Still On The Road, Headed East

Originally posted on Friday, June 3, 2011

No Haiku My Heart today. Mrs. Spadoman and I will be up along Lake Superior and into Wisconsin's lake country this weekend. I'll keep everyone in mind and hopefully bring back some cool pics and stories.

An update to this post.  (As of 06/05/2011 at 5:00 PM Central Daylight Savings Time)

I will be away until the end of the week, probably around Friday or Saturday, June 10th or 11th. I'll be on the road headed to Utica, New York to pick up a motorcycle with my van. More details as they develop.

The trip up North went great. We had a wonderful time visiting with friends and enjoyed great weather for outdoor activities.

In the meantime, please pay a visit to the below listed link and take a look at the beautiful artwork up for auction.

Check out Rebecca's recuerda mi corazon blog for some great haiku poetry. And take a look at the fabulous art auction she has to benefit the Oaxaca Street Children, a very worthy cause.

Peace to all

Cats and Dogs

This photo of my three daughters, taken in the early 1980's, doesn't have anything to do with this story, I just really like the photo and needed one to post as a header. Although, I do mention a mobile home trailer in here somewhere

I haven’t written much about dogs and cats in a while. No, even though it has been non-stop rain these days, I'm not talkin' about that. You may remember me telling you about Zeke in the past. Zeke was one of my daughter's sled dogs that met with a car on a rural highway. She needed a home for him and I thought that maybe we could let Zeke live with us.

Zeke had one front leg amputated and did quite nicely on three. He even got me a ticket with the local police because some wild woman neighbor called the cops and told them that the dog attacked her.

This wasn’t true. Zeke barked at her while she walked some puny runt black yipper dog past the house and down the side on the dirt trail that leads to the bike path. She called the cops because when she stopped in front of my house and complained, I told her to “Get F**ked”. Not a very nice thing to do, but I did it. I’m not sorry and I would do it again if I could ever spot her in a crowd. 

Good Ole Zeke. I miss him!

Anyway, Zeke had a great spirit when he lived with us. I was hoping to be able to take Zeke for a walk, but the way he moved on three legs, with that hop and stutter, there was no way I could keep up. Zeke was given to a family that could take care of him better than I could.

After that, my daughter and her four children moved into our house. That was about a year ago. She had more than one dog, but I set down some rules and said that she could only have one dog. She does, and his name is Crosby.

My daughter has a long history with animals. She once worked cleaning the dog yard of a sled dog team for the enjoyment of hitching up a team and going for a ride, and that was when she was 14! We always think she can talk to the animals like Dr. Doolittle.

One time, while living up in the Boundary Waters, a musher friend had a team and there was one dog that no one, and I mean no one, could come near. The musher would struggle for half an hour to harness that dog. Alyssa could put that dog’s head on her lap and get a harness around her with no trouble at all. 

As far as cats go, we had this stray. We named her Mexicat because we liked the name and were eating Mexican food upon her arrival. Here I am saying “She” and I don’t really know the gender at all! Someone had left Mexi in a restroom at the animal hospital, where my daughter worked at the time, and she brought her home. Spayed, declawed, a nice disposition, until the family moved in and brought their cat, Mr. Bitters.

Mexicat, basking in the sunshine, before her life changed forever

Mr. Bitters is okay as far as cats go, but Mexicat and Mr. Bitters fought and Mr. Bitters had claws. So, Mexicat wandered the neighborhood and was taken in by someone down the street in the subsidized housing area that we call “The Projects”.

I remember one day some kids knocked on the front door carrying Mexicat and announced that they had found “Your cat”. Mexi came in, had a meal and a short nap, then wanted out and never returned again.

Mister Bitters, on the table, again

Anyway, one cat and one dog. Mr. Bitters the cat and Crosby the dog. Mr. Bitters meows this high pitched not-too-noisy sound that irritates the crap out of me to the point that I get up from my chair, or bed, and let him in or out, depending on which side of the door he is on. Other than that, and the middle of the night snuggle against the small of my back on the electric blanket, I don’t have much to do with one Mr. Bitters.

Crosby the Dog, enjoying a jaunt in a Huskie's natural habitat, the snow

Crosby is a nice dog. I like him and he likes me. But he never comes near me, even if I offer a steak bone or a milk bone, when no one else is home. As soon as one of the Grandkids comes home from school or Mrs. Spadoman comes home from work, he’s all over me, especially if I am in the kitchen. Crosby comes to me while I watch TV and “talks” to me. Not really a bark, more like a whine. I truly believe he’s talking.

One problem we have with Crosby though, is that he can leap over the chain link fence in one powerful bound, and does so at will. He runs around, near the house, and comes back eventually, but won’t listen or come when called. I don’t care, but he does bark at certain individuals that walk or ride down the bike path. I’m always afraid the Get F**ked lady will come by and call the cops again. Even though Crosby is not legally my dog, he eminates from my property and the cops will give me the ticket.

Stunning profile of my daughter and her canine friend and companion

Crosby also digs deep cavernous holes. Maybe he’s looking for the gophers that live beneath the earth’s crust. Maybe he is just trying to stay cool in the ground, (but it hasn’t been hot out yet). Maybe he just likes to dig. All I know is that the front of my house looks like, (Here's where I mention the mobile home trailer), a white trash trailer house with the deep holes and hills from the excavation and the muddy paw prints on the white windowsill.

I mean, we probably fit many of the criteria for being white trash, but I don’t want it to show so blatantly. So, we’re putting Crosby on a chain run in the back yard. We’ll see if that works as no one wants to walk the 30 feet to the run. It was much easier to just open the front door, hook his collar up to the chain and let him be.

There was the electric shock collar experiment that went on for a while. But like all things that need to be kept up and used/put back, the collar didn’t last long. It did have the positive effect when it was first used. Crosby would stay in the yard because he knew he would be shocked if he came near the fence. Of course I never held the controls of the shock collar. I boycotted it. And even though I want the dog to obey, I don't think shocking it in the neck to be very humane, even if he is "Only a dog".

Last time I saw him wearing the shock collar, he was outside the fence running around along the path terrorizing an elderly couple that told me that the dog was mean and would have bitten them if I hadn’t called his name. I didn’t say anything to them. I didn’t tell them to Get F**ked. Quite civil I am at times.

So, there you have it. No Zeke, we have Crosby. No Mexicat, we have Mr. Bitters. What made this story come to life was that I was reading at my Canadian friend susan’s blog, Phantsy That, and she posted an animated video about a dog that barked a lot and the owners put a shock collar on him. By the way, susan is a wonderful artist. Check out her site.

I have another artist friend from Canada that posts about her dog named Dex. Check out her  Going Incognito Blog, HERE.  Many of her posts mention Dex. She posts pictures, like the one below, and he looks like a nice dog. He likes to run too, from her descriptions of their walks. I also see pictures of pets, mostly dogs and cats, on blogs as I travel around the internet. No wonder it’s such big business.

Dex. He's from Canada

I have really had only one pet. A border collie mix named Sarge. Sarge lived 14 human years, got sick, and we put her down out of mercy as she seemed to be suffering from disease.

This is me with my only pet, Sarge, taken when I got her from a friend, May of 1971

When an animal lives with you for 14 years, there are bound to be some stories. One of my favorites about Sarge was when we left the house and paddled the canoe across the Snake River. This is when we lived in Pine City in the 1980’s. Lo and behold if Sarge didn’t come up to us at a friend’s place after she swam across the river. We gave her a canoe ride back.

This is right outside our front window of the Pine City place on the Snake River
Hockey was an every Sunday event, along with a bonfire and Booya stew.
Sarge swam across that river more than once chasing us as we paddled the canoe

There have been other dogs around the house when we lived in the country, most saved from the shotgun blast of the farmer. Cats too. They’d come around, the kids would feed ‘em and they’d be there until one of the dogs got too rambunctious and killed it, accidentally of course.

Every now and again one of the Grandkids or even my daughter will ask me if we can have a puppie or a kitty. The answer is a resounding “No” from me. Hard enough to wrangle Crosby and Mr. Bitters as it is.

Peace

Memorial Day, 2011

At The Wall, pointing to the name of someone I served with, my family nearby

This day rolls around every year. Some people stop what they’re doing and raise the flag up in their yard. Some attend a program put on by the community. The event is Memorial Day, a time to remember those that gave the ultimate sacrifice for their family, their community and their country.

Today, I will sit at home and not do the things I usually do. No coffee shop visit. No motorcycle ride. No projects that need to be completed. No elaborate dinner party or BBQ. In fact, I had the BBQ yesterday, complete with campfire and “smores”, and we used those giant marshmallows!

I do want to mention that I remember the fallen everyday. Having seen the battlefields first hand left me with things to remember, things I can’t forget, things that I realize now, over 40 years later, that I don’t want to forget or shouldn’t forget. Things that creep into my dreams, at times, and wake me up. They tell me to remember, insist on it, and leave me unsettled for a time.

I honor all Veterans and all that died in war, all war, all sides. The very people we were told were the enemy. I honor them too this day. The innocent ones, caught up in a war torn country, them too. They are part of the equation. The four dead in OHIO are remembered. Rachel Corrie is remembered. All that died fighting for what their heart told them was the truth.

There is one special person that I remember today, a fellow I knew on the battlefield in Vietnam in 1969. I’ve written about my visits to his home town, Clarks Hill, SC, on Veterans Day.

A virtual rubbing taken from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall
Frazier Dixon was my friend. I served with him in Vietnam

This is Frazier Dixon in high school.

I’ve seen his name on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall. I took my family there in 2008. I have a rubbing, like the one in the photo, of his name taken from the huge black granite panel.

In the small town of Truth Or Consequences, NM where I have my RV, they have a replica of “The Wall”, as it’s known to many, right there in town.

The replica Wall, in Truth or Consequences, NM

In Neillsville, WI, not too many miles from where I live, there is a Veterans Memorial Park called The Highground. There is a statue there that I admire a lot and I’ll share that with you here as well. (Click to enlarge both photo and plaque)

This is a description of what you are seeing in the scupture above at The Highground in Neillsville, WI

These cement and bronze structures honor the fallen every day, and especially today. They don’t put everything away and take it out like Christmas decorations or Halloween stuff for the front yard. It’s on display every day for all to see and remember if they care to.

Some communities have permanent memorials at the local cemetery, like this one in Harlan County Oregon. Since I travel the two-lane roads and pass through many towns, I see that many have plaques or memorials to the Veterans of their city or county.

Harlan County Veterans memorial

But I can’t resist mentioning the irony of sending people off  to war, for the purpose of killing others, on behalf of a society that allows it.

As a Warrior, I can go on and on and tell you why war doesn’t make a difference like it did when we fought global evil in WWII. Why Korea, Vietnam, Bosnia, Iraq and Afghanistan are taking the lives of our people in the name of freedom as corporations spend billions of dollars to lobby Washington in an effort to make sure war will perpetuate. Doesn't it make you wonder why they would spend billions? Isn't it because the corporations that send lobbyists make billions on war?

1969, somewhere near Tay Ninh, Republic of Vietnam

I’ll leave you today with these facts about the war that was going on when I served in the US Army in The Republic of Vietnam. 

My family at The Wall, 2008

There are 58,267 names now listed on that polished black wall, including those added in 2010.

The names are arranged in the order in which they were taken from us by date and within each date the names are alphabetized. It is hard to believe it is 36 years since the last casualties.

Beginning at the apex on panel 1E and going out to the end of the East wall, appearing to recede into the earth (numbered 70E - May 25, 1968), then resuming at the end of the West wall, as the wall emerges from the earth (numbered 70W - continuing May 25, 1968) and ending with a date in 1975. Thus the war's beginning and end meet. The war is complete, coming full circle, yet broken by the earth that bounds the angle's open side and contained within the earth itself.

The first known casualty was Richard B. Fitzgibbon, of North Weymouth, Mass. listed by the U.S. Department of Defense as having been killed on June 8, 1956.

His name is listed on the Wall with that of his son, Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Richard B. Fitzgibbon III, who was killed on Sept. 7, 1965.

There are three sets of fathers and sons on the Wall.

39,996 on the Wall were just 22 or younger.

The largest age group, 8,283 were just 19 years old

3,103 were 18 years old.

12 soldiers on the Wall were 17 years old.

5 soldiers on the Wall were 16 years old.

One soldier, PFC Dan Bullock was 15 years old.

997 soldiers were killed on their first day in Vietnam.

1,448 soldiers were killed on their last day in Vietnam.

31 sets of brothers are on the Wall.

Thirty one sets of parents lost two of their sons.

54 soldiers on the Wall attended Thomas Edison High School in Philadelphia. I wonder why so many from one school.

8 Women are on the Wall. Nursing the wounded.

244 soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War; 153 of them are on the Wall.

Beallsville, Ohio with a population of 475 lost 6 of her sons.

West Virginia had the highest casualty rate per capita in the nation. There are 711 West Virginians on the Wall.

The Marines of Morenci - They led some of the scrappiest high school football and basketball teams that the little Arizona copper town of Morenci (pop. 5,058) had ever known and cheered. They enjoyed roaring beer busts. In quieter moments, they rode horses along the Coronado Trail, stalked deer in the Apache National Forest. And in the patriotic camaraderie typical of Morenci's mining families, the nine graduates of Morenci High enlisted as a group in the Marine Corps. Their service began on Independence Day, 1966. Only 3 returned home.

The Buddies of Midvale - LeRoy Tafoya, Jimmy Martinez, Tom Gonzales were all boyhood friends and lived on three consecutive streets in Midvale, Utah on Fifth, Sixth and Seventh avenues. They lived only a few yards apart. They played ball at the adjacent sandlot ball field. And they all went to Vietnam..

In a span of 16 dark days in late 1967, all three would be killed. LeRoy was killed on Wednesday, Nov. 22, the fourth anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assassination. Jimmy died less than 24 hours later on Thanksgiving Day. Tom was shot dead assaulting the enemy on Dec. 7, Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.

The most casualty deaths for a single day was on January 31, 1968 ~ 245 deaths.

The most casualty deaths for a single month was May 1968 - 2,415 casualties were incurred.

That's 2,415 dead in a single month.

Enjoy your Memorial Day.  

I prefer to remember and honor the idea that we believed, with all our hearts, that we were fighting for freedom for us all, because we are.

Honor the Dead

Heal the Wounded

End the Wars

Wage Peace

South Shore Lake Superior

Shadow Shot Sunday
May 29, 2011

Shadow Shot Sunday is fun and very addicting. Many fine folks from all over the world publish their photos with shadows and we all share here on Sundays, all thanks to Tracy. See more Shadow Shots and find out to participate at the Hey Harriet Blog.

This old worn tree trunk made a rail on an old fence along the shore

I spent some time camping along the South Shore of the Great Lake Superior last week. We used an old encampment that was mostly used for gathering teenagers and the occasional fisherman's camp. Sings of earlier occupation were seen from this small fence that made a safe barrier alont the sdge of a small cliff at water's edge.


This knot, the trunk, or butt end, of a small pine tree, just made up one of the rails. It was a cloudy day the day I snapped the photo, but the shadows till were bold. In the photos below, you can see the rail and the beautiful lake beyond. I was on the Red Cliff Indian Reservation and the islands in the distance are part of the Apostle Island National Scenic Lakeshore.

I love the waves on the big lake. Close together, different from the ocean, but still that sound as water meets the land.

And a last shot of the butt end.

You can read more about this trip, and I urge you to do so,  in the post below this one entitled Another Spiritual Journey.

May Peace find you today and everyday

Another Spiritual Journey

Haiku My Heart
May 27, 2011

More Haiku My Heart at Rebecca's recuerda mi corazon

Fog kissed my shoulders

Flames from spirit wood flowed free

Warming heart and soul

Buds on the tree limbs with a backdrop of Sand Island on Lake Superior

The photo above doesn’t begin to do justice to being there and seeing the big lake up close and personal. We were at a place called Wolf Camp on the Red Cliff Reservation. To get there, you had to leave the paved road and follow a gravel road that gets narrower and narrower and turns into two ruts careening downhill towards the big lake, always wondering if it will peter out altogether and turn into a footpath.

I had made the trip to help out with a Vision Quest ceremony. Five people were doing a total fast and  praying for a vision, a dream, that would be a guiding light in their lives. These five would be sequestered from the rest of us, deep in the pine, birch, oak and popple woods that stand at the edge of the water.

After four days, they would return to us and feast together. The helpers, ten in all, would tend the fires, cook food, fetch water and be there for support through prayer and kind thought

The colors the water exhibited over the course of a week were astounding. Greens, blues and the slate grey of the sky where you couldn’t see the horizon. The trees were not in full leaf, but each had its own version of budding. The sound of the water gently lapping the shore in the calm early mornings was soothing and peaceful. Of course the sometimes bothersome mosquitoes were not to be seen in the cool 30 degree nights.

Vibrant water near

Sun kissed, wind driven flowing

Lapping music plays

I used my van as a tent and set up a cot to sleep in. It did get really cold, hard frost, on the first two nights we were there. Grandmother Moon was at the fullest and was seen clearly with the stars moving away from her magnificent white light.

My main duty was to care for a perpetual fire. The Sacred Fire was started at the start of the Vision Quest ceremony on Tuesday at Noon. I was instructed not to allow the flame to extinguish until Noon on Saturday, four full days and nights. Firewood was cut and stacked nearby. A maul was handy to split wood into smaller pieces if needed.

I wasn’t the only firekeeper, but I did plenty of time sitting next to it, sometimes alone, sometimes with one, two or even many others sitting alongside. Alone, in the early morning hours, the animals take turns with their calls. The coyotes, then the hoot hoot hoot of the owl. The loons, geese and ducks never interupt each other. Then the crows talk to me, telling me what they see, the woodpecker taps after the grouse drums. Songbirds fill in the background and this symphony repeats itself every morning in Spring along the shore of the Great Lake Superior

Since I am an early riser, I claimed the early morning shift and relieved whoever was tending the flame when I got up in the morning, usually right around four AM.

This time of year, a little less than a month before the Summer Solstice, the longest period of daylight in the Northern hemisphere, the Eastern sky starts to brighten just past four. The daylight creeps up and the sun rises over the tops of the pines, shining on the water, a little after five.

Mother Nature turned this butt end of a small tree into sculpture with the help of wind, water and sand

It was in this twilight of morning that the fog engulfed me. I looked out at the big lake and couldn’t see the water, yet  I was less than 50 feet away from the shore. Then the outline of the nearly bare branched trees at the shoreline were visible with nothing but a grey curtain beyond them. There was no horizon. There was no lake. There was no sky. Just grey. In the woods, a haze of grey covered the forest, all of it, seeping into what was left of the Moon shadows.

The feeling I felt, a physical feeling, was like someone was behind me. A coolness caressed my neck, kissed me, and caught my attention. I sought the flame and its warm embrace, it was like the fog had me dead to rights and I was cheating with a lover that was the fire.

Then the idea of the spirits, alive in the wood and released with the burning, were running free, floating up to the Creator in the smoke after its skirmish with the fog. The warmth soothed my soul and my body, and as quickly as the fog appeared, it was gone.

Gently lapping waves made a sweet sound as they caressed the rocky shore

It was Friday morning that this happened. I reached into my small pack and grabbed a pen and my journal. I jotted down my Haiku thoughts and felt good as I have just about every Friday when I post for Rebecca’s marvelous creation. Here, you can read more Haiku My Heart stories, art, photos and more every Friday.

When others awoke, I asked them if they saw the fog. No one had seen it. One mentioned they felt something but couldn’t explain what.

The morning broke with a full on sunshine splendor. The water turned from non existent to grey to blue then blue-green in the course of an hour. The only grey in the sky was the swirling smoke from our fire. It reached up and was gone a few feet above the ground. As I sat there by the fire, I remembered the old teachings of the wood holding the spirits of those that have passed before us, our ancestors, as the wood grows from the ashes and soil created by the hair, bones, skin and blood of the people buried in the ground. I felt like the fire was setting them free. They tell us their stories when released and are saved and shared as fond memories.

Where do you return

To gather, tell your stories

Spirit flames of peace

A beautiful savior walked close with a pot of steaming hot coffee, made cowboy style, in a large blue speckled porcelain kettle and filled my cold empty cup. There is no Thank You strong enough to convey my pleasure at this ritual. I savored a few hot scalding sips and shared a toast with Grandmother Moon who had crossed the tops of the trees and now had disappeared into the Western horizon.

Others woke up and joined me at the fires edge. I thanked Creator for the birth of a new day, another day, another chance at living a good life. I was thankful for the rest given to us. The warmth that gave us comfort from the cold and the coolness that saved us from the heat. This circle of life, given to me by the tap on the shoulder from a world in between our own by way of the fog.

Pulled by the full Moon

Cool fog draws across the shore

Carry us with you

More about the ceremony and the trip, including a visit to the Longhouse Cafe and the Tale of the Broken Mirror on this site soon. In the meantime, share your lives and souls with someone you love.

Peace

A Matter to Digest

Well folks, I’m home. I’ve been home since Sunday evening, but preoccupied, as I was “studying” for some tests I had to take early Monday morning at the VA hospital. They had me on a fast for the most part, or at least a clear liquid diet since Saturday’s noon meal. Then there was drinking that awful tasting stuff, copious quantities of it, and sitting on the great white porcelain throne for what seemed like hours on end.

That’s right, Colonoscopy, and an Endoscopy to boot!

Since I was having both procedures done on the same day, by the same doctor, in the same room, I made sure I was satisfied that they would not use the same camera apparatus for both tests. And I have to tell you, they said that many of the participants don’t remember the procedure because of the intravenous drugs they pump into your veins. That was my experience. I remember looking at the TV monitor a couple of times, but other than that, I can’t even say I remember getting dressed. They told me that I had asked them to change the channel.

My doctor has been wanting me to get a colonoscopy since I turned 50 years old. That was some time ago as I recently reached the age of retirement just two weeks prior. I finally agreed to the procedure, but insisted that they do the endoscopy at the same time. I never had any problems down on the bottom, but I have had the hiatal hernia stuff in the past with sometimes viscous heartburn along with it up top.

Funny how the week before I was up along the South shore of the Great Lake Superior attending ceremony. I’ll write about this experience on Friday when we all gather to share our Haiku at Rebecca’s recuerda mi corazon blog. Incidentally, scroll down and take a look at the fabulous artwork that will be auctioned off in early June over at Rebecca's site.

Suffice it to say the irony of helping people who are fasting for four days, and then starting a fast for an outpatient clinic procedure when they end their fast was totally weird. We prepared a great feast for the participants of the ceremony to break their fast, then I sit and watch them eat it.

Oh, the results. Well, nothing, nada, zilch. Clean as a whistle. Come back in ten years for another one. Ten years!? I wonder if the doctor was giving me a decree, like he knows I’ll still be around in ten freakin’ years. I kinda hope so. I have a lot to share with the Grandkids.

The esophagus and stomach weren’t quite so lucky, but nothing was found to stand up and wave a red flag about.

So, I still have to unpack the van and get started on a myriad of projects here at Spadoville. I used to be a handyman and did all sorts of things for people. During tough times when no one was hiring for real jobs, the Reagan years, I pieced together a living fixing this or that or installing, remodeling and fabricating things most home owners shied away from. Now, I’m the guy lookin’ for a handyman to take on some of the load.

That’s not all that bad. It’ll keep me busy between mini road trips. Summer is quickly approaching and the calendar has a bunch of choices and options for travel. We’re already trying to decide if we should go to Milwaukee or Ashland over Memorial Day weekend. Maybe we’ll stay home and get some work done. NOT!

Have a great day, each and every one of you.

Peace

Monday Mystery Tour, May 16, 2011

Spring means the Bear Spirit is awakening after a long Winter slumber

I've been watching Doctor Who on the BBC Network. My Grandson has discovered the good Doctor and we're recording all the episodes. I'm watching here and there while they are in recording mode, between Stanley Cup Playoff games. (Go Vancouver!).

Doctor Who had his Tardis. He'd simply pull down on the blue levers, the column of green light bubbled with joy and he and his platonic partner were hurdled into a time warp, traveling not only across distance but also through time. After all, a Tardis is "Time and Relative Dimension in Space", and looks like a common Police Call Box on the streets of London. That's right. Doctor Who is an alien.

I so wish I could travel like that. Yesterday, while enjoying the second day of our 30 day Summer, I was out on the motorcycle. As I rode along the beautiful Mississippi River bluffs along Lake Pepin, I had traveling on my mind. The 40 mile ride had me planning  trips on the motorcycle and in the car for later this Summer and one late in the Fall. Of course, reality came crashing down when I turned right on County Road O and headed for home. That's when I started to think about the trip I am leaving for Tuesday morning.

That's tomorrow, as I'll post this story on Monday. I'll be away for a little over a week. I'll be headed to the Red Cliff Indian Reservation on the shore of the Great Lake Superior. I'll call it a camping trip and be up there until next Sunday, but it will be so much more than that really. A Native Elder is holding a Vision Quest ceremony and I am going up to help out. I believe my main duty will be to tend a Sacred Fire that will burn while the ceremony is being conducted.

The Full Moon will take place on Tuesday and the night will be lit up like daytime. Nightfall is already after 8:30 PM and it is light in the Eastern sky by 4:30 AM. The nights will be short on the darkness scale.

Friends of mine that are participating in the Vision Quest have their own agendas. I have one too. Like I wandered the desert last February in New Mexico, I will wander the lakeshore, the water, the view of Sand Island, the sky, Grandfather Sun and Grandmother Moon and the new plants getting green. I'll pay attention to my heart and listen to what it says as it guides me to the next adventure, which will simply be to return home to my family.

Along the South Shore of Lake Superior at Saxon Harbor

I guess I could have just said, "I'll be away until next Monday" and left it at that, but there might be some of you that want to know where I'm at and what I'm doing. So, look up at the Moon, our gazes will meet there, or across the water, I'll see what you saw eventually. The birds will take our messages back and forth and we'll find a little peace on earth, even if only for a moment.

Lastly, there are two dear friends I will be thinking of. One lives out East. I promised a narrative about the Vision Quest last year and never wrote one. I'll chronicle the events as they unfold and make good on that commitment when I return. Maybe I'll see one of the Bear Spirits she is so fond of, like the one in the beautiful water color at the top of the page. Thank you for this gift.

The other is a dear lady, an artist, a healer, an old soul and spirit sent here for some reason we don't get to understand. She wrote the Paper-N-Soul Blog. Her name is Deb Gilchrist and she passed in March of 2011. Ironic then, that her last post is about a Full Moon and she loved the Great Lakes.

Be kind to each other. Be peaceful. Practice it in your daily affairs. Enjoy life as you can.

Peace