Searching for wisdom in a messed up world

In the aftermath of the horrifying, sickening events in Newtown, I found myself adrift, subconsciously seeking wisdom and guidance. The question: "Where have we, as a socitey, gone so wrong that something like this could happen?" Like a lighthouse broadcasting into the grey oblivion, John Steinbeck brought me with home, with grace and eloquence as always. Hope this helps you as it helped me. Happy Holidays.

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The following is a letter written by Steinbeck to Adlai Stevenson (ask your parents) in the aftermath of the quiz show scandal (they were rigged) in 1959. (Heaps of credit to the blog Letters of Note, and the book America and Americans and Selected Nonfiction)

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New York
1959
Guy Fawkes Day

Dear Adlai,

Back from Camelot, and, reading the papers, not at all sure it was wise. Two first impressions. First, a creeping, all pervading nerve-gas of immorality which starts in the nursery and does not stop before it reaches the highest offices both corporate and governmental. Two, a nervous restlessness, a hunger, a thirst, a yearning for something unknown—perhaps morality. Then there's the violence, cruelty and hypocrisy symptomatic of a people which has too much, and last, the surly ill-temper which only shows up in human when they are frightened.

Adlai, do you remember two kinds of Christmases? There is one kind in a house where there is little and a present represents not only love but sacrifice. The one single package is opened with a kind of slow wonder, almost reverence. Once I gave my youngest boy, who loves all living things, a dwarf, peach-faced parrot for Christmas. He removed the paper and then retreated a little shyly and looked at the little bird for a long time. And finally he said in a whisper, "Now who would have ever thought that I would have a peach-faced parrot?"

Then there is the other kind of Christmas with present piled high, the gifts of guilty parents as bribes because they have nothing else to give. The wrappings are ripped off and the presents thrown down and at the end the child says—"Is that all?" Well, it seems to me that America now is like that second kind of Christmas. Having too many THINGS they spend their hours and money on the couch searching for a soul. A strange species we are. We can stand anything God and nature can throw at us save only plenty. If I wanted to destroy a nation, I would give it too much and would have it on its knees, miserable, greedy and sick. And then I think of our "Daily" in Somerset, who served your lunch. She made a teddy bear with her own hands for our grandchild. Made it out of an old bath towel dyed brown and it is beautiful. She said, "Sometimes when I have a bit of rabbit fur, they come out lovelier." Now there is a present. And that obviously male teddy bear is going to be called for all time MIZ Hicks.

When I left Bruton, I checked out with Officer 'Arris, the lone policeman who kept the peace in five villages, unarmed and on a bicycle. He had been very kind to us and I took him a bottle of Bourbon whiskey. But I felt it necessary to say—"It's a touch of Christmas cheer, officer, and you can't consider it a bribe because I don't want anything and I am going away..." He blushed and said, "Thank you, sir, but there was no need." To which I replied—"If there had been, I would not have brought it."

Mainly, Adlai, I am troubled by the cynical immorality of my country. I do not think it can survive on this basis and unless some kind of catastrophe strikes us, we are lost. But by our very attitudes we are drawing catastrophe to ourselves. What we have beaten in nature, we cannot conquer in ourselves.

Someone has to reinspect our system and that soon. We can't expect to raise our children to be good and honorable men when the city, the state, the government, the corporations all offer higher rewards for chicanery and deceit than probity and truth. On all levels it is rigged, Adlai. Maybe nothing can be done about it, but I am stupid enough and naively hopeful enough to want to try. How about you?

Yours,

John

November 3, 2012: We're engaged!

On Saturday November 3, I dragged Katie up to the top of Storm Castle Peak. Despite being warm and sunny, we had the summit to ourselves. It was there that I asked her to marry me. She said, "yes", of course. Apologies for the crappy iPhone photo, we're at the summit I swear.

For the record (and because it was immediately flagged by my editor/manager/sous chef), Katie was not dragged to the summit. She was carried. Wait, that's not true either. The truth is she wouldn't have had it any other way and that's one of the many reasons I asked her to marry me.

We will be posting all wedding information to the "wedding info" page: http://stayuseless.blogspot.com/p/wedding-info.html
or by clicking the "Wedding Info" link at the of the page.

Cumulative Update: September

Some stuff actually happened in Septermber. Katie and I went to Chicago, stayed with her brother Justin and his girlfriend Natalie, attended Stacie's wedding and then relaxed on the shores of Lake Michigan. My parents showed up in Bozeman and we hiked (and hiked and hiked), despite the thick smoke due to wildfires. Good times were had by all.

We rented this ridiculous bike and pedaled from Navy Pier to the Museum Campus. This was right about the time we stopped for a Chicago dog. Front row: Brant and Justin. Back row: Julie and Natalie.

<more after the break>

August 19: Hyalite Lake

It seems silly to post (even more) mountain biking photos nearly months after the fact, but this blog is about living in a way that keeps your soul alive. For me, the act of mountain biking -- being in nature, transporting oneself under one's own power and spending time with Katie, sharing the experience and encouraging one another -- does just that.  Howard Zinn said, "The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” While I recognize that mountain biking is not some noble act, I am writing this from possibly the most stale, soulless, and spiritually lazy place on Earth (a condo complex in the suburbs of Phoenix) and so it kind of feels like it is.

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I wrote the above while stuck in Phoenix for work. Looking back a few weeks later, it still strikes me how dismal that place was. The attitudes that are cultivated and that thrive in such a place are what scared me the most. Anyway, I hope viewing these photos ease your mind as much as it eases mine to post them. Stay useless. 

Yes, these were taken when not just the state but the entire mountain west region was on fire.

 <more after the break>

September 6, 2012: RIP Cora

It's okay, she was old. She had a good run.

Cora was my parents' dog that they got in the summer of 1998, a few weeks before I left for college. She was from a shelter and not only had she been abused, but she'd been hit by a car. The incredibly generous people at the shelter gave her a new hip and my parents gave her a new home and a new lease on life. She thanked them for 14 years by barking at strangers (especially men, tall men, men with dark hair, men with facial hair and Aaron. And also anyone who range the doorbell.) and pooping in the house (mostly to punish them for going on vacation). She never fully grasped the concept of playing fetch, and generally refused to catch anything until after the first bounce. Despite these and numerous other quirks deficiencies, we loved her anyway.

Relations between Cora and I were friendly but terse. After a long hike with Cora and my Mom during which Cora would not walk in front of me, I realized that I had been assigned the role of alpha dog. I soon began referring to my mom as the "epsilon dog". After another hike, now several years ago, she couldn't walk the next day. It was then that we realized she was getting old. More recently, her face and front legs got grayer and whiter. Last year, her kidneys began to fail and she began to need pain medication 3 times a day. Apparently, she preferred her pills embedded in kielbasa. "She's a Polish dog", my mom said.

I was fortunate to travel home twice in the last two months and have the opportunity to make her sit and shake one last time, by hand signals only because she had gone deaf as well. So as you can see -- it's okay, she was old. She had a good run.

Cora, age 14, still smiling.

Getting some some sun, or  as we would say, "uh, the dog died."

Napping in a hole she dug by the side of the house in my mom's plants.

August 8-12: Bend

Bend was our final destination as we had a wedding to attend there. We did a bunch of riding but only took a few pictures on our early morning North Fork -> Happy Valley -> Farewell loop. Bend has a well-deserved reputation for smooth singletrack, but by this time of year, it's very dry and dusty because unlike Oakridge, it's west of the Cascades. In addition to biking, we got in some rafting and quite a bit of beer tasting. Bend has about a dozen breweries, many of which are excellent. One of the highlights was our visit to the Ale Apothecary, which is an artisanal brewery (for lack of a better term, I'm growing to hate the word "artisanal"). The low point was certainly Cascade Lakes Brewery, which is a complete joke.

Stay on target:

Oh yeah, this trail had a zillion (ok, seven) waterfalls. It also was loaded with cobwebs, we must have been the first people through there that day.

Note the dust cloud. Bend seems to have a lot of twisty, swoopy trails. They also like to go through narrowly spaced trees, which is unnerving. We even found some too narrow for our wide handlebars.

Katie about to run over some stuff with Broken Top in the background.

August 5-6: Oakridge, OR

We arrived after dark the night before and woke up in a National Forest campgorund in an old growth forest. We had reservations for the next two nights at the Oakridge Hostel -- cool owners, great breakfasts, locked shed for bikes, and even a bike stand and tools. The first day we rode/hiked up Lawler and then back down. It was very cool to ride in such a lush dense forest as such things do not exist in Montana. The next day we planned to ride the legendary Alpine trail -- after a shuttle from the nice folks at Oregon Adventures -- except the lower portion of the trail was on fire and we were diverted to the longer and more challenging Alpine->Tire Mountain -> Cloverpatch route. As a reward for the several miles of gravel and pavement that closed the ride, we went the Brewer's Union Local 180 and consumed gigantic burgers, sweet potato fries and seriously delicious cask-conditioned beers.

Lush and dense.

More after the break....

August 4 - Black (Country) Rock

After a long drive from Bozeman the night before, we finished up on Saturday morning to arrive at Black Rock (in  Falls City, OR) on the hottest day of the year -- 100 degrees and humid as hell. We goofed around the practice area jumps and quickly realized that we are not rad freeriders, but we had a great time riding berms (banked corners), smaller jumps and wooden features anyway. We had intended to stay at the campground in Falls City recommended on the BRMBA website but it was beyond sketchy (think people living in dilapidated RVs and trailers...as their permanent residence). Instead, we hit the road towards Oakridge after riding and had an excellent dinner at Venti's Cafe in Salem (extremely delicious sweet potato fries).

First some appropriate tunes, then on to the pictures:

Katie represents:

I love berms:

Katie gets airborne-ish:

Look Ma! I'm freeriding!

Katie is stoked to hit this feature:

One of the weird camera accidents that turns out cool:

Sunset somewhere near Eugene:

July 1: First Yellow Mule

This might be my favorite ride of all time. Alpine meadows give way to pine forest as you descend 3000 feet over seven miles of winding single track. Stunning views and ear-to-ear smiles abound.

Brant: "This one makes it look like you're going really fast."

Katie: "I was going really fast."

But wait, there's more...

Cumulative Update

Many, many things have happened since my last post. Many. We bought a house, moved into it and began filling it with stuff (both ours and some new stuff) and working on it. This is in addition to both us working way too much. I wrote a number of proposals and delivered some hardware to the Air Force. Katie attended some conferences and has been training volunteers all over the place. This is in addition to doing her own thesis research. Somehow we also managed to cook tasty food, ride bikes and even go skiing.

True greatness: Bacon, hamburger, caramelized onions and crimini mushrooms. 

"This is madness." "Madness? This is STRATA!!!"

Strata is pretty much the greatest breakfast food of all time as long as you plan on dying young. It's basically bread pudding for breakfast.  At my request, Katie made it with sausage, mushroom, shallots and monterey jack cheese. Although it takes a while to bake, it can be prepped the night before and left in the fridge.

The night before we went all out. Grilled steaks with caramelized onions and blue cheese butter, sauteed baby spinach with garlic and lemon and smashed potatoes. First, a word on the blue cheese butter. It's exactly what it sounds like (plus some parsley) and once you've had something like this on steak, there's no going back. Now, the smashed potatoes: these things are a brilliant combination of crispy french fry on the outside and mashed potato on the inside.  

April 29 - Bridger Bowl Deepness

It seems that Bridger always get a huge storm after the ski area shuts down. This year 42" fell in 48 hours. I dragged Katie out bed with promises of going out to breakfast after. Unfortunately, the rest of Bozeman had the same idea. As we skinned up, we saw lots of natural avalanche activity and chose a route that was both mellow (i.e. not steep enough to avalanche) and not in a major slide path (so no one else could bury us). As it happened, we saw a skier tirgger a small avalanche that came close to a skier below. Anyway, it had warmed up enough that the skiing wasn't epic, but whatever. Afterwards at breakfast, we were the only dirtbags in ski gear (and quite proud of it).

It was so deep that you couldn't reach the bottom, getting up after a fall was difficult. Katie demonstrates.

April, 21 - Moab, UT

Yes, Moab really warrants it's own trip, but it's too close to Fruita to pass up. Moab is one of the meccas of mountain biking and is home to many legendary rides. However, it was a Saturday and when we got the Amasa Back trailhead, it was slammed. Bikes and motos (that's dirt bikes, Mom) everywhere, and the vibe was aggressive.

So we bailed, and as it was nearly noon anyway, we hit Milt's Stop and Eat for burgers and fries. Milt's has been around since 1954 and they still peel fresh potatoes and hand-form their own patties every morning. They have also been using the same chili recipe all that time. Comfort food at its finest.

After waiting for the heat of the day to subside, we set out for a different ride and lucked our way into the only empty trailhead in all of Moab. The ensuing slickrock adventure turned out to be our favorite ride. I don't know how many times I said, "This is so awesome" or some variation thereof.

On the way to Moab - La Sal Mountains in the background:

More pics after the jump.

April 20 - Fruita, CO

Having remembered how to ride bikes the day before, we set off to ride the classic Fruita ride Mary's Loop/Horsethief Bench, which offers sweet singletrack, unique terrain and stunning views of the Colorado River. Not that it put a damper on our good times, but we were stunned by how many folks were out riding. At the busiest trailheads in Montana, you might see a dozen cars. Here there were more like 50 and they were all mountain bikers. We followed up the ride with pizza and beer, again. In Fruita, there's really nowhere to go but the Hot Tomato. We mixed things up by getting a salad and calzone. Katie accidentally ordered a large calzone, but we finished it anyway.

More pics after the jump.

April 19 - Fruita, CO

In the interest of avoiding the shoulder season doldrums, we took off for some prime time spring riding in Fruita, CO and Moab, UT. Traveling with mountain bikes is kind of traveling with children. You need to bring all kinds of special equipment with you to take care of them and keep an eye on them at all times. The difference is you can strap the bikes to the back of the car. With kids, you only do that when they misbehave. Anyway, the weather and the scenery were beautiful, and the beer was cold and delicious.

We had spent the night in Green River, UT and drove directly to the trailhead in Fruita that morning.  Our playground for the day -- yeah, it's pretty okay:

More pics after the jump.

Much Ado About Muffins

Alternate post title: I love the smell of muffins in the morning, it smells like victory.

These are corn muffins with blueberries in them. Katie was skeptical, but she has now been converted. We used the plain corn muffin recipe in the Cooks Illustrated compendium -- one of the greatest books of all time -- and added blueberries and some lemon zest.

Farewell Bridger Bowl

It was a crazy season. Winter was essentially three weeks long in mid-February. Massive avalanches ripped through Bridger Bowl in late March, so devastating that no one expected the upper mountain to re-open. Of the five best days of the year, Katie missed two and I missed two. On the final weekend of the season, it snowed, the snow pack stabilized, and we were there to reap the benefits.

Listening to...

It seems appropriate that the first post should reveal the inspiration for the title, lest anyone accidentally think I'm clever.