have thought about it ever since. What an amazing selfless thing for each of them to do -- a guy in his early 20’s who is motivated to make this arduous trip by his aunt’s illness, and his good buddy who decides to go along to keep him company and to help further the cause. And what might they discover about themselves, each other, life, and the rest of the world along the way?
I feel inspired to help in some way, in fact today I find myself almost obsessed* with finding as many ways as possible to help them. I want to approach everyone I know (shamelessly, of course) who might be willing to do ANYTHING, to tell them the story of John and Eddie. I’ve thought of contacting cycling clubs across the country, or posting some sort of open notice on www.couchsurfing.com (my sister suggested that one) so they might know at the outset that they have a few places to stop and really rest for a night. I’ve considered reaching out to local chambers of commerce or newspapers along their route to see if any businesses want to help them with some protein bars or bottled water or maybe the luxury of a motel room for a night -- for free, of course. Aren’t there people in America who would do this, out of the kindness of their hearts? We hear about stuff like that all the time, don’t we? Surely someone who reads this (assuming that someone will) knows someone who knows someone else who lives along their planned route who will put them up for a night? Maybe a merchant, or a person on the street, will donate a six pack of bottled water as they pass through town? Maybe some local bike groups will decide to ride with them for a few hours and scare up some more donations for the PanCAN fund? Maybe... who knows?
So, raising awareness about their trip as they travel across the country might provide them some creature comfort, a little connectedness, and might also raise more money for PanCAN. Potentially lots more money, and wouldn’t that be a good thing? Does any of this warrant being shameless? I think it does. And maybe more to the point that sometimes shameless is a good thing, who will know that any of that needs to be done without some outright shamelessness? That said, check out their page at www.ridetothebay.com If you already did it the first time I mentioned it, good for you. (Shameless, no?)
I had a short conversation with John today, and told him that I have some ideas about how they could promote this thing and maybe get to take a shower and sleep in a bed between here and there. He seems pretty humble about doing any sort of PR for the ride and isn’t seeking the limelight in any way, so he hasn’t begun to take advantage of the possibilities that exist to make their trip easier or their fundraising efforts more lucrative along the way. Shameless self-promotion is the last thing on his mind. The guys have their hearts in the right place -- would some shameless promotion, or asking for some kind of sponsorship be wrong? Mind you, PR isn’t my thing either. I have no doubt that this will be a trip they remember for the rest of their lives. To begin their journey knowing that they have raised awareness of pancreatic cancer and money for PanCAN due to local efforts and word of mouth will be very fulfilling for them. But wouldn’t it be great if their message somehow reached a much wider audience? To share the whole experience with some help from strangers along the way, to learn that their accomplishments have perhaps inspired someone else, and to possibly raise more money than they had hoped for (as of this writing their goal is set modestly at $5,000) might enhance the experience many times over, and why shouldn’t we all try to do that for them?
I want to tell John and Eddie that now is the time for them -- or someone, anyhow -- to brazenly spread the word about their trip. I want them to learn now that there are times when being absolutely, unapologetically shameless can help. I truly hope they don’t mind that today I am shamelessly beginning my blog with their story -- because I think people need to see what John and Eddie are up to these days.
____________________
What now? I hope this post inspires at least a few people to do some small thing for any good cause, but maybe to help make this a fantastic journey for John and Eddie. Maybe you‘ll decide to make a donation, however large or small, to PanCAN or even to some other entirely unrelated cause. Maybe you can make a call and hook the guys up with a place to sleep as they cross the country. If so, please do so shamelessly, and email any offers or good news you have to them soon (there’s an email link on that PanCAN page of theirs, did you see it?) since they’re leaving in less than two weeks! Maybe you can very shamelessly email a link to their page www.ridetothebay.com to everyone in your address book and hope for the best. I’m going to shamelessly send this post to an old school acquaintance who writes for a newspaper in San Francisco, just because I can.
* more about my obsessions in future posts...
Two young men who live in my home town of Oberlin, Ohio are planning a cross-country bike ride to raise awareness and money for pancreatic cancer research. John Romano, whose aunt was diagnosed just a few months ago (and who, sadly, died this past week), will leave Oberlin on September 23rd and ambitiously plans to arrive in San Francisco in early November, right around the time of a Pancreatic Cancer Action Network event in California. His good friend Eddie D’Agostino is joining him for the adventure. You can read a little about it (and donate some money to PanCAN, if you wish) at www.ridetothebay.com How’s that for a bit of shameless promotion?
The guys have forsaken employment, for now, in order to train daily in preparation for their ride. They want to follow old US Route 66 across the country, not the most direct route from northern Ohio to San Francisco, but that’s the plan. This is a home-grown effort --- there will be no chase car, no backup or assistance when they need to stop for a flat tire or first aid, no SUV to jump into when they get caught in a thunderstorm in the middle of nowhere. Just John and Eddie heading west on their bikes. I’m sure their families and friends who proudly wish them well as they leave town will also harbor some degree of worry for their safety.
They also plan to camp out along the way. As a middle-aged person (I can't believe I'm saying that here, by the way) whose bones ache at the mere thought of sleeping on the ground every night and then biking a hundred miles or so day after day, a few things have occurred to me:
1) this trip will probably be more physically taxing than they now imagine or expect,
2) there are surely lots of folks along the way who will respect and admire their determination and who would be willing to provide the guys a roof (maybe even a couch or a bed) for a night, and a shower, and
3) since they are funding the actual trip themselves while raising money for a good cause, they could probably use some sort of sponsorship or assistance with daily expenses for things like food and water and whatever incidentals might arise.
I am barely acquainted with John and don’t know Eddie at all. A few weeks ago, I had a brief conversation with John about their plans and have thought about it ever since. What an amazing selfless thing for each of them to do -- a guy in his early 20’s who is motivated to make this arduous trip by his aunt’s illness, and his good buddy who decides to go along to keep him company and to help further the cause. And what might they discover about themselves, each other, life, and the rest of the world along the way?
I feel inspired to help in some way, in fact today I find myself almost obsessed* with finding as many ways as possible to help them. I want to approach everyone I know (shamelessly, of course) who might be willing to do ANYTHING, to tell them the story of John and Eddie. I’ve thought of contacting cycling clubs across the country, or posting some sort of open notice on www.couchsurfing.com (my sister suggested that one) so they might know at the outset that they have a few places to stop and really rest for a night. I’ve considered reaching out to local chambers of commerce or newspapers along their route to see if any businesses want to help them with some protein bars or bottled water or maybe the luxury of a motel room for a night -- for free, of course. Aren’t there people in America who would do this, out of the kindness of their hearts? We hear about stuff like that all the time, don’t we? Surely someone who reads this (assuming that someone will) knows someone who knows someone else who lives along their planned route who will put them up for a night? Maybe a merchant, or a person on the street, will donate a six pack of bottled water as they pass through town? Maybe some local bike groups will decide to ride with them for a few hours and scare up some more donations for the PanCAN fund? Maybe... who knows?
So, raising awareness about their trip as they travel across the country might provide them some creature comfort, a little connectedness, and might also raise more money for PanCAN. Potentially lots more money, and wouldn’t that be a good thing? Does any of this warrant being shameless? I think it does. And maybe more to the point that sometimes shameless is a good thing, who will know that any of that needs to be done without some outright shamelessness? That said, check out their page at www.ridetothebay.com If you already did it the first time I mentioned it, good for you. (Shameless, no?)
I had a short conversation with John today, and told him that I have some ideas about how they could promote this thing and maybe get to take a shower and sleep in a bed between here and there. He seems pretty humble about doing any sort of PR for the ride and isn’t seeking the limelight in any way, so he hasn’t begun to take advantage of the possibilities that exist to make their trip easier or their fundraising efforts more lucrative along the way. Shameless self-promotion is the last thing on his mind. The guys have their hearts in the right place -- would some shameless promotion, or asking for some kind of sponsorship be wrong? Mind you, PR isn’t my thing either. I have no doubt that this will be a trip they remember for the rest of their lives. To begin their journey knowing that they have raised awareness of pancreatic cancer and money for PanCAN due to local efforts and word of mouth will be very fulfilling for them. But wouldn’t it be great if their message somehow reached a much wider audience? To share the whole experience with some help from strangers along the way, to learn that their accomplishments have perhaps inspired someone else, and to possibly raise more money than they had hoped for (as of this writing their goal is set modestly at $5,000) might enhance the experience many times over, and why shouldn’t we all try to do that for them?
I want to tell John and Eddie that now is the time for them -- or someone, anyhow -- to brazenly spread the word about their trip. I want them to learn now that there are times when being absolutely, unapologetically shameless can help. I truly hope they don’t mind that today I am shamelessly beginning my blog with their story -- because I think people need to see what John and Eddie are up to these days.
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What now? I hope this post inspires at least a few people to do some small thing for any good cause, but maybe to help make this a fantastic journey for John and Eddie. Maybe you‘ll decide to make a donation, however large or small, to PanCAN or even to some other entirely unrelated cause. Maybe you can make a call and hook the guys up with a place to sleep as they cross the country. If so, please do so shamelessly, and email any offers or good news you have to them soon (there’s an email link on that PanCAN page of theirs, did you see it?) since they’re leaving in less than two weeks! Maybe you can very shamelessly email a link to their page www.ridetothebay.com to everyone in your address book and hope for the best. I’m going to shamelessly send this post to an old school acquaintance who writes for a newspaper in San Francisco, just because I can.
* more about my obsessions in future posts...
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