Travelling North America - by motorcycle - with teenagers...yep, we did it.

Our Family Odyssey

In 1992, my husband and I decided to sell the house, put stuff in storage, and travel by motorcycle around Canada, USA and Mexico with our 14 and 16 year old teenagers. We took 3 months to prepare, all the while putting everything we might need on our trip against the dining room wall. We sorted it out, packed it on 3 motorcycles, and rode 6 hours to my parents' house where we went through everything again, and sorted out what we thought we might really need. We left behind half of what we had originally loaded that morning. 

My husband rode a BMW K100, I rode a Honda CBX550F, our son Erik rode a Yamaha Vision, and daughter Nikolette rode behind my husband most days. We packed all the things we thought we would need into certain categories: Kitchen Bag, the Clothes bags, the Tent bags, the school book bags, the Tool bag, and the Misc Bag. Each item had to go back in exactly the same spot after using it so that we always knew where everything was when we needed it. 

Similar to Herb's bike

After discussing it with our kids' schools (Niki was going into 9th grade and Erik into 11th grade), both principals seem to think it would be a great idea, asking for correspondence along the way. We enrolled them in Alberta Distance Learning, and figured out a system to mail lessons from on the road. They got the highest grades ever while working on one subject at a time, studying in campsites on picnic tables while I cooked over a small propane stove and tutored when needed. Our daughter sent weekly postcards back to her school, which unknown to her were read over the intercom every week, making her a celebrity when she came home. Our son came home and told some motorcycle celebrity that he had just ridden 60,000 kms in the last year. He was told he was crazy until it was verified by the two reliable adults with him that it was indeed true; then he was lauded as Hero for the Day, earning the respect of many other riders. 

Our general modus operandi was to travel for 200-300 miles in a day, and then find a campsite. Then usually Herb or sometimes Erik would ride back into town for supplies after the tents were set up (3 tents: one for Herb and I, and one each for the kids) if we had not already picked up supplies passing through town. While I cooked supper, the kids would do their school work and Herb would check out the bikes, or the campsite or plan our route for the next day (hardcopy road atlas, no gps, before Google Maps). Our 14 year old daughter was so proud that she could set up her tent by herself, and the kids would often compete to see who could put up their tent faster. Both kids learned how to find firewood and start a good campfire; how to use a knife in a useful way; and how read a map to plan the next day's travel. 

We had been on the road about a week, and were in northern Michigan and we set up camp at a lovely spot on the river. Erik came back from town saying, "Batten down the hatches, a storm is coming through." We ate quickly while making sure everything was as waterproof as possible. That night the thunder shook the ground under the tents, the rain came down in bucketfuls, Niki nearly floated away in her tent and we got totally drenched. I remember laying there thinking, "I sold my house for THIS!" After packing up very soggy sleeping bags and tents the next morning, we rode into town for a hot breakfast. In the little diner, the electrical company employees at the next table could not believe we had camped through what they called "the worst storm in a decade". It took a early stop with sunshine to dry out all the gear before we fell asleep that night in another campsite. 

From Sept 6, 1992 to May 20, 1993 we travelled through all ten Canadian provinces, all lower forty-eight USA states and about eight Mexican states. We crossed the continent 6 times, and rode about 60,000 kms (about 40,000 miles). We met wonderful people, rarely went on an interstate, choosing instead the "blue highways" of John Steinbeck or William Least Heat Moon. 

Not us, but a typical KOA Camping Cabin

A Mennonite Family in Mexico

Mostly we stayed in campgrounds, but sometimes we did get a KOA camping cabin, or occasionally a motel room in really bad weather. We also used a Hosting Program called "Mennonite Your Way" or we stayed with friends in all four corners of the continent for a day or two. That way we got to be in homes like a lighthouse in Michigan, a dairy farm in upstate New York state, the home of the only doctor to lepers in Louisiana, and an eco-ranch in Arizona. We stayed in a monastery one night, the first married couple ever to share a room there with the silent monks. We rented a condo for the month of November in Cocoa Beach, Florida and shared American Thanksgiving with friends living in Orlando. We spent Christmas in Chino, California where we had once lived for 6.5 years when the kids were small. For that holiday we actually treated ourselves to a nice hotel with a pool. One of our Christmas presents to each other was an hour each to ourselves in the room - we had been having a little too much "together" time. Herb and I shared our hours....

In Mexico, we found not only my extended Mennonite family who only spoke my childhood dialect, but we also met my parents there and traveled with them for two weeks. Then together we looked up a family that had been so good to my husband when he had an accident in Mexico, and they treated us like royalty, inviting us into their home and life, sharing feasts of delicious Mexican foods in rural central Mexico. We visited the home of an exchange student we knew well who took us to tour the Mexican pyramids in El Tajin. Traveling with a young Scotsman named Charlie who had bought a motorcycle when he entered the USA and was crossing the continent, gave us interesting company and new stories. He did not want to travel Mexico by himself, so he became a part of our caravan for three weeks. 

Too many stories to share in one blog, but if anyone wants to hear more of any particular part of the North American continent, we have probably been there!! 

It was a crazy year, a wonderful year and it was hard to come home. Every curve in the road brought a new adventure. When we came back to Edmonton and had bought a house and started settling in, our daughter said, "Dad, it's boring being in one place all the time." Our son said, "We made memories for a lifetime." We did.....maybe Herb and I will have to do it again....soon.

Got the Travel Bug AGAIN......

Every few months I get extremely restless. 

My children often wonder if they are children of gypsies! The gypsy blood I have in my veins....The desire to see new places, and eat new foods, and hear new sounds, becomes stronger and stronger in me until suddenly I am preparing for a trip to Kenya, or Haiti, or Brazil, or even Canada. 

Truth be told, my parents come from Mennonite farming stock, but my ancestors for the past 500 years or so were on the move, not because they wanted to be adrift or even travel but because they believed in adult baptism and so went from Holland to Prussia, Russia, then Canada, Mexico and even Central America to avoid persecution by the Catholics and Lutherans. Maybe that is where the genetic urge to travel comes from. My maternal grandpa and I spent many afternoons reading travel books together, he reading about places he would never visit, me researching for the future travels I would make. 

When I was in Grade 12, I spent a Friday night at a friend's house and came home Saturday morning to see my mother doing laundry. My mother only did laundry on Mondays, NEVER any other day! So when I asked her why, she said, "Because we are leaving for California this afternoon." Okay....my father did not like to plan, for fear that what he desired would not happen. So the 5 of us left that afternoon for a 2 week trip to California, school left behind and new adventures around every curve. And while we were there we saw the desert, the beach and some other wonderful views. We stayed in very cheap hotels, got meals from grocery store supplies, and drove...a lot. 

We did the same thing when I was in Grade 10 and we went to New Orleans for Christmas. Drove...a lot. Saw and toured a couple of antebellum mansions, ate at places in the French Quarter where most tourists would not go. My dad struck up a conversation with anyone anywhere, never had any fear to talk to a stranger, and so we always heard interesting stories. From the horse and carriage driver, the blues singer, the nun, the prostitute, the plantation owner, anyone with a story....we were not embarrassed by Dad because we got to hear the stories too....and we learned more on those trips than in our classrooms at home.  


We traveled anywhere my dad could drive. Then I married a guy who also has that gypsy blood (his mother is Russian Mennonite and his father was Norwegian - some Viking stuff going on and they were travelers too, right? I think that is the polite word for invaders?) He does most of his traveling on a BMW motorcycle (almost a million miles so far) even when overseas. Together we have traveled to a great many countries. I have traveled to over 30 countries, some more extensively than others of course. There are so many left to visit, and some to which I want to return for more discovery. This world and its people are incredibly interesting. My husband and I always enjoy our travels together and have had some interesting adventures. Stories to come......

Reno in heated jacket liner riding
a motorcycle in the rain in Morocco
drinking hot mint tea.

If you have not experienced that little hollow feeling inside that gives you a craving for new vistas, then maybe you are fortunate. It is like an illness, and the only cure is to get on a plane, in a car, or on a motorcycle, or start walking and go.......somewhere else....I feel the fever coming on again........did I ever tell you about how we took our two teenagers out of school and traveled for a year...by motorcycle?

Maybe next time. Right now I have a map to check....

Reno greeting one of the teachers in a rural school in Malawi

Monday, Monday...under the mango tree.....

Like the lyrics to the song made famous by the Mamas and the Papas, I find Monday mornings the most difficult part of the week, right after Sunday evening.

There seems to be a pattern to our days, and for a semi-free spirit like myself, I often wish that there could be more spontaneity to my life. Like this, the first ever flash mob dance that seemed spontaneous but of course had been very carefully choreographed and has now been imitated many times in many different ways.

 
If money is no object, then you have the freedom to "do" more spontaneous things, but as there are moths in my wallet, I will just have to "be" more spontaneous. We heard a good sermon this past week on doing and being.

We, especially as North Americans, just want to do, do, do......and in other countries, it is often more important that you "be". I have reminded of this many times as I see many churches (my own included) or service clubs sending out mission teams that always "do" construction or VBS for kids, or medical missions, etc. etc.  Of course many of these things are much needed. Yet we also need to "be"....be present in the moment, be in the lives of the people we want to "do" things for, be a light in the darkness, be a loving, caring human being. After all, we are called human "be"ings, not human "do"ings, although the later might apply to some of us.

A Malawian friend once said to me, "Sometimes it is just so good to have someone visit from North America who will  just be with us, sit with us, walk with us, eat with us, and let us know that there are other people of faith in this world. We are not alone, and because you have been here with us, we can be together in our struggle to live a life of faith, especially when times are hard."

It was a profound moment for me.

Since that time, I have tried to always find at least one person in the country that I am visiting with whom I can sit under a mango tree, or in their front yard, or in their school or church, and just listen and maybe talk. It is amazing at the amount of communication you can have with someone whose language you do not know, through gestures, smiles, and nods. If I see a woman sorting beans or chopping tomatoes, I will often sit beside her and help her in her work if she is okay with that.

Maybe I just need more time under the mango tree today.

Monday Monday, so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,
Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday, how could you leave and not take me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

Monday Monday, so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

Monday Monday, ...

Friday means I get to read all weekend....Books, love them, gotta have them, can't live without them....

I grew up reading. 

Reading is like breathing to me. I cannot live without reading. People at the library always know me no whatever where I live because I am there at least every week or so. 

My parents did not get a TV into our house until I had left home, so even though I am a Baby Boomer, I did not see many of the tv shows that my fellow boomers grew up on. Many tv shows I saw for the first time when they were re-runs after I was married. When my husband and I were newly married, I fell in love with James T. Kirk and watched all the re-running episodes of Star Trek that came on every day at 5:00 pm when I came home from work. That would have been in the mid-70's. 

So instead of TV, I read. In the long winter evenings in the frozen north, we read out loud to each other. Classics like Old Yeller and Little Women came alive as my mother read a chapter to us every night before we went to bed, and we often could hardly wait until the next evening for the next installment. My younger sister and brother are big readers too. 

On Friday afternoons I came home from school, elementary and high school to a spotless house. Friday was my mom's cleaning day and she kept a very clean house. I would grab an apple and whatever book I was reading, and sit in my little corner in the living room where the sun was shining and I would revel in the experience. Bliss.......

My parents would say that if they could not find me, they only had to look for a book and my nose would be in it. My maternal grandparents lived only a block away and I was grandpa's favorite. When I went to the library I would pick out travel books that we could read together, and we pored over many a book about Mexico (his favorite) or Africa (my favorite). I sat with him at his handmade rolltop desk top, and we would look through the pictures of exotic places and talk about how we would like to visit those places. 

Luckily I married a reader. My husband reads differently than me, but we enjoy many of the same books, especially about travel. I also love mysteries - not the blood and gore kind, but the police procedural novels that talk more about how the detectives solve the mystery than how the crime was committed. Henning Mankell is a great writer, and got me hooked on Swedish and then Scandanavian mystery writers - that was after I had read all of the Inspector Wexford novels by Ruth Rendell, and the Inspector Morse and on and on.... My big love are the books that tell another person's travel experience. So many writers excite me about the places they have been and give me a little hollow feeling inside that can only be filled by planning another adventure. 

I have about 6 books just waiting for me on my beside table. I can hardly wait.

This should be fun.....more on reading to come. 

I can't sleep....but glad for a wee bit of joy.

Joy comes at you in surprising ways, often where you least expect it!

Tonight my husband returned after a week of work in South Carolina. I had spent my week working, cleaning closets, and finishing a few projects. It was joyful to be together after 8 nights apart, especially as I was not expecting him for 2 more nights. Now it's 2 a.m. and I cannot fall asleep.

Yesterday I was able to spend the afternoon with a dear friend whose arm was in a cast, who has some major decisions in front of her, and who is stressed, tired, and hurting. Yet as we sat outside with our dogs at our feet, a nice glass of wine in our hands, and a lovely view in front of us, we experienced joy in being together and celebrating friendship.

Today I met with two friends. One asked me travel questions for her upcoming overseas trip - strange as it may seem,  this filled me with joy. I love it when someone asks for my advice about travel! I have so much overseas travel experience and it is a shame not to pass that on to someone. I am also thrilled to see her expanding her wings with her first international adventure. A second friend shared her experiences working with a mutual acquaintance which clarified that I was not losing my mind. Well, I might still be crazy but at least not about this issue. She had the same frustrations working with this person so I could rest easy knowing it wasn't just me. That gave me some joy. Wouldn't you be joyful to know you were not losing your mind!

Last Sunday at our church I took a class that revealed , through a series of interesting exercises, evaluations and tests, what ministry we might be suited for in our church. It was no surprise to me that I have some unusual God-given gifts, according to this process (and many similar evaluations) especially for a woman in a Lutheran church, and I think that once again, the pastoral staff won't know what to do with me. But it gave me joy just to have confirmed that I am not nuts and God has given me gifts to use - and if my church can't use me then maybe God will use me elsewhere. 

On Friday a client going through a very tough time asked to pray with her. It was on government property but I joyfully prayed with her. She left more peaceful and less stressed with a little bit of hope too. 

Joy often comes in the oddest places and times. In spite of continued stresses in my life, most beyond my control, God gave me a few moments of joy....and for that I am really quite joyful.

Special Words....

Our Director of CE and Youth Pastor, Emily, a wonderful and energetic young woman, is off to Texas with a whole bunch of teenagers to go to a National Youth Convention event.

19 of them and her, I think I heard. Traveling on a bus for a few days...fun, fun!

As a member of the church where Emily works and ministers, and as a writer, I was asked to create notes to some of these 20 young people as they attended this event and travelled back and forth by bus. One of the fathers had the idea that a surprise note for each person attending this event every day would be a good encouragement to them. (I hope he is right. )

So I did that - wrote 9 or 10 notes to the young people whose names I was given, and one to Emily as well, as she was also on my list. I was to write a note for the individual for a certain date of the trip, and these were to be handed out on the bus every morning.

It was an interesting process, writing these notes. I spent time in prayer before writing each one, and asked the Holy Spirit to guide my thoughts as I was writing, and to touch each person as they read my notes. I wrote from my heart and what I thought God wanted me to say. Then when I was done, I re-read what I had written, and was quite amazed at my audacity. Well, actually, not mine, but the Holy Spirit's boldness. These were not words I would have ordinarily written to people I knew, even if I was their best friend. The words all spoke directly to certain issues, and believe me, except for Emily, I do not know these kids. But God knows their hearts, and what they need each day of this important week.

Mark 13:11 "Just say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit."

And I was reminded that God does know our inner heart, knows us better than our best friends, or even our boyfriend/girlfriend, spouse, or our parents. God's Holy Spirit amazes me continually, and gives me information and direction about how to live my life to please God, if I only listen. That's why I have two ears and one mouth, I also keep reminding myself. Not to sound weird or airy-fairyish, but I know that if I listen, God will give me direction. And innately, I already know what was right - in God's eyes - and what I need to do, because I am a much-loved child of God.

As children of God, we have not only the right, but also the privilege, to be directed by the Holy Spirit. We are to be guided and comforted by his nudges to do what is right in the eyes of God - not in our own eyes, because we often have warped views of right and wrong based on how we were brought up, or what experiences life has brought us, or past poor or wrong decisions we have made. However, if we have given our hearts and lives to God and his forgiving love, we can take a quiet moment, and actually listen to His Spirit's gentle nudge. I say nudge because God rarely speaks with thunderous tones. If He did, we would all listen, wouldn't we?. No, it is with quiet nudges and gut impressions, so that we will slow ourselves down enough to listen...and understand that this is God's direction, not our own.

Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit".

So as you go through your day, with continual choices to make, I pray that the Holy Spirit of God will guide you with joy and enthusiasm!!

How to REALLY find your bliss....7 ways I try to do that.

Interesting that the most readers I had on any one blog was titled, How to Find Your Bliss...in a really Tough Job. In re-reading my blog, I realized that I had not addressed the issue of my topic.

Where is my bliss?

 

So much of all work is repetitive, and so much is unfulfilling, but just needs to be done. Scut work we used to call it in the hospital. Some days the clock seems to stand still, and my eyes are bleary from looking at the computer screen. Some days my left ear is hot from not only holding the phone, but maybe from the words coming through it. Some days I am running back and forth, up and down, from courtroom to prosecutor's office, meeting people in my office, in the law library, in the court room.

 

So with all the hurting victims I deal with every day, how do I find bliss in a tough job?

 

1. First and foremost, I care. I care about the people for whom I have been asked to advocate in this job of victim advocate, but I care in whatever job I do. I cared about how the motorcycle dealership looked, operated and how it took care of its customers. I cared about the 60,000 families our program fed in Zambia. I cared about my patients when I operated LifeLine Therapy Clinic. I work with someone who does not care and admits that. While he is a fun person, is always good to talk to, my work is often harder because he does not care.

In this job, if I did not care, I would not be true to my faith that asks me to take care of hurting people.
Matthew 25:34-40, Jesus is talking to his disciples about why they should help others:
"Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:

I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

Then those people are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me."

 

If I did not care, I would not be true to who I am as a human being, looking beyond my own selfish world and give a hand up to someone who is often calling for that hand. It is too easy to ignore the cries of others.

 

2. While this might seem like an opposite to the above "first and foremost", I take mini-vacations. 5 minutes here, 5 minutes there. To either read an email, or shut my eyes and go to my "happy spot", or if no one else is in the office, get up and dance for a couple of minutes. I have a 200 song playlist of songs I really like in Spotify.com and I play my favorite tunes when not on phone or with a client. I have an energizing playlist and a relaxing playlist. Sometimes, I deliver the letters I write to victims one at a time to the main office mailbag on the third floor, get up, run up the 30 steps, just to get the blood flowing.

 

3. I talk about my work with a colleague. She, starting here after me, is bright, capable, and knows the work I do. She appreciates what I do to help her, and she knows that sometimes this work is overwhelming. We can commiserate about the progress or outcome of cases and help each other not to get overwhelmed.

 

4. I shake my work off like a cloak when I leave the office. I do not worry or fret about my clients - or very rarely after I drive away from the courthouse. There are enough other things to fret and worry about when I get home. My clients' stories do not keep me awake at night because I do not let them. I have prayed for many a client during the day on a mini-vay-cay but I have asked God to protect my mind from their hurts, angers, and anguish after I leave my office, and He has honored that request.

 

5. I have a husband who gives exceptionally good hugs. His arms know just when to envelope me and give me a safe place in this world. So when I do come home exhausted, his hugs refresh and center me.

 

6. I like to eat and that paycheck sure helps. So, when on the last day of the month, I see the number appear in my bank account that will pay the bills, the hard work feels worth it. I feel a little satisfaction in knowing that I am making a decent contribution to our household.

 

7. I take time to travel. Often to interesting and sometimes exotic places....like riding a motorcycle through Morocco, like living in a rural village in Malawi, like the Canadian prairies, as often as I can. I shop at thrift shops, have not done any much-needed remodeling on my house, and cut down on everything I can in order to travel as much as possible. Traveling gets me out of my comfort zone, out of my small thinking, so that I can expand my mind, use my inner resources and become a "bigger" person. Is this paid vacation time? Heck, no. And I don't work, I don't get paid....but that time away is so very refreshing and I come back better and stronger, having aired out the cobwebs in my mind.

 

So that's how I find my bliss...how about you?

 

 

This very minute, I am making a choice.....

CHOICES:
There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them.
http://t.usnews.com/bC97A

 

 

Choices every single day, life choices, food choices, activity choices. Mostly benign choices, but often life-changing choices. 

 

There is a great book out, called Make Shift Happen by Dean Dyer. Dean Dwyer is a former teacher, who quit his job to accept a more ambitious mission: Could he actually make MAKE SHIFT HAPPEN in his own life? Well, it seems he did...his website is http://kickstartyourunlivedlife.com/ and I like many of his ideas. The book was so good that I took his 20 "shifts" and made my own notebook of those shifts and made them my own.

 

Today, I  make the choice to DO SOMETHING SEISMIC! I am in control of my life .....or am I?

 

My job is dependent on whether or not my grant is renewed. So I can choose whether or not to work for free ......Not! I can always choose to try to find another job. I have to live with the consequences that I am a renaissance woman and have many skills, interests and experience that don't always fit into a cookie-cutter job - which makes it harder to find satisfying work.

 

My husband has made a job choice so he is commuting 100 miles! What choices does that give me? Hmmmm......sometimes we have to live with the consequences of other people's choices too. I chose to deal with his choice without uprooting our residence.

 

I chose my own car for first time in my life last month - made the deal myself too. Hubby says "good choice". It makes me feel good to drive a slight-used Jeep that runs well, instead of settling for the old Jeep that needed new gaskets and was dripping oil, just to "make-do".

 

I do choose what to put in my mouth today...and I take full responsibility for the weight I have gained over the very stressful past year...today I am deciding to stop eating everything in sight. If I do that every day, my skinny clothes that fill half my closet will fit again by September!

 

I choose what to spend my hard-earned money on, whether to buy something for me to look at in my house, or simply pay bills, or send to a struggling school in Zambia.

 

I chose to say Yes to my husband's proposal of marriage, and I choose to love my big imperfect man, who is perfect for me. I would say the most fun we have together is when we are travelling, and share new experiences together. As my son-in-law says to our daughter, "your parents are just gypsies". Could be true.

 

I chose to say Yes to God, when he asked for my heart, and in return He gave me joy. I choose today to live in joy, not despair. I chose to delight in God, the prime directive according to John Piper. More on that later....

 

Every day, millions of choices, including how I spend every minute of every day. We have free will to make those choices, and then have to accept the consequences of each of those choices.

 

I hereby take full and total responsibility for my choices. What about you?

Bucket Lists...I just love checking off things done!

Spain 2013

The movie, The Bucket List, was interesting, a little silly, and rather funny. It seems to have given the whole world the idea that they need to have a bucket list - a list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket (or die, for my non-English-idiom-user friends).

I love making lists. The iphone apps I have for lists are not nearly as satisfying as actually putting a nice pen on a new legal pad and writing out a list of things to do. And then checking them off as they are done - heaven! I have always been that way. Put me in a stationary store and I drool or spend money - it's hard to drag me out of there - ask my daughter, she knows. I was always the kid in school that loved starting a new notebook. I wrote with an ink nib and cartridge pen in high school just because I liked the way it looked when I wrote in those notebooks of mine. What a nerd I am!

Buckets lists can help us decide what is important to us. I started an on-going bucket list back in 1990. I already always have the following lists going: Things to fix in the house List, Things to do in the yard List, Groceries I need to buy List, Books I want to read List, Movies I want to watch List, People to call List, is this getting tedious or is it just me?.... So, I thought, why not add a Bucket List?

The Top 10 Items on Reno's Bucket List 1990:
Things to do Before I kick My Bucket 
1. Travel with my family for a year by motorcycle around Canada, USA, and Mexico.
Check - did that 1992-1993 - All 10 provinces, 48 states, and 8 Mexican provinces. 

2. Start a girls high school in Malawi.
Check - did that from 1994-2002. School is still thriving under local leadership. 

3. Travel with my husband by motorcycle around South Africa, Brazil and Morocco.
Check - did that 1999, 2012,  and 2013.

4. Become an International Relief Manager and feed 60,000 people in Zambia.
Check - did that 2002-2003. Challenging and wonderful year. 

5. Publish a book. Have written many many magazine articles, but have not published a book. Want to see my name as author on a book cover and someone reading it! (I actually have written the first draft of a novel, but have not read it for a year or two. I will go back and read it in a few months, and see if it is redeemable. I am thinking of starting a memoir instead.)

6. Start a blog and write regularly. 
Check  - started 2013. Now the goal is to keep writing.  

7.  Travel with my grandkids. I would love to take some of my African grandchildren back to where they were born, and see if there are any African relatives left to introduce to them. I would love to take my non-African grandchildren to someplace exotic and wonderful and meaningful. Right now I have to travel 3 days in the car to see any of my grandchildren - all 7 live in the great white north. 

8. Have my bathrooms and studio re-done. This might sound silly for a bucket list, but it is really up there. I would love to have someone come in, listen to my ideas, and design a new studio and bathrooms for my 50+ year old house. I want new windows, ceramic tiles, a rain shower, glue removed from hardwood floor in studio and of course, this would have to be done for free. Dream on.....but still something I want to see before I kick the old bucket. 

9. Have time to create more paintings...I love to paint with oil, and have procrastinated, due to studio not being completed - see #8.  I have 4 of my own paintings in my home.....have sold the rest, but often feel an overwhelming desire to create. There is really is no excuse for this except procrastination. 

10. Have a vacation with my husband on a warm sunny beach......where we walk out the front door of a cottage onto the beach, with comfortable lounge chairs, good books, cool drinks waiting for us, and we hold hands as we look at the horizon, smell the salty air and feel the sun caress us. 

#10 will probably be the hardest. Because: 1. My man would rather be on his motorcycle than almost anywhere. 2. His idea of a vacation is so much different than mine, and 3. Living so far from family we feel guilty going anywhere else if we do have the time for a vacation.  Don't get me wrong....we do want to spend time with family, and in my imaginary beach if the children and their spouses were on lounges beside us, or if they were playing beach volleyball or building sandcastles with the grandchildren, that would be perfect. Then we could all go back to the house for an evening BBQ where I have made my great potato salad, and my daughter her seven-layer salad, etc. etc. Dream on....

Still, continually revising my bucket list gets me thinking of the top ten things that I want to do. Notice how so many of mine involve travel? Tell me your top three. Maybe I will be inspired to put them on my list. My legal pad and pen are ready.

Sitting Under a Mango Tree....

Talking to you, baby...

My love affair with Africa started many moons ago. I have often sat under a mango tree in Africa, and in limited Bantu language/English combo have "communicated" with an Africa woman while we cut up tomatoes or sorted through beans, whether it has been Kenya, Malawi or Zambia. Just sitting there in the quiet rural setting, without the usual "noise" of our western life, I feel a peace and contentment that I rarely find in North America. And a sense of sisterhood with this quiet dark-skinned woman who has let me into her space to perform a job that gives her a chance to sit down for a few minutes. Sometimes we laugh ourselves silly as we communicate or try to, but the laughter is healing, and joyful.  

Why is it that you can go completely out of your comfort zone in a country that is totally foreign to your own, and have such a joyful experience? Once, when I was staying in a village in Malawi, I woke up at 2 am, and needed to use the pit latrine, which meant a walk at night from my hut through the maize field across the yard and behind the volunteer teacher house. I went and did my business, and as I was walking back I woke up enough to take a look at my surroundings. Not a sound except for some night bugs chirping softly. It was bright enough to see where I was walking, so I looked up and instead of the moon, I gazed up into the milky way. I held my breath, I was mesmerized. Above my head a ribbon of stars seemed so very close that I felt I had only to lift my hand and I would touch it. It was a sight I had only ever seen in glossy coffee table books, where scientists take photos of the sky with special telescopic cameras. I stood there for over 20 minutes, just soaking in the sight above me. The lack of light pollution gave me a mind-blowing experience that I still remember 15 years later.

Another time, I came back to the girls high school that I had started in Chamama, Malawi, and was greeted by women dancing and singing in Chichewa. They drew me in to dance with them, and although I knew not the words or the steps, I gave in to the pure delight of being included in this cultural event. I found myself instinctually knowing not only the movement as I was caught up in the dance, but understanding that this was to celebrate a harvest.

When arriving at a friend's house in a rural area of Malawi, I went to bed early because of jet lag. Before settling on my pillow, I looked out the window to see the village children gathering to join together in the early evening, singing in perfect harmony, clapping in perfect rhythm, and dancing by joining together their feet in a perfect circle and hopping round and round and round. I went to sleep with the surreal joyful sound in my ear.

Some day I will tell you the story of how I came to have 4 African-born grandchildren. But for now, maybe I will plant a mango tree in my backyard. Will anyone join me if I sit under it to sort beans for supper?

Travelling the world

This is my first blog. I have entitled it "Live with Passion" (in Portuguese it's viva com paixao), my philosophy of life in a nutshell. I want to keep you informed about some things that are going on in my life, and give you my particular point-of-view on the world.

We often have had riders come through our former motorcycle shop on their way to somewhere. To South America, Mexico, parts of the US, Europe, and even Mongolia. Each of these people has a bit of fire in their eyes, the passion of far-away places. They are anticipating what will be around the next corner, the next curve, the next vista.

Since I have done that type of travelling, I find myself getting emotional when these people leave us. I know they will have good days and bad days, days of joy, excitement, and days of hard work and bad weather. But they will be living on the edge, using their skills to see new sights, to bravely go where no one has gone before - well, at least not where they have gone before.

Last summer we met with a few hundred other Beemer riders at the BMW Bash at The Hub, a motorcycle resort 7 miles south of Harrison, Arkansas. This was a group of people who love the BMW motorcycle and who love to ride. (Only 2 trailers, and both for very good reasons.) Many of these people have ridden hard, as in the Iron Butt Rally; some have ridden far, and won awards for high mileage; and many have travelled to another state, another country, and experienced new roads.

I think it is time for me to share some of my stories of life and travel and how my love to move around in this world has changed me....storytime.