Date: Sun, 30 Nov 1997 14:02:16 -0700
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
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"