Road Trip 2005

Congressman John Lewis

“Don’t wait for the politicians.  Just get out there and do it.  I think the day will come when the elected officials will say, ‘There go my people.  Let me catch up with them.’”

   - Congressman John Lewis

Note. Congressman John Lewis from Georgia was speaking at the Clinton School for Public Service the evening I arrived in Little Rock.  Thanks to thoughtful planning by members of Arkansas WAND, I was able to attend this event.  Congressman Lewis talked about racial reconciliation, gains made since the days when he marched with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and distances yet to go.  He made the above statement in response to a comment from the audience about the failure of leadership on the part of our elected officials and the need for a strong national figure, someone who will step up with the courage and wisdom necessary to guide our nation forward.

UNDERSTANDING TEXAS

Monday, October 10^th - I dropped into Texas with a thud – literally, as I-40 was lower in Texas than in New Mexico.  Once down over the state line, thoughts came pouring in.  I’d never been to Texas before but had strong impressions of this big state from the stories of Molly Ivins and, of course, its politicians.  Suddenly I wanted to understand Texas and regretted only having one night here.

Those first miles into Texas were beautiful, vast pastureland dotted with green shrubs against a backdrop of rolling hills and mesas. I turned off I-40 on the far side of Amarillo and headed south on Highway 287.  The day had been pleasantly gray and misty, but all of a sudden the sky filled with enormous, dark, looming clouds. These clouds surrounded me, 360 degrees of them.  We just don’t get that much sky in Decatur.  We’re more tucked away, less exposed.  I’ll tell you the truth, it was unsettling.

Rain began to pour furiously from the sky.  I thought that the wind and water would blow my little Corolla right off of Highway 287.  With the exception of one morning in Wichita, Kansas and yesterday in Santa Fe, the weather on this road trip had been storybook perfect.  Now it seemed that two months worth of rain had been saving up for this one Texas blast.  Because of the storm I decided to stop for the night in Childress, one hundred miles short of my goal but safe and dry.

I ducked into the Childress McDonalds to collect myself and discovered that the bathroom sink was shaped like the state of Texas.  That cheered me up considerably.  What a wonderful, interesting, even educational idea for sinks!  I began to wish for Georgia-shaped sinks in our restaurants back home.

Funny how things have a way of working out for the best.  Looking back, Childress was exactly the place to spend my one night in Texas.  I woke up to sunshine and a big, blue Texas sky.  Childress Mayor Pat Steed did not hesitate when I called to ask for a meeting to share “Last Best Chance” and its message of reducing the risk of nuclear terrorism.  His rich southern accent and warm welcome made me feel right at home, and he seemed to genuinely appreciate my visit. 

  I decided to explore downtown Childress before heading on. Driving through the quiet, brick streets, a sign painted on the side of an old building caught my eye:  “Friends don’t let friends drink bad coffee.”  One rule of the road is always stop for a good cup of coffee, so I parked and headed in, but was distracted by the feel of Childress.  I don’t know how else to put it.  This town felt so good, so down-to-earth. 

I noticed a business along the main street called “The Childress Index” and went in to ask if this was the local paper. Anna Burchell greeted me, confirmed that yes this was the newspaper, and asked how she could help.  I told Ms. Burchell about “Last Best Chance” and asked if they might want to do a story.  “Well, we just might,” she replied, and the next thing I knew Ms. Burchell had filled a pad with notes and there was a story on the way.  She thanked me three times for stopping by, unusual in this day of busy people with little time for strangers who happen along. 

Anna Burchell said that she’d lived in Childress for thirty years and was still considered a newcomer, which puts my short visit into perspective. I realize that understanding Texas will take time. Meanwhile, I’ll appreciate the sinks and southern accents and the warmth of these good people, and trust that there is common ground between us, rich and solid – enough to stand on while we take the time to listen to one another.

RADICAL GRACE

Friday, October 7^th - In Albuquerque I stayed at the Center for Action and Contemplation, an extraordinary place on the southwest side of town recommended by my sister Marigene.  I arrived late, having driven that day from the Grand Canyon, over four hundred miles. Staff members Glenn and Carol greeted me warmly and offered a hot dinner – an expression of their hospitality, not a requirement under the terms of my reservation.  Then Glenn showed me the Julian of Norwich Hermitage out behind the main building with walls constructed of straw bales covered in adobe, a floor of slate and ceiling of natural pine beams.  I had planned to camp at CAC but Glenn and Carol thought better of that and offered this simple, peaceful place as my room for the night.  I was thrilled.

There have been moments on this trip when through seemingly arbitrary moves I’ve ended up meeting just exactly the right person or found myself in the perfect place.  There has been a guiding spirit beyond schedules, maps and anything I could have planned.  Such was the case with CAC. My sister had only mentioned it in passing and given me contact information that might easily have been misplaced.  But here I was. 

On a table in my room was a CAC newsletter, an old edition of “Radical Grace” from 2003.  Settling in, I picked it up and began reading.  Several things jumped out.  On page 14 there were federal budget pie graphs showing the disproportionate share of our income tax dollar that goes to the military at the expense of programs to meet human needs like education, health care and housing.  For years this had been my focus with WAND.  I’d written about it, taught it, lobbied on it.  This was my stuff and, odd as it may sound, it was very exciting to find budget pie graphs in the “Radical Grace” newsletter.  And I might add that this is exactly where such issues belong.  Economic justice and caring for those in need is the heart of the Gospel.

The subject of this old issue of “Radical Grace” was the second half of life and one article especially drew my attention: “Letting Go: Spirituality and the Second Half of Life” by Ronald Rolheiser.  The title reflects Rolheiser’s belief that “the spiritual task of the second-half of life, so different from the first, is to let go.”  He describes letting go of wounds and anger through forgiveness.  He speaks of letting go of possessions and achievement; learning to say goodbye to the earth and our loved ones; letting go of “sophistication so as to become simple ‘holy old fools’ whose only message is that God loves us.”  And finally he describes the need to immerse ourselves in silence, the language of heaven. 

These ideas, challenging and comforting at the same time, drew me in. Reading and rereading “Radical Grace,” it seemed that this newsletter had been waiting for me there in Albuquerque with words that would be essential in the years ahead, no less a roadmap than the American Map Road Atlas I’d come to rely on these thousands of miles across the United States and home again.

POWERFUL GRANDMAS

Tuesday, September 27^th – Much of Tuesday was spent driving from Arcata to Sacramento, significant in that for the first time the highway signs read “East.”  I felt as if I was almost home.  I followed Highway 299 as it wound across California, passing over the Coastal Range and through the Shasta-Trinity National Forest.  I was to meet Grandmothers for Peace president Lorraine Krofchok and her husband Steve at their home and ride with them to the 7:00 GFP meeting in downtown Sacramento. But the drive was slow and I ended up changing clothes in a rest stop along I-5 and rushing to meet Lorraine and Steve at the event.   

In spite of her full calendar, Lorraine had not hesitated to organize this meeting when I emailed back in August asking for help.  “It’s a go,” she said.  She also provided a post-meeting bowl of pasta, a bed for the night and – most important – a warm welcome and lots of moral support.

Our event went well.  About twenty people gathered in the meeting room of an apartment building at 5th and P.  The room was filled with traditional grandmothers and grandmas in spirit, including men.   Everyone is welcome to be a part of Grandmothers for Peace as long as they want to help build a bright future for all children. The group listened attentively while I described several steps our government could take to increase security against nuclear terrorism and then we watched Last Best Chance together. 

What is it that makes grandmothers so powerful?  Certainly they possess the wisdom and common sense that comes from living long years.  And they are capable, having raised and tended families – a lifetime of getting the job done.  And for most grandmothers unconditional love comes naturally, which is no small thing. 

But there is something more, something deep and – as one Alabama Grandmother for Peace put it, “archetypal” - etched into the design of things.  I think this is best illustrated by a story told by one of the greatest Grandmas of all, Bernice Kring of Sacramento.  Bernice recalls that a Department of Energy official came to their area to break ground for a nuclear facility.  Standing nearby were a group of Grandmas.  As the official dug his shovel into the earth and tossed the dirt aside, the Grandmas dropped sunflower seeds into the hole … a gesture of hope, a statement of refusal to accept a world based on violence and fear, seeds of a vision of the day when all children will live healthy and joyful lives.

That is powerful. 

I have a button at home that says, “One day, a group of gray-haired women will quietly take over the world.” You bet.  And what a great day that will be.