personal

Wayne

in ,

This is my step grandfather, Wayne. He's a 75-year-old energizer bunny who eats chocolate chip cookies every day for breakfast. He is also a cabinetry wizard who transformed Fran the Van into a tiny home in the span of a month.

There's a poetic undercurrent to this venture: Wayne had a serious stroke in Jan. of 2016. The medical staff transported him to surgery so quickly they broke a hospital record. He recovered fully. I broke my back in April of 2016 ( rough year for our family ). I had emergency spinal fusion surgery and my healing since then has been remarkable. On life's continuum, I reside near dawn and Wayne leans towards dusk. We are two differing humans who intimately understand the fragility of life.  Both of us have second chances with healthy bodies. Both of us want to honor this gift.

Saying thank you feels futile. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Fran would consist of duct tape and plywood if not for your beautiful work.

Cheers to future Franventures with new Frands!

2016: a recap

in ,

Belief isn't always easy.

But this much I have learned-

if not enough else- 

to live with my eyes open.  -Mary Oliver

 

Endlessly grateful for the gift to document life in all of its wonderful and wayward ways.  

Cheers to 2016!

Max Patch, NC

in , ,

On a summer morning

I sat down

on a hillside

to think about God-

 

a worthy pastime. 

Near me, I saw

a single cricket;

it was moving the grains of the hillside

 

this way & that way.

How great was its energy,

how humble its effort. 

Let us hope

 

it will always be like this, 

each of us going on

in our inexplicable ways

building the universe.

- Mary Oliver

#mvoyage | Austria

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I spent a day in Austria at the end of my Somersault trip last summer.  My wonderful Airbnb host Monika took myself and 15 elderly Austrians on a hike that passed by 4 glacial lakes.   I was the youngest by 30 years and the only English speaker.  There's a certain learned contentment that comes with being an outside observer.  The white lines carving the mountainsides were streams of pure glacier water termed "glacier milk"; from a distance the water appears white.