This way or that?

When Ryder and I mounted Silver Cloud for the ride home from SIU, I asked him which way he wanted to go--this way (through town) or that (skirting town on the south)? He said "the long way." And so we headed east on old 13, south on Spillway over to Grassy Road and back to Giant City Road. A 25 mile detour. And it was splendid. The late afternoon sun filtering through the dense trees creating a tapestry on the tarmac. Nice twisty turns, shifting down then accelerating , wrapping around the curve. Crab Orchard on the right, glowing in the late rays blue sky puff cloud green and vast, serene, no cars on the road, just me and my boy. Big boy that he is too, wearing him mom's jean jacket, as tall as her shoulder now. Today I dropped him at school too, much to his delight. He keeps threatening to blow up my bicycle so I can ride him to the Carbondale New School (CNS) every day. CNS is turning out to be even better than we hoped. The combined 2-3 grades are just 15 kids for Ms. Laurie. She is a very talented, creative and involved teacher. Our school experience so far this year is so much more favorable than Lincoln school last year-- and it is one of the best of its kind-- public school with 22 kids per teacher and an assessment based curriculum, teaching to the lowest common denominator. I have nothing but respect and appreciation for how truly good Lincoln school is and how good the teachers are. But there is really no fair comparison to CNS. A play ground in the woods, a funky looking big old ranch style house converted into two levels with the common areas in the 1/2 basement, and the class rooms upstairs. Ryder's class room is filled with animals, books, legos, and all the usual teaching materials. Ryder is doing math next door in the 4-5 classroom and after a two week trial, he has been permanently recruited to the next grade up for math. His new best buddy at CNS is in the fourth grade, so it works out well. The best evidence is how much Ryder is liking school this year.

Last night we attended the corporation meeting for the school. Every parent and family is part of the CNS corporation. The meeting was efficiently run and as all the parents, some 30 or so of us sat hunkered down on child sized benches surrounding the room. Quite an interesting group of folks. Most parents older than average, but a good range, and some very cool looking people. After the meeting we went to the class room and while talking with Laurie met one of Ryder's classmates folks. They too just moved here and he took a professorship in finance at SIU. I asked the mom what she did and she said "I have a PhD in Biochemistry. After I did my post-doc I worked for a company that sells stem cell products, and now I am consulting." Wow! What was amazing to me was that they bought the house that was on our short list-- a saltbox on Upper Brush which we really liked because of the beautiful lot. The house was in need of a lot of renovation but it was a bargain. After spending the better part of the year renovating the house in Oak Park, we wanted nothing to do with a fixer-upper and are so happy with what we got. The also fell under the spell of the Victorian Legend, the 1895 Victorian farm on Springer Ridge. They too made an offer that fell through. The owners of that farm just don't want to sell it. So, it is a small world after all.

We also started cub scouts this week, which will be another great way to meet new people. The scout families range across the socio-economic spectrum which I am very excited about so that we can meet people who live in our community, but are not just university folks. All the the 2-3 graders in Carbondale go to Thomas. Pre-K, K and 1st go to Parrish, 4-5 go to Lewis, then Middle school and then the High School. This arrangements removes inter-school rivalry or inequitable distribution of students and incomes. Nine kids in Ryder's scout troop. The scout master's son and Ryder really hit it off well. Alan Benson, the scout master is the retired chair of the theater department at Kent State. My first impression of him was that he was too old and doddering to be a cub scout leader-- he seemed to barely be able to get around. But when all the parents gathered around him while the scouts ran wild in his back yard, he gave a very lucid, thoughtful and engaging narrative about the scouts, what the plans on for this year, and all the organizational details. He discussed the achievements and belt loops and patches outlining the various activities. He talked of pushing the boys to get through all this and I got the impression he was rather stern, and completely in control, opposite from what I first thought. As it turns out he is 68 married to a much younger woman with whom they have their 8 year old son, his second marriage. His wife is a professor at SIU in the theater dept teaching voice and movement in the McLeod theater--where we saw the production of Into the Woods. She was a stage and screen actress and then joined the faculty. Quite an erudite couple and their son is Ryder's new pal. Ryder really is excited about scouting here because of all the outdoors. I was a bit worried when Alan got to the Religious Embel patch and how you earn this working with your pastor, priest, minister, rabbi or what ever. And that you didn't have to be in an organized religion but you had to have some kind of faith, a belief system-- or some other manifestation of spirituality that you honor and participate in. It was a lovely way out for us, and though he is in charge of the Presbyterian faction of scouting, he is neither evangelical or demanding. So my one great fear, other than too much camouflage, was being proselytized. Lots to look forward to with twice monthly den and once monthly pack meetings, whew. And soccer starts on the 12th also! Ah, no shortage of stuff to do around here, that's for sure.

Mister Chairman I presume?

Holy cats! I'm freaking out here. All of a sudden this new job has become rather daunting. Late Friday afternoon and this is the first time I've had a chance to catch my breath all day. I had 30 hours of face time this week! Meetings with the Dean of School of Medicine (my boss), with the Dean of College of Science (my co-conspirator), emails from vice-chancellor *asking* for favors, faculty issues, students swarming around everywhere, dealing new funding policies for intramural grants which have been the life blood of some of my faculty, and of course, the hardest part of the Chairman's job-- space. We need more. Secret deals, a handshake and a wink, and I am faced with trying to figure out who said what to whom when and what was agreed upon and if these deals are set in stone etc. It makes me weak in my knees! Meanwhile I have two manuscripts burning a hole in my desk, yearning to be edited, tuned up, and submitted. No wait, there's more... always more. Adjusting to Ryder's school schedule, us both working full time everyday-- not only didn't I get any work done this week because I was so busy with my job, the only exercise I got was riding my bicycle to and from work Monday and today. That and walking all over the campus going from appointment to appointment. Ah, but it is such a lovely campus filled with eager young minds enjoying this late summer warmth and clear skies. Oh to be in college again. Forget that! Do overs are not allowed in reality.

Despite how freaked out I am feeling about now, I have the subtle inner voice speaking calmly in my ear to me, reminding me that I am equal to these challenges and that if I rely on my instincts I will make the right decisions and do the right thing. I am really enjoying owning a motorcylce as is my son, who would really rather ride to work than be driven in the car. He hated that I rode my bicycle today instead of dropping him off at school. He is wearing his mother's old jean jacket now and is comfortable on the back of Silver Cloud. He is born to be a biker, just like his dad. And I really enjoyed my bicycle ride this morning. The hills on my ride in were huge mountains to me at first, now I barely need to gear down at all to peddle over them. The hill on the way home is much bigger, so I still need to drop a few gears to keep up my cadence and make it over the hill, and my heart rate is up for the whole ride. Though my ride is 1/2 as long as it was in Chicago, my cardiac output is probably equal or greater because I ride much harder/faster. All the stop signs and traffic and riding with other bike commuters made for much more casual rides. When I rode alone off hours I could hit stretches of 20 mph until I had to stop at the next light. I travel at 25-27 mph for much of the ride now, except on the way up, and then I drop to 12 mph or so. I should take the long way to work and get a few extra miles, or get up even earlier and hit the pool before work. Can't do that an be taking my boy to school though. OK, it was just the first week of the fall semester. Next week should set the tone for the rest of the year. I have to be in control of my time more than I was this week and figure out a way to protect time for my work-- not to be confused with my job.

Silver Cloud and living in Egypt

It took until my 3rd real ride on the beast until the ride not the motorcycle defined the experience. It is going to take a while until I get over the constant diligent fear that the motorcycle is suddenly going to fail, and instead, just enjoy the ride. After having ridden or mostly just owned a Norton since 1978, a bike you work on and sometimes ride, or don't work on and can't ride-- buying a BMW is quite a change. Silver Cloud-- 2002 BMW R1150RT with 18K miles, purchase from Grass Roads BMW in Cape Girardeau. I was so pleased with this dealership on many levels, it made the transaction and all my interactions a pleasure. Not to mention the bike. I am new to the BMW experience. Know for their jugs and shaft, the twin boxer engine and drive shaft make it a very distinct ride. Twin ABS disk brakes front and rear it has taken me several stops to learn to feather the front brake on. The rear brake a much more gradual arrest. And 1st gear is "pretty tall" as Brian the bike dealer informed me, so you have to rev it up to get it going. And it likes 4000 rpms or above, but with the high torque big twin 1150 cc motor, its easy to put along at 2800. Wind it up and it responds. It is a much different ride than the old Norton, to be sure. With the motor encased its a wider bike, and with the hard cases, it's even wider. But underneath the case is a rocket-- sporty, quick, nimble and ready to ride. GPS, electronic adjustable windshield, heated grips, gas gauge, fuel injectors (no petcocks to turn) all the modern features of an automobile compared to the sparse old Norton. Now that Silver Cloud (every sliver linning's got a touch of gray, and 1955-1964 Rolls Royce) has come home, I am oddly inspired to get the Norton back on the road. Last time I fired it up was 2.5 years ago, and it ran like a top. But riding in Chicago and the failure prone nature of the beast somehow deterred me-- not to mention that I was busy beyond belief and really devoted to spending my time with my family..... but now! yesterday I took Ryder for his first ride and we crested the hill leaving the driveway I heard him hoot "woo-hoo". And again, when I passed a car and accelerated around it, he shouted "alright!". He loves it. Of course he does! And the three of us are going to really enjoy riding around Egypt, two up is our only limitation.

We have so enjoyed our first two months in Carbondale, it is just wonderful. We love the house and living on the edge of the woods, and being just 4 miles from work. I am riding most days and the big hills seem to have flattened out already. On Friday Ryder and I rode in together, taking the back roads, down Neal Lane, past the high school, through the super fields where all the ball parks are, down College past the police station, coming out on Wall Street, right at the University. Neal lane is gravel so that makes it less than an ideal place to ride my road bike, but it slices out the big hills on Hunt Road, so it makes it easier in that way. This morning I took the Neal lane short cut, and it was nice being in the soybeans and corn on a country lane, instead of on Old 13, but the gravel, well, not great. I will take the pavement home so as to not deny myself the pleasure of riding up those hills on Hunt Road. I've only logged a 100 miles on my bicycle so far. The commute is pretty short and I've only been on one long ride-- to Makanda, and experienced the excitement and then pain of riding on big hills. As I zipped down Springer Ridge Road, I topped 40 mph and it scared the heck out of me, causing me to brake before I hit the big turn as Springer morphs into Makanda Road. Then I turned around and rode back up that hill, managing 4 mph on the steepest stretch, but not getting off and walking, so though it was slow, it was my triumph to make it to the top on my own. Riding up and down hills in the humidity and heat, is taking a bit to get used to.

And now we face the onslaught of the students-- the population of Carbondale will increase by 20,000 nearly doubling, and all at once. The locals are bracing themselves , the city is getting ready, and we wait, wondering how its going to be. Stay away from Walmart one of my colleagues warned-- and the grocery store shelves will by cleared off after the cloud of new student locusts picks them clean. Well, not going to Walmart will be no problem, and I figure that we mostly shop around the edges of the grocery store, and all the students are going to be shopping in the middle isles where all the prepared foods are shelved, so that shouldn't be so bad. And parking shouldn't bee too bad riding my bicycle or motorcycle. But still, they are our customers and they are why we are here, so bring 'em on!

And now, also, I face the truth of my lack of riding and indulgent eating-- lo all those pounds I have gained back. Enough! now it's time to get back into the groove and starting burning more calories than I consume. I spent all last week preparing a grant application post hosting the Held family reunion. Now, all that's left to do is work, so getting into the groove should be a pleasure. Working out with the students in the rec center, well one thing for sure, it is definitely going to be more crowded. That 6 AM Saluki master's swim club is starting to make more sense as does the p-diet revisited. No CHO, here we go.

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Carbon-Dale

There's an old joke on me, that if I were a (fill in the blank) I would be (fill in the blank)-Dale. Basketball player-- Airedale, wooddale, springdale etc. So, if I were an element I would be, you guessed it, Carbon-Dale. And so, here I am, in my element. And it really does seem to be so. It's not that I can't tell that I am here, its just hard to believe! Pinch me I must be dreaming. Ouch, no, that's not me pinching myself, its one of the innumerable flying, stinging biting insects that thrive in this sultry climate. With in my first 24 hours of living here my legs were covered with bites, and I have been lathering my legs with Bendryl lotion prior to liberal application of DEET. I have a new fondness for Backwoods Off.

After the movers had departed and we were alone in our new house, Ryder and I put on our gym shoes and socks and headed out in to the woods with Mirabel leading the charge. The woods behind our house and extending for 100s of acres beyond our property are dense with oak, hickory, sweet gum, dogwood-- all very tall and straight, reaching well over 75 feet by my estimation. We went as far as we could working our way around the fallen trees and soon found ourselves lost and disoriented. It took about 30 minutes bashing through the stinging nettles, wild roses, raspberries and fallen trees to catch sight of the house. We found the old fence lines that mark the property and navigated our way back to the house, our legs scratched and bitten. Fortunately we did not encounter poison ivy which is reported to be prevalent in these parts.

The terrible inland hurricane, now referred to as the derecho, causes huge damage to the woods and hundreds of these old tall trees were felled. The ground had been saturated by the very wet spring and when the straight line 100+ mph winds blew through here on May 8, the ground was not able to hold the roots and the trees toppled, one onto the other, literally like dominoes, and the line of fallen trees cut a narrow swath tens of miles long through the woods, bisecting Carbondale, causing millions of dollars of damage. Power was out for nearly a week and many homes suffered extensive damage. Our house was sparred any direct hits, though our immediate neighbors took a tree to the garage. One of our colleagues lost their rear deck to a fallen tree. The lovely path around Campus Lake is still impassable due to the carnage, if you could call it that. Huge oaks lay on their sides with only the limbs that blocked roads or knocked down power lines having been cut off and dragged out of the way. An inadvertent stimulus to the local economy, providing more work to laborers than has been available in these parts in years. The cleanup will go on for months, if not years. Until I go into the woods on Hales Acres with a chain saw, the fallen trees and tangle of broken limbs will remain. We will have enough firewood forever by the looks of it.

We left our empty Oak Park home at 2 PM on June 11th with Karen and Ryder in the Subaru with three cats and me driving the Mazda with two dogs. The cars were packed to the windows with all the stuff that didn't make it onto the moving van. Our caravan pulled into the drive way on Hunt Road at about 9 PM, in the gathering darkness. Our first delightful discovery was that we could pull both cars into the garage even with the Thule rack on top of Mister House. We closed the garage and opened the car doors and came into our new empty, clean house. Like a dream, only this time, this trip to Carbondale is the big move. We now live here. Really? Can it be true? Do we now really live in this fantastic house on this secluded beautiful wooded lot? Zowee.

We pitched out air mattresses and sleeping bags in the rose room and slept well until 7 the next morning when the movers called to say they were here but couldn't figure out how to get the truck to the house. The neighbors and the sellers both had expressed their doubts about a 54 foot tractor-trailer being able to make it to the house. When they had moved they had to shuttle between the house and the van parked in the Walmart lot. But our movers were determined and also talented and backed the moving truck over a half mile all the way down Hunt Road from old hiway 13. These guys were great. It took them all day, and half the next to unload the truck and move our vast possessions into the house-- and then move the stuff around to where we thought it should go. Then we went to SIU and they moved all the stuff into the lab. It only took a few hours to unload the lab, having a loading dock and elevators made short work of my 20 year collection of labware. The big New Brunswick environmental shaker was that last to come off the truck. So far only one causality was the nice Ikea floor lamp we bought to stage our OP house for showing (argggg) which was snapped in half. We did find one beer mug that was cracked when we unpacked the glasses, but who knows if it was that way before we packed it. Insurance will replace the lamp, but first we have to unpack the lab and the rest of our stuff to see if there is anything else that didn't make it. Considering that our stuff completely filled the van, all 31,000 pounds of it, one broken lamp is pretty insignificant.

We spent the better part of the time since we've lived here unpacking. The movers packed all our glassware and after we took it all out of the boxes we had a pile of paper up to the ceiling and a pile of flattened boxes 1/4 as high. Our new trash service is happy to haul all these recycleables away in stages. We rolled the paper and bundled the boxes and will feed them to the trash men over the next few weeks. The move gave us the opportunity to collect our various things into one collection of each. It is quite the collection of glasses we have. Some from my father's bar, some from Karen's mom, many from different purchases we've made through the years. Gads, we have enough glasses to equip a tavern! I suppose one of our near future purchases will be a dinning room set with table, hutch and buffet. This house has a formal dining room in addition to the kitchen dining area where the "distressed" old table I made over 30 years now resides. We were tempted to get a new dining room table to stage our house for sale, but our real estate agent convinced us that this old thing I built is tres chic, distressed is in. And this is the trusty and very firm surface this computer rests on while I type this. Glad to be inside on this Father's Day enjoying the A/C. Its well over 90 already and rather humid. This part of being in my element is questionable. I grew up in the dry Colorado air and living in the tropics is going to be the biggest adjustment to living here, as far as I can tell so far. We just love the pace of life of a college town in the summer, and sure don't miss the traffic and crush of people in far off Chicago. We all miss our friends but are so happy to be together, all us here in this paradise. As we took possession of the house, the night of our closing, our new neighbor, also the head of department at SIU, greeted us with "welcome to paradise." I am beginning to appreciate what he meant.

One last ride through the Big Ugly

At long last its come to this. My last day at UIC, my last bike ride commuting through the west side, one last look at the Big Ugly. We had a great group ride in this morning-- the Oak Park Bike Gang, missing only Cliff, the originator of the phrase "Big Ugly", and of course Moe Sullivan, who was with us in spirit, as he always is on these rides. As I rode slowly across Oak Park I was nearly overwhelmed with emotion, missing this amazing town I've lived in for 20 years, even before we've finished packing and moved away. The quiet streets at 6:20 AM, the air thick with moisture from the big rains last night, it was a wonderful glimpse of Oak Park at its best, early morning in the late spring. Eight of us gathered at the west end of Columbus park, and as we prepared to ride, the early morning walkers came by and we got them to shoot a group photo. I think we've seen them nearly every morning for the last several years. As we posed for the photo instead of saying cheese, we were instructed to say "Je-sus!" Blessed be. We rounded the park avoiding Lake Columbus and made our way down Harrison to Laramie where we were greeted by the paper vendors "where everybody at" and "my favorite Caucasians" their standard greetings. After we breezed through the deserted streets of K town, not a gansta in sight, or good old Lucky, we crossed I290 at Kostner and found Mr. Icecream selling his papers, waiting to greet us. Only this time all 8 of us stopped in the median, shook his hand, bid him farewell, and Paul gave him the gift card to Baskin Robins. Years ago he started calling us "ice cream" because of Bob Hake's bike bell. Lately he's been wearing a bike bell around his neck to greet us. He calls Elissa "Lady Icecream" and her son when he rode with us "Junior Icecream". Today we learned that his name is Gregory Pierre and he is a musician. Maybe we've heard him at the Monroe stop on the blue line? Photos were taken and we bid him farewell. One last stop along the way-- the welder at Latham Industries. He has given us the fist in the air salute for the last several years. He is as constant as the morning dew, all these sentinels along the way are-- this time we stopped and chatted with Travis, learning his name for the first time. I told him that I admired his work ethic, and he said, everyday for 21 years. Salt of the earth. People who think of the west side as some great abyss, the dark unknown on either side of the express way just don't know- these good honest hard working folks who have looked out for us as we ride through their neighborhood. It has been a humbling and enlightening experience, one I will cherish. But not miss. Not the glass on the road, the traffic, having to touch down at 40 intersections on the way in. The few gansta teens who terrorized me last fall. I am off to greener rides, in the hills of southern Illinois. The Big Ugly is a beautiful thing, not the land, not the decrepit abandoned buildings, not the concertina wire-- but the people. Thank you for watching over us. And thank you Paul, Elissa, Bob, Bob, Bill, Sue and Scott for giving me such a memorable last ride through the Big Ugly, and a great breakfast too. Now if I make it home safe, I got it made.....

Listen to the thunder shout I am I am

What shall we say, shall we call it by a name
As well to count the angels dancing on a pin
Water bright as the sky from which it came
And the name is on the earth that takes it in
We will not speak but stand inside the rain
And listen to the thunder shout
I am, I am, I am, I am

Weather Report Suite, May 5, 2009, Allstate Arena, last song, first set. Resonating, vibrating, the music sings in me still. I was transported through the time-space continuim, 1983, Red Rocks, the Grateful Dead, the storm gathering over the eastern Colorado plains.... Phil Lesh's booming bass crashing off the rocks encompassing the amphitheater, the thunder gathering, the lightening, the looming rain-- and listen to the thunder shout-- I am, I am, I am, I am..... Fist clenched, jumping up and down, arms raised exultantly into the air, the whole crowd throbbing, jumping, shouting in unison.... I am, I am.... May 2009. Sitting in the banker's corner office, Carbondale, completing the mortgage application. Fish bowl view of the storm... "we will not speak but stand inside the rain....." thunder crahses, the wind howls, the power goes off. Like the scene in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy's house is spinning and trees are flying by.... I saw a guy on a bicycle trying to ride into the wind, telephone poles snapping off and blowing by like tooth picks. We watch the storm, then the banker completes the computations on his hand held calculator. Everyone else in the bank is hunkered down, ready to retreat to the bank vault. The rain and wind stop and the sun comes out. I shake hands, excited about the purchase of our new home, pleased to be so well treated and highly regarded as a new Carbondale resident. Out side the extent of the damage from the 100 mph straight line winds is barely comprehensible. Branches broken and trees strewn everywhere. Power lines dangling across every street. Everyone out looking around, amazed. Grateful. Just the power out, just some wind damage, no death, no injury. No movement of traffic. As I attempted to drive my rental car back to the Ford dealer, I became increasingly aware of just what a mess the storm had made of my soon to be new home town. It took an hour to drive 1.5 miles. The poor little Focus sustained cracked windshield and it looked like someone pounded it with a hammer. The night before at the Holiday Inn over 20 cars in the parking lot had their windshields broken from the hail and wind. Two storms in 12 hours, the first golf ball size hail and winds. The second, like a tornado with out the rotation. I was really worried about being able to leave Carbondale to get back to Oak Park. Due to track work, amazingly poorly timed by the rail road to coincide with graduation weekend at Southern the biggest egress of people all year, the train stopped in Effingham and finished the last 100 miles via motorcoach, a.k.a. bus. It was a deluxe bus with DVD players, but a bus none the less. The buses had just arrived when the Ford rental guy dropped me at the station. They were caught in the storm, navigating their way around the downed limbs and power lines. I noticed the drivers head to Boobies, so I got my first meal in 8 hours sitting next to them in the ambient light, now well recognized by Joy, the shift manager who makes a mean sandwich. I knew I wouldn't be left behind, sitting at the bar eating next to the drivers. We boarded the bus and headed straight up 51, avoiding the disaster on highway 13. The drive through southern Illinois' back roads all the way north to I64 was beautiful, bucolic, pastoral-- not like the terrain around Chicago. In fact, north of I-70/Effingham is when the topography changes, from flat to hills. It is going to be quite a nice change, being in a more natural world. No longer in the flight path of Ohare. We won't hear the traffic on the Eisenhower or the El thundering past. Or helicopters hovering over the highway reporting on the 20 mile long traffic jams. In stead, we will hear the thunder shouting-- I am, I am.... I am.....