Happy Campers

 Camping in a minivan is so much nicer than camping in my Jeep Cherokee. The only change I needed to make was to update the tech so I could use my van not only as a camper but as my office; I would need to make hands-free calls, check and reply to text messages, and, well, listen to Audible books while I was wending my way across the country.

B

efore I left, I had the van all rigged out: my camping cot, under which I had two large sterilite storage containers—one filled with non-perishable food and the other filled with camping gear such as my teapot, pans, plates, etc.--two smaller containers for Rubi and Wham!'s food; a storage net which held my hammock, hats and gloves and other miscellany; Rubi’s princess bed and a smaller cozy bed for Wham!. Wham!’s crate, as I said earlier, was wedged firmly b

etween the end of the cot and the driver’s seat, though that would soon change. At the back was my cooler, Wham!’s travel litter box, and a rain jacket, down vest, and fleece.

I reserved the front passenger seat for Rubi; it had a pet cover over it, protecting it from any debris Rubi might bring in after a walk, and on the floor was three small tubs; one was filled with snacks (smoked almonds in a Tupperware container, a couple of apples, a few KIND bars and parmesan cheese Whisp crackers. On top of that was my laptop and my the flat tray that could attach to my steering wheel for a desk or eating surface. I had purchased an open tool chest with lots of little pouches and pockets that I placed between the seats; this held everything from bottles of hand sanitizer, face masks, my voice recorder, pens, paper, my water bottle and my coffee thermos.

Earlier I had bought a roll of insulation that was essentially bubble wrap covered in reflective material.

The day before I left, with the help of my friend, Wenda, I had cut out pieces to fit into each of the back windows for both privacy and insulation. This proved to be much harder than it looked, but finally, with the help of strategically placed Velcro squares, we made it work. I stored these along the side of the van, next to my cot, when not in use.

I had also bought black kitchen curtains and strung them on a tension pole across the back of the front seats; when closed it gave an added measure of privacy, particularly with the sun shade covering the front window and the two mesh screens previously used on the back windows of the Jeep, now used to cover the door windows up front.

I was set!

Of course, having said that, the first three nights were spent at my sister’s apartment in Lawrence, KS. And I would spend three more nights in hotels (election night and the day after, plus Saturday, to make sure my tech was ready for Sunday service). Still I was most excited to see how van life would be while camping.

The first opportunity for that came in Dayton, OH. This was not a glamorous location; I made use of the Cracker Barrel restaurant parking lot to simply spend the night. I had found this location at freecampsites.net, a great website that has locations of places to boondock ranging from the parking lots of Cracker Barrel restuarants, Walmart’s, or Lowes, to dispersed camping sites on lands run by the Bureau of Land Management or in National Forests. This website also shows low cost camping in state parks, as well as more expensive RV and campsites.

Even if I hadn’t had the opportunity to switch up my ride, I had learned a few things my first time out in my Jeep Cherokee, so this was sure to be a smoother experience.

For instance, my first time out, I camped at a site that had an electric hookup. I had huddled next to it with my laptop plugged directly into it. This time out, I had a 25-foot outdoor extension cord and a power cord that had six outlets for electrical items along with four USB charging ports. This time I sat comfortably at my camp table, not having to be hunched next to the outlet; when I retired to the van for the night, I simply snaked the cord in with me and continued working away. When I didn't have the luxury of electricity at a campsite, my power inverter charged my laptop and other tech while I drove.

The first time out, to save space in the smaller Cherokee, I didn’t have my camping gear or dry goods as efficiently arranged as I did this time. I spent a lot of time shuffling things around, trying to find what I needed, but no more!

Already, things were looking up! 

What I really wanted to see, of course, was how Wham! would react when we were camped out. When we stayed at hotels, I carried him (completely ignoring the large, useless crate I had brought) into the room. When we were camping out (not just sleeping in a parking lot) he and Rubi were leashed to a six foot tie down. At our first campsite, I had them both attached to the cooler, inside my net tent. I had the back hatch of the van open, however, and Wham! at first wanted to stay in there. Gradually he became secure enough to walk around outside but I kept his tie down tethered to the cot inside the van.

The first few nights
, in a state park in northern VA, the nights got down to the mid to high 30s. I was glad for the insulation on the windows, and equally glad for the extra body heat of Wham! and Rubi. Of course, it was a bit snug on the camping cot, but we adjusted and at some point in the night, Rubi gave up and slept on her princess bed next to the cot.

I confess, I was stressed and unsure of my decision to bring Wham! along, particularly in those early days when he seemed so uncomfortable, but his look of sheer joy and contentment when he was snugged up next to me while I
was working in the van, or while we were sleeping made it worthwhile.

It was so much easier in the van than it had been in the Jeep. Already I have new ideas for making it even more efficient. For starters: the large cat crate will not be coming along on future adventures. And because it won’t be taking up so much space, I’m going to trade in the sterilite containers that fit under the cot for three drawer sterilite containers; one will sit at the end of the cot facing out, with my cooking gear in the bottom drawer, my non perishable foods in the middle and my toiletry bag and dish towels, soap, etc. in top drawer. The other three drawer unit will be right next to it, but facing in the van and will hold my clothes, pet toys, etc.

Each trip out I’m learning something. I talked with a friend about maybe going out completely pet less for a shorter trip. I imagine it would be much more freeing to not have to take into consideration finding a dog park, or soothing my cat. Plus I would REALLY have a lot of room then.

Tonight, I am camping at a state park just outside of Lexington, KY. I chose this route because when I came through this area the first trip I discovered the BEST DOG PARK IN THE UNIVERSE. It is literally acres and acres of rolling green hills with a few copses of trees for Rubi to play hide and seek in, either with other dogs, or with her own playful spirit. We spent over an hour there today, before coming here to set up camp.

This afternoon, I took part in two Zoom meetings, answered emails, and made a few phone calls from outside the van, while Rubi slept nearby and Wham! tried on his Adventure Cat hat.

These nights, when I finally close my computer, but before I “snuff out” the LED lanterns that are hanging from the clothes hooks, I look around and feel content; I am connected with all things: these snoring animals, the crickets whose songs I still hear, the birds who will wake me in the morning, this beautiful world. Life is good.

PHOTOS FROM VAN LIFE

Today We Celebate; Tomorrow We Work

 The nation has spoken; the people have voted, and we have elected Joe Biden and Kamala Harris to be our next President and Vice President of the United States. I do not think I realized how much I had been holding my breath until I heard the news that Pennsylvania had been called for the Biden-Harris ticket and, with that, the election. As my niece Rachaelp ut it, it was like I had been holding my breath for the past four years and I could finally exhale in relief.

I arrived in the Washington DC area on Tuesday, election night, wanting to be in the room where it happened, as the song goes. Like many of you, I spent Tuesday evening on tenterhooks; when I went to bed, it was with a sense of dismay and concern that our country--or at least half of it--hadn’t learned the lessons the past four years have cruelly taught: that hate is wrong, that denial is only a river in Egypt, that fear and divisiveness are the antitheses of democracy.

I went to bed not knowing the outcome of the presidential election and when I awoke on Wednesday, I laid there in bed, eyes still closed, thinking, He could have won; he could have been re-elected. What will it mean for me, for All Souls, if that is true?
I thought back to this time in 2016; the shock and fear and sense of grief that was so palpable.

And yet we have survived, barely, it may seem, the past four years. We have had a taste of the helplessness and alienation marginalized communities have always felt; we have had a taste of what it feels like to be shut out of the democratic process that is the hallmark of American life.

Rubi and me after our interview by Swedish station

Of course, when I opened my eyes and turned on my laptop I discovered there was not yet a clear winner in the presidential election, although the odds had shifted overnight and I was able to allow a tiny sense of hope that all might yet be well in the world.

Thursday, I headed over to Washington, DC, wanting to get a sense of what was happening in our nation’s capital. As I wandered the National Mall, I was stopped by a film crew from the Canadian Broadcasting Company. They interviewed me about my hopes for this election. Later, I went to Black Lives Matter Plaza outside the White House where I was also interviewed by a Swedish and Italian station. Someone sent me the link to the Swedish interview.  The video at the top has several quotes from me, and later, under my picture, the interviewer made a few more comments.

Still not knowing the outcomes of the election, I set up camp in a beautiful state park outside of Alexandria, VA. There, Wham! began to adapt to his New Life as an Adventure Cat! (more on this in a later post!)

This morning I broke camp and was just pulling out of the campground to head back to DC so that I could scout potential places for preaching when I got the news: Pennsylvania had been called for Biden; Joe Biden was the president-elect!

As in 2016, tears came to my eyes when I heard the news, but this time they were tears of joy!

I arrived in Washington, DC less than 30 minutes after the announcement; it was an amazing sight: even as I was looking for parking, people were running towards the White House, holding homemade signs

declaring TRUMP: YOU’RE FIRED! as well as official placards for Biden-Harris. The closer I got to the White House, the more people filled the streets, streaming in a spontaneous movement that was a parade, rally, and dance the party rolled into one. I found a spot and joined the throng. The excitement and joy in the air were palpable.

I let out my breath. I was alternately laughing and crying, and sometimes doing both at the same time. I made my way to Black Lives Matter Plaza, joining thousands of people crowding on all sides of the White House to celebrate. I began to Livestream the festivities on Facebook, my running commentary interspersed with whoops of joy and celebration. WE DID IT! WE DID IT! I kept
shouting.

Soon, though there were too many people in the area and my internet connection became unstable. Still I hung out, celebrating with thousands of others, watching with delight as people shook champagne bottles and then uncorked them, sending a festive spray of bubbly over the cheering crowds.

Once I finally left Black Lives Matter Plaza, I was able to live stream again, this time, the scene was of the streets near the White House packed with people in cars, honking and celebrating and cheering with us.

I walked toward the Washington Monument, where still more people gathered. Here I was interviewed by a Chinese station. The interviewer asked if I had been thinking of any family members when I cast my vote. You can hear what I told her in this finallive stream.

Finally, I made my way back to my car; my cell phone had died, due to all the live streaming and I wasn’t quite sure where I parked my car, but I remembered I was by the Human Rights Campaign office and asked a friendly transit worker to look up the address for me.

I got in my car just in time for our weekly Sunday service run through; I was so hoarse; I could barely speak.

Later this evening, in my modest hotel room, I popped open a tiny bottle of bubbly that I had spontaneously bought on my way back to my car. There, in the quiet of the room, far removed from the crowds still celebrating in DC, I shared a simple toast with my reflection in the mirror.

We are not out of the woods, yet; there is still much work to be done in the healing of our nation, but this is a start. Today we celebrate, tomorrow we get to work.

The Road Goes Ever, Ever On

On a sunny Friday in late October, I set out on part two of my Grand Experiment. The first time I embarked on this journey, was a month earlier, I had made the brash, bold (some might say “idiotic”) decision to try SUV RVing. I figured why not? Everything is on Zoom; I can Zoom from anywhere. So off I went in my 2017 Jeep Cherokee, just Rubi and me and the open road before us.

It was definitely a learning experience, but Rubi and I had a blast. There was only one concern: Where on earth would Wham! fit? I knew I’d be taking my 9-year-old cat on phase 2 of the journey, but the Jeep was cramped, to say the least.

Serendipitously, Mark Arnest was needing to find a new home for his mother’s 2000 Toyota Sienna minivan. I guess you could say it was a match made in heaven—well, maybe more like a match made in Colorado Springs, but you get the point!

After I returned home from the inaugural Car Camino, I got the van and promptly began researching how best to convert it into a RV, of sorts. As before, people pitched in and helped with the efforts and soon my house looked like an Amazon distribution center with boxes containing everything from a cot to a traveling kitty litter box.

It is so much roomier than the Cherokee!

Of course, there was that little issue of Wham! who maybe hadn’t gotten the memo that Adventures,

and Buffoonery soon awaited him on the open road. I helpfully bought him the book, Adventure Cats! Living Nine Lives to the Fullest! But, although he appeared interested, I don’t think he did more than leaf through the pages.

At any rate, I had Big Plans to get Wham! gradually accustomed to Van Life. I imagined I would first get him stoned on grade A cat nip, then take him for slow drives around the neighborhood, while I spoke reassuringly to him. In reality, his first trip was to the mobile Human Society clinic where he got his annual vaccines and had a microchip shot into his neck.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to get him acclimated. We did go for a few short drives around the neighborhood, but- and again let me point out, he didn’t read the book—he clearly wasn’t ready for the Grand Adventure to begin. He had adjusted well to wearing his harness, however, so I took that for a good sign.

Not sure if Wham! made it to this chapter

On the morning we set out, I lodged his soft-side pet crate right behind the driver’s seat where I could reach back and pet him through the mesh zippered door. It’s a great crate, and actually was the one Rubi travelled from Manor, TX to her new home in Colorado Springs, just 18 months earlier. Rubi had used it as a lounging pad until she outgrew it, whereupon Wham! took it over for himself. So, he was familiar with the crate and comfortable in it. On dry land, that is.

On the sea of four-lane freeways, Wham! was not as pleased. This despite the fact that I put in three brand new catnip toys and sprinkled some of the wacky weed liberally on the floor of the crate.

For the first three hours, he meowed constantly and piteously. Rubi, in her designated shotgun seat next to me, would occasionally glance balefully at me as if to say, “Did we really have to bring him along?”

Yes, we did. Wham!’s favorite place is on my lap or by my side and I decided he needed to be a part of the family fun. I was sure he would get used to the swaying of the car which did not, unfortunately, work the same magic it did on my son, Sam, when he was a colicky baby.

Shortly before our first scheduled stop in Colby, KS (the Oasis of the Plains, its sign proudly declares) I heard a whirring sound and glanced in my rear-view mirror to see that Wham! had pulled apart the zipper on the top of the crate and was emerging looking not unlike the first alien birth in that movie. Driving as I was, down I-70, I was a bit concerned, but Wham! busied himself exploring the back of the van, all the while meowing his protests loudly.

In just a few minutes I had pulled into the Travel Center in Colby, which featured a small, fenced-in dog park. Before exiting the van, I clambered into the back, fetched Wham! and put him back in his crate, pulling the top zippers together at the edge of the line, rather than in the center. In the 30 minutes or so it took Rubi to do her business, me to fuel up and use the people restroom, and get back on the road, Wham! seemed to have settled down. After a few initials meows as we pulled back onto the freeway, he was quiet the rest of the trip.

Finally, we arrived in Lawrence, KS where we would spend our first few nights with my sister, Lori, in her apartment. I dropped Rubi off at my niece’s home, where there was a large back yard and several other animals to play with.

Wham! stayed in the guest bedroom and was extremely happy to cuddle with me every night. But all good things must end, and soon, on Monday morning, we picked up Rubi and hit the open road again.

Clearly Wham! had forgotten this nightmare and the meowing began again. This time, however, I had the crate in the very back of the van (due to the fact that I had wedged it so securely behind my driver’s seat that poor Wham! was tilted and tugged out when I arrived at my sister’s; I don’t think that helped matters any.)

Wham! on pit stop.

Within an hour after we departed Lawrence, I once again heard the ripping of the top zipper and Wham! proved true to the sequel, Aliens. This time he made his way up front and I pulled off the freeway in an effort to get him settled in again. I noticed that he didn’t actually pull apart the seam where the two zipper ends met; he made his own opening.

After trying to get him back in the crate and driving slowly around, only for him to escape once more, I resorted to a MacGyver solution: I attached his bungee-like leash onto his harness and hooked it in the back of the cot. There. Now he could just reach in between the two front seats but couldn’t come up front where he might be a dangerous distraction. 

And so, thus outfitted, we sailed away.

He really seemed to become acclimated to the driving, and would sometimes lie on the cot, or on top of his (useless) crate, but most of the time, he would sit between the seats, where I could reach down and
pet him every once in a while.

Thus, began Travels with Rubi and Wham! The road goes ever, ever on, as Bilbo said.

 

Rubi and Wham! keeping an eye on me
during fueling break. Can you see Wham!?

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity-Jig!

After 20 days and 5651.9 miles, Rubi and I arrived home on October 12. During that time, we traveled through 16 states, and I preached the Sunday service from three different, auspicious locations. 

In my blog explaining what I was doing and why I said I would be curious about how I experienced my sense of place. Would preaching on the go feeling disorienting or centering? Would it really make a difference speaking from different locations? Would the All Souls community feel empowered by this exercise or would it be more of a bleh experience?

From my own perspective, the sense of place and how it related to the service theme was an immensely powerful experience. It is one thing to talk about how we are people of the covenant, but quite another to stand in front of the church where are religious forbears first pledged that covenant over 350 years ago.

It’s not unusual for me to speak about Black Lives Matter, racial inequity, and the need for us, as Unitarian Universalists, to make our voices heard and actions felt in the world; it’s quite a unique experience to speak to that in front of a giant shrine to Breonna Taylor, in Jefferson Square, Louisville, KY. That would have been powerful enough but was made even more so when Breonna’s mom, Tamika Palmer joined our Zoom worship to thank us for continuing to “say her name” and speak up for justice.

Speaking about the genocide and forced displacement of the indigenous nations took on more gravitas, when speaking from Tonkawa, OK, a town named after that tribe, forcibly removed from their native lands near Austin, TX via the Trail of Tears.

I heard from many of you that by my being in those different places, the service touched you in deeper and more meaningful ways than it might have, if I had just been sitting in my dining room, wearing my comfy slippers.

The other sense of place I was acutely aware of, was my living space. My 2017 Jeep Cherokee was a reliable companion, but it was short on space. When I first read the blog of the solo woman SUV RVer who inspired me to embark on this journey, I did not realize how much difference having a dog along would affect the perceived roominess of the vehicle. Still, Rubi and I soldiered on and survived.
I also learned by trial and error and would pack differently if we were heading out in the Jeep again. Now, however, I am the proud owner of a 2000 Toyota Sienna minivan donated by Mark Arnest. It is so much roomier.  I cannot wait to set out on the open road with Rubi and Wham! along for the ride.

I plan to hit the road again on Wednesday, October 28^th. This time I will be out for twice as long, crisscrossing the country for 7-8 Sundays before returning home for a holiday vacation. I’m not sure what else awaits us on this ministry Camino, but I do believe there is power is amplifying the voice and impact of All Souls so that we feel we are one with all people and all people are one with us.

And, I will feel your presence with me as I travel; your blessings and prayers, your well wishes, and generosity. Thank you for being on this journey with me.

 

Side Trips

 After finishing with the protest outside Mitch McConnell’s office in Lexington, KY, I had some down time, as I could easily reach my next preaching location in just a couple days' drive.

I was struck with an idea: Ever since obtaining Rubi from a friend, I had been a part of a Facebook messaging group called “Parents of the Pups of Sanctuary.” Rubi and her six siblings were born to a golden retriever who belonged to friends of mine. They live on a retreat center outside of Austin, TX called Sanctuary in the Woods. The Sanctuary is run by two ministers and their spouses. I have been friends with them for many years. It’s not surprising that of the six pups who went to different homes, four of them are now preacher’s pups and I know these ministers, too, all from my former denomination, MCC.

I wondered if any of them lived within my “flight pattern” so I posted that question in our fb messaging group. To my delight, one couple, Jane and Gay, were so close I would have virtually tripped over them on the way to my next preaching destination. They graciously invited me to spend a night with them (in their 5^th wheel parked outside.)

We were all excited to see how Rubi Yellow and Aspen Orange would get along. Would they remember one another? Aspen and Shiloh, the grand canine dame of the house, met us at the door. There was much wagging of tails and what my niece’s husband calls, a “firm handshake” (aka butt-sniffing) but no obvious recognition on the part of the two golden doodles. Nonetheless, it was wonderful to see them together, to compare notes and to watch them play.

Equally wonderful was spending time with Jane and Gay. Jane had been an MCC minister and I had been a part of her formation process not too long before I left the denomination as I continued the UU turn that I had begun years earlier. We laughed and cried as we shared our lives with one another—the unexpected sorrows as well as the abundance of joy. They fed me steak for dinner, eggs and sausage for breakfast and, just before I hit the road, Jane made me a brown bag lunch to take with me.

I felt so cared for by these two women; I was glad I had put out the call to the parents of the pups of Sanctuary.

As I left their house, I realized I had three days to get to my next destination which was only 16 hours away. I had not planned any stops, so I just punched my final destination into my Jeep’s NAV system and asked the Universe to drop me where I needed to land for the night.

About 2.5 hours later, I decided to find a dog park for Rubi to stretch her legs in and for me to enjoy my homemade lunch. It was just after 11, but I had eaten breakfast at 7 and decided an early lunch would set me up for a nice, long stretch of driving. Tapping the button on my steering wheel that summoned Siri I asked her if there were any dog parks nearby.  She answered that the closest one was about seventeen miles away, ten more miles down the freeway, then about seven miles off route. I didn’t mind the delay; as I said, I had nowhere I needed to be that night, so I took the exit and made the turn to find this dog park.

As I was driving, I realized I was right on the front porch of Dollywood! DOLLYWOOD!!!!!! The Dolly Parton theme park. I texted a friend this exciting news and said I am definitely going! At the dog park, which was a lovely lot of green grass with some shade trees, I struck up a conversation with a woman who was also visiting. She said she and her wife were season ticket holders of Dollywood and had come down from Pittsburgh to visit. She added that on that day the park was closed, for deep cleaning, but that it would be open the following the day.

I made some quick calculations in my head: I still had a 14-hour drive and two days to complete it. I could get to the park right when it opened at 10 AM the following day, spend an hour or so there, and then hit the road. I wasn’t interested in riding the rides, or even sitting in outdoor venues listening to bands; I really just wanted to stroll around and soak up the ambience.

Some quick checking on my compendium app showed a campsite by the Douglas Dam Waterhead that was run by the Tennessee Valley Authority. There was a nominal fee. I nabbed one of the last spots and headed over.

It was a gorgeous camp site; I was close to the water, the site itself had a shady spot for me to set up my screen tent and a picnic table, along with a fire pit. Rubi and I walked along the water’s edge; there

were kayakers and paddle boarders on the water, and, dotted along the shore, people fishing. I was sad I couldn’t stay longer. I would have rented a kayak and taken to the water, myself if I could.

That night, I sat in my cozy (aka) cramped car quarters and participated in the Self Expression and Leadership class I have been doing since mid-July; Rubi laid next to me. The back windows were rolled down but the mesh screen coverings I had over the windows both protected us from bugs and gave us privacy. After the meeting, Rubi and I both slept soundly.

In the morning, I awoke, decided to wait for coffee and got to work tearing down camp, after taking Rubi for a quick constitutional on the neatly mowed grass lawn about 100 yards from our campsite. Soon, we were all packed up and headed for Dollywood.

The seasoned Dollywooder I had spoken to at the dog park the day before had advised me to get my tickets online; since they were running at half capacity due to Covid-19 precautions, the tickets were selling out fast. I had tried to do just that the previous afternoon but there was a notice on the sales site saying that the online tickers were sold out. There were, however, a moderate amount of tickets available for sale at the gate.

I had determined to get there before the park opened to assure that I got one of the coveted tickets, but, alas, after creeping through the multi-lanes of traffic to get to the parking lot I was informed that, even at that early hour, all the tickets were sold; evidently others had gotten there even earlier than me. I asked if there was a place where I could buy souvenirs and was directed to the massive white hotel that also bore Dolly’s name. I stopped off there and picked up a few items and snapped a few photos, then headed to the car. There was one more AMAZING place that I had noticed on the way in where I was sure I could get service: a Krispy Kreme doughnut store. KRISPY KREME!!!!!

I was so excited!!! I went through the drive thru, got two of their classic glazed doughnuts and a cup of joe, and was soon on my way.

I wasn’t disappointed I had not made it into Dollywood, instead I reflected on how, just a couple of years ago I wouldn’t have gone on either of these side trips.

I would have told myself that none of the other pup parents would be interested in seeing me and I wouldn’t want to be a bother. If I had gone, I would have turned down the offer of the homemade lunch, again, not wanting to be an imposition. I definitely would not have stayed over in Sevierville, TN on the off chance I MIGHT get into Dollywood. I would have played it safe and drove on; and a small part of me would have regretted that.

These days, I am recognizing more and more that the journey more important than the destination, that side trips are where some of the most profound insights occur. “I care less about arriving,” as Mary Chapin Carpenter sings in her song, Something Tamed and Something Wild, “and just being in the path of some light carved out of nothing, and the way it feels when the Universe has smiled.”

Our lives, after all, are not meant to be a single line between the point A of birth and the point B of death; they’re meant to resemble that old Family Circus cartoon that shows little Billy zig-zagging all over the house as he sets off to accomplish a small, single task. That final destination awaits us all; why not make the most of it until we arrive? Love Every Moment.

 

Baby, You Can Drive My Van

 Tonight, Rubi and I are camping in Cherokee, NC. This is the gateway (on the North Carolina side, anyway; there’s also a gateway in Gatlinburg, TN) to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I wanted to make a side trip here because this is the prime week when the Monarch butterflies rest here for several days before continuing their journey which will ultimately end in Pacifica, CA where they will winter.

I have been to their wintering grounds in CA (and wrote about that here) but was thrilled to know that I could see them earlier in their annual journey as well.

For the past several nights, Rubi and I have been spoiled, staying first in an apartment in Manhattan, NY next to Columbia University and then in cheap motels where dogs and internet access are free!

However, aside from tomorrow night, when we will travel to Hendersonville, NC to stay with one of Rubi’s sisters, Aspen (and her moms, Jane and Gay) we will be car camping for the rest of this inaugural trip, until we arrive back in Colorado Springs on Monday, the 12^th.

Still, the last time we camped, it was outside of Provincetown, MA. You may recall, my ten faithful readers, that I had a dilemma regarding a very damp, leaf-covered screen tent that I needed to pack away. I was finally able to solve the problem but had to throw the tent into the back of my Jeep Cherokee, not packed in its bag so it could dry.

So, yesterday, before I left Louisville to go to Lexington for a protest at Mitch McConnell’s office, I found an out of the way area where I could finally get things back in order. I spent an hour and a half, emptying everything out of my vehicle, getting rid of trash, re-organizing everything and finally putting the tent back inside of its bag and on to the roof of my Jeep.

This made the trip so much better for Rubi, who had been contending with the loose tent flopping into her traveling area. Still, as you can see we are pretty cramped when it comes time for sleeping!!!
A few days ago, in an earlier blog post, I had talked about the cramped quarters and asked folx to keep an eye out for a mini-van or something that would be more conducive to travel, especially when factoring in my cat, Wham!, joining us on the next part of my car camino.

Incredibly, the very next day, after not having read word one of my blog, our fabulous music director, Mark Arnest, emailed me saying that the one item left to be resolved from his mother’s estate was her 2000 Toyota Sienna mini-van. Could I think of someone who could use that?

Could I?????

Soon, the deal was sealed and when I return home next week, I will be taking possession of this

fabulous gem, with only 97,000 miles on it!!! How cool is that??
Now I need someone with carpentry skills to help me convert this into a true SUV-VAN RV. I’ve already found one blog where someone converted this particular mini-van and there are DIY blueprints of how to do it. I will be home for a couple of weeks before I hit the road again!

So, if you have any experience in this area or would like to donate to this next iteration of my car camino, ping me.

I love how the Universe provides when we ask.  Thanks, Mark!!!!

Onward and upward!

Whose Streets?

 I stayed two extra nights in Kentucky so that I could attend a #moralmonday protest outside the office of Mitch McConnell in Lexington. This was organized by the Poor People’s Campaign, led by Rev. Dr. William Barber. Dr. Barber, of course, took his cue from the original Poor People’s Campaign that Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King led in the 60s.

This was a powerful witness but vastly different than the other PPC events that I’ve done. For this one, we met, masked, and decorated our cars with signs; for the others, we met in person. I remember the feeling the energy of hundreds of people packed into a crowded church in Washington, DC, and El Paso, TX, listening to powerful speakers decry the injustice of the day and calling for our elected officials to do better, to end the racist policies that had children (still there) in cages and young, black men murdered needlessly by the police.

In the Washington, DC protest, after hearing all the speakers, we lined up, five people in a row, to march in total silence to the White House, where many of us were ready to risk arrest to make our case. The effect of the silence was deafening and profoundly moving. Several times, I had to blink away tears as I watched the passersby look at us wonderingly, reading the signs we held. I was on the end of my row and I would turn and show my sign wordlessly to whoever was there, attempting to make eye contact, signaling with all the force of my body the urgency of our cause.

In El Paso, in June, we started off the same but then we caravanned over to a detention facility, demanding, as faith leaders, to be able to minister to the needs of those incarcerated inside. It was over 100 degrees, but many had on the robes of their tradition. I wore a bright yellow stole that said Siding with Love, and my clerical collar to denote my status as a minister. We stood there, outside of the lock gates, close together; sweat was trickling down by brow and the back of my neck but I did not budge as we shouted out for justice.

Last July, when I came to Louisville for the #1000milesforBreonnaTaylor protest, we were a raucous, righteous crowd defiantly marching in the middle of the roads, chanting, “Whose streets? OUR STREETS!! Laying claim to the right for black and brown people to be able to walk or drive these streets without fear of being arrested or killed.

There is such power when bodies can come together, combing their energy and voices in protest. Standing with hundreds of others, I felt encouraged in the cause for justice. It was heartening to see people from so many different faith traditions, with very different beliefs, of all ages and genders, joining together for a common cause.

Yesterday, we met, masked and six feet apart to put signs on our vehicles with blue painter’s tape. We did have some conversation, but it was different, not being able to see the full faces of my fellow accomplices. Once the cars were decorated, we lined up and drove slowly around the office complex, our hazard lights blinking, each of us in the silence of our cars. I had been listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter, but that felt somehow off for the protest, so I paused her CD, Between the Dirt and the Stars, and just drove in silence, concentrating on sending out justice and mercy vibes to those in McConnell’s office and to those on the streets who saw our motorcade solemnly passing by.

After it was over, we just pulled over, pulled off the signs and drove away. There had been about 20 cars in our protest; I know similar people were doing the same at the senators’ offices in other states.

I was struck by how different I felt participating in that silent, powerful protest than I did on Friday. I pulled onto I-70 from Wheeling, NV, heading into Ohio on my way to Louisville, and almost

immediately was confronted by hundreds of vehicles going the opposite way, with huge Trump Flags and signs, many also with the American flag featured. These vehicles were snarling the eastbound traffic, going much slower than the posted speed limit of 65, taking over the middle lane. As I drove past them, grateful I was going the opposite direction, I was also disgusted by their behavior. A couple of the Trumpsters were in the break down lane, the hood of their trucks up, as they peered inside. I passed one major fender bender between two Trump supports; that caused the traffic that had been crawling along to come to a complete standstill for several miles. After a time, I did come across some going the same direction as I was, though not nearly as many.

I wanted to show my ire for both their politics and their motorcade but my only noticeable action---flipping them off—felt juvenile. So, I just rolled my eyes to myself as I pass them by.

Yet, they were just doing what I was doing yesterday: showing their allegiances with a motorcade.

I couldn’t help but wonder, allegiance to what? What is it in their psyches that makes them align so closely with Trump? What neglected, gaping maw in their souls has been so filled with the rhetoric of exclusion, hate, divisiveness and arrogant disregard for science? These were not cheap vehicles; they were mainly large, expensive trucks with older white people in them.

Their tactics may have been similar to the protest I participate in yesterday, but the reasons could not be more different. I participated in a protest that demanded the end of inequality and injustice. The Poor People’s Campaign speaks out for the marginalized, the forgotten, the oppressed.

I’m actually not sure why the Trumpers were parading. The only thing they had been deprived of under the previous administration was the notion that they were special.

 Still, it's their right to gather, just as it is mine. Today, as I leave for points unknown, I feel even more determined to gather for justice, to reclaim the streets for all.