Bathtub Meditation

Clyde Hoadley · Bathtub Meditation

About 3 years ago I spent a cold winter afternoon surfing YouTube; I stumbled across the YouTube channel of a man in Hastings, East Sussex, UK that uses the moniker "AndyMooseMan". I subscribed to his channel because I like his beach vlog videos and the fact he isn't railing on about politics or conspiracy theories or religion; he just talks about what he's been doing and what's going on with him. He has also gotten into Blogging, Tweeting and Podcasting. In early October Andy Tweeted that the Hastings Pier had burned down. A few weeks later he announced he and a few other people were compiling a music CD featuring local musicians and the proceeds would go to the "Save the Pier" fund. Having followed Andy's YouTube videos for 3 years, and being all for saving historical landmarks, I ordered one when they went on sale.

I have an Anglo-Saxon name. My ancestors migrated to the New World during the colonial period more than a hundred years before the American revolution. A member of the family tree that stayed behind later became the Bishop of Winchester and is buried in Winchester Cathedral - Hampshire. I understand he was a bit of a heretic. For someone who has clergy in his ancestry I am not particularly religious. I find my spirituality in nature. I think the winter constellation Orion is the most beautiful constellation in the northern hemisphere, and there is nothing more spiritual and awesome than a ripping good thunderstorm. Still, over the past few years I have engaged in a peculiar approach/avoidance dance with the propositions of Unitarian Universalism (UU). I frequently listen UU sermons via podcast. A few weeks ago I listened to a sermon by Rev. Mike Morran titled "The Space Between The Stars" [Listen (24m)]. My brief abstract cannot do his sermon justice. In the first half of the sermon he talks about the vastness of the universe and how we seem to vanish into the ever expanding emptiness of space; he concludes with the Monty Python Galaxy song. He is more poetic in the second half of the sermon. He contrasts our aloneness in the universe, to our being bound-up in the universe and to each other. The space that separates us is also the space that connects us. It is our relationships, chosen and accidental, that fill the space between us. He concludes with the proposition "there is a unity that makes us one and binds us forever together in spite of time and death and space between the stars." After listening to the sermon I drew a hot bath and took my iPod with me. I noticed that AndyMooseMan had posted a couple of new podcasts. Try to imagine this: I'm sitting in my bathtub with this sermon fresh in my mind, I have a dead relative buried in Winchester Cathedral, I'm listening to a podcast from the United Kingdom some 370 years after my ancestors came to the New World when I hear AndyMooseMan , who I met by accident on YouTube, announce he just mailed two "Not The End of The Pier" CD's to the United States - one to Wisconsin and one to Colorado.

I paused while I pondered the relevance of Mike's sermon and the sequence of events, over time and distance, that led to that moment in my bathtub.

How's that for the space between the stars?

lazy Sunday afternoon

I and two other motorcyclists rode our bikes to Breckenridge over the weekend; one of the riders has access to a condominium there. The weekend was cut short by one day because the condo wasn’t available until Saturday afternoon. We rode up on Saturday and came back on Monday. We had an easy ride from Denver to Breckenridge Saturday though the traffic on I-70 was awful - it was slow-n-go in many places.

We dropped our gear off at the condo then went to Dillon for a late lunch. We took Swan Mountain road over to US-6. The road has a few fun little twists and curves but is not particularly challenging. Dillon’s annual Barbecue festival was that weekend so we didn’t have any trouble finding a place to eat but we did have a little difficulty finding a place to park the bikes.

The removable touring pack I ordered for the Road King arrived earlier in the week so this was the first time I’ve used it. It worked great! We picked up groceries on the way back to the condo. I was able to carry all of the groceries and a 6-pack of beer on my bike with room left over.

We were joined by a fourth Saturday night and had a late supper. The original plan was to ride to Leadville on Sunday for their annual Boom Days, take a ride around Turquoise lake, then loop around through Red Cliff and Vail, but by Sunday the sky had turned gray with intermittent rain and the tops of the mountains were hidden in clouds. We all felt lazy and not interested in doing anything Sunday so we just hung out at the condo.

We fixed breakfast burritos Monday morning, did laundry and cleaned & vacuumed the condo, before heading back to Denver.

It could have been worse, and it almost was.

My buddies and I set out on a motorcycle trip from Denver, CO to Liberal, KS Saturday morning. It didn't take long for us to run into trouble.

The weather forecast had been pretty iffy all week; at one time they were calling for 14 inches of snow but by Friday afternoon they were forecasting an inch of snow on grassy areas and the storm would be gone by morning. We prepared for rain and wet roads but expected to be on dry roads by the time we reached Limon Colorado. We didn't make it that far.

It was dry with clear skys when we left Denver but we ran into light rain as we went south to Parker. We encountered snow as we rode into Franktown. As we turned east onto CO-86 the snow was starting to stick to the road, our windscreens and face shields. Within a minute of turning onto CO-86 I couldn't see the road in front of me. I was able to reach my hand out and wipe a small patch of snow and ice off one corner of the windscreen to see through.

I was between the lead rider and the tail gunner. I was able to keep up with the lead rider for a short while but I slowed down when the motorcycle started fish tailing. I had already lost sight of the tail gunner and I lost sight of the lead rider a few minutes later.

I was on my own now and I knew I had to get off the road. I thought I saw a tractor plowing a driveway on my right and snow piled up next to the driveway. I tried to slow for the turn but the rear tire came around front and passed me by. The bike and I went down and skated along the road several feet before stopping. Fortunately there was three inches of slush on the pavement to cushion the fall (I had all my gear on too.) All traffic on CO-86 came to a stop while I, and the guy in the SUV behind me, picked up the bike and pushed it into the driveway. The guy on the tractor came down to help too.

The tail gunner caught up with me about the time traffic started moving again. He had pulled off the road a mile back. He had already decided to abort his trip and had been trying to signal me for several miles to pull off. He came on down when he saw the traffic stop. While we were discussing what we should do, we saw the lead rider pass us by heading back to Franktown. He didn't see us because his eyes were glued to the road - I'm not sure he would have been able to stop anyway.

We were offered a ride into Elizabeth or we could stay at the farm house. We opted to wrestle the bikes up to the farm house and call a friend in Denver to come and get us; we left the bikes at the farm house. Assuming they don't get any more snow, we will go out on Sunday or Monday and ride them back (getting out of the muddy driveway could be a problem).


Lessons learned:

• Everyone is responsible for their own decisions. No one forced me to go on the trip. I knew the weather was questionable; another rider had already opted out. We all share a degree of responsibility for each other but each of us is ultimately responsible for our own skin. Ride your own ride.
  
  This wasn't a weather or planning issue - it was a safety issue. I rode into an unsafe situation and didn't react quickly enough. I had ample opportunity to react. I could have opted not to go, I could have backed out at Parker, or I could have pulled off at Franktown when we got into snow.
• Know your limits and ride within your limits. I know someone who rides his motorcycles the year around; it's his only mode of transportation. He has ridden motorcycles his whole life - he rode mini-bikes and dirt bikes when he was a kid. His skills and reflexes are in top shape - my skills and reflexes are nothing compared to his. He is able to ride a motorcycle on snow packed streets in sub-zero weather - I can not.
• Be prepared and have a plan. I had the right gear, but I don't have towing insurance or road side assistance for the motorcycle - I need to get some.
• Get off the road at the first sign of trouble, if only to wait it out.

We might have missed the snow if we had delayed our start by two hours. The storm has already left Colorado and is now over Kansas City, Kansas. We might try again later in the summer.

 

Is this train smiling?

Steam engine at Leadville Colorado.

Nuts! I have to go back to work tomorrow

A very Baptist affair

My mothers funeral was last Tuesday. It was held at the First Baptist Church in my home town. Both of my parents were very active in that church until they moved away many years ago. She was interred, after cremation, next to my father. A lot more people attended than I expected; not all of her peers had died, moved away, or were infirmed. I was really surprised when several people, I assumed had died, showed up alive and well!

It was a simple Baptist service. After an opening prayer and some singing the preacher read her obituary, then asked my brothers and sisters and I to come forward and recall a fond memory of our mother. One spoke about our parents involvement in building the new church, one spoke about her prom dress, another spoke about singing the special music in a church service. I spoke about a memory of mother playing the piano one afternoon, while my father and I napped, when she stopped playing (after an hour) we both got up to find out why she had stopped. After a long incoherent sermon the service concluded with the old Baptist standard hymn: "In The Garden".

We had a police escort to the cemetery. One good thing about my home town, they take really good care of the cemetery. At the grave site there was a prayer then we placed roses next to mom's Urn. The ladies of the church provided lunch after the service.

My mother died Thursday October 2, 2008 (updated)

My mother, Frances, died very early Thursday morning October 2, 2008. My sister and brother were both present when she died. Below is a draft (slightly edited) of the obituary my sister wrote (I am the only non-theist in the family; the rest of the family identifies as Christian.)

Frances R. H. peacefully returned to the loving arms of the Lord on Thursday October 2, 2008 where she joined her beloved husband, Doctor Joe.

She came into this World in on March 18, 1920, in Cheyenne, Wyoming, the eldest daughter of Clyde and Alice R. She grew up in Cheyenne surrounded by music. Her parents were both professional musicians and music remained an important part of her life. She enjoyed playing in string quartets, and played First Violin with the Casper Symphony for many years. Occasionally she played with the Billings Symphony and later played several seasons with the St. George, Utah Symphony. She gave piano and violin lessons, and was organist and choir director at First Baptist Church for many years. She attended Park College in Parkville, Missouri from 1938 to 1941 and graduated from the University of Wyoming 1943 with a degree in Music

While attending Park College in 1938 she met the true love of her life. The first time she saw Joe H. she was attracted to the tall handsome curly haired gentleman. He was a Senior and she was a Freshman. When they discovered they were both from Wyoming, a romance which lasted a lifetime followed. They were married in Cheyenne, Wyoming August 30,1943. After Joe’s residency in St. Louis, and his stint with the military following World War II they made their home in Wyoming. Five children were born of this marriage.

She was preceded in death by her husband, Dr. Joe H., her parents, Clyde and Alice R., her only sister, Mae Fern Jay, and her infant daughter Alice.

She is survived by her sons, Frank, (wife Elizabeth) of Wisconsin, David (wife Kit) of Wyoming, and Clyde of Colorado; her daughter, Jeannette of Montana; four grandchildren, Marci, Jessica, Patrick, Robert (wife Pam) and one great grandson, Teague.

Cremation has taken place, burial will be at Mt. Pisgah in Wyoming.

A funeral service will be held at the First Baptist Church (Wyo) at 2:00 PM Tuesday October 7, 2008; the service is open to the public.

Mom has entered her "final days"

My sister telephoned; Mom has entered her "final days". Over the weekend Mom went into a deep sleep and could not be roused. The nursing staff predicts that she will pass within a week.

Mom has been on a long slow decline for ten years. She hasn't known my name for the last four years and she hasn't even recognized me the last two years.

I've already said my goodbyes and let go of her. That flesh is not my mother. I will feel relieved when it is all over.

I completed the Basic Motorcycle Rider Course

I successfully completed a 2 day Basic Motorcycle Rider Course over the weekend. The course was conducted by ABATE of Colorado Motorcycle Rider Education. Successfully completing the course makes me eligible for a motorcycle endorsement on my drivers license.

There were 12 students in the class; some had prior motorcycle experience but some did not. We spent most of the time on the motorcycles on a riding course set up in a parking lot. It was very hot both days. It reached 95F/35C degrees Saturday. Sunday hit 100F/37.8C degrees. I was too busy to take any pictures but did manage to squeeze off one snapshot.

The course assumed the students had never ridden a motorcycle before (but could ride a bicycle) so they went over all of the controls and how to shift gears. I use to ride motorcycles during the 70's but had forgotten which lever was the clutch and how the gear sequence worked. The field work was followed by a couple of hours of classroom time.

Saturday we learned to power walk the bike, how to start off and stop, how to shift gears, basic turns, and stop-and-go (commonly called a "California stop" in the USA.) Sunday we learned to fast-stop, take curves, swerve, and make U-turns.

The course concluded with us being scored on 4 riding exercises then a 50 question multiple choice test. All 12 of us passed the course. I scored a 100% on the written test but was marked off a few points on 2 of the riding exercises. In the fast-stop I should have stopped in 14' but took 15' to stop. In the taking curves exercise I rolled off power and was too slow going through the curve. But, I did well enough to pass.

While I was miserably hot and totally exhausted I still had a lot of fun and got a lot out of the course. I would recommend this course to anyone thinking of taking up motorcycle riding, or just for fun. There is a similar 1 day course designed for experienced riders.

Trip to Roxborough State Park

I went to Roxborough State Park just south of Denver Colorado Where I took a lot of pictures and some video.

Roxborough is a nature preserve with a lot history, plant and animal life, and is one of the most beautiful displays of the Fountain Formation which is a red colored sandstone that has been tilted 45 to 60 degrees. I arrived too late in the day to see much wildlife but I got a reasonably good picture of a Spotted Towhee.

The park offers many hiking trails to choose from; I chose the Fountain Valley trail. It was really hot that day and being an inexperienced hiker I didn't think to bring any water. Halfway around the loop I was getting dehydrated and starting to get dizzy but I made it back after much effort. Lesson learned.

A blast from the past

My 1973 bowling team (standing.)
Standing left to right: Ted, Jerry, Mike, Lance, Clyde.
Kneeling, singles and doubles events, left to right: Mark, Steve, Ken, George.

Unfortunately, I lost contact with all of these people not long after this picture was taken. I do know that Mike (standing center) and George (kneeling far right) are both dead now. I also know that Ted (standing far left) was alive and well 8 years ago, but I do not know the whereabouts or welfare of the others.

Max and the missing railroad

I met up with a group of friends Saturday night. One of my friends, Max, is a retired Civil Engineer turned historian; he has published several books. Last night he told us about the time he visited the Ames Pyramid.

The Ames Pyramid is a monument east of Laramie Wyoming along the route of the First Transcontinental Railroad. When Max visited it, fifty years ago, he discovered that the railroad no longer goes past the monument. He wanted to know why. Being a historian, he did some research and wrote a short paper documenting what he learned. Summarized below is the story Max told us:

Grenville Dodge was a officer during the American Civil war and the campaigns against the American Indians. Dodge left the military and went to work scouting and surveying the route for the First Transcontinental Railroad. While scouting the route between modern day Cheyenne Wy. and Laramie Wy. Dodge and his party came under attack by natives who opposed the railroad cutting through their territory. Dodge ordered his men into a dry creek bed now called Lone Tree creek. They followed this creek back to their encampment at Cheyenne. Dodge latter realized the route along the creek would be a good route for the railroad to follow through the Laramie mountains. The route turned out to be the highest point (8,247 feet) along the railroad, and it also had the steepest grade along the route (90 feet rise per mile.)

Much of the funding for the First Transcontinental Railroad came from Crédit Mobilier headed by the Oakes Ames. His brother Oliver Ames was president of the Union Pacific Railroad. The two brothers also owned a company that supplied equipment to the railroad and mining industry. After the completion of the railroad the stockholders of the Union Pacific voted to erect a monument in honor of the Ames brothers. When it was completed, the monument was 300 feet south of the highest point along the railroad.

But Dodge had made a hasty decision to bring the railroad through this route. Had he scouted a little longer he would have discovered a better route a few miles further south. The new route passes through the Laramie mountains at an elevation of 8,202 feet with a grade of 45 feet per mile. The Ames monument now stands nearly forgotten bypassed by both the railroad and the Interstate highway.[MAP]

Like most American children I had to take classes in American history. We learned about Christopher Columbus, the Pilgrims, dead Presidents, and all the Acts of Congress; there was probably a paragraph about the Transcontinental Railroad too. I haven't studied history since High School. But, Junior High and Hight School history classes don't include such juicy little snippets of history like the one Max gave us Saturday night.

I had never heard of the Ames Monument. If I ever heard of Grenville Dodge, Thomas Durant, or Oakes Ames I had long forgotten them. It amazes me to think if I had not met Max I would not have learned this very interesting bit of American history.

Thanks Max!

I can fly! I can fly!

You might not know that I can fly an airplane. I can't fly one legally but I did take flying lessons in 1994 and flew solo several times. In 1994 I took lessons from Steve Green (not the weather man) of Aspen Flying Club at Centennial Airport. I didn't complete my training because it was too expensive.

1994 was the same year Denver International Airport (DIA) opened for business. A week before it opened they hosted a General Aviation Fly-in. When I learned about the fly-in I was quick enough to reserve an airplane before they were all booked. I was fortunate enough to be able to land an airplane at DIA, sign the gust book, snap a couple of photos, and take off again. We didn't have much time to look around; we had to have the plane back by 10am because it was booked the rest of the day.

Landing an airplane at Denver International Airport, or even soloing an airplane, isn't something everyone gets to do. I'm happy I took advantage of the opportunity and was able to do it.

This is me just before taking off from Centennial for Denver International Airport general aviation fly-in September 25, 1994. I've put on a few pounds since this photo was taken.