Date: Sun, 30 Nov 1997 14:02:16 -0700 From: Charlie Ford To: type2@bigkitty.azaccess.com Subject: Re-Opening My Eyes For the past few weeks, as you all already know, I have been in the New England. Since being here I have been sort of wondering around. Tonight as I was laying in bed, I got to thinking about the fact that although I am in a rich environment for learning and "growing wider my bounds", I have for some reason, been somewhat oblivious to that fact. I am not sure if this mindset has only recently been the case, or whether it started some weeks ago and I am just getting around to recognizing it. I believe that part of this tendency to become "less aware" of where you are is because all of a sudden I have found myself back in the "over-populated" east. Where people are more plenteous than air, at least clean air. It appears that when I was out west, I tended more to paying attention to the landscape and the environment. In the east I am leaning more toward paying attention to whom I am with and others around me. It is like you are never alone on this side of the continent. You either are surrounded by people or cars. You are inundated with conversation, and stares, and crowds. It seems that the hoards cover the land so one hardly notices that it is even there. Houses everywhere. When there are so many more people, there are so many more tasks to be aware of, more thinking to be done, that is a tough enough job for me already. In populated roadway traffic you naturally have be more aware of well.....traffic. Folks in the east are wicked drivers, devils behind the wheel. They will cut you off and shoot you if you flip 'em the bird. In a VW Bus you get many more dirty looks than in the west or even in rural parts of the country. At least folks in the country are used to tractors and such, they don't deal too badly with a bus. In the stores, you have be more attentive so you will not bump anyone from their route, and hope they are doing the same for you. I have noticed that when some of these Northeastern people do bump you, they seldom say even the slightest "excuse me". Manners don't seem to be the rule of thumb up here. I certainly don't want to make a sweeping generalization and say that they are all like that, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine have all been very pleasant. I would venture to say though that there is a higher percentage here than any other place I have been thus far. Folks here really do seem to have more of a chip on their shoulder, they seem to be much more suspicious of others as well. Bostonians are the worse so far. They seem too have a "better than thou" attitude. The east, if you look on the map of the US, is the most populated portion of America. It was here, in fact right down the highway, where it all started. Although I don't really believe that the first pilgrims stepped out on what we now call "Plymouth Rock". I think they probably landed in several different spots and then named that one spot to mark "the spot". I would think that they were all so damn tired of being on that boat called the Mayflower, that they all sort of found the best place to park the small boat and disembark, kissing the ground like they thought they would never see it again. Since last Sunday when I left Ric Golen's home in Massachusetts, I have been tangled up in traffic, people, rain, and cold ass weather that would challenge even the best Eskimo. The temperature has not been too bad, but the wind has been like a knife in full swing, cutting right through the layers of clothing I have been wearing. I have fought it off quite well, but only after mustering all the intestinal fortitude I could dig from my tired soft body. It certainly is the case that winter makes one want to be lazy. I seem to just want to lay inside the Mothership and stay warm. I need to ride my bike, but before I do that I need to change my tires (slicks to knobbies) so the ice want cause a loud thud on the road with my hip being the hammer. I just haven't worked up the energy to do it yet. Ice and slicks don't mix, that's the rule, so...no ridey bikey! I left Rics and headed back north up I-95. Jon Hathaway as I reported, had some months ago invited me to drop in for Thanksgiving. I replied back too him and told him I would, so I did. He lives in Nashua, NH, a few miles up I-95 from Boston. As I passed back through Boston toward Nashua, I tried to contact some old colleagues from the beginning National Service (AmeriCorps) days. Charlie Rose and Frank Campagna work for City Year, a Boston AmeriCorps program that has become something of the "McDonalds" of community service. They have done this by opening several offices and starting programs in several major cities around the country. they have some fairly large Corporate sponsors that have helped them do this. I will have too say one thing for them, they know how to schmooze and raise money. City Year preaches their concept in their way so that they may "keep" preaching their concept and grow while doing it. The cities that sponsor CY programs lay down funds, along with federal government dollars, and private foundation donations to get this concept taught. They are good, but they are not the best. Each community is the best, each community has to do it in their own special way. They just have to do it. These fellows I was trying to see are colleagues, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them friends. In AmeriCorps, I am so outspoken at times that people tend to shy away from me, hey you don't want to be tied with someone that might get you in trouble, sometime if folks . One of these guys especially appears to have shied away, the other is probably so busy carrying on business for CY, that he just hasn't had time, That is reasonable. At any rate, I was at least going to let them know I was in town. It would be nice to see them, but it wasn't a necessity in either of our lives. I had suffered a bad experience with Boston on my way down to Rics and was honestly hoping that this little drop by would bring me a different attitude toward this city. Let me explain: The other day after I left to head south, I noticed that my shock had shaken loose. I was about 10 miles north of Boston when this realization came to play. I set out to look for a shock bolt on the way down highway #1. First I stopped at a parts house that looked as if it would have such a piece. I wasn't necessarily looking for a metric, I would have settled for a standard bolt so I could quick fix it till I could get a metric. The first store was the answer "no", so I moved on down the line. I pulled into a Sears, once again the answer was "no". I pulled into two muffler and shock fast fixes, Mieneke said "no" in no uncertain terms, and so did Midas. Both of them said it with a little sharper attitude than the parts guys. They were at the bleeding edge of being rude. I then went to a hardware store, they had only standard so I judged the size and asked for it. Wouldn't you know it, I was one size large, a 1/2 inch bolt will not fit a VW shock bolt, which is a #8. At least I think that is what I finally got when Jon and I went searching after I arrived in Nashua. Bob Hoover can probably enlighten us better on that, all I know is that the damn thing worked, and I have a spare. Anyway, I had found on this initial visit to Boston, that the people were very rude. Now it may be the fact that I speak with a fairly deep southern drawl, and because of this they were tagging me with the stereotypical southern tag. or it could have been that they just needed a bit more of a lesson in manners. To be honest, either way I found them to have the personality of a bunch of bricks. In fact I even told one guy at one of the muffler shops how rude I thought he was. He was nothing less than a total asshole and the way I felt about it his ma needed to get on his ass for being such. Man, don't tell me the reason you don't a bolt that will fit is because you don't work on VW's. Then he had the audacity to start to tell me how I needed to go about fixing one, Hell I knew how to do that, I mean I do know how to put in a bolt, and the first part of that is recognizing just where one is missing. the third and final part is doing it. he needed to fill in the gap as to where to get the damn thing. But then I could just move a damn southern parts house, where they have most anything one could need for any given automobile, to Boston, and my damn troubles would be solved, and in a flash I might add. Maybe it was my frustration, or the rain, or the traffic, or the rude Boston dribble the call "accent". Maybe it was all of these things combined that was making me so pissed. Either way, after stopping at six places that work on cars and sell car parts, and dealing with basically the same cold "attitude toward others", that by the way to these people should still be referred to as customers, it looks like I would have found a shock bolt. But NO!!!!! Boston sucked and that was all there was to it. So now back to the Northward trek to Jon's: Neither Charlie nor Frank were available on my way back north. Frank was flying out to Texas and Charlie had a meeting and then a gathering with in-laws. He did say that he would be around all week, although I was not sure driving back to Boston was going to be in my plans. Nashua is somewhat more rural than Boston, and I was welcomed for a few days in Jon's drive. Home (The Mothership) would be still for a period, the weather might even calm down to tolerable standards while I was there. I could use a couple days of sunshine, even if it was still reasonably, or unreasonably cold. I headed on Northward to what promised to be "home for a season". I was confronted with snow and sleet just north of Boston. The Mothership was running good and cutting the Northeast wind with the grace of the USS Constitution. I was sailing along with middle crossbar on the steering wheel sitting at about 2:40/8:10. When you are going straight it is at 3:00/9:00 using it like a clock. What do you think about that gauge of steering stress? I drove I-93 until I reached New Hampshire where I got off and took a left onto Highway #111, which is exit #3. The snow grew a little thicker and so did the accumulation. I had the wipers going and my eyes glued to the road. I made it to Jons at about 4:00 PM. I stayed at Jon's from Sunday through Thursday evening. Jon, his wife Mary Anne, and their dog Murphy entertained Gus and I and made us feel very welcome indeed. we all talked and discussed various things from VW, to politics, dogs, and paying for a kid to go through college. Jon and I shared much time on the computer and perused many VW books and toys in his collection. He is an assistant manager at a Parts America store in Nashua. He owns a nice 73 orange Westy named Julius and a Vanagon which didn't interest me much at all, I am a "breadloaf man" you see. This is just a choice, may change one day, but my heart will always be in Breadloaf and Split. One day I want to own a 79 Westy. That is after I give The Mothership away to someone that deserves, and of course wants and needs the journey she brings with her. If ya'll remember, that is one of the stipulations that came with her. I have to give her away, I can't sell her, mainly because she was given too me. She is mine lock, stock, and barrel, I can keep her as long as I want, but one day she will be passed on. On Thursday Jon, Mary Anne, Vicki, their daughter and two nieces loaded up and headed up to Deerfield New Hampshire to indulge in the planned Thanksgiving event. Jon's family and several others of other families were coming together to celebrate and give thanks together. It was a shin dig for sure! There was food enough for everyone to practice the deadly sin of gluttony, and conversation enough to fill the minds of each one their with thoughts to carry us on to the next subject to be talked about. there was music, and laughter, and adoration of the house we were in, and the great smell of food in the air. All in attendance were absorbed into the festive atmosphere that being around family and food brings. Even if it was not "your" family. They were one great bunch of people. Come to find out, one of Jon's cousins also worked for AmeriCorps in DC. Meg Ryan, who now lives in Italy is someone I met a couple years ago. Her Mom is Jon's aunt and she asked me did I know her. I didn't know her well, but I definitely remembered her name and that she was involved pretty strongly in what we were all trying to build in National Service. A small world it really is! I hung out with all of them until early evening, then I headed back over to Portsmouth where Ned Savoie had invited me to come back and go skiing once again up at Sunday River ski slope in Bethel, Maine. My belly was full, the night was cold, but I had a warmth inside that Jon's family had given me. Thanksgiving had been the one way one should be. I arrived at Portsmouth at around 7:00 PM. I found Todd Ellsworths home, he is one of Ned's friends I mentioned in an earlier post, and settled in for the evening. On Friday we all took off and went skiing once again. I am once again bruised and battered but it was a good day at minimal cost. It was nice to once again be around these guys who also love to laugh and have fun. I will be here through Monday morning, then I plan on heading back south toward Lowell, Mass. where Jack Kereouac is buried, then back to Boston, I have to see Harvard. Then Providence, RI., then Hartford, Conn. where I have another colleague named Terry Russell who I will call "friend" to visit. He is one of the chief administrators for "Save the Children" here in the states. I look forward too seeing him again, I am sure we will have some great things to share with one another. I really haven't planned past Hartford, other than making it to Ron Salmon's place in Pennsylvania sometime next week. I think that weaving around like I am doing will help me to feel a little more in touch with this area. I really do want to know as much as I can about this region, and the people that live in it. I don't want to leave thinking they are all asses. I have to slow down and set my pace for traveling through this crowded portion of my country. here you are driven more than the driver. It is up to me to slow down, they just don't know any better. They are in the same "box" I was in a year ago before I left. I guess I should understand that way of life by now. I guess in a way I do, but I cannot justify it or excuse it any longer. Rudeness can never be excused. I will just have to tolerate the pace, and hope that one day they find their way out. Tomorrow I change the tires on my bike. Thanks for tolerating the ramblings. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.slurpee.net/~keen/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"