Santa Fe day 2. You know there are times in life when you just feel like you have been led someplace. Put in another way, I sometimes like to think of it like this: at important times in life the solutions to our problems or the direction we need to go in, are put before us. We just need to have the wisdom, awareness and determination to see those solutions or direction. And I don't think it will come to us if we just sit and wait, we need to seek. We need to get out and do, like nike says "just do it". I have come to believe that that statement "can" have a spiritual essence to it as that which we need to experience or the direction we need to go will appear before our eyes.
Today I had such an experience. After washing all of the dust and crap off my car, we went downtown to visit some shops and galleries. First I got shut down by a German guy selling Indian stuff, so we went into a shop so Chuck could look at a gift for Nancy. I got bored in about eight seconds so I went to look for another shop. Of all things, I stopped in an upscale hat shop and asked the proprietor if he knew of some places I could show my work. A wierd looking old guy who I could best described as a very funky and well dressed looking homeless person was sitting in the corner brushing hats (yes I believe his job was hat brusher). He spoke up and said I should go to Madrid, not Spain but New Mexico, about 30 minutes South. It is an artist colony (interpretation: an old abandoned mining town taken over by hippies who long ago decided to actually earn a living). I put the thought in my back pocket and headed to another shop, I went to a place where I had bought a poster three years ago. I asked a very young lady who said she was a co-manager of the store if she would be willing to look at my images. She did and ordered an 11x14 matted and framed print and 10 matted images. I was feeling pretty good so I thought I would go where the real art is: Canyon Road. After getting looked at as if I am some sort of bug by a couple of nose in the air types I thought: homeless dude I'm giving you a shot. So after a great fajita that ended up all over us, it was off to Madrid. We stopped at the first shop we came to and a very nice woman from Louisiana, who is living in the house part of the shop while the owner is away and the shop is for sale, looked at my images and directed me to Jezebels! where the good stuff is.
I know this is beginning to sound a little biblical but bear with me. This Jezebel was a very interesting woman, come to think of it, the biblical one was also. I walked up to a desk where a woman was looking at a computer, nursing a baby, directing men around and talking on the phone all at the same time. I thought "this is some kind of Jezebel". She has an easy , straightforward and assertive directness about her and can't be more than in her early thirties. I liked most of the art in her gallery and I think there is only one other photographer there. We spent about an hour together and she took two framed and matted images and ordered 5 more unframed. She said she was going to clear one short wall for me. This is where I had been led, by homeless dude, Louisiana woman and a higher power. I again feel very humbled. I have packed so much in one week, I don't know where I can go from here. But I have faith. Jon

Santa Fe. We arrived in Santa Fe about 4:30 today. I woke up about 4am and couldn’t get back to sleep, the result, I am sure, of my experiences of the previous day. The best part of today happened right away. Donna Frank of “A Shared Blanket” is a woman I first met 3 years ago traveling through Durango with Sue. She showed some interest in my pow wow photos and asked me to send her one. She sold it very soon, I emailed her several times asking if she wanted more but I never heard from her again. I walked into her shop this morning and she acted as though I had just been there a few months ago. She remembered my stuff well, in fact she said she sold the one image to the director of homeland security and it is now hanging in a hall in Washington. She wondered why I hadn’t sent her more stuff. You might deduce from this that she is a little flaky, at least I did. She is a very dramatic, highly successful (and somewhat flaky) wholesaler of Indian art. She bought one of my canvas images and ordered three more. I don’t want to get too excited but things seem to be working well. Watch out Ray, I might be a salesman after all.

Items:

• When traversing the Valley of the Gods, we observed many dangling rocks, I suggested that maybe someday I will come here and hang out for about five years hoping to shoot one of them falling. Chuck thought we could maybe pry one loose, but we decided against it, as we would then be perpetrators of a premature ejection in getting our rock off.
  
  
• Chuck suggested that his memory lapses are not due to anything like predementia but that his mind is actually breaking through into a new dimension.

More marketing tomorrow. Jon

Addendum to yesterday. A couple of things I couldn't quite finish yesterday. When I was done with my hike into Road Canyon, I was walking across the mesa top with the smell of the Pinon pine and Juniper wafting through my tired brain. I briefly wandered off the path and there before me was something I didn't know I was looking for. It is the perfect thing to include in Sue's remains. I have been putting off deciding what to do with her ashes and now I know why. I needed something symbolic to put with them, and now I have it. I feel I was led to that spot.
The day ended with a wonderful dinner in Durango. Our server is from Shakopee and is about 1/3 Native American, she is going to school at Fort Lewis College because they have Native legacy help with costs. I'll have more later tonight, in the meantime it is off to Santa Fe and more adventures. Jon

Durango, Colorado. What a day! I was up at 5am, excited to spend another day on Cedar Mesa. My original plan was to go back to McLoyd Canyon, (Joe, this was the scene of my failure three years ago when I chickened out halfway down and climbed back out). But the owner of the Recapture Lodge told me a story about Ted Danson's father in law having a heart attack and dying right at the spot I stopped at. I decided that McLoyds Canyon had bad juju. A woman at the lodge told me about a ruin near the head of Road Canyon. So it was off to Road Canyon, but I had neglected to do what I usually did and get exact mileage to critical points (there is no signage and the locals want to keep tourists confused). Chuck and I ended up confused, lost and wandering aimlessly for about three hours. Very tired at this point and pissed at myself for not doing my job properly, I eventually found the right spot. Chuck waited at the top while I took the hike. I just had to do it, tired or not.
Down another canyon wall and about a mile or so of sometimes rough stuff and I could see the ruin way up, almost to the rim on my left. Not a difficult climb if I was 30 and in perfect conditions but I am 60 and the wind was howling. Up to the ruin I went, took a few shots and decided I didn't want the hawk to take me off the ledge and send me a couple of hundred feet to the canyon floor below. So down I went and started the trek back upcanyon. About halfway back I was thinking of my family and suddenly burst into tears, I continued to cry off and on back to the rim. Despite meeting the mental and physical challenges I had set before myself, I was humbled by the vast beauty of nature and the intensity of my feelings for my family and my loss. At the top I was absolutely and completely, physically and emotionally exhausted. I had given my all and had nothing left. I felt I had honored Sue's memory.
I have some stupid things to say but they don't seem appropriate at this time, I'll save them for tomorrow. Jon

Bluff, Utah. Got up fairly early and had breakfast at Denny's, where we were terrorized by one of the most energetic and cheerful servers I have ever encountered. He has come to symbolize the "just want to have fun" Moabites in my mind. We left Moab and about 20 miles before Bluff we turned west for our first encounter with a Canyon. Fifteen miles west is Mule Canyon and my goal of Firehouse ruin. After some preparation we started down the side of the canyon, very debris filled. About halfway down Chuck had to turn back (issues: balance, vision and bad knees). I continued down to the bottom and headed upcanyon to Firehouse ruin. I looked up after rounding a bend, climbed up and was soaking in the beautiful brisk day and the home of some ancients, when I was completely overwhelmed with emotion. This was one of my primary goals in life since my failure three years ago and I couldn't share it with the one person I wanted to. The full impact of being truly alone in this life washed over me but, unbelievably, I also felt exhilarated and full of power and energy. I have some thoughts about this but don't really want to discuss it further at this time.
After a hike further up the canyon, I returned to the point of entry and almost floated up the slope. After meeting up with Chuck I found out he had his own adventure of getting lost in the walk back from the rim. Somehow he ended up two miles down the road from our car and was wandering out in the noonday sun like mad dogs and Englishmen (I've always wanted to use that phrase). He found his way back and we shared our separate adventures.

Items:

• While having dinner Chuck had a beer with the name "Polygamy Porter" whose catchphrase is "Why have just one". We ARE in Utah.
• After dinner I sold some of my greeting cards to the owner of the restaurant/gift store.
• Chuck is officially a redneck after his wanderings in the noonday sun.
• We photographed in the Valley of the Gods before dinner and I saw a Butte that I thought looked like a "hiker dude" but as we came around to the side there was a front protrusion the turned the dude into a dudette. Chuck thought it looked like a parachutist with front and back chutes (he is much older than I am you know).

That's all I've got, back at you tomorrow. Jon

Moab, Utah. We left Denver at 7am today. HOORAY. The going was a little dicey to start, a lot of ups and downs on snowy roads. After a couple of tense hours we broke out into sunshine and better driving but my car was shimmying as if it were a contestant on dancing with the stars. I had heard a clunk when we stopped to relieve our old guy, bloated prostate induced, frequently happening liquid extraction. I called Matt who immediately deduced it was ice buildup on my rims and prescribed a power washing of the wheels. I was envisioning a complete rearrangement of my front end costing thousands of dollars and many more lost hours. An exit ten miles down the road and $3.50 worth of high pressure water and we were moving fast and smooth. Thanks Matt, you are invaluable in moments like this.
The one incident of note was when we almost panicked when our Garmin lost satellite contact upon entering the Eisenhower Tunnel and we worried that we might get lost before we could reach the exit. But daylight eventually showed it's face and we were much relieved. The only subject of note during west Colorado was a discussion about the biology of taste. It was brought on by my experience the night before of eating a few barbeque potato chips after our difficult blizzard thing. They tasted so good I couldn't believe it, so I was wondering why some things taste fabulous at one moment in time and ordinary another. We prattled on for about 15 minutes, none of our theories worth mentioning here except to prove how deranged one can become when brilliant minds are given too much time in an enclosed space.
We arrived in Moab, you know, that place just across the Jordan river from Israel. The Moabites of the modern era just like to have fun. There is a restaurant called "Eddie McStiff's" which I imagined being run by a retired porno star. And there is a great shop in Moab called the Hogan Trading Company and it would be my first opportunity to show my stuff. I think I caught the owner in a weak moment and he agreed to take one of my matted and framed prints on consignment, yea my first minor success. Consignment means I take all of the financial risk and he doesn't really worry if it doen't sell. Everything has to start somewhere, so I guess I have started. Jon

Journey, middle of day three. We are at a kind of dumpy Howard Johnsons just west of Denver. We left my cousin Jeanne's at about 8:30 this morning (Mountain time) despite the fact that an expected blizzard was just beginning. We wanted to give it a shot, and kept repeating a mantra that has become our theme to the trip "you gotta have faith". But after an hour sitting still on Highway 70 with the wind howling, the snow blowing, the road very icy and with a big accident ahead of us that had completely stopped traffic, we jumped across to a frontage road and careened down the road, the windshield was full of ice and in a complete whiteout. Can you say "idiots"? With Garmin's help (a close personal friend of Chuck's) we were able to find this "wonderful" hotel. We had gone 59 miles in three hours. This was not a recipe for getting across the Rocky Mountains. Evidently faith can only get you so far in a blizzard. There is always tomorrow or as Rick said "we'll always have Paris".

Jeanne was a wonderful and gracious hostess. We spent yesterday afternoon talking, sharing and catching up on what has happened in the last 15-20 years. She has a beautiful home with a great view of the north Colorado prairie. Despite only seeing her a few times in the last 45 years, I feel connected in ways only possible because of our youthful friendship. Her obvious devotion to home and family has been greatly rewarded. Her husband Dwayne is a good man, a wonderful provider, a straight talker and kind of a smart ass, just my kind of man. The food and accommodations were worlds ahead of where I am right now. Thank you Jeanne, you are a kind and loving woman.

If we don't get on the road tomorrow, I am sure I will have a very bad attitude. There is nothing stimulating about a hotel room, right Ray? It feels a bit like prison to me. Who the heck could have expected that the vector of my first trip across the Rockies in four years would coincide with the worst snowstorm in the area in three years. I think I should buy a powerball ticket.
Observation: in Wyoming I saw a cowboy, in Colorado I saw the Rockies (through a lot of snowflakes) but in Nebraska I never saw a Cornhusker, just a lot of dead grass and roadkill. What the hell is a cornhusker anyway and why should I care?

Tuesday march 24th, 2009 7:45pm

Day one of my journey is almost in the books. This is also exactly seven months since Sue's passing.

As with almost all journeys, today began with enthusiasm and high spirits. I was up at 5:30 and Chuck and I were on the road by 9am. We didn't let the clouds and rain dampen our mood. Lots of discussion and philosophical musings, more about that in the observation section. Minnesota went by pretty fast but a few miles into Iowa I felt an unmistakable tug to the side of the road (this was not my usual highway wanderings). As I looked to the side I saw an exit sign that seemed to be responsible for the tug. It said Manly 1/2 mile. I soon realized that being a couple of manly men,that we were being drawn to the exit for Manly, Iowa. Through a very manly effort I was able keep the car on the road headed toward the cosmopolis (I'm sure this is a word) of Des Moines. I was soon hoping there is not a town of Studly, Iowa.

Since there is no corn growing at this time, the only thing of interest that seems to be growing in their fields are windmills. Holy sh__ there are a lot of windmills in Iowa. I felt like pulling out my sword and telling my sidekick Sancho that it was time to attack. They kind of remind me of some of the weird machines in Star Wars. I was wondering if they were going start walking away or shooting laser blasts. We have made it to Kearney Neb. and had dinner with a lot of guys with big hands who walk with a limp. There was a group of teenage girls wearing football helmets, not quite like Bloomington.

Observation: Amoung many topics discussed, the one I would like to mention is what I call "the curve of life". In all life, whether a person, a career, a country, a civilization or anything else in nature there seems to be a curve that describe it's birth, growth, maturation, decline and death. This seems to be hard wired into nearrly everything we experience. This seems to even affect things like ideas, since they take birth in the minds of the human organism and come to fruition in our behaviors. When we are beginning high school, a career or a trip, we have enthusiasm, energy and vigor. In maturity we are at the height of our powers and experience our greatest achievements. The decline can be managed and offset by experience but it is often difficult and plays havoc with confidence and desire. At 60 I feel I am undeniably in decline and despite the tragedy of the last year, I feel I still have things to accomplish, puzzles to solve, bridges to cross. Jon

An observation on men and women

Before I leave on Tuesday I have an observation and then I will give some background for those who don't know me well.





Observation: In trying to make sense of a world that hasn't made sense to me since Sues passing, I have had many thoughts and feelings that I wouldn't normally have had and there is one that keeps coming back to me. It helps me make sense of my loss, not in the realm of "why me" but more in the area of what makes the world tick with regards to men and women.


Women are the fabric upon which our (western civilization) world operates. They create the social and cultural milieu in which we live. Their relationships and emotions are the cross threads of this fabric. Men tend to think that we create the world we live in and this is true only in our work world. Once we leave work we enter a different place. Our egos encourage us to believe that we create everything but the ego is a devious fellow. He fools us. Women create the overall structure that allow us to have meaning and purpose to what we do.


This fabric is like the fabric of space/time that Einstien envisioned. Planets dent the fabric of space/time as they move though space thus creating gravity. Men dent the social fabric in which we live and when this gravity attracts others to us, we believe we are creators (with a small "c"). It is an illusion, for without the fabric there would be no space to move through.


I always wondered why girls are more difficult to raise than boys. When thought of within the above framework, it only makes sense. Women have an enormous job and it takes a long time and a lot of mistakes for girls to learn what it takes to weave the relationship and emotional fabric that gives meaning and purpose to life. This fabric holds the world together and women so often give selflessly in moulding the next generation, for they teach the girls how to weave and the boys how to operate on the fabric. They also often need to mold their mates to the needs and responsibilities of social life.


I had a lot to learn when I married Sue but she was a persistent and patient teacher and many times I complained rather than thanking her. She created the life I lived in and this journey is about finding my bearings in an unfamiliar world.

My journey to find myself

My journey to find myself or how did I lose myself in the first place? This is kind of a flippant question to the title but the reason I need to find myself is a very serious matter. In this blog I hope to approach this serious matter in a straightforward, thoughtful and honest manner. I also hope to use humor to blunt the terrible tragedy that has visited my life. I will be giving the sometimes boring details of my driving trip throughout the Southwestern, Western and Northern United States. I will also share my thoughts and feelings as I look to the rest of my life without the woman who meant everything to me. The last eight months have been an awful slog, tempered only by the love and caring of my family and friends. I have felt the need to run away many times but I now feel I am ready to leave my home for awhile to clear my head, think about my future and dedicate myself to honoring the memory of a great woman, my wife Sue.
Itinerary and goals:

• The first eight days with my friend Chuck, we will travel to Ft. Collins, Colorado and visit my cousin Jeanne
• On to Moab, Utah. My first attempt to market my Pow Wow images. This is one of my main goals for the trip: determine if there is a market for what I do.
• Bluff, Utah to hike the canyons on Cedar Mesa, photograph the scenery and visit ruins.
• Durango, Co. more marketing.
• Santa Fe, N.M. Visit the art makets for native art. Three days and then drop Chuck at the Albuquerque airport.
• On to the Zuni reservation for one night.
• Meet up with Marcus Coochwikvia, a silver artist on the Hopi reservation, photograph some of his work, soak up the stark beauty of Hopiland.
• On to Calif. and visits with many cousins and a couple of Aunts.
• Pacific Northwest to visit some of Sues friends who couldn't make the funeral. Share a bear with them and honor Sues memory.
• The North route home, visit reservations including Turtle Mountain, the only Metis reservation in existence.

People and images, this is my life and I hope to renew, reaquaint and nurture relationships and begin to determine what the future has in store for me and my work. Jon