Searching for El Dorado - Part II

So far in my trip I had been focused on finding “real” places.  As Anthony Bourdain would say - what does each place do better than anywhere else?  Finding myself just east of Albuquerque I had an urge to find something unreal.  To find a place related to a fictional TV show.  Along with Sopranos and The Wire –Breaking Bad is my favorite show of all-time.  I decided to find out where Walter White’s house is located in Albuquerque.  Of course it isn’t his house – but rather that of a poor woman who made the mistake of allowing them to film at her house.  Apparently close to 400 people a week come to gawk and take pictures of their favorite meth dealer’s house.  I got there early enough that I was the only person there.  It felt like I could walk up and ring the door bell and ask – “White residence?”

From there I kept heading west towards Gallup.  One thing I tried to do was stop whenever I saw a sign for “Overlook” or “historical marker”.  I didn’t do this every time – otherwise I’d still be somewhere between Austin and Albuquerque.  But, one place did catch my eye about two hours from Gallup.  It was a view of San Jose de Laguna Mission – which was completed in 1699.  It was another reminder that the west is not as new as you might think. 

From there I stopped in Gallup to see some folks I’ve known since I was very young.  Tim and Donna Johnson are close friends of my parents.  Donna’s son Loren is who I stayed with in Austin.  Gallup was prettier than I had imagined.  Yes, it had sparse vegetation – but the mountains in the distance and the undulating terrain of the town was at least interesting.  We had lunch and I told them of my challenges.  It was a nice visit.

From there I kept heading west.  The road was mostly flat – but there were interesting outcroppings and plateaus off to the side.  My destination was the Grand Canyon. 

 

I’ve been to the Grand Canyon before – but it’s easy to forget how incredible it is.  I stopped at the very first overlook – but I wanted to get to the village before sundown.  Eventually I decided to stop short of the village.  It was quieter here and the views were just as incredible.  I stopped at the “Grand View” area.  There was a trail here that went all the way down to the Colorado River.  I decided to go down as far as I could while I still had light.

 

Being on the south side of the canyon there was quite a bit of snow because it was in the shadow for most of the day.  Given that the trail was not very wide and the drop-offs were incredibly steep – and I was only wearing running shoes – it was a little precarious.  Did I mention I have a problem with heights?  There’s not much to add other than some of the pictures I took.

 

One of my favorite poems is “Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie” by Bob Dylan.  You can search for the whole poem – but the end of it goes:

“Where do you look for this lamp that’s a-burnin’
Where do you look for this oil well gushin’
Where do you look for this candle that’s glowin’
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there and out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You’ll find God in the church of your choice
You’ll find Woody Gutherie in Brooklyn State Hospital
And though it’s only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You’ll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown.”

To be continued . . .

Searching for El Dorado - Part I

Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old-
This knight so bold-
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow-
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be-
This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied-
"If you seek for Eldorado!"

Edgar Allen Poe

 

History is full of poor, unfortunate fools who take incredible risks – and many times perish – in pursuit of treasures and riches that might not even exist.  Yes, this yearning has ruined many people – and yet it is also responsible for every impressive act ever done by a human.  The line between fool and hero is incredibly thin.  Many times the hero must go through several episodes of failure before finding success.  Not that I’m a hero – but I’ve certainly experienced that phenomenon in my own life.  The most crushing failures have sometimes led directly to my greatest successes.

I find myself in exactly one of those situations right now.  In August I started Physician Assistant school at the University of Nebraska Medical Center.  I knew it would be hard.  I didn’t know how hard.  The first semester was 21 credit hours – nine credit Anatomy, six credit Pathology, and five credit Physiology – along with a one credit introduction to Physician Assistant class.  We were in lecture or lab 28 hours per week.  Not even training for an Ironman prepared me for the endurance contest of that first semester.

I also learned, to my dismay, that my community college Anatomy class that I took while still working full-time didn’t adequately prepare me for the nine credit behemoth that I encountered.  To make a long story short – I came up 16 points short in Anatomy.  I passed my other classes – however there were two new policies which ended up leading to me being dismissed from the program.  I’ve been appealing since the beginning of January.  They were letting me take classes while I was appealing.  Two weeks ago though I decided that I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to succeed this semester.  I withdrew – still hoping that I can come back next fall and take Anatomy over again.  I’m still waiting on a decision.  The process was that I needed to first appeal to a committee – which I did – however they upheld the dismissal.  So, now the Dean must decide whether the committee followed the process appropriately.  It sounds like he has some latitude – but it could still go either way.

So, I decided I needed to get out of town.  I needed to clear my head – to stop stressing over something that I didn’t seem to have any control over.  I needed to see friends and commune with nature.  I also needed to go south.  It was freezing in Omaha.  The day before I left it was below zero and -20 with the wind chill.  So I messaged a friend in Austin, TX.  My friend Loren who I have known since I can remember (our moms are friends) was nice enough to let stay with him after I gave him about 36 hours notice.

I left Wednesday afternoon and stopped in Kansas City for the night.

 

From there I headed Southwest across the vast grasslands of Kansas.

 

I made it to Oklahoma City around lunch time.  I’ve only been through OKC one other time – when my wife and I were driving back from Santa Fe, NM.  We had visited the memorial to the Edward Murrah Federal Building bombing that killed 168 people.  The memorial is one of the most hauntingly beautiful memorials I’ve ever seen – including the Vietnam Memorial in DC.  The chairs represent each of the 168 people who were killed that day.  There was a day care center in the building – so, many of the victims were children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Right now you might be wondering why I chose to stop here when this trip was supposed to cheer me up.  I think that being reminded of our own eventual demise isn’t such a bad thing.  No one who went to the Murrah building that day had any idea it would be their last.  If we were immortal our lives would have less value – but the fact that we all die eventually means that we must make the most of our lives.  To do any less would be to throw away a great gift.

From OKC I made my way down to Austin.  Loren lives in a great location – just across the river from downtown.  Here is the view from his apartment complex.

  

 

As you can see it wasn’t exactly 70 and sunny.  In fact there was a possibility of freezing rain – which caused the entire city to basically shut down.  I’m not even joking.  Even the museums were closed.

So we headed to one place we knew would be open – a beer garden.  After a few beers we ended up in a great Tex-Mex place.

 

From there we went to The Continental Club – a music venue that Loren had heard about – but had never gone to.   We walked in to see this band getting on stage.  They didn’t even have to play a note and I knew they would be good.  A keyboardist with a hat that looked like it had been run over by a car and smoking a pipe?!  Nothing but good music can come from such a man.  We were not disappointed.

 

When I started out my trip I really had no plan.  Part of me thought it would be fun to head over to New Orleans – a city that I’d always wanted to visit but had never been to.  But the more I thought about it the more I realized that I needed to head west – to visit some incredibly beautiful places.  So the next day I started driving west.  Yes, I knew West Texas was a big place – but there is no way to know how big until you drive it.  It can actually be pretty boring too – much of it looks like northern Indiana – very flat.  But there are exceptions.  The photo below is from just outside Santa Anna, TX.

 

Another incredible place I found was in Brownwood, TX.  I had a feeling this place would be good – and I was so right.  I had what was probably the best BBQ sandwich of my life.

 

I kept traveling west until I crossed the path of another man who had been searching.  In 1540 Francisco de Coronado set out to discover the seven cities of gold – which he had heard were somewhere in the vicinity of present day New Mexico.  He set out with 400 Europeans dressed in full armor – along with at least 1500 Native Americans, four Franciscan monks, and even some African slaves.

 

The expedition made it as far north and east as present day Kansas.  Of course – there were no seven cities of gold.  After two years Coronado returned to New Spain (present day Mexico) a ruined man.  Tony Horwitz wrote a great book called “A Voyage Long and Strange” which has more details about this expedition and other stories of Europeans in pre-Mayflower America.

Finally – I reached New Mexico.

To be continued . . .

My Ancestral Home

The Platte River - just North of Louisville, NE

 

After waking up this morning I decided that I should go to the gym to workout.  I forgot however, that they don't open until 10am on Sunday's and it was only 8:30am.  I had an overwhelming feeling come over me that I needed to go to a very special place.  This place is special because the first ancestor to call this place home was my Great-great-great-grandfather - Adam Ingram.

Here is what I know about Adam Ingram: He was born in 1832 in Glasgow, Scotland.  He arrived in the U.S. on June 21, 1851.  He arrived in Cass County, Nebraska in 1856.  On May 10, 1864 he was given a land patent to a plot near Louisville, NE.  The grant was signed by Abraham Lincoln (see below).

 

 

 

 



 Louisville is a town of 1,100 people that sits on the banks of the Platte River - about 25 miles southwest of Omaha.  As you can see from the picture above, the only contribution to the skyline is the Ash Grove Cement plant.

 

Just outside of town is a cemetery that includes not only Adam Ingram, but also two other sets of great-great-great grandparents, two sets of great-great grandparents, my great-grandparents, and two of my grandfather's sisters - both of whom I knew and had a strong attachment to as a child.

Adam Ingram's grave.  He died in 1881.

James and Emma Robertson - also great-great-great-grandparents.  James was born in 1828 in New York.  Emma was born in 1836 in Beverly, Illinois.  They lived in Beverly, Illinois until very close to Emma's death when they moved to Nebraska.  They probably moved so that their daughter Mary (my great-great grandmother) could take care of them.

Oliver and Sarah Ward - the last of the great-great-great grandparents.  Oliver was born in 1825 in Lewiston, Indiana.  Sarah was born in 1828 in Putnam, Indiana.  The metal plaque by the grave is to honor Oliver's service during the Civil War.  He served during the war - but not against the south.  He fought in the Nebraska Cavalry against the Sioux tribe in the Dakota Territories for 14 months in 1862-63.

Edward J. and Hannah Ingram - my great-great-grandparents.  My grandfather Eugene has childhood memories of Edward and Hannah.  Edward was born in 1859 - probably at the family farm - which was located across the road (highway 66) from this cemetery.  I don't know much about Edward except that he lived in Louisville his entire life - as did his son Edward Jr. (my great-grandfather).  Hannah was born in 1860 in Pottsville, Pennsylvania.  Her father William was also in the Civil War.  He fought in a regiment that saw action at Fredericksburg - probably the worst defeat of the war for the north.  It was so bad that during Pickett's charge - at Gettysburg six months later - the northern soldiers yelled "Give them Fredericksburg!!" to each other as the 12,000 southern soldiers charged towards them.  At Fredericksburg - it was the north that charged and lost a lot of men.  Of course, at Gettysburg it was the south that lost - and that failed charge probably turned the tide of the war.  I don't know if my great-great-great grandfather was involved in the actual charge at Fredericksburg - but I know his regiment was there.

I'm guessing you're probably "graved out" by now.  Maybe it is a little morbid.  But, I like to think about my ancestors.  I like to think that every choice they made is somewhere inside of me.  What they decided to do for a living, where they decided to live, who they decided to love - it's all there somewhere coursing through my veins.  Their lives were so much harder than mine.  They had to fight so hard just to survive.  I would be foolish not to pay them the respect they deserve - and to thank them for living the way that they did - because if they had made other choices - I wouldn't be here to thank them.

The experience of walking among the graves of so many of my direct ancestors reminded me of a scene from Dead Poets Society.

 

 

Robin Williams' character has one of the boys read the poem "To the Virgins, to make much of time" by Robert Herrick - a 17th century English poet.

 

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

old time is still a-flying

and this same flower that smiles today

tomorrow will be dying.

 

He then has the students gather in front of old photos of former students - and points out how similar they are to them.    "Same haircuts.  Full of hormones - just like you. Invincible - just like you feel.  The world is their oyster.  They believe they are destined for great things - just like many of you.  Their eyes are full of hope - just like you.  Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable?  Because you see gentlemen - these boys are now fertilizing daffodils.  If you listen real close you can hear them whisper their legacy to you.  Go on - lean in.  Listen.  Hear it?  (ghostly whisper) Carpe - Carpe Diem.  Seize the day, boys.  Make your lives extraordinary."

 

I plan on it.



A book?

Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen.  I am now a (self) published author.  You can buy it right now on the CreateSpace website https://www.createspace.com/4594176.  It will soon be available on Amazon (but they get a bigger cut than if you buy it on CreateSpace).  And it will be available on Kindle in the next few days as well.

The book is basically all my posts during my training for Boston in 2009.  If this goes well I'm planning on having a Part II about my introduction to the triathlon.

My running life in pictures: Middle School and High School

The only picture I could find of me in my middle school track uniform.  I guess that was my "game face."

Me and my uncle Mike after my first half-marathon when I was 14.  I look pretty proud of myself.  It's funny because all I remember about after that race is being in the fetal position in the back of my parents' minivan.

I'm the little guy in the background - this was probably one of my first cross-country races in high school.  It's on our home course at Ann Arbor Pioneer.

Here we are walking the state meet cross-country course my freshman year.  Where am I?  You can just see my head poking over the right shoulder of the assistant coach on the right side of the photo.  I was tiny.

This is the 3200m at the state meet my sophomore year.  Todd is in front in this picture - I'm the one in the Oakley's two places back of Todd.  I still wasn't used to losing to Todd - I would need to learn to get used to it.

Don, Todd, and I running at the front in our conference race my Junior year.

Picture from the Detroit News after we won our first state championship.  We were ranked 3rd best XC in the country by USA Today.

4X800 my Junior year.  We won the state meet and had the 3rd fastest 4X800 in the country with a 7:48.  I was 3rd leg (the slow leg).  Luckily everybody else had a large drop off from their 3rd to 4th best guy - so, I looked much faster than I actually was.  We were in first by the time I handed off the baton. 

The four of us struggling to all stand on the top step at the ceremony for the 4X800.

We also got second place overall in Track that year thanks to the 4X800, Todd's first 3200 championship, the high jump state champion, an incredible day by Don in three events etc . . .
First place went to Detroit Cass Tech.  Nobody was going to beat them that year.  Their 4X200 relay was a tenth of a second off the national record. 

Steffan, Todd, Don, and me.  I haven't written much about Steffan - but he was a 1:52 800 runner.  He was a year older than me and went to Loyola.  If he hadn't gone to Loyola I wouldn't have ended up there - for which I am grateful.  It was the right place for me.

From left to right - Mike Humes, Ethan Conn, Me, Keith Braxton, and Todd.  Mike was a sophomore in this picture - by his senior year he was one of the top two runners in the state.  He ended up going to Wisconsin.  Ethan was the same year as me and Todd.  He ran for Eastern Michigan. 
I've known Keith since middle school.  We met at the first day of wrestling practice at Slauson.  He thought he was faster than me - he was wrong.  Eventually though he did get faster than me.  He was second in the state for XC is senior year.  He ended up at Loyola as well.  The most impressive accomplishment that Keith had, in my opinion, was helping us to the state XC championship his sophomore year just days after having emergency surgery on an abscessed tooth.