The Grand Disappointment

From El Paso, and the grand time that it was, with plenty of celebrating with Cristina, Raúl, Yaya and the gang, as well as breakfast with my friend Gaby, we headed off for Phoenix, AZ. Though Texas was in and of itself quite hot upon our leaving, I texted my friend Andrew and learned that the temperature was to reach up to 108 degrees Fahrenheit the following day, and so it was upon our arrival. Thus, once there, we feasted on a chicken and pesto pasta meal, prepared by Andrew and his fianceé Genae. Then we simply crashed out for the evening, watching a documentary on baseball over the past 30 years or so, which recounted the strike, the home run race, and the fact that baseball was the only sport that, at least for a while, did not outlaw the use of steroids.


The next day brought a tour of Arizona State University albeit a short one as we quickly felt the effects of the heat and needed to relax and recuperate our strength. The summer heat of Arizona is comparable in some regard to the winter cold of the north, everyone stays inside, and only ventures out when the weather breaks. Thus we headed to Andrew's aunt and uncle's house in Scottsdale, a beautiful area encircled by dusty brown hills and populated with adobe styled feats of architecture. With fountains and much green to boot, they stand on some of the most expensive real estate in the country. After this we headed back to Andrew's place to enjoy an afternoon of college football! It was a great time to kick back and relax and catch up on a few things online. Life goes too fast sometimes, and it was nice to step back and just be.


Later that night we shared a lovely dinner at the Tortilla Factory in Scottsdale. An amazing salad and great service, it was a definite highlight of the time spent in Phoenix! Great company with Genae and Andrew. Hopefully we will be back in time for their wedding in June of next year!

The following morning we set out, with a little help from one of Andrew's friends, to the little town of Supai on the Havasupai Indian Reservation in northeast Arizona. We left a bit late, but caught some great shots of the sunset against the hills that surround the Grand Canyon, arriving to the town during the pitch black night. The road there takes you 60 miles through an arid landscape with a great deal of small trees, but we saw none of it, since we headed down the road so late. We traversed the whole stretch in pitch-black darkness interrupted only by a sudden bird, that mesmerized by the light flew directly into the driver's side of the windshield, scaring the living daylights out of Daniel, who continued the drive until we made it to the campsite. Once there, we rustled the men in the lead camper. I simply walked in, as the door was open, and the two men rolled over as I asked, "is this where you register?" They quickly informed me that I could wait until morning, so I headed to the car, and after a splendid meal of strawberries, chips, salsa, meat and cheese, Daniel crashed out in the car, and I in the tent right outside.

In the morning we started to hear the rumors of the rain that had affected those that had hiked down the day before. You must understand that we had heard from many different persons of the beauty of waterfalls including Havasu and Mooney, and that the hike is absolutely incredible!


The sunrise gave promise of a beautiful day for the hike down, which takes about a half a day, however the rumors of rain continued, and even as I watched, the storm clouds gathered over the canyon. It was an amazing sight, but I was not surprised when they decided to close down the canyon for the rest of the week.


Thus we took a few parting shots, and by mid-morning departed from the Grand Canyon. A disappointment to be sure. We could have headed back east to the south rim, but as it was we hesitated to go backwards on our journey west. So we headed for Nevada and the golden lights of Vegas!

El Paso and Juárez from our perspective

So it all began in a little town north of the border by the name of “The Pass to the North,” which would later become affectionately known as “El Paso.” It is a unique place in that you drive south on Interstate 25 for several hours in New Mexico, and then at the very end, right before you hit Mexico, you find yourself in Texas. The whole vast expanse of Texas stretches to the east, all the way to the Gulf of Mexico and to the west, New Mexico and Arizona.

We arrived on a fairly hot day in September, when the football players were just beginning their practice. Our friend Cristina was busy upon our arrival, so we stayed and caught the end of practice at Franklin High School, and wrote out a few postcards. When she called we headed to her place and ran into a bear hug! With her was Yadira, whom I had met on the first trip down to see Gaby and Cristina. We had all gone out to a night club called “La Mulata” in Juárez, Mexico, and “Yaya” was our knowledgeable guide. It was so good to see them both after almost three years! I could not believe it had been so long.

We did not waste any time and in a minute we had everything out of the car and in the apartment and were on our way to Mickey’s. Once there we enjoyed a great Mexican dinner and gave the hostess a pleasant surprise in that we could actually speak Spanish! Jazmin joined us for dinner, and after we had eaten a bit, Gaby also came and it was an awesome reunion. All of a sudden the music started, a great Spanish song, with a very distinct sound to it. You must understand that we have a total of five CD’s in our car, and this song is one of the catchiest. Dan had started to sing it somewhat in jest, meanwhile we drove, and I’m not sure that he believed that it was a song that people actually listened to. Thus when the live band began to play “Suavemente” by Elvis Crespo, we jumped and were up and at it on the dance floor, practicing our salsa, merengue, and bachata skills. Great times!

The next day, we got up late and met Cristina for lunch at a place where the burritos were amazing, not quite as good as they would have been in Mexico, but we had made a promise not to cross the border. Let us hope that the situation improves in Juárez, so that next time we will be able to cross over and experience both cultures. At that lunch Cristina, who seems to know a little bit about everything, informed us that Juárez and El Paso are in fact the only cities on the Mexico/U.S. border that are separated only by a canal and a wall, and other than this are in fact one city. In other words, there is literally nothing between the two towns except for the canal and fence that form the border.

All of the other border towns including Tijuana and Nogales among others have a bit of distance between the Mexican city and the U.S. city, most at least 20 minutes. This fact then has interesting implications for the current issues in Juárez, since the proximity of the two cities would seem to make it somewhat easier to smuggle drugs across the border and also provides ample opportunity to cross at a variety of places and then blend in to the city on the other side. El Paso and Juárez, other from the border that divides them, are indistinguishable. From high atop the overlook at night, the lights unite, and in the distance the respective flags of the sister cities proudly fly. The unity of the cities is a beautiful thing to see, and I believe that it is a sign of what the future could bring.

It was interesting to hear the different perspectives on immigration and the unrest in Juárez while here. Unfortunately, we just do not have all of the information in the north. This said, Cristina informed us of an occurrence she was aware of, but that had not been publicized at all, not even in El Paso. And, as we learned when we headed to White Sands an hour north on Hwy 25, Mexican citizens are allowed to cross into El Paso, but may go no farther than 25 miles from the border, and if they do, may be arrested on the spot. This law of free passage back and forth, seems fair in and of itself, insofar as the two cities are truly one. As to the violence in Juárez, one of the contributors to the situation in Mexico was that the current president endorsed a different group of “narcotraficantes” (drug traffickers) than his predecessor, which in turn led to a fight over the strategically located city of Juárez. Initially the violence was limited to the interactions between these two groups and the police, who were also complicit with the narcotraficantes that paid them. But later, others took advantage of the violence to make their own gains. As the police and the two groups of “narcotraficantes” were occupied with one another, third parties began to extort people for their own personal gain because of the lack of justice to hold them accountable for their actions. For this reason, the nightly kidnappings, deaths, and ransoms have escalated and thus we ultimately decided, out of prudence, not to enter Mexico at this point in time. It is also important to note that most of what happens does go down at night, such that during the day, things are pretty much safe, as long as you know where to go. However the occurrences of late and the corresponding and well-founded fear that this has produced forced many to leave their businesses, and public posts, and either go underground or leave the city altogether. However, as I also understand, there are a great deal of people who remain living there, and are simply awaiting the end to the violence. Interestingly enough, the main reasons for the problems are, first of all, the insatiable consumption of drugs by people living in the US, the greed of the “narcotraficantes,” and the corruption of those in power in both countries.

There are individuals on both sides who are either openly or secretly complicit to the passage of the narco’s products, and that thereby allow the drugs to make it to the United States. A reform of policy on this topic would most certainly help to alleviate the problems in Juárez, and allow people like you and me to travel there and enjoy the cultural richness and people of a town that has simply ended up in a bad way due to human selfishness.

In light of recent occurrences and laws in Arizona, I also want to speak to the culture of the southwest, which to start, is very different, even between New Mexico and El Paso, Texas. To tackle the situation from a linguistic perspective, in New Mexico we heard the perspective of a teacher who is attempting to work in the already challenging public school system, who then has students and parents who refuse to learn English, and others who look down on her because she does not speak Spanish. In Las Cruces, New Mexico we encountered a waitress who appeared Hispanic, and being with Cristina and some other friends, I spoke to her in Spanish. Although she did not speak as well as I, she did her best to respond, supplementing with English where necessary, until I conceded to speak with her in English. But she made the effort. In El Paso itself, most people are bilingual, and as our friend Yadira commented, she will usually speak to someone in Spanish, because it is her first language, and then when she senses that the listener is having trouble she will switch to English. Again, very quick to accommodate people in whatever way necessary to effect communication. I believe the best scenario is one in which everyone is tolerant to one another’s linguistic abilities and shortcomings, and that there are alternatives available such as interpreters and/or translators that allow people to communicate with one another. It would be beneficial for people living in areas like El Paso to have the opportunity to learn both languages in order to be able to be so accommodating as the two persons mentioned above. In all, respect for one another in all circumstances is of the highest importance. It is however very interesting that the inability to communicate in one’s native tongue can lead us to such frustration and heated argument. This reality points to the crucial role of communication in our existence, and explains the division that inability to communicate in one language has wrought in humanity over the centuries. In order to fully understand the heated debate with regard to a national language and related issues, consider the situation of the Mexican workers who come to the United States. To start, think about a pivotal moment in your life, and then consider doing all the legwork and signing all of the paperwork in your foreign language. Yes the one you learned in high school and may have forgotten up to this point, but the one in which you likely have a greater amount of instruction than many Mexicans who come to the U.S. have in English. For example, you must go to the country that speaks your foreign language because there are no jobs where you are currently living (in an English-speaking culture) and so you must seek work legally/illegally in the foreign country. Certainly you would like to know more of the language, and certainly you have no right to demand that the country to which you have come provide everything to you in English, but realize the fact that you do not have enough money to feed your family, much less take English classes. So you have to do the best you can in the foreign language, until you get to a point where a part of your finances from your work may go toward English instruction. This is where many Mexican migrant workers find themselves. Certainly not all of them come for these reasons, but definitely a good number. I do believe that the better approach to these issues is not to continue to make it more difficult for immigrants to come in, but to work with Mexico in trying to help them help the people in their own country, such that there will be less need, and less reason for Mexicans to come to the United States. Many that I have spoken with do not even really enjoy living in the U.S. and would rather return to live in Mexico, if only they could find work to provide for their families there, as well as the safety that is ensured here in the U.S.

The geographic reality is that most of the cities and significant regional landmarks in the southern United States have Spanish names with anglicized pronunciations, and as such are adopted into the English language. Yes we annexed the land, and it is now part of the United States, however we must recognize the fact that we are all people, and that we share the land. Certainly the two government systems that are in place have their reasons and good points, but I believe that we share the land and we can do more to attempt to reach out to the people from which we are separated only by a border. The language and culture in the southern U.S. is truly not all that different from northern Mexico, so there is good reason to believe that we can work to improve the system currently in place such that we can find the best possible scenario for all concerned and ensure as much peace and prosperity as possible.

A long time in coming....

It's been awhile since the last post, and many things have transpired. We will be recounting them little by little as we spend our time here in San Francisco, where we will be until we fly out to Hawaii on October 19th. Our time thus far has consisted of catching up with our cousin Becky Falzone and her husband Tim and son Taylor. They are amazing people and have shown us a very good time thus far. More on the current moment to come, but for the time being I offer a reflection on our time in El Paso. Hope as well that you like the same look!

Colorado to El Paso

After we woke up and bid adieu to Will and Francis, the morning began at 7:06am in a cave in downtown Denver, the cave of the Holy Ghost, and a little man read the Gospel immediately as we walked in. The disciples argued among them as to who was the greatest, and then the short deacon gave us his impression of the reading and its message for our lives. We did not realize just how short he was until the altar was set for the consecration, the priest rose from his chair, and it became readily apparent just how much this Franciscan friar shared with a dwarf. And yet, a small man with a great conviction for the Lord that challenged us to go forth and change our lives for Christ.

The burrito shop was not open when we arrived, and so Tim Danaher, Daniel and myself investigated the neighborhood – in our time finding a “Thinking Place,” “Miss Kitty’s,” and finally an Episcopalian Church that revealed no entrance. So we returned to the original destination and enjoyed three wonderfully authentic Mexican breakfast burritos. Their heat revealed the authenticity. After the burritos a treat called something like a “polvoriento” as it consisted of a cookie covered in powdered sugar that proceeded to get all over our hands and the floor where we decided to split it. The real significance of the moment lay in the fact that I communicated with him purely in Spanish, and that he treated it as a normal occurrence. This I have sought for a long time.

After a heartfelt goodbye to Tim Danaher, we hit the road. Not far along we made a stop at the Garden of the Gods. Here the red rocks shoot from the earth as if propelled by the force of angels fighting beneath the earth. Their appeal and beauty is indescribable, and one of the greatest things of all is that this, like many other natural parks in Colorado (including Red Rocks) is free to visitors. The sheer size of each individual formation brought a silence to my heart and soul, and I felt at peace there on the outskirts of Colorado Springs.



The drive continued until Santa Fe, New Mexico. The first time ever for us both in the city, we had few expectations and one goal: to see the miraculous staircase at the Loretto Chapel. Not having done any research, as usual, we pulled off the highway onto St. Francis Drive and into a little apartment complex searching for a café in which to get internet and find the place on Google Maps. As it turned out, the apartments had wireless and we were able to find the chapel and figure out how to get there almost immediately. So we followed our contrived directions and sure enough, amid a little village of adobe architecture, the chapel appeared. We were short on time and needed to make it to Albuquerque one hour away by 7pm, it was 5:30pm when we arrived, and the chapel was set to close at 6pm. Providence.



Once inside, tears literally came to my eyes as I viewed in person for the first time, the subject of a science report I had written in third grade. I do not recall how such a topic was chosen, or why, but that we recreated the structure out of Legos, and at the end saw it appropriate to spray paint it all gold. The chapel itself was constructed in 1878 by the Sisters of Loretto, and the small space was equipped with beautiful stained glass windows as well as a marble altar from Italy. The choir loft, high above and at the back of the small chapel, was perfect in every respect except that it was unreachable, and due to the architecture there was no room for a traditional staircase. So the sisters prayed a novena to the patron saint of carpentry Saint Joseph. Shortly after they finished their prayer, a man came to them and offered to build a staircase. The sisters accepted. For six months the man worked, using no tools other than a hammer, a saw, and hot water to shape the wood. Once the staircase was completed he vanished, without seeking any form of payment, never return. To this day it is believed that St. Joseph indeed appeared in answer to the women’s prayers and constructed the miraculous staircase. The miracle lies in that the 33 step staircase rises **** feet, makes two complete 360 degree turns, and was built with no center or any other form of support. The staircase stands purely on the perfection of its craftsmanship. It is truly an astonishing sight to see, and I would have liked more time to sit there and reflect, however as the site is no longer owned by the Church, and the Blessed Sacrament is no longer reserved there, we took a trip down the street to the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis. This place truly reflects the presence of the Lord set in adobe and surrounded by statues of St. Francis, a maze in the brick allegorically representing life, and a beautiful sanctuary housing a representation of Mary known as “La Conquistadora” in Spanish and “Our Lady of Peace” in English. An interesting irony as the first means “The Conqueror” in English and the second would be “Nuestra Señora de la Paz” in Spanish. As the children’s choir was practicing next to Our Lady, we decided to enter the adoration chapel to pray, and an indomitable peace overcame me. Over the altar the words *** were written in Spanish, and in the atrium, there were pamphlets available in both languages. Perhaps this was the world I had been seeking.
The sun was setting as we entered the Cathedral, but upon leaving we were washed in a light so pure and so warm, that I truly fell in love. The rays overcame me, and though I could feel in them the 100 degree plus days of summer, I knew that I had found something in this capital city of the “Holy Faith” in the “Land of Enchantment,” the state of Nuevo México. From the interstate down to Albuquerque the burning ball slowly eased itself behind the arid, rolling hills, captivating me on the passenger side. As night came on, the lights of the largest city in New Mexico drew nearer, and we were a glorious 15 minutes late. Glorious because that time had been spent contemplating a place and a feeling in Santa Fe, that I had not felt in a long time. The surge of passion, and ideas for the future!

Daniel King met us just off campus from the University of New Mexico, and after a brief greeting, we embarked upon the 45 minute drive into the wilderness and the house they were sitting. ‘Twas a magnificent reunion touching on all that had transpired in the two years that we had not seen each other. Rachel now teaches and Daniel has entered the Army ROTC soon to receive word as to whether he will go active duty or reserves. The night was also filled with the interaction of some very beloved pets, whose care was explicitly outlined and explained in writing, and rivals the quality of care that I give myself! ;) Keeping the fixings from Ian, the blind, but most friendly and yet most mischievous of the bunch, we laughed and reminisced over pizza and salad, and then the requisite post-meal cup of tea to which I have become so accustomed. We cleaned up, and Rachel and Daniel showed us the room where we were to sleep. The bed appeared to be well-made, and the room extremely clean and kept up, with an attached full bathroom separated into a room with two sinks and a shower, and a separate, small room for the toilet. Heaven had arrived for the night. I showered, and we settled down for a quick four and a half hours of dreamless sleep, and then arose for an authentic New Mexico breakfast. At Milly’s my Daniel ordered “huevos rancheros,” Rachel the breakfast burrito, Rachel’s Daniel the chicken steak, and I the “carne adovada burritos.”



Daniel’s dish included chiles, cheese,hash browns, beans, scrambled eggs, all on a flour tortilla. Mine consisted of “carne adovada” – pulled pork mixed with green chiles – in flour tortillas with a side of lettuce and hash browns. The food was amazing, coffee was a life-saver, and we talked of brothers and sisters, family and friends, and around 8am Rachel had to go. So we took a shot outside the restaurant, and Daniel and I followed Rachel’s Daniel to UNM, where we used the computer to catch up, before we departed for El Paso. Right now we are about a half hour out, and very much looking forward to seeing Cristina and Gaby for a couple of days. The Spanish and memories will be flowing, and Daniel will get to meet two very dear friends who I have not seen in a very long time!

Colorado and Onward....

Our time in Colorado in all was a time of great preparation for what is to come with the trip. We entered into the lives of four amazing young men, who are living together in a solid community of holiness and fellowship in Littleton, Colorado. Tim Danaher and William Heffernan are both old friends from Steubenville, Ohio where our families all started out. Francis and John are two friends that we made there and who will continue to be great friends into the future. Thank you to you all for your hospitality and generosity.

We left Nebraska for Colorado via Wyoming. Early on Monday morning of September 21st we jumped into our vehicle to avoid the rain that was spattering our water-resistant Walmart tent in the middle of a cornfield in rural central Nebraska. A coffee and an early morning grocery trip and we were on the road. As per usual, Daniel caught up on his sleep meanwhile I caught the pristine and breathtaking views of the western Nebraska wilderness. We made it all the way to Sidney, NE and discovered the world headquarters for Cabela’s but unfortunately nothing that we were interested in buying inside. From there we crossed the border into Wyoming, and we started to realize that we were in a new state. In Cheyenne, people immediately stop for you as a pedestrian. You can be standing motionless fifteen feet away from the intersection and the cars will still hesitate to move unless they observe you motionless for at least ten seconds. The Cathedral was beautiful, but no public bathroom in sight. And then we met the lawn mower man outside the Capitol building who stopped his work, not to tell us to get out of the way, but rather to encourage us to go ahead in! Not only this, but he also pointed out the State History Museum and the local rodeo, both of which we checked out and much enjoyed.

From Wyoming then, the plan was to drive to Fort Collins and spend the afternoon in a café, however Daniel took the wheel, but did not get the memo. So when I asked, “How far are we from Fort Collins?” he responded, “Uh, we passed it like 20 minutes ago…” I was somewhat frustrated, but later elated as we made it to Denver and were able to reach Littleton in time for dinner with Fr. Michael and the aforementioned four men. Dinner was a wonderful Francis-style gnocchi extraordinaire, and conversation interesting and intriguing as we were all introduced and shared our about respective jobs and journeys. Afterward, Fr. Michael blessed the house and then departed shortly thereafter. We the men remained and discussed life, ending the night with a “Salve Regina” and intentions in a beautiful harmony of prayer.
Wednesday morning brought a return trip to Fort Collins, only this time it was raining. This was our first impression of the place, the second was that it is possible to make a large university very difficult to find. After picking up some food, including a glorious $7 sub sandwich, we drive-wandered around the city for literally an hour finding neither the multi-thousand student institution nor the infamous “Old Town” portion of the city that we had heard so much about. So we were forced to ask at a gas station, where we found out that we had passed fairly close to it earlier on and simply had not seen it. Campus is beautiful and fairly compact considering its size. Stepping out of the car, we were both excited, and as we waited to approach the road, we never could have predicted or expected what came next. Out of nowhere, with no puddles in sight, a car passed and flung a wave of water literally ten feet high, right at Daniel. Not the clear kind of water either. Daniel, with cat-like reflexes narrowly avoided the spray, and kept his eyes peeled from then on. The rain thankfully did not last long, and we were able to get a good sense for the campus, the home of the Rams, and also of an interfaith chapel we happened upon on the edge of campus. Entering, we saw five persons evenly spaced sitting motionless in the front row. Intrigued, we entered and contemplated the scene for a good fifteen minutes, during which time no one moved so much as a muscle. Interesting and eerie at the same time, an experience that we will not soon forget. Has anyone seen “Inception”? Well a walk through Old Town and a stop at a café pretty much topped off the day for us, and then we wandered slightly out of the area and happened to find train tracks in the middle of the road. Then a whistle. Then a full-size freight train came right down the middle of the road. Crossing signs lit up, although no gates came down, the traffic lights flashed yellow, and the train lumbered on through, fitting neatly between the stoplight poles. Absolutely bizarre, and one of my favorite experiences in Fort Collins.

The following day Thursday we laid low until afternoon, and then headed off to the infamous Red Rocks. What an experience. The site overlooks the city of Denver, revealing the skyline and the airport in the distance, then all the lakes and scrub grass, that then turns to urban sprawl. Such an amazing town. Altitude, oh yeah, we decided to emulate the dozens of runners we saw there by running up the 69 rows of seating. Cross country runners, oh yes we are! Boot camp, perhaps not ready, but the 6 and 10 year old sons of the Rambo-like individual we saw there certainly are. While we watched Father Rambo subjected sons 1 and 2 to stair-running with a tire around the neck, then the same exercise bearing a backpack loaded down with stones. These sprints would of course be interspersed with pushups and pull-ups, the former in a variety of positions including on the ground, upper body elevated on stairs, and in a sort of headstand position. I doubt many boot camp drill sergeants could keep up with this guy.

After Red Rocks, we left on a highway unsure of where we would end up. After passing through the same town twice, we decided to continue up the mountains until we reached within 12 miles of Mt. Evans. The views were breathtaking as the evening expired, revealing the true beauty and majesty of the foothills of the Rockies. From here then, we returned home to try for a night of swing dancing. As it turned out, there were about 5 couples present, and so we decided not to go in, and instead sat downstairs, had a few brews, and observed the unique band of music played live before us. I would describe it as a group of hippies with a unique set of instruments purring indecipherable lyrics into a microphone. Strange evening it was...

Friday we slept in a bit before lunch with Tim at a place called Hop's, a brewery and great burger place where we enjoyed some blue cheese burgers and a nice view of a beautiful lake to which we would later return. We then saw Tim's place of work, called Light of the World Catholic Parish. A unique sanctuary and adoration chapel framed what I believe to be an all-in-all unique diocese in Denver. Many many holy young people in great community. The afternoon was spent in Columbine Public Library, not far from where the events of Columbine School transpired. A beautiful place where Daniel and I took some time to reflect and catch up online before a walk around the lake. Every day has been a journey in discovering what this journey means to each one of us, and each day has brought a new insight or understanding. That is it we realized, we seek new experiences to help broaden our understanding of the
world, and where we want to fit within it. Yes there are risks, and certainly the safety net is not necessarily always there, but the adventure calls us ever onward.
The night came and we cooked up an Italian sausage and pasta caserole for the boys and feasted on the food and good conversation that followed. Then came ice cream at Dairy Queen and we turned in early for the night.

8am came early Saturday and we shortly headed off to a park in Denver for a little flag football. It is truly amazing the community of young Catholics that live in Denver. The group amounted to nearly thirty people including all of the wives and friends that came to watch the fourteen or so of us that actually played. And man did I learn how long it had been since I played. I certainly felt it the next day, and even still do now to a certain degree. The evening then brought a trip to Breckenridge, a place renowned for skiing for good reason. The fall there was quite beautiful with the changing of leaves, and our mountain hike brought a good deal of satisfaction, but we still anxiously look forward to the majesty of the places that are to come. The night brought the movies "V for Vendetta" and "Shooter".

Sunday morning brought 7:30am mass and then pancake breakfast. Following, we headed to the annual FOCUS (Fellowship of Catholic University Students) vs. Thomas Aquinas Institute football game, where Daniel and I served as referees to an energetic and fellowship-oriented game that ended in a bit of a lopsided victory, but that later sparked a lot of good conversation. The game also brought a great deal of sunburn for both of the referees, so we relaxed for the remainder of the afternoon. A trip to Target, some tea, and some groceries later, we cooked up what we had acquired and feasted, just before heading off to the swing dance.

Swinging is something I have missed out on for a long time, but this brought it all back. What an amazing club in the Mercury Lounge that allowed everyone plenty of space to dance openly with anyone else. The fans were going so the temps were good. A great venue, some great people, and an all-in-all great last hurrah for our time in Denver.

Monday morning brought departure, but not before we hit one last morning mass in the "cave" Church of the Holy Ghost in downtown Denver, and then some breakfast burritos from a very authentic cafe just down the street. Tim D pointed out some great destinations for Cali, and off we went by about 8:30 or 9 in the morning. Destinations? The Garden of the Gods, the Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe, then good friends in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

The Road

These two words encapsulate the journies of the last few days. Sometimes it is hard to remember that everyone present in the towns that we pass through are living their lives in their individual towns and not moving around as much as we are. We have had the privilege and blessing to get to know so many people over the past few days, in places ranging from Beatrice, Nebraska to Denver, Colorado, though I currently write from Fort Collins, home of one of the most secluded and difficult to find universities in the country! Not really, we just drove around for about an hour before finally stopping and asking for directions at a Shell that eventually carried us to Colorado State University and the Old Town cafe where we now rest our travel-wearied souls. Not really! We're ready for a lot more!

After departing Ames on Sunday afternoon, we worked our way through Omaha, where we sought out and found Creighton University's chapel, an idyllic Catholic church on a beautiful Jesuit campus just across the border from Iowa. The church holds the pleasant memories of a wedding attended years ago of a good friend and former Chicago Cub Chad Meyers, as well as the bittersweet thoughts of the transfer I considered and later dismissed. I still do wonder what would have happened had I chosen to leave Iowa for Nebraska. Matthea Haecker did just that, and has found his passion. He and good friend Tyler are both youth pastors and were kind enough to let us reside with them for a night in Beatrice, Nebraska. Here we are pictured with Tyler's roommate Marshall and some other friends we met that night.



Twas a night filled with zombie-killing video games and conversation about the times passed at Iowa State. Matthea and I spent some time discussing that period of change in which I considered a move and he up and did it. I remained at Iowa State and studied Spanish, and Matthea moved and recently finished his degree in Psychology with a minor in Comparative Religions. I was struck by the simplicity inherent in the lives of these Nebraskans, and I hope to find this same simplicity and peace in the other places we may visit as well.

Next day we spent hanging out, took a morning walk around town, which is of course quite beautiful, but very reminiscent of what I imagine an old western town to be. There were drug stores, consignment stores, and in accord with the profession of our hosts, plenty of churches. The morning carried me to the Catholic church, St. Joseph's, which had a beautiful interior and a statue of St. Therese of Lisieux, whose intersession I sought before heading back to rustle Daniel, and off we went to the local library. A bit of research and some New Zealand jobs began to jump out, and so we applied.

The night brought an oh so glorious dinner buffet at the Chinese restaurant in town. Though Sonic went out of business, this Beatrice hallmark was going nowhere, and the food as it turns out went absolutely nowhere but to the pit of our stomaches. The conversation began..."you ever think twice about that second plate?" and we all assented with a groan. However we mustered ourselves up and decided that we were to camp for the night, though we had no tent, no idea where to camp, and no clue how to get around Nebraska apart from the interstate. As it turned out Tyler had a whole map of "recreation areas" provided and maintained by the Natural Resources District, for which he works. Thus, we parted ways with hugs and hopes to meet again, and an hour and a half down I-80, pulled onto Hwy 14 and the town of Aurora. Based on our atlas and the map Tyler provided us, we knew that the rec area was just north of town, past Hwy 34, but no signs held us up, so we drove well into the Nebraska corn and countryside before determining it was probably best to head back and see whether we had missed it. One road proved the only possibility, unless the area was to be found in the middle of an airfield, and so we headed down the road until we saw the blinking lights. We figured it was a dangerous crossing or something similar, and that's when our city kid upbringing became apparent, for shortly there after we found ourselves face to face with the bean-head of a combine! Obviously the smaller of the two adversaries, we backed down into a driveway and let the combine and following grain cart pass. After that, we hesitated but decided to continue down the road, and at last came the sign "recreation area 1/4 south."



We made the turn and happened upon one of the nicest rec areas I have seen. So after debating a bit, we decided on a campsite, brought down a pile of wood that was already gathered, and set the flame to what became a roaring fire.

The whipping wind helped a bit too, I suppose, but the night was beautiful and perfect, and right as the wind died down, we settled in to our 5' x 6' tent, only to find that it was altogether too short. A fitful night's sleep, and though the night before was perfect, the morning brought rain down upon our $20 Walmart water-resistant tent. 7am and life could not have been more perfect. Shivering, we threw our things together and hustled to the car.



From there, the drive on I-80 carried us all the way to Sidney, Nebraska where we saw the world headquarters for Cabela's, bought nothing and continued along until we reached Cheyenne, Nebraska. Let me tell you that there is not much between these two cities but sand and brush, but a new sight for me was that of several thousand bending sunflowers ready for harvest. And I realized that combines must also have a "sunflower head."

Cheyenne is a town unique in that it contains 50,000 of the states 500,000 total residents. The second largest town is Casper, which contains 40,000 people. In short, two towns comprise nearly 1/5 of the state's total population. I wonder how that compares to the Chicago to the rest of Illinois ratio. Nonetheless, this small character allowed for the lawn mower man outside the capitol building to stop working and encourage us to go inside. First of all, the fact that he would stop his work to talk with us, second of all that it was not to tell us to get out of the way, and third that we were actually allowed to walk in to the state capitol building without any reason other than to see it. Our reward inside was great as there were fascinating displays of the architectural plans for the building, the state bird the golden eagle, a bison, and the USS Wyoming.



Shortly before considering this final exhibit, we had seen one that included photos of all of the state's governors, past and present. Then as we were standing reading, there was some shuffling behind us and a man's voice, and I turned around just in time to see the governor himself return to his office. No need for security, just good down home people doing their job, from the lawn mower man to the governor himself. Enchanting town. Following we toured a state museum free of charge and learned about the "Sheep-eater" Shoshone Indians, Wyoming's coal industry, and what it was like for some of the first settlers of the United States.

After making the decision to head out, Daniel took the wheel and away we went at 80mph, and before you think him crazy consider that the speed limit in most places here is 75mph. The miles certainly do go, since I set my mind to a crossword puzzle and we rushed right past Fort Collins where we had intended to stop. Nonetheless, this meant that we arrived to Denver just in time for a dinner with Tim Danaher, his roommates, and a holy priest by the name of Fr. Michael. The dinner of gnocchi and pesto sauce was amazing thanks to the work of master chef Francis. Dessert was an amazing blend of berries and ice cream. To top it all off we took a dip in what turned out to be the pool's final night open, diving, and splashing, swimming and talking, it was all-in-all a great reunion of three great Steubenville families in the Malones, the Danahers, and the Heffernans! A little light reading followed and we bedded down for the night. Life is grand!

Saturday nights and Sundays in Ames

There is always a measure of nostalgiac reflection that comes over me when I return to the town of my alma mater, and it is never for the events and happenings and classes that were all part of the experience, but rather a yearning for the people that were all once there, and a rejoicing at reunion with old friends still there and still vibrantly remembrant of the same times that echo in my heart!



Such was the happy reflection that filled my heart during our time in Ames. It was a great privilege to see old friends and to know that despite a lack of contact over time, that we can pick up right where we left off.

Then to recount some of the experiences of these two days, Friday night bled into Saturday, as Kyle Poppens had to stay late at work, and so dinner was postponed, but this left him completely free for Saturday, which was a time for reading, writing, beer-bottling, and avoiding the rain that intermittently drizzled outside. But this did not matter, for Ames was never about the weather, not about the sites and tourist attractions, but always about the people. That night Kathy White and daughter Annette prepared a wondrous meal for us, that we absorbed and then photographed ourselves for memories.



Later, we entered the Chicha Shack, a wistful experience for Kyle and myself, as we first smoked hookah together during undergrad, nearly 5 years ago now. Misty and husband Jacob joined us, and their vigor for life and for their respective careers was stimulating and inspiring. And of course the night wrapped up with Daniel off to good friend Keiran's dorm (only a couple doors down from my old place - on the same floor!!! Go Welch Bergman!!!) and us off to some cribbage and good times with Christy Yuska and Kris Egan back at Kyle's place. This was the way we spent many a good night during college, and thus a great way to rekindle some memories and recall the good things and great times in life.



Sunday morning, rain was falling to a certain degree, but mass was the defining feature of the day. Thanks to Fr. John a wonderful homily on taking life one step at a time, and this is exactly what we are trying to do. Thanks to advice from a friend of mine, we are trying to live each moment to the fullest and enjoy everything that there is to learn from it. After mass, Knights of Columbus Pancake Breakfast, yum! And a great happening upon President and Mrs. Geoffrey, whom I had not seen in a long time and it was very good to see. Every time I see them, or any other professor of mine, I come back to the thought that to be a good teacher, you have to have something to teach. One must be inspired and use that fire to motivate their students to learn and reach beyond the status quo of their existence. School should be an impetus, not a daycare, and this is part of our journey as well, to find that fire, to seek that motivation ourselves, in order that we can incoporate it into our lives, whether as students, teachers, husbands, fathers, brothers, priests, religious, would that we all had such inspiration and shared it every day with one another. How great could the world be under such circumstances as these?

At the pancake breakfast, Daniel showed his penchant for working with little kids. He decided to ensue the chase of Kris Egan's nephew Ryan, directly into a steel partition. Ryan, the tough guy, proceeded to cry, and look at both of us with a hurt expression until we parted ways, but at least we started off on the right foot as evidenced by the photos.



After breakfast we headed back to Kyle's said our last goodbye to Kris Egan, clean up, pack up, and off we headed for Nebraska. Let me be the first to tell you that everything that they say about western Iowa and eastern Nebraska is true. Farmland and not much more, which does have its own beauty, especially when you can legally traverse it at 75mph!