GEOLOGY CLASS

 May 25th…we left Cody, Wyoming early in the morning…the two of us…on our own

heading for the Beartooth Highway…a scenic drive into Yellowstone.

But unbeknownst to us the start of the Beartooth was closed until Memorial Day.

so we politely asked our GPS…to find another way.

She took us to the Chief Joseph Highway….an equally awesome drive

turns out the alternative route she found…was another wonderful way to arrive.

The ride through the Absaroka mountains was filled with hair pin turns that were hair-raising…we stopped at one lookout in particular where the views of the mountains were amazing.

We stood mesmerized by the mountains…which to the heavens soared….

when into the parking lot stopped three vans…with Dartmouth college on their doors.

Turns out it was a geology class who picked this beautiful perch

on this particular outcropping…to do some field research.

We spoke with a couple of the students…(how young are they letting students into college these days)…who told us there’s a presentation in a few minutes…and invited us to stay.

So that’s how Deborah and I…by taking a detour…an unexpected bypass

came to be, for a moment, part of a college Geology class.

It was one of the oldest rocks on Earth, we learned…the one upon which we were standing…most of the other words they used that day…we had trouble understanding.

But that’s okay…as we listened…we didn’t need a translator…

I was taking notes…we’d look up those words later.

We thanked the class…and as we left…’this never would have happened we supposed’, If when we got to the Beartooth Highway it was open…instead of closed.

And now that we’re geologists…we await one final detail….

our diplomas from Dartmouth college…which we’re sure are in the mail.

TIPI NEATH THE STARS

 We spent two nights in a tipi (yes that’s how they spell it here)

A tipi in Cody, Wyoming…with the Shoshone river near.

We chose this place to stay thinking no road trip would be complete…

without staying in a tipi with no electricity, bathroom or heat.

We thought…we won’t need heat unless on us the weather played her tricks…

Which she did..in the evening when the temperature dropped down to 36.

But we were warm and cozy in our soft and comfortable bed…

while dressed in layers of clothing with 5 blankets on our heads.

In fact we fell asleep quite quickly…for this simple reason why…

the Shoshone river…just a few feet away…was singing a lullaby.

We did wake up in the middle of the night…I think it was around 2…

no need to know the reason…it’s something old people do.

Walking back from the restroom we both stopped and sighed….

when we happened to remember to look up at the sky.

The sky was awash with stars…more stars than we’ve ever seen before…

snd so we sat for a moment in the cold…so we could look some more.

The big dipper seemed to be pouring stars releasing them into the night

with every star released…another point of light…

It was a moment we’ll remember…truly a night to cherish…to behold

and for a moment under the stars…we forgot that we were cold…

I imagine it is a memory…the two of us shall forever keep

eventually, back in the comfort of our bed…we let the river sing us back to sleep.

But not before feeling lucky for the blessings in a life as wonderful as ours….

That allowed us to spend two nights without heat…without electricity…

In a tipi neath the stars.

HOW OLD ARE WE REALLY?

 Deborah and I turn 70 later this year…I remember when I was young and brash and bold…how I use to think anyone who was 70…well, that person had to be old.

Now that I am older…I’ve left my boyhood thinking behind…

I now believe, despite the years…that age…is in the mind.

That’s not to say there aren’t some aches and pains that come with getting older

like how I may wear sweaters more…because I’m always a little colder.

Like how were not as agile or as limber as we once were before

and how it takes us a little longer to get up off the floor.

But in spite of what our bodies are telling us…that our best songs have been sung

our minds keep encouraging us…telling us we’re still young.

This latest road trip we’ve been on…over 3500 miles so far

We’ve done our share of singing to oldies in the car.

We’ve marveled at the sunsets…we’ve waved to an engineer on a train…

We’ve listened to a bird concerto…we’ve chased a rainbow in the rain.

We’ve eaten our share of donuts…we’ve danced out in the snow…

We even built a small snowman…we‘ve sat by a river and watched her flow.

So you see the prospect of turning 70 does not upset us…we will never cry or pout

because so many times throughout the day…we’ve let our child out.

And every time our child comes out…we want to see them more…we have a hunger…

because every time our child shows up…we feel a little younger.

If that is true (and we believe it is) that we actually age backwards when we laugh and play and run…there might be 70 candles on our birthday cakes this year…

but after making a wish…we’ll only blow out 21.

THE BLACK HILLS

 

That days adventure took us to a mountain range with twists and turns and thrills…

rising from the great plains of South Dakota…they’re known as the Black Hills.

They’re called the Black Hills…(Paha Sàpa to the Lakota if you please)

because from a distance they look black due to an abundance of evergreen trees.

In 1868 the US government signed the Fort Laramie Treaty

(Pardon me a moment for this historical endeavor)

establishing the Great Sioux Reservation and ensuring 

the Black Hills would remain in Sioux hands forever.

But when gold was discovered in the Black Hills

the US government tore up the treaty and showed the Lakota the door….

meaning forever lasted 6 years…until 1874.

This was an injustice the Sioux nation couldn’t…would not ignore…

leading the Sioux in 1886…into the bloody Black Hills war.

The Black hills remain sacred to the Lakota today

It is the land of their deaths and births

It has ceremonial significance…

they consider it the womb of Mother Earth.

The Black Hills is where every Lakota baby born is given a spirit from a star…

It’s not just central to their spirituality…

It’s central to who they are.

As we drove around admiring the majesty of the Black Hills…

and thinking of the Great Sioux nation…

Around every corner…thoughts like these…found their way into our conversation.

Lies told…injustices done…treaties signed then taken back…

Wars and killing and mistrust…

perhaps there’s another reason these hills are painted black.

 

INNOCENCE LOST....AGAIN

In the aftermath of yet anjother mass shoooting...this one again involving our children.....here's an old poem I wrote years ago....no need to write a new poem....and I'm afraid...until we as a country do something about this problem...you'll be seeing this poem again...and again...and again

INNOCENCE LOST…AGAIN

We adults tend to lose ours innocence as the years unfold…

which is why the innocence of our children is a beauty we behold.

Children sing before they realize there even is a song.

They dance whenever any kind of music comes along.

They draw upon a canvas before they realize it’s a wall.

They climb as high as they can climb before they understand the fall.

When we see innocence in our children…we are happy to detect it...and we realize it’s up to us to nurture and protect it.

But a question now arises which leads to a scary thought…

What happens to this innocence when our children have been shot?

Let’s stop a moment to remember…to take a closer look

How we did nothing back in 2012 after Sandy Hook.

Oh, we prayed, we mourned, we wept…and we said we’re sorry too...as we told the grieving parents…there’s nothing we can do.

And every day since then our country has paid a tremendous cost as more children have been murdered…and more innocence has been lost.

Never again will they sing, or dance, or draw upon a wall

Never again will they marvel at the Heavens, or climb up high, or fall.

In 2012 we stopped protecting our children…every daughters every son...our love for them now less important than our obsession with a gun.

As the two sides fight with one another to do what is required

all the children of our country are caught in their crossfire.

A child will play with a ray of light before he realizes there’s a sun

A child will attempt to pull a trigger...before he realizes it’s a gun.

But we know what harm a gun can do…and if we want our children to survive...we must do all that’s in our power to ensure they stay alive…

If we continue to allow their innocence to be taken…

in this most heinous kind of theft…

there will come a time, 

if we haven’t reached it already 

when we have no children…no innocence left.

http://dailyrhyme-jim.blogspot.com/

BADLANDS

 We visited a place…a national park…that caused immediate gasps and sighs…where the wind almost blew us away…where sand castles reached to the sky.

Deposition and erosion are the reasons this National Park has come to look this way…It’s a process that began eons ago…and is still going on today.

The structures left in this National Park are eroding…but not very fast…

and anyone lucky enough to see them…gets a glimpse into our planet’s past.

The Lakota understood this land…for growing and hunting and crossing…was sad

they named it Mako Sica…which translated means ‘land bad.”

And anyone who tried to tame her… “These are bad lands.” they’d exclaim…That in a nutshell…is how Badlands National Park originally got her name.

But Deborah and I weren’t there to live off her…we had only planned….

to observe her beauty, to feel her winds…and to tiptoe across her land.

To wonder about a time long ago…to try and get a peek

into how the Lakota could live on land so desolate and bleak.

With every step we took…the landscape seemed to change…

Everywhere we looked…whispers, wows and smiles we’d exchange.

We spent hours in the park…even though the winds were rough…

because when it came to the Badlands…we could not get enough.

It was Mako Sica to the Lakota…and Badlands to all other passersby 

but to one couple whose visit was only temporary…

she will always be a land where sandcastles reach the sky.

BOOKSTORES AND DONUT SHOPS

 We’ve been blessed already on this trip…during the days and into the nights to observe the changing landscape around us…and we’ve some amazing sights.

We’ve walked in Mammoth Cave…

sat under St. Louis’s arch of note…

We’ve cruised down the Mississippi in an old fashioned riverboat.

We walked through a sculpture garden in Iowa…sculptures made of metal and steel and wood…

We paused on a volcano in Nebraska…where Lewis and Clark once stood.

We’ve toured the Badlands and the Black Hills of South Dakota…

we’ve walked with Dignity…

we stood at the base of Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse…and thought about Wounded Knee.

But one thing I failed to mention…which we try to do at every stop…

We search for an independent bookstore…and a local donut shop.

With the wonder and beauty of our country and her people…everywhere we look….

It’s also nice to appreciate…a fresh donut…and a good book.

Okay we don’t always buy a book…but more often than not…we do…

and we never leave without eating a donut…sometimes we have two.

In Rapid City, South Dakota the latest place we stopped

we found a beautiful old bookstore…and a wonderful donut shop.

We did end up buying a book…from a diverse collection…an exciting and impressive mix…

And we did buy a couple of donuts…okay…we might have purchased six.

And so we’re back on the road…wondering what next astonishing sights will cause our jaws to drop….while always on the lookout…for bookstores and donut shops.

DIGNITY: OF EARTH AND SKY

 I love art and I love history….and I love how each one is transcended

when, to my joy and utter delight, the two of them are blended .

On a bluff overlooking the Missouri River in South Dakota stands one such blending of art and history…the sculpture of an indigenous woman in plain dress…her name is Dignity.

As huge sculpted works of art go…this is a special one…

she even has a star quilt on her back that glitters in the sun.

She stands 50 feet tall…courage, perseverance and wisdom have been sculpted into her eyes….Her full name is not just Dignity but Dignity: of Earth and Sky.

Dale Lamphere, the sculptor, wanted people to understand…

she’s meant to bring the light the beauty and the promise of the indigenous peoples and cultures who still thrive upon this land.

Mr. Lamphere envisioned Dignity as a way to show the Lakota and Dakota cultures as they’ve never been depicted before….I’m sure he didn’t realize she would come to mean so much more.

She represents, bravery, patience, fortitude, determination as well as drive.

She reminds us not only of injustice…but also the of will to endure…to survive.

She represents all those who resist oppression…all those with dignity who try

in her silence if you listen…you can hear her rallying cry.

I am not an indigenous Native American so why am I so taken with this sculpture Mr. Lamphere created…because it also reminds me as it should everyone….how we’re all related.

How we are all connected…how of this earth and sky we are all one…

how we should stand together to greet the evening moon and morning sun.

If we can, in spite of our differences, live together in peace and harmony…

then we can hold our heads up high…

spread our arms out to the world…

and walk with Dignity.

THE OLD SCHOOL HOUSE

 In our leisurely drive across the country one of our delights

was an old school house in Nebraska…where we were blessed to spend the night.

We were already in the middle of nowhere….when ‘turn here’ our GPS crowed…

and took us another 4 miles down a one lane gravel road.

The renovated school house was secluded…there was no one else around

and once we turned the car off…you couldn’t hear a sound.

Until, that is, our eyes and ears adjusted…and we both shared a smile

as the animals in the country said…welcome…come and stay a while.

So we sat out in the school yard…in the disappearing day

totally aware of the sights and sounds around us now on display.

Birds singing in the trees surrounding us…everywhere we glanced

joining in a wondrous harmony…while the dandelions all. danced.

A robin sitting on her nest…took time out to tweet…

Rabbits hopped over to listen…and grab a bite to eat

A rooster, a woodpecker and a frog…not to be outdone…

joined in with their distinctive sounds…adding to the fun

The lilacs were in bloom…their aroma our noses kissed….

in flew a hummingbird moth…whose bloom she couldn’t resist.

A cool breeze waltzed across the yard…and as the dandelion seedlings flew

we closed our eyes, made a wish and I wondered…what the Earth was wishing too. 

Then gradually…as if in partnership with the setting the sun….

the sounds began to fade away…slowly…one by one.

As the animals of the day found their beds in the fading light

the serenade continued…as the crickets would sing us through the night.

And so we sat there in the darkness…it was not yet time to go…

we waited and weren’t disappointed as the stars put on a show.

Neither of us dreamed that night…we slept deeply and soundly instead…

realizing we had already experienced a dream..long before we went to bed.

LADY IN THE PARK

 We arrived in Des Moines early…which is always a delight

It gives us a chance to explore the area..to taste the food…to see the sights.

After a lunch of pasta smothered in a pesto sauce that really couldn’t be topped…

we chose a nearby sculpture garden as our second place to stop.

The sculptures were amazing…but what really left its mark

was a lady whom we noticed before entering the park.

We saw her at a distance…yelling from the shade of a small tree…

yelling…hands waving…pointing…at somethings only she could see.

We felt sorry and a little frightened at the behaviors she displayed…

and made the quick decision…to walk the other way.

As we walked around enjoying the variety of sculptures…that lady we left behind…

but, because we occasionally heard her yelling,, she never left our minds.

As we neared the final sculpture…we were well aware…

the lady, still yelling and waving and pointing, was still standing there…

It was an uncomfortable situation…the kind you muddle through

not knowing what to say…not knowing what to do.

We chose to ignore her her yelling…and trying not to stare

went to view the sculpture…as if she wasn’t there.

It was a sculpture of a figure made of letters…and how wonderfully they fit…

as Deborah walked inside, from behind me I heard…”Beautiful isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.” I answered…then turning…she caught my eye.

It was the lady, who, only a moment ago,..was yelling at the sky.

I gave her a smile…and a beautiful smile she returned to me…

then she went back to yelling and waving and pointing at something I couldn’t see.

And I thought when I first saw her…this was a lady in craziness ensheathed. 

but in one amazing moment…I saw her purity beneath…

Sculptures are complex…they’re complicated…they can be confusing…light…or dark

they can be interpreted in so many different ways…much like a lady in the park.

MISSISSIPPI MORNING

 We stayed high atop a bluff overlooking the Mississippi river and before our next day’s drive we were blessed to sit atop that bluff and watch the day arrive.

In the quiet calm of the morning our eyes shifting from the sky above to the river below…we saw the Mississippi ambling by…at her own pace…leisurely and slow.

The sun, as she does every morning…with her desire to tantalize…

released a vibrancy of colors announcing she’s about to rise

Reds and oranges and yellows in the sky combined

telling us to be patient for the sun’s not far behind

And while we waited for the sun to rise and the darkness of the night to fade…

on the railing right in front of us…a songbird serenade.

I asked the bird this question…as this new day had begun

Is it the sun’s rising that makes you sing…or does your singing raise the sun?

I think she might have replied…that somewhere in her song the answer hid

but I do not speak songbird…although I wish I did.

We watched boats along the river making their early morning runs

We watched the leaves in all the trees wave good morning to the sun

And as if on cue…when the songbirds melody was done

we saw the clouds begin to shine absorbing the colors of the sun

And we saw the sun gradually make her appearance…she is anything but shy

dressed in all her finest colors she rose like an angel in the sky.

And with such a beautiful performance that morning  

off on our next adventure we set…

with the Mississippi morning now a memory…but one we’re not likely to forget

THE TWAIN

 Here’s a little bit of information…I find it necessary to repeat.

It was Rudyard Kipling who wrote East is East and West is west…

and never the twain shall meet.

And just in case you were wondering…Yes, I know there are a few

twain is an old-fashioned word not used much anymore….it’s the same as saying two.

What Mr. Kipling was saying…if I get the gist…

Is that sometimes there are too many differences between certain people…

for them ever to peacefully coexist.

Which makes me ask…

Are we, at this moment, living in a world that will never be complete…

with two sides so divide that never the twain shall meet?

There is so much anger in the air…so much animosity…so much bitterness…so much hate…it makes on wonder…in the end…what will be our fate.

As I sit on a deck overlooking the Mississippi…a river over 2000 miles long…

I’m wondering when it comes to this country…this world…when did it all go wrong?

I don’t have the answers…but this is Hannibal…which means a quick look on the shelf…and perhaps we can get some inspiration from Mr. Twain…himself.

He said anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it’s stored…than to anything or anybody onto which or whom it’s poured.

Okay these were not his exact words…as his words are widely known…

in order to make them rhyme…I’ve added a few words of my own.

But by taking all of Mark Twain’s words…with his boyhood home so near…

and adding a few of my own…his message is still clear.

If we are not careful and more thoughtful….in the things we do and say….

anger, hate and prejudice…will slowly eat us all away.

And it will never matter…who is wrong…or who is right…

If consumed by the acid of hate….there is no one left to fight.

So here’s a prayer from Hannibal, Missouri…

where Samuel Clemens once walked the street….

May we, in spite of all our differences,

find a way for our twains to meet.

ST. LOUIS

 With only one full day in St. Louis…before we bid this city adieu…

We rose early and headed out the door…we had a lot to do.

When you’re on a road trip…you make this tentative plan…

you know you can’t see everything…so you do the best you can.

(Thank you to all our friends who gave us places we should seek…

but if we visited all the places you gave us…we’d be in St. Louis for 2 weeks!)

We started our day at the Gateway Arch…we were inspired we felt blessed

while standing by the mighty Mississippi looking at St. Louis through the Gateway to the west.

An early Sunday morning walk around the city…was filled with wonders…filled with joys

It’s like we had the city to ourselves…before the crowds…before the noise.

We read St. Louis was once called ‘Mound City’…mounds built by the Cahokia Indians that haven’t been destroyed…So we hopped in our car and crossed the Mississippi back into Illinois.

We climbed to the top of Monk’s Mound…with not the best agility…but with vigor…

If you’re looking for pyramids in America…you won’t find another one bigger.

Standing solemnly on top of the pyramid with St. Louis off in the distance…below

We wondered what life was like for the Cahokia…all those years ago.

Climbing up and down Monk’s mound left us parched…with a dryness in our throats…

So our next stop would be Fritz’s…for lunch where they make their own sodas for their floats.

Fritz’s is a famous restaurant in what’s called the Delmar Loop….

Each float was filled with ice cream…we counted them…4 scoops!

Our final stop…the Botanical Gardens…such a beautiful place to be…

where so many different species of plants…live together in harmony.

As we walked around the gardens…mesmerized…in a trance…..

we couldn’t help but wonder…why can’t people be a little more like plants.

Thus ended a wonderful day in St. Louis…we know we could have ridden to the top of the arch…or took a ride in a riverboat…

But we were happy with a walk around the city…a little history…some flowers…

and did I mention…Fritz’s floats.

MISTAKES...THE SEQUEL

 The other day I mentioned my penchant for mistakes I’ve made while traveling…

I showed examples of their shapes and sizes….

but I was quick to add how many of my mistakes have led to some wonderful surprises.

In case you were wondering if all my mistakes have to do with driving….

the mistake poem from the other day…I am no reviving.

This mistake had nothing to do with driving…but it does have to do with me…

It involves a rainy morning…umbrellas…a rainbow…and a key.

While still at Mammoth Cave…(our time there was truly a wonder)

early on the morning of the day we were to leave…we were awakened by the thunder.

The rain was coming down in buckets…everywhere I looked…near and far…

The rain was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but our umbrellas were in the car.

This would not pose too much of a problem…on most any other day…

but because our cottage was a bit remote…our car was a five minute walk away.

“Not to worry.” I said to Deborah. “Stay warm and dry in bed.”

Then off I went to retrieve our umbrellas…with a towel wrapped around my head.

It was cold and wet and I learned a towel in the rain does not keep your head dry

but when I finally got to the umbrellas…I noticed a full rainbow in the sky.

I quickly ran to get Deborah knowing she wouldn’t want to miss…

now that we each had umbrellas…a chance to see a rainbow as beautiful as this.

As we hurried out and I closed the door…a sinking feeling came over me…

the door had locked behind us…and, you guessed it, inside I could see the key.

But that was a problem for the future…no time to make a fuss…

for up ahead, a five minute walk away, there was a rainbow for us.

On our way back to the rainbow…memories that will remain…

we saw a baby turtle on our path…and some robins playing in the rain.

As we waited patiently for the ranger…to bring us the spare key…

we were amazed at all the sounds there were to hear…

and all the sights there were to see.

The rain finally let up…but its remnants filled the streets, the grass…the trees…

all these things we would have missed…if I hadn’t forgot our key.

A LITTLE HISTORY LESSON

 We were on one of the many trails at Mammoth Cave…when what did we happen to see…at the end of this particular path…the Old Guides Cemetery.

If you look closely you can see it there…buried in the corner…on the right

the tombstone of Stephen Bishop…in the sunshine shining bright.

In 1853 a 17 year old Stephen Bishop began exploring the caves…it was hazardous work…without electric lighting…around every unknown corner…trouble and danger lurked.

Mr. Bishop was a self-taught geologist and cartographer…it was because of him people began to understand…the intricacies of the Mammoth Cave system…from the maps he drew by hand.

I imagine there was a sense of accomplishment…an inner feeling of pride…for the 19 years Mr. Bishop labored as the premier Mammoth Cave guide.

Stephen Bishop was vital in mapping out and guiding people through the caves…

Oh by the way, one thing I failed to mention…Stephen Bishop was a slave.

Yes…while he did his mapping…risking danger…drawing his maps by hand…in the entire 19 years as a guide in the caves…he was ‘owned’ by another man.

Franklin Gorin a lawyer…an enslaver who Stephen Bishop met…

when Mr. Gorin acquired him as payment for a debt.

It’s sad to think this wonderful man…who was known as the the cave’s finest guide…wasn’t ‘given’ his freedom until one year before he died.

Why does Mr. Bishop’s story need to be told…need to be taught to every daughter…every son?

Because we need know our history…we need to know the good…and bad we’ve done.

We study history not just for the Who, What, Where and When….

We study history to help us grow…so won’t make the same mistakes again!

We should study Stephen Bishop and other like him as often as we can…

because no person should ever own anther person…

no child, no woman…no man.

The Old Guides cemetery…is tiny…it doesn’t contain many graves…

It was originally intended to be solely…a cemetery for the slaves…

But on this particular morning…in the corner…on the right….

Stood Stephen Bishops tombstone…in the sunshine burning bright.