Photos From Colorado

Time To Ride

Our rigs are packed, and now it's time to ride.

Full-Time Friend Continued (The Night Before The Tour)

I'm in Colorado now, at the Belvin home in Longmont, Colorado. Jake and I got in late last night. From Maryland it was a 27-hour drive, but it was a pretty easy drive because our friend Mary came along, and helped out with the driving. Having three drivers was great--almost too good-because with three drivers there can be: a driver, a navigator, and a sleeper.

The Full-Time Friend Mission is going well. I could do more, of course, but then again I guess I could always do more. I just got a cell phone, my first ever, so I got that going for me. A mobile phone will help me stay in touch while I'm on the road. Janice helped me activate the phone, so a big Thank You to her! And Debbie gave me the actual phone. So thanks Debbie!

Jake and I are packing our rigs right now. Jake's sister Laura is helping us and keeping us properly hydrated. The air is dry out here; hydration is important.

Tonight we party. We're going over to Peter and Kristin's home in downtown Denver. They're having a going away party for us, and for that I am thankful.

Tomorrow we ride. Tomorrow the bike tour begins. The bike tour will be a long commute, from Longmont to Yosemite Valley, a distance of over 1,600 miles. We need to get to Yosemite. Travis and Hilary will be there when we get there. And hopefully some of our other friends will be there too. Yosemite is awesome, and I'm more than ready to stand there and enjoy what is.

Jake and I have been planning this tour for 9 months now. Jake was in Iraq when we first had the idea. And now, with our departure so close, I'm definitely feeling good about Hood. Jake was there for the first tour I ever did, which was back in 2000. And now, I'm definitely ready to get back out there and travel the backroads with my old friend.

Speaking of bike tours, Chris and Kyle have been on the road for nine days now. They are still in Virginia, and heading west every day, as they make their way across the country. You can see Chris's blog here.

The Adventure goes on. Thanks for reading. And, congratulations to the newlyweds: Travis and Hilary.

Namaste.

Next Big Adventure

The Adventure has begun. I'm on vacation with my family. We're up in western Massachusetts, enjoying both the natural and human-engineered wonders of the Northeast Kingdom. The mountains are green with the beauty of spring. The air is clear, and visibility is good. During one recent hike, we were actually able to see mountains that were thirty-some miles away.

I am happy here, looking into the distance and daydreaming about the future. The long hard Days of Writing are transitioning into something different, The Days of Travel.

Earlier this month, I was in Colorado with my brother Chris and our friends Heather and Ilyse. I took the Greyhound out, enjoyed Colorado, and then drove back to Maryland with Chris. Now we're in Massachusetts. After that I'll be back in Maryland for a couple weeks, working, packing, organizing, friending, and attending bachelor parties and a wedding. There will be lots of bike work. Chris will be setting out on a cross-country bicycle tour with his friend Kyle. And a week after that, I'll be driving back to Denver so I can begin my Summer Bike Tour with my friend Jake Belvin.

These past travels, as well as the ones that are to come, are all part of something larger. They are part of my Next Big Adventure: The 2009 Full-Time Friend Mission. In the next couple months, I will do my best to strengthen the bonds of friendship. I take to the road, using a variety of transportation tools, and visit the people that I don't get to see as much as I'd like too. I will visit people, call people, send cards, and bellard people with emails. Time and money will be spent. Late nights, early mornings, and lots of selfless giving (at least that's the idea). There will be sweat and stress and unforeseen challenges, but it's all in day's work for a Full-Time Friend.

New Dylan

Well the new Dylan album came out today. Together Through Life is the title. And I had to buy it. New releases always come out on Tuesdays. So I biked nine miles to the store and bought the album, paying ten dollars and fifty-nine cents, which included tax. I had no CD player with me (I rarely bike with headphones), but I did open the album in the parking lot so I could see if the rumors were true. They were. The liner notes said: "All lyrics by Bob Dylan with Robert Hunter except 'This Dream of You' lyrics by Bob Dylan."

Nine out of ten songs were written with Robert Hunter. Robert Hunter writing with Bob Dylan! This was exciting news! Good news for Grateful Dead fans, who are of course familiar with the incredible body of work that Robert Hunter has produced over the years. The Dead have always admired Dylan, and vice versa. And we must not forget that when Jerry Garcia died in 1995, it was Dylan who stepped forward with one of the great tributes in the world of music.

The excitement of new Dylan has been building for months. I first heard about the new album a few months ago from my friend Jake Posko, a fellow Dylan fan who is also one of my close musical compatriots. As the weeks went by, Jake and I kept each other up-to-date with the various Dylan news items, including the interview that Dylan did with Bill Flanagan, which in itself is a treasure box of Dylanosity. And along the way I checked in with Rolling Stone to see what they were saying. In the April issue, I found a review of the new Dylan album by David Fricke, one of the senior editors at Rolling Stone, and I smiled with excitement as I dove into the review. But the article soon caused me to question whether further reading would be worth it. Fricke's review started off commenting on Bob's current singing voice. Immediately I thought: "Yeah, David, that's the voice he's been singing with. . .which Dylan were you listening to the last ten years?" To open a review with such an obvious point just seemed like an odd idea. But the review was short and so I read on.

Of course the role of the critic is an interesting thing. I've learned to never trust critics. If a book, or film, or musical recording looks interesting, I'll go and check it out for myself. What right does the critic have to play god and deliver final judgement on the pride and joy that some artist has created out of nothing? Well, the right of Free Speech is the answer to that. And so the critics and the reviewers keep on spewing their opinions in newspapers and magazines the world over. Some critics are more educated than others. And although I'm not crazy about Fricke's recent Dylan review, I still respect him for his knowledge and obvious love of music.

Artists, even the ones who have the strongest self-confidence, can soar or sink by the critic's pen. But in the end, Time is the greatest critic of all. Bad reviews fade away, just like the good ones and the luke-warm ones. People end up buying what they want. Dusty albums and books are passed down from one generation to the next like treasure maps. Collectors and and fans cling to their collections with a fierce pride. We love art for many reasons. And thankfully, artists love art too.

Well, my friends, what we have here with Together Through Life is another piece of art in Dylan's long and famed catalogue. I feel no need to review the album as a whole. How many stars would I give it if I were working for Rolling Stone? Who cares! If you like Dylan, and if you're interested, buy the album and listen for yourself. Or maybe go to a music store--the kind where they have the headphones--and stand there and listen. It's like Warren Zevon said in the interview from the album Preludes: "But I'd have to say, at the end of the day, if the average person hears a piece of music and are really put off by it, there's no criteria by which you can say they're wrong." The morale of the story being: listen and decide for yourself; listen to whatever you want; listen hard and don't look back.

But I was up on my Dylan when I bought the new album, so I kind of knew what to expect. I had absorbed the last three studio albums: Time Out of Mind, "Love and Theft", and Modern Times. And I was ready and excited for Together Through Life.

I've since listened to the new album several times, and I've enjoyed the listening immensely.

First, the musicians: Tony and George, who play bass and drums respectively on the album, have been playing (and touring) with Dylan for many years. Mike Campbell, of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fame, graces the album with guitar and mandolin. David Hildago adds a fine accordion. And Donny Herron plays: steel guitar, banjo, mandolin, and trumpet. The big mystery after listening to the album is: who is playing the violin? (No violin credits are given in the liner notes.)

There are moments on the album that speak to me, moments that make me smile:

"Beyond Here Lies Nothing" is the first song, and Dylan must realize the self-deprecating, tongue-in-cheek possibilities that this song represents as it's the first song on the album, the gateway of all that is to come.

Hearing Bob chuckle at the end of "My Wife's Home Town," makes me think of something from Dylan's Masked And Anonymous band Simple Twist Of Fate. A bandleader at the top of his game.

And then there's two different lines from two different songs that touch on the futility--yes, futility--of dreaming, an interesting concept, which also, as it happens, turns up in Masked And Anonymous. First: "My dreams are locked and barred, admitting life is hard," from the song "Life Is Hard." And second: "Well now what's the use in dreaming? You got better things to do. Dreams never did work for me anyway, even when they did come true," from the song "I Feel A Change Comin' On."

In the song "If You Ever Go To Houston," the singer is searching for a girl staying at the Magnolia Motel. Maybe it's just chance, but when Robert Hunter, the co-writer of the classic song "Sugar Magnolia" is on board, it's hard to hear the word magnolia and not think of it as a nod to that old Dead tune.

Music is a powerful force. And there's something about warm lilt of "This Dream Of You" that makes me want to reach for my guitar and play along with the band and the mystery violin player. What key is that, guys? Ah yes, the key of G. Play on.

I also want to reach for the guitar on "I Feel A Change Comin' On." This time were in B flat. The lyrics make me smile. I like how Dylan hints at the current state of grace that his 67-year-old voice is now in by singing: "I'm listening to Billy Joe Shaver, and I'm reading James Joyce. Some people they tell me I got the blood of the land in my voice."

As for my final thoughts on critics: I've learned that we're all critics. We all watch, listen, and read various things, and we love to give our opinions to our friends and families. For me, I've learned to be more patient and less judgmental with my reviews, and more careful with my word choice. Most people ask: "Was it good?" which is a very serious question indeed. My sister Janice and I have discussed this issue at length. She said that most people, when they ask "Was it good?", are really saying "Did you like it?". But still, people are responsible for their words. We must ask ourselves: are we really prepared and qualified to decide if a work of art is good? Liking something--or disliking it--is one thing, but deciding the goodness of something is a whole different game of dice.

Dylan of course realizes the inherent discrepancies of language, and he uses it to prove a point in the last song on the album, which is fittingly titled: "It's All Good."

National Arboretum

My mom and I went to the National Arboretum on Sunday. Marley came too. It was a warm and sunny day, a perfect day to soak in the wonders of springtime.


The symphony of Springtime has been building for some time now, and I can feel the music moving toward its triumphant crescendo. Here are some photos from the arboretum, which is a place for the study and exhibition of trees.


My mom had been to the arboretum before, so she made sure I saw the amazing bonsai collection that was there. The bonsai captivated me. Unlike many normal-sized trees that grow to be very tall, the bonsai are much easier to photograph in their entirety. They are tremendous little trees, and some of them are hundreds of years old. (The cactus-shaped tree is not a bonsai.)

This Japanese white pine is over 400 years old.

Ginkgo biloba (also from the Japanese Collection).

California juniper

These columns, which were once in front of the Capitol, were brought out of storage and set in place at the arboretum, creating an interesting space that begs to be photographed.

Welcome Home Jake

Welcome Home Jake! (In the photo that's Abe, Travis, and Jake.)

My friend Jake Belvin has been back from Iraq for a few weeks now, and we're grateful that he's back for good.

I had the good fortune to spend two of the last three weekends with Jake. We drove around and traveled and celebrated and listened to music and rode bikes and hiked and went rock climbing and spent some time with our friends: Abe, Travis, Dave, Chris, Brooke, Hilary, Russell, Valerie, Tam, Allen, and Marley. We listened to the new U2 album more than a few times and also the new Phish shows from the comeback weekend: March 6, 7, and 8. They were a great couple of weekends, and we were feeling good about Hood.

Jake will be home for a while--although he'll be living in Colorado--and I'm looking forward to traveling with him and enjoying the weather wherever it finds us.

I invite you all to check out Jake's blog. Here you can see some of the photos and writings that Jake posted while he was stationed in Iraq.

Welcome home Jake. We're glad you're back. And now some more photos from the missions.

Working On The Book / Minding My Time

I took this photo of myself the other day when I reached the end of my rough draft. I'm holding the draft, all 271 pages of it. That was a happy night, and I celebrated with a few emails and phone calls. And a couple beers.

Of course I'm still not done. The work goes on. Editing. Rewriting. Adding new things. Taking out sentences that make me cringe. Smiling when I come across things that I'm proud to have written. The work of writing goes on, and I'm happy to do it. Leaving a long trail of words for the reader to follow.

The book improves each time I go over it. This is a satisfying thing. And one of these days I'll pick up where I left off on my search for a publisher. But for now I'm just enjoying the beautiful struggle of creation.

I've been working hard, many long days and late nights, and I thank my family and friends for their support. I need and appreciate it very much. Many people come home from their jobs and talk about the day with their family or friends. I take a break from my writing so I can write about writing.

And when the words get heavy and the glare of the computer screen gets to be too much, I like to rest myself in the old hammock of music. I listen to songs, or play my guitar, of work on some lyrics that suddenly flash across my mind's window like birds in the twilight.

And the great deadline of death is there in the distance. Moving closer. Looming. Challenging me. Death and life weigh heavily on my mind. Two of my friends died last month: Dr. Vladimir deLissovoy and Faye Beavan. They were peaceful deaths, each one at the end of a long and good life. My love goes out to their families, now and always, for the grieving process is one that never really ends. I've been thinking about Dr. D and Faye quite often, remembering them when I come across a part of my book that I know they would have enjoyed.

I knew Dr. D for a long time, ever since I was a young boy in State College. He and his wife Charlotte were kind and generous neighbors. They taught me things and told me stories. Just like my parents, they encouraged my curiosity. And later on, after I finished college, Dr. D and Charlotte were always very supportive of my writing, which is something that I greatly appreciate.

Now I met Faye through my friends the Batemans: Travis, Graham, Valerie, and Russell. Faye was Valerie's mother, and Travis and Graham's grandmother. She was always there at the backyard parties and holiday parities, smiling, laughing, telling stories, singing. The last conversation I had with Faye was actually about music. I played and sang my song for Jean Shepherd, and she started telling me about the songs that she had written.

Both friends will be missed and remembered, by me and many others.

We affect each other, we really do, sometimes more than we realize. There's a lot of minor chords out in the world, but there's a lot of love too. Love is a pretty cool thing because it doesn't require money, just time. Time, when you think about it, is really one of the most valuable things that we have. Thanks for reading and thanks for sharing your time with me.

Fondly (which is a sign off that I borrowed from Dr. D),
Jeff

Inauguration Day 2009

Our Inauguration Day adventures started in College Park, Maryland. I was with My sister Janice and my friend Abe. We woke up at 3:30 a.m. and left the office where we had stopped to nap for a few hours. We layered up, packed our pockets with food and water, and walked out into the cold.

We walked toward the College Park / U of M metro stop. "Wow," I said as we crossed Route 1, "traffic isn't too bad." We looked up and saw a waning crescent moon in a mostly starless sky. The sky was full of muddy light--muted, colored light, a sort of reddish, purplish glow--for it seems that the sky never really gets dark in the city. That's just the way it goes when you share the same space with several million other people. Light pollution hides the stars, even on the clearest of nights.

We walked on. Then we saw the tail lights. With many years of Beltway traffic under my belt, I can spot a set of brake lights at over 200 paces. Traffic was backed up all the way down Paint Branch road. "Wow," said Janice. "It's a good thing we drove down last night."

"Yeah," said Abe, "and it's only gonna get crazier."
"The madness had begun!" I shouted. "Finally!"

We didn't know what we were going to find in downtown Washington D.C., but we were going to head down and find it for ourselves. All the pre-inauguration jabbering was making me sick. The negativity and pessimism of the media had even infiltrated the minds of my some of my friends and family. People can't predict the future, but they sure like to speculate about it.

Although the traffic around the metro was backed up, people were just sailing right through the metro turnstiles. Abe and I had our SmartTrip cards. Janice waited in line and got a commemorative fare card that had Obama's face on it.

A little after 5:00 a.m., we were riding the steel rails of the green line toward the Big Party. The ride was fast. The scene was quiet and calm. Lots of yawning and staring. People resting their eyes. I felt a tightness in my stomach and around my neck. It was all the layers I had on--7 layers on my top, plus the binoculars and my camera bag, which were dangling around my neck. Janice had 9 layers on her top half. I think Abe was wearing around 6 or 7 like me. We were warm and hopeful. Our train car eventually filled up, but not much fuller than morning rush hour.

We got off at L'Enfant Plaza. The underground tunnel was crowded. Metro workers in neon vests were directing people toward the exits. The crowd was large but orderly. We followed the flow of people up and out of the metro and into the cold morning air.

Huge tour buses were parked in long lines on the side of the road. The air reeked of diesel exhaust. Police lights punished my eyes. "Two-sided Obama Ts. Get your Obama Ts!" shouted one vendor. "Ten bucks! Only ten bucks!" It was 5:30 in the morning and it was still dark out. A constant stream of people were flowing down the middle of the road. We followed the crowd and continued toward The Mall.

The roads around the Mall were closed to traffic. Pedestrians were suddenly the dominant species. It felt good to walk down the center of the street. I was warm, warm enough that I could operate my camera with bare hands because my hands seemed to stay warm from my excess body heat. "How ya shootin' this? Wide open?" I asked Janice. Janice also had her camera out, and we were both taking photos while we were walking.

We moved along with the tired masses. We followed the crowd west down Independence Ave. We watched as a bus full of State Troopers got ready to unload. Janice dropped a glove and tried to go back, but the pedestrian flow was too strong. People were not mean, and they were not in a hurry, but they were anxious, they wanted to maintain their forward progress. It was obvious that everyone wanted to get to The Mall and claim their place as close to the action as they could.

Not long after Janice lost her glove, we found ourselves near the corner of Independence and 9th St. We knew where the Mall was--it was to the north--so when we noticed a small path leading that direction, we decided to take it. People were saying that you couldn't get through that way, but other people said you could. We went for it.

The Secret Path worked, and soon we were on The Mall. Standing on The Mall, we were immediately caught up in the wide parade that was walking east toward the Capitol. Everyone was moving in that direction, a mighty pilgrimage toward the Capitol, so we did the same. Here's what it looked like:



Oh, what a glorious sight! The Capitol was lit up, glowing like a great beacon of hope and freedom. And people were walking toward it. Walking and shuffling, trying to stay warm in the below freezing temperatures. And behind us, to the west, was the Washington Monument, also lit up, but not quite as brightly.



We walked as close as we could and stopped when we the people in front of us stopped. We stood our ground and claimed our position on The Mall. People opened up chairs and sat down. Others laid out blankets so they could rest. I looked at my watch: 6:05. Six hours till Obama took the oath.

I got out my binoculars and looked at the Capitol. I could see the podium and the people working to set things up. They were working and we were waiting. The crowd piled up behind us. The Air and Space Museum was over to our right. We were standing somewhere between the streets of 4th and 6th. The closest jumbotron was over to our left.

People jammed and crowded around us. Some talked on cell phones, trying to locate their friends and family. Abe and I laughed at the absurdity of one person's directions, "We're near the light, over by the tree." Maybe they found each other. Who knows?

We could see one of the far jumbotrons, the one in the ticketed section. A constant image on the screen told us that we were in fact at the correct party: The 56th Presidential Inauguration. I used my binoculars and also the zoom feature of my camera to get a better look at the Capitol and the large screen.



An annoying college kid with a high-pitched voice--who was standing behind us at the time--spoke up: "It says it's the 56th inauguration, but Obama is the 44th president. What's up with that?"

I just thought to myself, you gotta be kidding me, man. I looked over at Abe and we smiled. Janice turned around and said: "He's the 44th president because some presidents served two terms."
"Oh," said the guy.

I leaned over to Janice and whispered, "well done." The college kid and his girlfriend eventually walked away.

The scene was quiet and cold as we stood there in the crowd waiting for time to pass. People huddled on the ground and tried to sleep. Janice and Abe sat down to rest for a little bit. I kept standing, taking photos and writing in my notebook. I ate a couple small bags of trail mix and sipped a little cold water. Calories are king when it's cold out.

Over to our right, I saw the moon above the Air and Space Museum. I imagined the rockets inside blasting up to the moon. Ahead of us, the sun was rising, brightening the sky behind the Capitol. I kept the glove on my left hand, while the cold naked fingers of my right hand worked the buttons on my camera.


Some people slept--they leaned on each other and curled up like friendly cats. Others were talking and laughing, feeding themselves and smoking cigarettes. A man started a chant, "Yes we can! Yes we can!" and the people right around us joined in for a few rounds. I just kept watching the sky behind the Capitol. Sunrise on Inauguration Day: I was glad to be standing there. It was the dawn of a New Day. The sun was about to shine upon a New Era in American history. I prayed for safety and well being. Janice, Abe, and I had not been searched. I wondered how many other had slipped through the cracks like us.

The sky grew brighter. We stood our ground as people tried to squeeze in around us. I felt the heat disappearing from my toes. Some Boy Scouts came by handing out American Flags.

The sky grew lighter and the people grew colder. Standing for hours in the cold is serious business, and I could see that many of the people around me were not dressed properly. "There's definitely some miserable people out here," said Abe, and I knew he was right. One girl walked by--her teeth were chattering. People on the ground were shivering. I had checked the weather online the night before. I knew it was probably in the 20s. Maybe even down around 10 with the wind chill.

The jumbotron near us turned on and people started cheering. They posted information about staying warm. People talked anxiously about "the warming stations," that were rumored to open up at 8:00 a.m. And while the people waited for the warming stations, they ensconced themselves with blankets and scarves. Hoods were donned. Coats were zippered the whole way up. Survival Mode. We saw a person up in a tree over to our right, but they were eventually told to come down. Behind us, a cherry picker type machine, with a completely enclosed cab, seemed to be monitoring the crowd around us. And on top of all the museums were people in camo clothes.

The Mall had become a sea of humanity. It was ebbing and flowing and giving off heat and sound vibrations. I was surrounded by miles of people. And the Crowd was still growing. I knew we were going to break 1 million, but I wondered by how much. Could we hit 2 mil? It was still hours before the swearing in. The people had come out early and strong. It was a joyous crowd, helpful and friendly. People around us shared blankets and hand warmers. Friends helping friends while the day grew lighter.

And soon it was light out. I was able to see the colorful clothing of the people around me. I looked through my binoculars again, staring at the Capitol to see the progress that the crew was making. As I looked ahead of me, to the east, I marveled at heat waves that were in the air above the crowd--the same heat waves that I was used to seeing in the summer above the road. "Check it out, Abe," I said as I handed the binoculars to Abe, who was standing to my right, "you can see the heat waves." The precious heat was escaping, rising up to the heavens.

I was glad that I had brought my binoculars--I almost forgot them, but thanks to a phone call from Matt Brezina the night before, I had remembered. My pockets were stuffed with food and water because I knew that backpacks were not allowed. I also had a small notebook. I got out my notebook and wrote down some details before they escaped. Abe noticed a large hawk up in a nest in the nearby tree tree, and I passed my binoculars over to him. The following photos were taken by Janice at around this time.







Time went by and my feet grew colder. My body was plenty warm, but my feet were not insulated enough. The cold rose up into my ankles and my calves. People around us were getting colder too. People were dancing and jogging in place to stay warm. Anything to get the blood pumping and the heat moving. Standing in one place on a cold day was surprisingly tiring and painful, but the people endured. We wanted to be there. We were excited to be there. I kept watch on the flag that was flying in front of the Capitol. It was flying perfectly in place. With a good wind coming down from the north, the flag unfurled to the south. I stared at that one modest-sized American Flag that was there in front of the Capitol, flying above the podium and under the cold sky of January.

At just past 8:00 a.m. they started replaying Sunday's concert on the jumbotron. Bruce Springsteen started things off with a rocking version of "The Rising." People started cheering and dancing. Famous people spoke in between the songs: Laura Linney, Tom Hanks, Jack Black, Tiger Woods, and the eldest son of Martin Luther King, Jr. They brought up the names of the great American heroes: Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Jr. Inspirational people from the past. All eyes were fixed on the large screen. People danced and sang along to what appeared to be a truncated version of "American Pie." James Taylor played his song, "Shower The People." Then U2 came out and honored the spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr. with their song "Pride (In The Name of Love)." A great song for a great day. The emotions were very strong and I felt the tears pool up in my eyes. As an American and a human being, I knew that I was tied to a long and painful history. The evolution of Love has not been easy. The sins of the past and the present saddened me deeply, but as I heard that Irish band play, I was reminded of the power of Love and the great potential of the human race. And all around me I saw the proof that King's Dream was still alive. His love and his strength were alive in the hearts and the minds of the people around me. We the American People had chosen Barack Obama to lead us because we wanted to make things better, not only for ourselves and for our families, but also for our America and for our World.

"Blessings are not just for the ones who kneel, thankfully," sang Bono, as the band closed out their second and final song.

The power of Song, the power of the written and spoken Word--powerful forces and powerful tools. Simple tools in an age of complexity and digital mayhem, buy they were good tools. They worked. The crowd was fired up. We were ready. Springsteen and Pete Seeger gave us a fine version of "This Land is Your Land." I leaned over to Abe and started telling him about the extra lyrics to the song that aren't normally sung. And just was I was doing so, Bruce and Pete launched right in to those exact verses:

As I went walking I saw a sign there

And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."

But on the other side it didn't say nothing,

That side was made for you and me.

Nobody living can ever stop me,

As I go walking that freedom highway;

Nobody living can ever make me turn back

This land was made for you and me.

Yes! Sing On! Take us on down that Freedom Highway! Well done Bruce and Pete! Uncle Woody would have been proud.

After Woody's song the two-day old concert broadcast ended. 10:00 a.m., time for the inauguration events to began. Live Coverage began on the jumbotrons. A choir started singing the words, "Yes we can," and the crowd sang along. It's interesting how a large crowd loves a strong rhythm, something they can clap their hands to. The voices were loud and free. Around this time I decided to take a walk. I headed over to the little plastic bathrooms. And then I went off to explore. There were long lines to get into the warming stations that were inside the museums. People were trying to stay warm any way that they could. I saw people wearing plastic bags and cardboard boxes. They stood on Styrofoam and cardboard in order to block the cold. They made barriers to block the wind. They huddled together and wrapped themselves in blankets or whatever they could find. It was not a time for vanity. Function ruled over fashion. People survivng and thriving and waving those little American flags around.

I walked back and rejoined Janice and Abe. We got out some food and ate what we had. The sun was shining down from the southeast. I could see the sunlight on the people's faces and on the east side of the Washington Monument. We were cold but our spirits were happy. The Big Party was gaining momentum.

Eventually the Big Names started arriving. We watched the jumbotron as the special guests walked down the steps in front of the capitol and took their seats. There were gigantic cheers for Jimmy Carter and William Jefferson Clinton and Al Gore. And there were huge boos for George Bush and Dick Cheney. Those men were booed twice: the first time was when the cameras showed them coming down the stairs, and the second time was when they were formally announced. The crowd was peaceful but unforgiving. They knew what they liked and what they didn't like, and they were not afraid to voice their true feelings. "Ah, don't boo," said the lady behind us. But there was no way to stop the will of the Crowd. Our speech was loud and free.

Despite my best efforts, my feet were locking up, getting cold, painfully cold. I comforted myself with one of my mantras: The body is weak, but the mind is strong. I knew the pain was only temporary. "How do your feet feel?" I asked Janice.

"My feet hurt, but at least I can feel them," said Janice. Some winter boots would have been good. I was just wearing my all around tennis shoes with some really thick socks, which was usually adequate for walking or biking, but standing was different. Keeping the feet warm while standing on the cold ground required keeping the heat in and keeping the cold out. I thought about my down booties that were at home. Oh well. I tried to power through the cold foot pain like everyone else. And as my feet ached, I knew that my pain--and also the larger pain of the crowd--was nothing compared to the greater pains of the human race: the tragic deaths, the loved ones lost and beaten, the pains of starvation and hatred and discrimination.

The loudest cheers came at 11:28 and 11:30 when Michelle Obama and her daughters Melia and Sasha came out and took their seats. "Oh-Ba-Ma! Oh-Ba-Ma! Oh-Ba-Ma!"

I knew we were close to blastoff, so I started getting prepared. I took out my mp3 player and prepared my recording equipment.

And soon after that, the invocation started, a long prayer by a man I didn't know. And then Aretha Franklin took the stage to sing "America (My Country Tis of Thee)." Of course the crowd went wild. And then Joe Biden was sworn in to office. The Big Moment was close at hand. We the Crowd were fired up. "Alright Joe!" shouted the lady in front of me as Joe Biden repeated his vows. Joe finished with "so help me God," and the crowd erupted in a long and sustained cheer. The band played a short little number. The brass boomed through the speakers that were a couple hundred feet in front of us. The sound was firm and clear. And then we were treated to "a unique musical performance" by Itzhak Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma, Gabriela Montero, and Anthony McGill. "Air and Simple Gifts" was the name of the piece. And the crowd listened quietly as the last note of the piece hung in the air, and then, 1 minute and 31 seconds later, at 12:04 p.m., we welcomed our new president with a great and wild joy. People waved their flags and jumped up and down. The cheering and the shouting and the happy cries went on for over 2 minutes. The glacial pace of the frozen morning suddenly shifted as an avalanche of human noise echoed out across The Mall. Two minutes of joyful noise! Two blaring minutes! The vocal cacophony eventually morphed into a few more stanzas of "Oh-Ba-Ma! Oh-Ba-Ma! Oh-Ba-Ma!" The Big Party finally had a new leader. The Crowd was elated. Our shouts of joy drowned out all the other sounds. Happy hugs and high fives. A young boy in front of us smashed a half-eaten apple that was on the ground with the heel of his boot. We yelled and cried for 2 minutes and then we were quiet.

"My fellow citizens," began President Obama, "I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors."

We feasted upon the words of our President. The bread of Hope. The milk of Truth. And the sweet honey of Freedom. He reminded us about the good things that we had accomplished, and also about the work that needed to be done. He spoke like a wise and caring leader, wiser than his years and more caring than our previous leader.

And we the people listened to his words, words that had been carefully chosen and properly delivered. We punctuated our president's sentences with cries and yells, and alrights and amens, and sometimes, even, a sentence or two of our own like: "That's all we want is hope, baby. That's all we want is hope."

We listened to our President with open ears and minds and hearts. And when he was done speaking, the crowded started to move. A poem was read, but only some were listening. The pain and the cold were too much for many. People were ready to go home. But Janice, Abe, and I stuck around. After some of the crowd moved away, we saw all the garbage that was left behind. Plastic packaging, newspapers, bags, bottles, cans, American Flags. The floor of The Mall looked horrible. And the wind was blowing the garbage around. I couldn't believe all the junk that the Crowd had left behind. I was ashamed and saddened, but it didn't take long for the good people to step in and take action. Ordinary people set up cardboard garbage cans and brought out garbage bags. They bent over and picked up the garbage with their gloved hands. We helped out for a little while. It felt good to reach down and stretch my aching back. My feet were still painfully cold and sore from the hours of heat loss. Due to the pain in my feet, I walked slowly and awkwardly, and all around me I watched people doing the same. We hobbled about, limping like the tired crowd that we were.

Janice, Abe, and I enjoyed the spaciousness of the Mall for a little while, resting, stretching, sitting, picking up garbage and searching for some Obama buttons. The exodus had been mighty and swift. Of course other people were sticking around too--some sitting, others helping out with the clean up effort.

Eventually we headed off to catch the metro home. We had no desire to wait around for another two hours just so we could see the parade. So we moved south, slowly, following the long line of people that were headed (it seemed) to the closest operating metro station.

And as my sore feet carried me down the road, I knew that I was walking away from something good. I felt a great power and inspiration rise up through my tired body. I had seen the tears of pride and joy in the eyes of my fellow Americans, for there has always been--and there will most likely continue to be--rocks and branches and twists and turns along that wide and mighty Freedom Highway. I was happy that things had gone so smoothly. And I was amazed at the good behavior of the Crowd. Such a happy and peaceful crowd. Yes, we were lazy at times. And yes, we might have complained more than we should have. But at the end of the Big Party, we could all take pride in knowing that we were there, bearing peaceful witness with unprecedented unity as Barack Obama became the 44th president of the United States of America.

Day 1

This story starts on Day 366, the last day of 2008. It was a full day of friending and celebrating. We all met over at Andy's home. It was his birthday: he was born on New Year's Eve. Andy's family was there, and also his wife Nora, Jake and Christina, Matt and Jenny, and also our friends Brian and Sara and their little girl Maddy. A fine night for celebrating. Jake and I put the finishing touches on the sangria. We feasted on a batch of soft pretzels that Andy and Nora had just brought down from Philadelphia, while Andy and Jake's finely-tuned Pandora stations played on the stereo.

Eventually Brian and Sara had to leave because Maddy had to go home and go to bed. I was temped to stay at the party, but I hardly ever get to see Brian and Sara because they live in Baton Rouge. So I followed Brian and Sara back to Brian's parent's home, which is where they were staying. No crowded bars for us that night. Just three friends sitting in a quiet living room, talking and telling stories. Brian and I stayed up 'till well after 2:00 a.m. Then I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and got in the car to drive myself home.

Roaring through the darkness on Interstate 70, I couldn't help but think about my brother out in Crested Butte, Colorado. A month or so earlier, I had helped Chris move to Colorado. We drove the old '88 Civic out there--all the way down I-70--and the maroon machine made it! 245,000 miles and still going strong. What a machine!

Nothing like a late night car ride to get some thinking done. I had my iPod on shuffle to keep my mind fresh. I stuck to the speed limit, maybe 5 over. I was sober and wide awake. I saw a few abandoned cars on the side of 70, but the roads were mostly empty. I had been warned by my friends to be careful on the roads, so I of course was on the lookout for any type of erratic driving. I wondered what my brother was doing for New Years. I thought about 2008, especially the later half that was still very fresh in my mind: My cross-country drive with Chris. My 13-day trip out to San Francisco to visit Matt and Phillip and Whitney. Good missions indeed.

I got home around 3:00 a.m. and I was still feeling pretty good so I fired up the laptop and did a little writing. I had put my writing on hold for most of the holidays, and I was more than ready to get back to the editing and rewriting. I worked on the book for a while, and then went to bed.

Later that day, I woke up. I worked on the book some more, one sentence at a time. I spent some time with my mother, who was home from work. Then around 4:00 p.m. Marley started getting excited. I said I'd take him to the dog park, because I could use a little exercise myself.

It was cool out. The thermometer on the back of my bike said 30 degrees. But I was dressed properly. And Marley with his thick winter coat seemed to be fine. I hooked the trailer to my bike and off we rode. Down the familiar roads. Then the downhill. While we were descending, I noticed some huge black objects in the naked branches of the trees off to my left. Are those birds? I wondered. I tapped the brakes a little, and looked up at the trees as I rode by. It looked like a huge turkey vulture soiree. There were probably 60 or 70 birds. Interesting, I thought. I should probably tell Brian about these. (Brian's a bird guy, and he probably knows something I don't about Cathartes aura.)

The image of those birds really stuck in my mind. They were all hanging out near the tops of the trees, sitting there like a bunch small bear cubs, weighing the branches down and dreaming of carrion and meat. When I passed the vulture party, I noticed that there seemed to be a human party happening on one of the nearby residential streets. Perhaps the birds had been lured there by the hot scent of roasting flesh. Hard to say.

A mile or so later, Marley let our a little cry as we rode up a hill. "Easy beast," I said. "We'll be there soon." He seemed to understand, but it's hard to say what goes through the mind of dog.

At the dog park, 3 people were standing around and 4 dogs were walking around. It was close to dark. I unleashed Marley and he took off, going counter clockwise around the perimeter of the dog park in his usually way. He made it about one third of the way around and then took off running with some kind of pointer. I got out my down jacket and put it on. I took off my helmet and then took off my hat. I turned the hat inside out and put it back on, that way the non-sweaty side would be against my head. (That's a little trick I made up a while ago, probably on some winter camping trip or something.) I got out my note pad and made a few notes for my book: parade, bridge noise/vibrations, people and their flags. I didn't need to write down the whole idea, just a word or two so that I wouldn't forget to remember the idea.

The wind was blowing that evening, and people were complaining about the cold. I instantly started scolding them in my mind: Hey, you wanna know something? It's really not cold if you're wearing enough clothes. You do know it's winter, right? Have you been outside in the winter before? Do you even know how to dress yourselves? Try a hat and some windproof pants, then get back to me. Oh, people are silly. I guess cars and buildings have become like coats for many people. They'll learn. Or they will be cold.

The sun was setting in the west and the wiry branches of the trees were silhouetted by the red and orange light in the sky. I stretched my back (which has been giving me some discomfort the last year or so) and I let out a little moan. I thought about summer 2009, and the adventures that were beginning to take shape. I knew I'd be fine. I knew the exercise would probably be good for me. But I still allowed myself to worry a bit.

I listened to the sounds around me. Dog tags jingling. Women talking. I could hear cars driving by on the road. And I could heard the birds singing. I looked up at the Moon. There was a bright light beneath it. Was that Venus? I desperately hoped so. Robert Hunter's words leap from pages in my mind.

"Counting stars by candlelight, all are dim but one is bright: The spiral light of Venus, rising first and shining best, From the northwest corner of a brand new crescent moon."

I rounded up Marley with a dog treat, and strapped him in to his seat. I got out my lights and turned them on. A white light in the front. Red light in the back. And home we rode. Me and Marley at the beginning of another year. On the way home I stopped to see if the vultures were still there. They weren't. They had moved on. Maybe they flew East to the waters of the Chesapeake Bay. Maybe they chased the sunset to the West. Perhaps I'll see them again, I thought. Or maybe never. Some events only happen once in a lifetime. Up and down the road we rolled, as the evening commuters aimed their heavy machines in a homeward direction. I saw the moon and recalled of the words of another song, one by Warren Zevon.

"The moon has a face that shines on the lake and causes the ripples in time. I'm lucky to be here with someone I like, who maketh my spirit to shine."

I know what Warren was saying. I too feel lucky to be hear. Life is fragile and not that long. I am lucky to have my family, and my friends, and my health. And as a writer, I have an endless amount of work to do. I guess that's a good thing. At least it'll keep me busy this year.

Happy New Year, friends. Peace and Happiness to all.