Met with Bobby and Pete At The Frothy Cup

2 strangers came into my life this week. One, a former professional boxer, ex street preacher the other also a former street preacher. Glenda of the Frothy Cup informed them who I am and what my mission is.

I first met Bobby a week or so ago when he saw a strange looking man with an even stranger looking hat sitting at a table in the Frothy Cup. But what caught his notice was my oversized Bible sitting opened at my table.

So, here comes this guy over to my table and says, " What are you studying there in your Bible?" I replied what does carrying your cross daily mean?

He said, "Wow! That's what I've been studying too! So, what does it mean for you?"

I says, " Well...the cross was an instrument of death, of capital punishment used in Christ's day for killing political radicals and rebels. And, Christ was a radical Jew back in the first century. He advocated loving the unlovable like the Roman occupiers, the bastard people of Samaria, tax farmers and collectors, prostitutes etc. Plus, talking about establishing a new Kingdom with a new King set off the Romans.

2 groups of ruling elites wanted Christ dead: Jewish religious parties and their Roman overlords. So, they conspired together to kill Christ and tried him in a kangaroo court and found him guilty and executed him along with 2 brigands.

Christ demands we carry our own cross daily...so, since it's impossible to kill me daily he must have meant the cross to be a metaphor for killing something other than our body.

To me, it means I'm to kill the false being within, my ego, my kingdom, my wants, my vain ambitions, me, me and me. And, I must do this daily since the ego crops up as soon as I wake up in the morning.

This is a lifetime project. It's called conversion or sanctification. I call it salvation. Being saved from myself.

I don't believe in "easy believeism." I don't ascribe to the idea that "accepting" Christ results in being "born again" or in salvation. How does merely assenting intellectually to a dogma "save" you? I think "salvation" starts with assent but assent has to be consummated with evidence of good works as the book of James makes clear.

Nowhere, in the Bible will you find that "accepting" Christ is tantamount to salvation.

Remember in Luke the people asked John the Baptizer what they must do to be saved. He told them,

" Whoever has 2 coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise."

John goes on to tell tax collectors they must not defraud people and to soldiers they must not extort people and to be content with their wages.

In Acts after Peter's sermon after he accused them of crucifying Christ, the people asked him well then what should we do? His reply was that they should repent and be baptized.

You don't see any talk of " accepting." Of course, at some point someone interested in salvation must "accept" the gift of Christ's blood. No doubt there. But, that person must not stop there. He must "repent" or totally turn his life around by dying to self to become alive in Christ.

When Zacchaeus informed the Lord he would give half his estate to the poor and also would pay those he defrauded 4 times the amount he stole the Lord exclaimed " Today, salvation has come to this house!

You see, it wasn't that Zacchaeus "accepted" Christ or his Lordship. He repented which to him was to share his wealth with the poor and to those he defrauded. It was this good work that became evidence of his faith. Giving away his estate didn't save him; rather it was his faith evidenced by his good works that saved him. He became "born again" in that moment. He denied himself, his desires, his little Kingdom.

If your life is absent of such works so maybe is your faith. That's the key.

For me this is lifetime process of dying daily to myself to hiding in Christ. To become dead in Christ.

As Jesus once said a seed of corn must go into the soil and die before becoming a plant. That small seed can only morph into a 10 foot tall plant by first being planted and then dying underground. If it does not get planted and die it does not become a plant. Likewise, we must die first to become alive in Christ. Christ said as much when he said if you wish to save yourself you must give up your life. If you cling to life you will lose your life. If you lose your life in him you will gain your life.

A beautiful paradox isn't it?

This does not happen overnight or once. Of course, salvation involves a moment in time or an instant where the Holy Spirit comes in and resides within your soul/heart to seal you. At that moment salvation comes. But, its also a lifetime process as the Apostle Paul said when be mentioned "working out your soul salvation."

To be frank...I'm not as concerned with the afterlife as I used to be.

I'm now more concerned with this life...in the here and now. This is my one and only chance to kill my false self to give the only thing I can give back to the Creator...my life...such as it is...with all my defects...all my wounding and brokenness... but also with all my talent, capacity for love.

I do this not to earn salvation or to impress God but rather because I want to. My desire is to God's will. My old desires are behind me. My will must be so in tune with God's that they are one in the same.

I will let you know when I have achieved all of this. Hahaha! I can tell you that I neglect carrying my cross daily. Some days I do a pretty good job of it and other days I don't even try.

Like I said, this is a lifetime journey and endeavor. For every two steps forward I go back one step. I am weak and I still want my kingdom to prevail. As Paul said once, " Oh! What wretched man I am!" I know what he means.

Getting back to my meeting with the 2 strangers. Bobby and Pete says they're with me. What does that mean?

Turns out both men used to be street preachers but now have involved themselves with working in the secular world. Pete works in some capacity for the government and Bobby works as a contractor. He is also writing a book about his years in the boxing profession.

But now, they are talking about throwing off everything and going on the road with me town to town when I leave Idaho Springs in the spring to head to the Pacific.

For some time now I wanted someone to accompany me on my mission. Maybe now it will happen. Christ sent out the 70 disciples 2 by 2. I think that's the best way to go town to town. It's better to have someone to help if you get in trouble. It just makes a lot of sense.

Anyway, just as Pete gets up to leave with Bobby, Pete hands me a $100! I can always can use money. What a meeting.

We agreed to meet again.

Life continues to toss balls at me from out in left field. It's exciting and scary... just the way I like it.

I ended up at supper Wednesday night with the Blackwells and Jerry. It was Becky's infamous meatloaf, mashed taters, salad and apple cider on the menu.

Then it was off to Wednesday evening service at First Baptist Church with Pastor Dawit who taught out of  the Book of Revelation. Afterwards, Pastor Dawit and I discussed life, the church and things. He then drove me back to the Boarding House on Riverside. He will be flying out this week to attend his doctoral classes at Duke University. But, he will be back in the pulpit in 2 weeks.

I have nothing special set up for New Years Eve or Day. Just writing.

Good day to you all and have a blessed New Years!

Pics are of the money Pete donated and the other pic is of Pete on the left and Bobby on the right.

BR Schoenbein
December 30, 2015- Wednesday

 

From The Shadows Inside The Frothy Cup

It's Monday,
In the,
Forenoon,
On,
The third day,
After,
The demise,
Of Christmas,
Day,
Here on Miner Street,
In the good,
Old,
Mining,
Town of,
Idaho Springs,
Colorado.

Where,

I sit,
Alone,
Like a,
Drone,
Hovering,
Noiselessly,
In the shadows,
Tattered,
Hatted,
As usual,
Spectacles,
Dangling on my,
Nose,
Writing,
At my,
Round,
Table,
Within,
The,
Warmth,
Of the Frothy Cup,
Coffee Shop,
On Miner Street,

Gazing,
South,
Through,
Windows,
Bordered,
Round,
About by,
Frost,
Observing,
The kinds of,
Man.

I see,
Slices,
Of tribes,
Clans,
Peoples,
Kindreds of
Mine,
And yours.

Known,
By the
anthropologist
As tourists.

Tall, thin,
Short,
Corpulent,
Rounded,
Ones,

Some,

Running,
Hobbling,
Sauntering,
Slumped,
Shouldered,

Others,

With,
Backs,
Ramrod,
Straight,
Walking with purpose,

A few,

Limping,
Supported by,
Canes,
Others,
Negotiating,
The old,
Sidewalks,
Corners and,
Curves in,
Motorized,
Carts.

Some,

Bespectacled,
With,
Cigarette,
Lit,
Long,
Ash,
Hanging,
Precariously.

Others,

Wearing,
Turquoise gloves,
North Face coats,
Burdened with
Bulging, backpacks,

Non-coated
Ones too,
With pale skin,
In colored T-shirts,

White people,
With green eyes,
And yellow
People,
With topaz eyes,
Black people,

Too.

Lovely
brown people,
Arm in arm,
Sometimes,
Three abreast,
Crowding,
The narrow,
Bricked,
sidewalks.

Life,
Is all about,
With,
Lighted candles,
And,
Christmas lights,
Burning still.

Dignified old men,
Sitting on benches,
Smoking pipes,
Watching happy,
Children playing,
In the snow,

And,

Scruffy,
Unshaven,
Torn coats,
Carrying old bags,
Men,
With no,
Homes,
No families,
No love,
The shoppers,
Skirting around,
Quickly averting,
Their glances,
Embarrassed,
Fearful,
Disgusted,
At dirty,
Men warming up,
Inside,
Doorways,
And back alleys,
Feral,
Human beings,
Really,
Not sure,
Where to go,
Where they will sleep,
Tonight,
After the fine people,
Have gone home,
To be warmed,
By the fire,
Stoked on the hearth.

With,

Cute,
Blondies,
Struggling,
Laden with,
Silvery white
Shopping bags,

Over there,
Corner of 17th,
And,
Miner,
An elderly,
Woman,
With,
Homemade,
Red hair,
Waddles,
Down,
The sidewalk,
The smell,
Of lavender,
Must,
Trail her,
Out,
Of the,
Soap Shop,
Just,
Down the street,
From my view,
At the Frothy Cup

Families,
With the old,
The young,
Babies in strollers,
Some walking their doggies,
But,
None with cats!

Single people,
On dates,
Laughing,
Zigging,
Zogging,
And,
Zagging,

Down,

The sidewalk,
After drinking,
Bigfoot Ale,
At Tommyknockers,
Just down,
From my post,
On,
Miner Street.

Some,
Smiling large,
Lost in thought,

Some escaping,
From their troubles,
But finding,
Alas,
They cannot,
Escape from,
Themselves.

Trudging slowly,
Zombie-like,
Gazing
Thoughtlessly,
At,
Shop windows,

The cold air
Electrified,
Sharp,
Cuts through,
All,
Meandering,
Down Miner Street.

The crystalized sky,
With Sun Dogs,
Barking high,
Aloft,
Over,
Mt Evans,
Covered over,
With velvety,
Snow,

With,

The sun
Trying mightly,
To arrive,
Peeking out,
Sheepishly,
To see the rush,
Of people out today,
On Miner Street,

I remain,
Unnoticed,
By,
These,
Automatons,
Going to and fro,
As I watch,
From the lingering,
Shadows,
Inside the,
Frothy,
Cup,
The soul of,
Idaho Springs,
Colorado,
The gem of the Rockies.

BR Schoenbein
December 28, 2015-Monday

Arrived back home to Idaho Springs this morning after spending Christmas and ensuing days at the Watsons home on the Plains of Denver.

I cooked up a huge pot of chicken soup with generous amounts of taters, celery, onion both pearl and red. Boiled a large 4 pound organic, barn raised hen to use as a base. The succulent white meat just fell off the bone and into the soup.

The Watsons thought it so tasty they want me to cook up more at the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop for their hungry lunch crowd. With uncharacteristic humility I accepted this remunerative assignment.

Another income stream for me. Thanks Randy and Glenda.

Stayed most of the day at the Frothy writing. Checked out some DVDs from the library including one of my faves, Dr Strangelove. 

Streets and shops very busy today the Monday after Christmas. Tourists are off work until New Years, I guess. Good for the coffee business. Lots of hot chocolate sold today.

Ran into "Bobby" again at the Frothy Cup. He and I met a couple of weeks ago here at the shop. He saw my Bible on the table and started up a conversation. He's a former professional boxer. And, he's a firm Christian believer. He wants to get together here on Wednesday. Agreed to do so.

Staying at the Boarding House on Riverside this week. Really going to hit the book writing this week. Also, going to do some planning for my hike west hopefully to Seattle starting in May.

Originally wanted to walk to San Francisco but I would have to walk through the Mojave in the summer time so I'm thinking a far northerly route through Montana and Idaho. More doable. Don't you think?

Thinking about taking a train or a bus from Seattle back to Illinois. Then after a few weeks there catching up with family and friends it's back on the road to Cincinnati to visit my lovely sister, Marty Zimmerman and her husband, Marten.

Then Lord willing on to the Atlantic coast. Then I will have walked across the great expanse of America.

 

Christmas Dinner at Dr. William Watsons

Cody and I were invited for Christmas dinner at Randy Watson's brother's home in Lakewood. Bill's home is a skip and a hop from my old home in Lakewood on 23rd and Iris.

Bill lives with his wife of 21 years, Carolyn along with their three children, Beth, Anna and David. Carolyn and Bill met in London while Bill was studying at Oxford in Cambridge. Carolyn is from New Zealand.

The Watsons also house various people from off the street who are experiencing life difficulties and need a safe environment. The Watsons are the epitome of Christ's love for the downtrodden and marginalized. It seems to me that too often believers steeped in orthodox theology are not as concerned with "praxis" or living out their faith. Sometimes they seemed obsessed with dogma and not living as Christ lived. This is not the case with the Watsons.

Carolyn is involved in her own ministry called "Mean Street" in downtown Denver. The specifics of this ministry are not known by me.

In any case, regarding the dinner: both turkey and lamb were served along with mashed potatoes, peas, stuffing along with a plenteous supply of pastries and pies. Both red and white wine were made available along with sparkling apple/grape juice cider.

Eating commenced immediately after I sanctioned same by giving the blessing.

A little background on Bill needs to be given. He is a Fulbright Scholar who studied in Moldavia in Russia where, incidentally, I still have relatives residing. He has his Masters of Divinity and his PhD in 17th and 18th Century religious history. He also studied history at Oxford in Cambridge.

Later he served as a linguist with US military intelligence. He has studied abroad in over 32 countries and is fluent in many languages. He and I spoke in Russian which I learned in College.

Bill is currently a professor of religious history at Colorado Christian University located just a few blocks from his home.

Theology and the current state of Christianity was the hot topic discussed around the dinner table. Bill purposely purchased an inexpensive and unshowy home in a lower middle class neighborhood even as his compensation from his professorship and book sales have risen dramatically over the ensuing years. He believes that consumerism and ostentatious living is out of sync for Christians.

Cody, Randy, Glenda and I were the last to leave. On my way out, Bill autographed his old Thompson Chain Reference Bible he purchased in 1972 and gave it to me as a gift. Needless to say I was flabbergasted with his generosity. I have made another lifetime friend and brother.

After goodbyes and hugs we traveled back to Randy and Glenda's home in Lone Tree on snow and ice packed roads. Incidentally, Randy and Glenda presented me with a Christmas gift of a very warm and thick flannel shirt. They are the best of friends for sure.

Today, the day after Christmas we are headed up to Idaho Springs to the coffee shop. We expect it to be a busy day.

The first photo depicted shows Bill signing the Thompson Bible he gave me as a gift. The last photo shows the snow that fell while we enjoyed ourselves at the Watsons.

This year has been an exciting year of making new friends learning new skills and learning to lean on the wisdom of Christ. And, Christmas Day was the cap to a great year.

Merry Christmas and have a Happy New Year!

BR Schoenbein
December 26, 2015- Saturday
.

Christmas Day 2015

Merry Christmas or should I be politically correct and say Merry Federal Holiday? Hahaha!

Expecting snow up here in the mountains today. Listening to Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas."

Spending Christmas Day with the Watsons at their home including Glenda, Randy their son Christopher and special guest Cody Yates. It was good seeing Cody again. He was a big help to me when he resided at the infamous Lucas House with me and Bonnie Coffey.

We just finished opening gifts under the tree at the Watsons. Had quiche for breakfast. Everyone is in various pajama wear.

Christmas always brings forth longings for my 3 children and 3 former step children and others who always have an invisible but palatable presence in my daily life.

Looking forward to the potluck at the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop. Afterwards, we are headed to Randy's brother's home in Lakewood for dinner. Randy's brother us a Fulbright Scholar with a PhD in Religious Studies. Sounds like a great conversation waiting for me!

May all your Christmases be white. And, I wish you the best for next year. .

BR Schoenbein
December 25, 2015- Friday

The Hammer Comes Down

It was a typically bright shiny morning at the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop when I moseyed in to start my day off with a cup of Costa Rican light roast.

Tony and Jonas the 2 regulars from the street were in their usual spots near the door. Jonas's brooding eyes followed me round the room as I poured myself a coffee and continued till I plopped down at my usual table.

Kenny the gold digger and antiquer came over to discuss the awkward situation. Awkward, because I had informed the boys of Glenda's and Randy's decision to ban Tony and to have Jonas get a free coffee then he had to move on. His days of camping in the shop were over.

So, Kenny calls the law and 2 officers arrive shortly and escort them outside for a private conversation. The boys complied and left. All was well.

Later that night I ran into Tony at the Safeway and needless to say...although ironically I am saying it...Tony rebuffed my greeting. When I ran into Jonas the following day I got the same treatment.

I don't blame them really. Supposedly, I champion the marginalized, the homeless and all. And, here I'm seen as the Frothy's enforcer.

But, again, the Frothy can't look like a homeless  shelter either. And, you could see it in people's eyes that they were scared of the 2.

I cringe at the thought of separating people based on how they look or smell so I don't feel proud at all of what I've done.  But, there it is.

I hope after some time elapses the guys will forgive me. But, I'll have to forgive myself too.

BR Schoenbein
December 23, 2015- Wednesday

December 22, 2015- Stranger Off The Street

" Hey, buddy, can you give me a hand?" Says an anxious, somewhat disheveled stranger who just came off the street and shuffled into the Frothy Cup. There I was sitting at my usual table working on my blog, minding my own business when he came in.

"I need someone to go down with me to Golden to pick up my car. I'd give you $20." I replied that I would like to but have to be somewhere by 2pm and it's already11:30 now.

"Ah, it'll take only an hour. Half hour there and an half hour back. Tops! I just bought a new car and drove it up here and left my old car at the dealership. I can't drive 2 cars at the same time so I need you to drive one of the cars."

"Alright, but then let's get moving." I finally relented against my better judgment. On the ride down the hill to Golden Tim told me the whole story about buying this new 4 wheel drive BMW at some dinky little used car dealership operated by "Eddy."

In a not too bright moment, Tim, purchased a Car Fax report, AFTER he bought the vehicle, only to find out his used car he just bought this morning was totaled in a wreck 2 years ago. And, to his consternation, Eddy failed to disclose same.

So, as we arrived at Eddy's car lot Tim jumped out of the car but before he did he reassured me this wouldn't take any time. He was going to confront Eddy and give the car back.

Well, over an hour later I see Tim walking sheepishly towards me as I was waiting in the car, his head bent over, shoulders shrugging. He gets into the car and tells me the "bastard" won't take the car back. Eddy showed Tim the title which did not have the characteristic " S" stamped on the face which would indicate that the title was a salvage title.

Now pissed off, Tim asked to see my drivers licence and attempted to keep it until we arrived back at his home up in York Gulch. I told him I didn't think so and snatched my license out of his hand.

I took off with Tim following me. My phone began ringing. It was the lady I was supposed to meet to get her some groceries from the store. Told her I was running late. She replied that she had an appointment so I wouldn't have her car to get to the store. Told her no worries I would walk.

I hung up. I was seething about Tim's lack of concern for keeping my appointment. He exhibits a lack of empathy I'm sure is a characteristic endemic to Tim's personality.

We finally arrived at his home about a mile up York Gulch Rd a couple of miles away from my campsite. His driveway is at least a 30% grade and about a thousand feet long.

We then hop in his car and he takes me home back to Idaho Springs whereupon he tells me he doesn't have a $20 bill just $100 bills. I said no matter I'll just take a hundred. He tells me we will go to Safeway and get change.

So, here it is 4 hours later he finally breaks one of his big bills hands me the $20, tells me not spend it all in one place and off he goes.

These are the kind of small jobs or chores I do for people sometimes for remuneration sometimes not. I usually enjoys these little experiences but not this one. For one, I failed to keep my promise to this lady. And, dealing with Tim and his lack of ethics was the worst of it.

But, in fairness to Tim I must admit that my ego got in the way too which explains my quick anger. How dare he waste my time and pay me such a pittance for 4 hours out of my day?

This is the work I must do daily: keeping my ego in restraint. Denying myself. I learned from this experience how much work I have yet to do. Yet, at the same time I know this is everybody's struggle and that for every step I take forward I may go back two steps. And, that's okay too.

This life is about learning and testing. I'm just a pupil. That's the biggest role I play in life. So, just lay back and enjoy the ride, I tell myself.

BR Schoenbein
December 22, 2015- Tuesday

Jesus Says

Jesus says
One day
His
Dad will right the wrongs
Someday...

The haves will be have nots
And the have nots will have

But!

Woe to you rich
Someday life's gonna be a bitch
Blessed are you poor
Imagine what's in store.

Woe to you full
One day you'll be hungry
Blessed are you starving
Your sins white as wool

Jesus weeps
Evil creeps
Jesus sleeps

No pillow for his willow head
The Son of Man
His blood will flood and shed

His Kingdom
His to give
For you a true plumb

Jesus weeps
For his kids
His heart leaps

BR Schoenbein
2015

More Bob Dylan

Sunday Morning At Church

My gravity's down
my old Sunday's mom goin to
Town

Brought my old paratrooper bag
Slung over my plaid shoulder
The Sunday morning kids play tag

My mouths a beamin,
My coffee
From The Frothy
Steaming hot and drippin
The old bald man in the pew is
Trippin

My patchy bible flippin
Open, Luke says
Angel people shoutin
To shepherds
God is comin
Back to be one of us.

Doing some Bob Dylan verse

Trafficking in metaphor
Closed the door
Being with Myrtle no more

My skin's ashamed
The banks being blamed
Government says too big to jail
Trust in the law sets sail

Corporations skimming off the top
The American dream turns to slop
Patti's mortgage burned up in flame
Banksters to blame.

December 18, 2015- Spoke At Thursday Night Contemplative Fellowship Service At St Luke's Methodist Church Highlands Ranch, CO

After 20 minutes of meditation and prayer I spoke before the contemplative fellowship group at their regular Thursday evening service at St Luke's Methodist Church in Highlands Ranch, CO near Denver

My remarks centered around why I left IL to go on the road and also related some stories of events that happened while hiking to Colorado. Explained that I wanted to devote myself to God's Kingdom during whatever time I have left in this life. Going from town to town on my way west to the Pacific. Then Lord willing east to the Atlantic.

I was well received and answered questions as well. We watched a video with Fr Richard Rohr talking about the spiritual life. All if it was interesting. Picked up a lot of good vibes in church yesterday.

I really enjoyed the meditation time. We were all extremely quiet. In fact, no one even shifted or moved about in their chairs. Most uttered a mantra of some kind noiselessly while I simply prayed. This 20 minutes allowed me to just BE. It centered my spirit and forced me to focus on Christ. It was not easy to be sure. My mind wandered quite a bit showing my lack of self discipline. I intend to practice meditation from here on out.

I would very much like to attend this Thursday group if it weren't for the fact I attend Clear Creek Neighborhood Church on Thursday nights.

It was good spreading the good news last night!

Thanks goes to Glenda Watson who has been attending this group for 7 years and used to facilitate it as well.

Randy took me down the hill to the Watsons home in Lone Tree, CO Wednesday night after he closed the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop.

They grilled ribeye steaks and baked Yukon potatoes for supper. Finished off with Bourbon Pecan Pie. We drank a 10 year old French Burgundy Wine. Great food and fellowship. Christopher, their 20 something son,  dined with us as well adding great dimension to our experience.

I stayed overnight Wednesday night and Thursday night. Glenda, Randy and I are going back up to Idaho Springs this afternoon.

Being around upbeat spiritual people like the Watsons buoys my spirits like nothing else!

Cheers to y'all!!

BR Schoenbein
December,

Beginnings

It was somewhere outside Oklahoma City on the edge of an endless prairie of buffalo grass driving down a black ribbon of asphalt when I woke out of my day dreaming and refocused my eyes back on the road and realized I was driving northeast...towards nowhere. 

This was Oklahoma dust bowl country so it was natural that "the answer was blowin in the wind" as Bob Dylan once sang. Then an old Woody Guthrie song blew in through my open window, " I ain't got no home. I'm just a roamin round, just a wanderin worker going town to town...

These lyrics played in the back of my mind as I robotedly continued driving back towards Illinois, back home, back to where things began. I had just completed a 6 month work gig out in Amarillo, Texas. A devastating hail storm slammed the Texas Panhandle in May of 2013.

A large, well respected national construction company out of Indianapolis hired me on as an insurance claims consultant and to handle their operation in Amarillo. 

After this storm operation was completed in December of 2013 I was offered a tantalizing executive position with the same company in their Indianapolis headquarters.

My career as an insurance adjuster began in 1983 as a worker's compensation examiner. Then, after law school I was hired by State Farm Insurance in 1986 to adjust homeowner and commercial claims.

I was sent all over the country to work on natural disaster operations mainly hurricanes and tornados.

Now, driving on cruise control I was not in the mood to face my issues while dealing with family and so I was in no particular hurry to get back to Illinois. 

In fact, I had no home to go back to. In my first divorce I lost my house and it left me in financial ruin just at a time when I had started up my own independent adjusting company. 

I had lived a scrappy life on the fly in my own private little existence in and out of run down hotels, cheap motels and apartments in whatever town I could find insurance work which even with all this talk about El Nino and global warming, true catastrophes were few and far between. And, money was scarce.

Two of my adult children and my mother lived back home which for me is Morton, Illinois a smallish bedroom community mainly inhabited by Caterpillar employees. Cat's world headquarters is only 9 miles away in Peoria.

Now I was heading back just in time to celebrate Christmas at my old childhood home a comfortable brown bungalow built circa 1908 located at the corner of First and Madison which my parents, Bruce Sr and Lydia purchased in 1958.

I had nothing but time and miles of interstate on my hands as I continued driving across this dull brownish wavy sea of grassy plains. Over and over I reviewed the events of my past life and tried to figure out how I got to this particular point.

Even though the job was offered to me I was told as a formality I would have to sit for an interview. So, a job wasn't waiting for me just yet. I had no wife anymore. I was divorced for the second time 3 years before. My children were grown, gone and had their own lives to live.

So, it would be just me and my 74 year old mother. Mom and I get along fine enough but we were never close. She never quite warmed up to me. But, then again, she did have her hands full in the 1960s and 70s raising 5 children alone with no husband to help out. Dad had died young in an automobile accident in 1967 when I was only 7. 

Mom lives alone in unadorned spic and span home. She is simple, straightforward and buys only what she really needs and nothing more. As a child of the Great Depression she wastes nothing including words and emotion.

She was a skinny, little 3 year old when she and her starving family fled the Ukraine in 1943 as war refugees from the catastrophe of the Battle of Stalingrad a 5 month battle in which both the Germans and Russians suffered in excess of 2 million casualties. 

Two years later after fleeing the Soviet Union and settling in the area of Nuremberg, Germany, Mom and her family endured yet more terror as the Nazi regime collapsed all around them. Huge armies of Cossacks, their mouths frothing blood wreaked revenge as they burst through the iron gates of Berlin. 

Fortunately, my family survived the war and in 1952 at the age of 12 mom immigrated to America.

She was raised with very little creature comforts and in the way of worldly wealth, but with lots of love, albeit tough love and discipline. Grandpa and Grandma saved most of their money and invested in local real estate. So, there wasn't money for eating out or new clothes.

Getting back to my story, I finally arrived in Morton on Christmas Eve 2013 and after some initial fanfare and hugs Mom and I settled down into our usual ways when I would come to visit. 

She, watching the Food Channel while crocheting and me sitting across from her in the den watching TV while reading a book. That's the way it was and that's the way we were. She in her world and me in mine and the twain shall never meet as they say. In a way I always felt comforted by mom's home life routine. 

But, I always felt like an incompetent little boy in her presence even though I had accomplished quite a bit: college grad, attended law school, interned for Governor Thompson, worked for the US Department of Justice for Scott Turow, Tazewell County Board Member, career with a Fortune 500 company, raised 3 children and all the rest. Strange how childhood slights and events work on your pysche.

Soon after my arrival and after the Christmas festivities ended Mom took her leave and flew to Long Beach CA to stay with my sister's family for the rest of winter. This was an annual affair and worked out well for all.

I was now able to have the whole house to myself and Mom could bask in the sunny warmth of Southern California and my sister's unbelievable cooking and hospitality. And, I could finally get some badly needed reading and planning done. 

This would also be a time of reconnecting with 2 of my best childhood friends, Scott Witzig and Mike Kaiser. We all went way back, to the horse and buggy days in Morton, Illinois an out of the way village mostly spared the chaotic upheavals of the 1960s and 1970s. In so many magical ways life in Morton was idyllic.

Mom and I said our goodbyes at the house, and my sister in law took her to the airport. I stayed home and just relaxed. I had 4 months to think, to hike, to sort things out and to have some fun with the boys.

It was about 2 weeks into my vacation from reality when out of nowhere my mood turned troubled, dark and pensive. Where was I headed? When would my life become stable and predictable, if ever? Would I find another wife? I was full bore into an existential crisis.

At a particular point during this "dark night of the soul" while sitting on the couch in the den, bored, depressed and rudderless I picked up Mom's Bible on the coffee table and prayed that God would move my hands as they gripped the Good Book. I was hoping that God's wisdom would intersect with a plan for whatever life and time I had left.

Anticipating some celestial comfort maybe somewhere in Psalms I unexpectedly wound up in the Book of Luke.

Instead of comfort I encountered moral conviction. I read about 12 fishermen and their sacrifice for their friend, following this itinerant rabbi walking town to town around the rocky hills of Judea in Roman occupied Palestine. 

This was certainly not the message from God I was looking for and so I closed the book. Not liking the results, I tried a second time. And, again I opened up to Luke. Bible roulette you got to love it!

I ended up reading the entire book and came quickly to the conclusion that my life didn't even remotely look like the lives these disciples led. The sacrifice I read about seemingly for the first time never entered into my thinking. When I read these passages in the past I always exempted myself from the rigors of such a life by rationalizing that these disciples were extraordinary men chosen by Christ for a specific purpose for a specific time in history.

Me? Well, I was just working for a living and doing the best I could with whatever talents, brains and skills I was given to function in this post modern western culture.

But, now I read that Jesus turned to the crowds following him and told them to sell their possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. God and Mammon. You cannot serve God and wealth at the same time. You cannot serve God and yourself at the same time. Wow!

That's what's wrong. All of my priorities were screwed up. Upside down. My only purpose seemed to be building my own kingdom, humble as it was. God's Kingdom is for the clergy to worry about. They get paid for that stuff.

I was totally transformed in that moment of enlightenment and resolved right then and there to plot a new course. What direction I did not yet know. I just knew it couldn't be business as usual anymore.

The following day I hiked the River Trail into East Peoria 5 miles there and 5 back. I needed the time and the fresh air to sort things out. It was there that I walked into an antique store on Pleasant Hill on my way back to Mom's when I saw a set of books for sale laying on top of a coffee table. Turns out it was 2 volumes of Peter Jenkins's books about walking across America in the mid 70s. I tore into these books when I got home. Wow, what an inspiration for me. That's when I knew I had to hit the road!

Just a week or so prior to this epiphany I took the train up to Red Wing MN to visit my former wife and step daughter for a few days. My step daughter and I loved our short 4 days together but, my former wife and I resumed our decade old fight over the same issues that split us up in the first place. It was not a pleasant time for me.

For the last time I tried convincing her that we should work on reconciliation and restoration. Neither one of us had had a legitimate reason for divorce. At the time it was just the easiest course of action.

But, on the last day of my visit she slammed that door shut on working things out. I realized then I would never be able to resuscitate my marriage. And, it appeared that even God himself wasn't willing to intervene.

She dropped me off at the train depot and we said goodbye and I watched her and my hopes for restoration drive away. The return trip home was incredibly sad and lonely. I wrongly figured I had no future anymore. A great door had closed. Another chapter ended.

If that wasn't enough, that promised job for the contruction company fell through. The bad news came during my layover at Chicago's Union Station as I was waiting for a southbound train. Another door now slammed shut.

While hiking back in Morton on the trail I quietly whispered aloud, "God, what purpose do you have for me now?"  I thought working on my failed second marriage was a God honoring task and obtaining a great 6 figure job finally living a stable lifestyle was just what the doctor ordered!

Apparently, God had other plans for this broken down old man.

That's when I fully and finally decided to do what the disciples did: walk cross country proclaiming the Kingdom of God town to town. My new job was to be a vagabond, a nomad, preaching, living a subsistence, minimal lifestyle on the rough margins of life. A Christian radical! No stability, no promise of permanence all rolled up into one big adventure.

So, when Mom returned from California I packed up my backpack and hit the road walking down old Rt 24 and set my face westward. Go west young man was what I kept hearing in my head as I started on April 29, 2013.

It's been over a year and half since I've been on the road and I have yet to regret my life changing decision. Now, it's December 2015 and once again I'm looking westward to start the next leg of my missionary journey to America. Once May comes around it's goodbye to all the wonderful friends, brothers and sisters in Christ I have met in Idaho Springs, Colorado my newfound hometown.

Spring like they say is the time for pilgrimages. As a pilgrim I'm looking for something, what I know not. I don't need to know. All I know is I'm home wherever I'm at the moment and I'm headed on this winding and crooked road to nowhere towards my home in the future.

The last pic is Mom.

BR Schoenbein
December 16, 2015- Wednesday

December 16, 2015- Bruce Bell Gets Discharged From Hospital Today

Bruce Bell of Bell Mountain is being discharged from the hospital today according to his son Steve. He suffered a mild heart attack with blockage in one coronary artery.

He appreciates all of your prayers.

BR Schoenbein
December 16, 2015- Wednesday

Seek Reality

I pursue reality where she lives,
And bid farewell to lesser gods afar.

My feet are firmly planted on the craggy mountains of York Gulch and the well worn sidewalks of Idaho Springs.

What of Europe or the Orient?

I have the magpies, the chickadees, the owl and the joyful singing of Clear Creek as it races past old abandoned gold mines.

I have no need of New York, Chicago or Paris.

I have the village.

BR Schoenbein
December 15, 2015- Tuesday

December 15, 2015-First Big Snow

Idaho Springs received 7" of snow overnight with on and off flurries during the day. It's a bone chillin 2 degrees outside.

My trip to Golden was cancelled due to the storm. But it's back on for tomorrow.

Tomorrow late afternoon I will be heading down the hill to Lone Tree with the Watsons to stay overnight and then to attend their Thursday night contemplative meeting where I will be speaking.

The furnace is acting up at the Lucas House with the blower coming on then stopping with very little heat. It's 42 degrees in the house. So, I texted Joe Eaton to see if he can take a gander at it tomorrow. He's working today.

Advised Donna of Glenda's decision to ban Tony from the Frothy Cup. She was overjoyed. Will wait until the Watsons come up tomorrow to help them enforce the ban.

Feel sorry for Tony. Just doesn't seem to know any better. He's schizophrenic or insane. May get downright messy when Kenny and I advise Tony of the bad news.

My former wife surprisingly dropped in the Frothy Cup last night while we were closed. I was hanging up Christmas decorations in the shop with the Watsons.

My former wife lives in Minnesota. She told me she was in Denver for a couple of days visiting. And, since I didn't respond to her texts or return her calls she decided to search for me.

She wants to have a friendship wherein we would get together a few times a year to go hiking or whatever. I told her that while I consider ourselves friends I do not want a relationship with her and that she represents my past. I'm concerned only with the present putting the things of the past where they belong...in the past.

She nodded agreement then we shook hands and she waved as she walked out into the iron dark night knowing she and I will probably never meet again. It was sad for the both of us. I went home and right to bed at the early hour of 7:30pm, bone tired from the emotion of it all.

BR Schoenbein
December 15, 2015- Tuesday

December 14, 2015- Trouble In Paradise

Glenda, the owner of the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop, and a great friend I might add...walked over to my table at the coffee shop yesterday and told me of a conundrum she is trying to deal with. Told her I'm an expert at such things, well..at least in getting entangled in them...not so much at getting out of them.

She's sat down in the chair across from me her big round eyes looking droopy, tired, crying out for help. Her thick blondish hair swirled around the nape of her neck.

I said, " What's wrong?" "It's Tony and Jonas." She replied.

"They're sitting right next to the door with all of their heavy backpacks, sleeping bags, etc laying on the floor. Jonas has his shoes and socks off, the sickenly sweet smell of his blackened feet wafting all over the shop." Glenda whispers.

She talked about how customers, especially elderly people coming in go right back out the door when they see Jonas disheveled and decked out in his 3 sizes too large olive drab duster with 3 other heavy waistcoats underneath making him look like a human sized green pepper right out of Veggie Tales.

He shuffles heavily on the wood plank floor with his huge combat boots ( when he has his boots on)on his way up front to get his 5th or 6th Cup of free coffee which he then loads up with a quart of expensive organic half and half.

He has this way of glaring at you that no matter where you're at in the shop, his eyes...brooding, squinting...without turning his head...follow you around the room like the Mona Lisa.

Don't get me wrong, I like Jonas. I help him out when I can. He's as harmless as a dove, but, he does unintentionally scare people out of the shop.

Donna told me that Tony the homeless guy who I have befriended the past year follows her to the back of the shop and just stares at her. Tony will tell her and anyone listening that his many businesses do billions of dollars in business all over the world. Then he talks about the "hairy people" who live out in the woods of Spring Gulch and York Gulch. One day they grabbed him while he was hiking in Spring Gulch with a friend. They threw Tony up in a pine tree while they killed and ate his friend.

Tony will mutter insensible sentences under his breath and carry on conversations with invisible people while working one of the several puzzles laying out on the tables.

In short, he may be insane and possibly psychotic.

This behavior has the tendency to make the establishment look more like a homeless shelter than a coffee shop.

Donna is getting depressed and is now looking for another job. And, I'm getting depressed thinking of the Frothy Cup without the graceful presence of Donna. Something must be done.

So, Glenda and I are going to sit down today with the 2 vagabonds in question and have a "come to Jesus" meeting. Know what I mean?

Ah, the drama that goes on here in my office at the Frothy Cup! This would never happen at Eli's Coffee Shop back home. That I'm pretty sure of.

But, Glenda always errs on the side of Christian mercy and love which has from the beginning drawn me to her. So, my suggestion that she kick them out isn't going to happen.  Better that way than the way I used to be. Shoot first and take down names.

BR Schoenbein
December 14, 2015- Monday

December 12, 2015- Found My Camp Tore Up

Took a frantic call from Joe yesterday telling me my camp had been tore up. He didn't stick around to see if it was wind, people or vermin. He had gone up there to cut firewood and found my tipi on the ground and equipment and gear scattered about.

So, Joe picked me up in his jeep yesterday late afternoon and dropped me off at my camp and I began the laborious and lamentable task of putting my tipi back up which wasn't easy because the poles and the tripod they were attached to were all discombobulated with the tarp skin have on half off.

I had to take it all apart and start from scratch cussing like a drunken sailor the whole time I was working on it. It's doubly difficult because I'm trying to set it up on uneven ground. I swear there's not an inch of flat ground within 6 miles of my camp.

Gathered up miscellaneously scattered stuff like my camp coffee pot and fry pans and such.  Holes were ripped in my beautiful pink quilt. Believe those 4 dogs that wanted to feed on me the other day are the culprits behind this cowardly terrorist act.

They surrounded me last week while I was gathering logs for the cabin walls. Their gang consisted of a rottweiler, a pit bull, a rottweiler mix and a dalmation.

While I was dragging logs they suddenly appeared out of a piney grove and began to advance upon me entering the clearing in the glade where my half constructed cabin sits, them snarling with their lips curled, eyes blazing red and barking while simultaneously growling. I was struck with the horrible thought that they must have the hydrophoby.

I immediately dropped what I was doing and began to mount a vigorous defense using the 2 walls of the cabin as a fort. But, the rott mix and the dalmation started flanking me on the right and the left respectively with the pit bull and rott mix sneaking up from behind stealthily like.

After about an hour or so of their devious maneuvering and war like behavior I had had enough and summoned the Cavalry. 

The Sheriff's dispatcher said he could hear the dogs in the background and told me not to hang up. Advised him that I needed both my hands to swing my axe at them. He said for me to rest the phone on a log or something but not to hang up.

He also advised that I was on my own for at least a half hour as the Deputy was on the other side of the County. "Damn, you guys are never close around when I need ya!" I says as I gripped the axe in my right hand ready to take a swipe at the alpha male rottweiler who was steadily closing in while holding the phone up to my ear with my left.

The beasts started growling more menacingly and kept creeping closer and closer.  As I was talking to the dispatcher these nasty brutes behaved ever more aggressive... as if they knew I was conspiring against them by calling in the big guns of Clear Creek County.

Told my new found buddy, the dispatcher, that I now knew how claustrophobic Custer and his men must have felt with the Sioux closing in on all sides. "Yeah." he says.

Some 40 minutes later he advised that the Deputy had finally arrived and had pulled over on York Gulch Rd maybe 300 yards west of my position. Apparently, the Deputy could hear all the fuss the dogs were making and was trying to find me. Told him I would shout for him.

Finally, the Deputy came scrambling up the canyon wall out of the deep dark trees to my right and entering the clearing he was huffing and puffing, his breathing clearly tortuous, his face ruddy, him bent over trying to recover from his arduous scramble.

This large, fleshy Deputy found me defending my fort as if it were the Alamo.

He hobbled over clumsily to me to ascertain whether I had been injured in the ensuing melee. Once he discovered I was okay he says "Okay let's charge em." I said, Charge em? Just shoot the damned things! " That won't be necessary." The Deputy says. " Oh, really? I responded.

"Well then give me a gun just in case your brilliant idea of charging them doesn't exactly pan out." I says. He chuckled and said, "Yeah, right, your a funny man I can see that."  All the while he was smiling at me like I was some toddler wanting to play cops and robbers. "I can handle a gun." I says. "County policy, sir, sorry."

On the count of 3 we charged the brutes with both of us yelling, hooping and hollering with me screaming the old rebel yell trying to mimic Pickett's charge at Gettysburg.

The dogs...seeing this horrific onslaught of human power and manhood coming at em turned tail and scattered each to the four winds. Well, I gotta hand it to the Deputy. He was right. The charge worked.

The Deputy and I must have run 75 yards or more through the brush and trees before I realized that we had somehow separated in all the confusion and now I was all alone.

I stopped to regain my bearings and stood still but turned my head in all directions to see if I could see or hear the Deputy or the dogs. An eery quietness suddenly fell over the forest.

Oops! I says. Now what? Where's the Deputy? More importantly, where's those damned doggie demons?

I decided to find my way back to camp where I found the Deputy pacing back and forth talking on his radio.

" You better come down with me. I can't guarantee your safety until we find the dogs' owners and have a little conversation with em." Told the Deputy that safety cannot be guaranteed anyway and that I needed to get back to work. After our heroic display of bravado I told the Deputy those canine troglodytes probably had had enough. The Deputy told me I was going back to Joe's house or Idaho Springs. One or the other. And that was that! "OK", I says, now realizing he was probably right. And, anyway, I was bone tired. So, we started down the Canyon to his prowler parked down on the side of York Gulch Rd engine still running.

Afterwards, the Deputy was going to do some checking around to find the owners so he can ticket them as they were in violation of the County leash law. The Deputy drove off and I hiked back to Joe's house.

I couldn't get the camp cleaned up yesterday and the tipi back up before dark so I'll just have to wait until next week. But, because of the constant hassles trying to get a winter cabin built I'm seriously considering scrapping the whole damned project. This has become so much more time consuming and dangerous than I had anticipated. What's more, it's taking  precious time away from writing my book.

I'm going to make a decision next week. But, I'm leaning towards forgetting the whole thing.

After drowning my sorrows in several cups of newly roasted Costa Rican coffee at the Frothy Cup, Glenda, came over and asked me what was wrong. After I told her the whole story about the dogs and all the resistance I was experiencing trying to get this damned cabin up she asked me what the Universe was trying to tell me. Well, isn't that always the question? Since when do I listen to the Universe? Or anyone else for that matter?

BR Schoenbein
December 12, 2015- Saturday

 

December 10, 2015- Cold Nights Up On York Gulch

Camping up in York Gulch has been an uncomfortable revelation. The nights are cold, iron-black and seemingly endless. I tried hiking during the night in an attempt to confront and war with my fear of being alone in the middle of an inhospitable winter forest. I say I tried because after about 15 minutes I felt an overpowering need to escape to the illusion of safety inside my tipi.

That sometimes bright white orb that hangs from the black Coloradoan skies was nowhere to be found that night. She was cowering somewhere on the other side, a loner who only shows herself when you don't need her.

I brought along a flashlight but used it sparingly, to avoid draining it, to make it as difficult as possible to navigate the interior of the bush. There was no fear of falling off a cliff as I knew well the topography of the land between York Gulch Rd and Ditch Rd. The only caveat was an old abandoned gold mine but even that is covered in a huge mound of mine tailings, so falling in was next to impossible.

I encountered no wildlife other than hearing a barred owl which seems to have moved in 50 or so yards northwest of my campsite.

Normally, as the sun disappears just over the Divide to my west the howling and yipping of the wolf hybrids who are being raised by a family a mile away to the southwest sends a shudder up my spine. These are not coyotes but wolf hybrids. Out in the wild you learn the difference made by both species when listening to their respective howling. But, this dead night they were not to be heard.

I began my careful descent down the rocky and steep hill down to York Gulch Rd and found my campsite welcoming me back with the smoldering firebrands of my original supper cook fire. I immediately placed more firewood on the dying embers and stoked it up real hot. It wasn't heat I particularly wanted it was light that I desired, light to ward off anything or anybody who could have been following me in that ghostly stillness.

It's the quietness that most unnerved me about camping and hiking in the woodsy nights up on York Gulch. The interstate is too far away and hidden by the valley foothills to make intrusive sounds. In fact, I cannot hear any traffic from the valley.

Most of us have been conditioned to hearing white noise or background noise. Up in the forests of York Gulch there is no such thing as white noise. It's primal and eery.

The damp night air is yet another oddity that I had to get used to. Seemingly out of nowhere snow would form and swirl around even when the sky appeared clear.

Looking up at the winter black skies there is no collateral light as Denver is hidden by the surrounding mountains. Orion's Belt, the Big and Little Dippers, the bands of the Milky Way swirl high above in a quiet dazzling display of the Creator's artistic talent.

As I sit next to the fire soaking up it's inviting warmth, gazing up at the cold starlit sky I begin thinking of the time when time began, what it must have been like for early man to look up and wonder about these sparkling little lights dancing about.

Who is man that you are mindful of him? Or the son of man? Or what about me?

What am I supposed to do with this life given me? What possible difference can I make, one lone man, with no resources, few family and friends? Does anything I do matter one way or the other? What about 75-100 years from now when I'm but dust and ash and everybody I ever knew is gone? It will be as if I never existed at all.

These are the thoughts that go through my head as the red and yellow spires of my fire dance in the troubled wind that blows up in York Gulch.

These are the same questions that drove me out of society, onto the road and finally here in the boundless piney winter woods. So, I am back full circle from where I began. And, that's OK because these questions aren't supposed to have answers. They are not problems to be solved but are instead designed to bring me back to the Lord.

So, as I pack up my day bag and take a last glance around my tipi and camp I begin my hike back down the mountain to Idaho Springs. I feel refreshed having escaped the manipulative, consumerist, bickering society I used to be part of if just for only a few days at a time and more importantly to meet up with my God high up 9200 feet on top of the wild mountains of York Gulch Colorado.

BR Schoenbein
December 10, 2015- Thursday

December 9, 2015- Taking Donna To The Chamber Mixer Tonight

Well, I woke this morning feeling better than I did when I went to bed. I was raring to go drive Mary to her appointment but at the last moment
Bill decided to take her himself so I didn't get the chance to travel to Golden and walk down memory lane. Oh, probably for the best anyway.

Donna just informed me that the Chamber of Commerce Mixer is tonight at 5pm. I had earlier confirmed that I was attending the regular supper at the Blackwells. So, I cancelled to attend the mixer and mix with the movers and the shakers of Idaho Springs.

Anytime I can go out with Donna I will! She's very good for my spirits, always positive, upbeat and so on.

In the 10 months I have occupied Idaho Springs I have met people from all strata of society here from desperate drug addicts and prostitutes to multimillionaires to the clergy and everybody in between.

Events like these Mixers gives me the chance to meet the business leaders, opinion leaders and small time politicos and talk about my journey and about God etc.

I do not confront people or put them on the spot. I introduce myself and quite naturally the conversation goes to what we do, job wise; then I tell them what I do, then inevitably,the follow-up questions like why are doing this kinda work and what led you to hit the road, those type of questions arise quite naturally. That is my witness.

Conversed with Jonas one of homeless kids hanging around the Frothy Cup. I bought a couple of tobacco pipes from him a while ago for $10 for the both of them only to find out one of them is worth $50-75. Yay! Told him if I sell it I'll split it with him.

Jonas is in his 20s and is a self proclaimed expert in computer repair. His minimalist, homeless lifestyle is partly as a result of choice and partly by bad circumstances.

He would need a vehicle, wardrobe and many other trappings of corporate life just for the chance at an interview. He cannot get help from his parents due to his estrangement from them.

I tell him, "stay upbeat and to start low by taking a bussing job over at Beaujos Pizza and save up as much as you can to purchase a cheap used car. Then clean yourself up, cut your hair and buy a set of business casual wear. Then interview, interview and interview as much as you can."

He wants to do all that but I can tell he doesn't fit in with the business office culture. He's brooding, sulking and intimidating with large bushy eyebrows, his large knife sheathed to his side and a hatchet hanging precariously on his belt, wearing a long olive green duster topped off with Nazi looking military boots.

I'm amazed that kids his age have never held a steady job or a started a career or even attended college. I didn't get these countercultural ideas like intentional homelessness, dying to self, compassion for one's fellowman, etc until my mid 50s.

I wished I had experienced this conversion earlier in life. I would doubtless made better life choices. But, the timing must have been right for me nonetheless.

I never would have guessed that simply walking from Illinois to Colorado would have effected as much change in me as it has. It's the whole vagabond, itinerant style of living that put me in touch with the Almighty in such a way that I recognized that I was living a shallow life, even a hypocritical one. I acknowledged biblical truth and practice but really didn't take it seriously enough for it to impact my life or the lives around me.

Life for me used to be all about making a living, securing food and housing, staying alive and that's about it. Life for me now is much fuller, less scrappy and more challenging in a purposeful way. I'm now dealing with my demons and my failings instead of hand wringing and blaming my childhood rearing and others who came into my life at various intermissions.

Anyway, tomorrow, Lord willing, I will be baking Christmas cookies with others at Neighborhood Church and passing them out to the townspeople.

Friday and Saturday look like snow days so I probably won't be going up to my camp in York Gulch until early next week.

Will continue writing my book on Friday and Saturday.

Pics show Donna at the Frothy Cup and the "light at the end of the road" a pic I took out at York Gulch.

Please feel free to visit my blog at voiceinthewilderness59.blogspot.com as I don't share all of my.posts on Facebook. And, you would be able to go back to my earlier posts when I first hit the road in April of 2014. Thanks!

Peace and Grace to you all

BR Schoenbein
December 9, 2015- Wednesday

December 8, 2015- Fell Ill This Morning So Did Not Hike To Camp

Suffering a bit of sickness this morning so did not think it wise to hike up to York Gulch. Stayed at Bill and Mary's and slept most of the day.

Read some. Ate one light meal and drank quite a bit of Gatorade.

Going to do some writing, reading and maybe watch "The Last Station" a film that revolves around Leo Tolstoy's last days and his death at a railroad station 250 miles south of Moscow. The film highlights the conflict between Tolstoy and his wife Sophia. Apparently, it was a constant battle between the two over his copyright to the totality of his work which at the time was reportedly worth one million rubles. Sophia wanted to inherit her husband's estates and more importantly his copyright. Instead, Tolstoy penned a new will giving his copyright over to his Tolstoyan organization headed by his obsessed disciple Chertov who despised Sophia. Believe me, the feeling was mutual.

Anyway, Lord willing, I will be driving Mary to her doctor in Golden tomorrow. I love Golden. It's a beautiful town situated along the banks of Clear Creek at the foot of the Rockies. It's the seat of government for Jefferson County and was Colorado's first capital.

There are many good memories for me of Golden which makes me sad and longing for the "good ole days" if there ever were any such days in fact.

Mardell, the kids and I used to drive on over to Golden which was only a short distance from where we lived in Lakewood to hike and to watch the kayakers navigate the boulders in Clear Creek. We would take supper or lunch at any one of the many fine eateries downtown. Dining out was always a treat for us as Mardell was very frugal and balked most times about the expense.. The kids and I however were the profligates.

Clara, my former step daughter, who I cherish to this day as if she were my own, loves Golden too and wants to someday relocate there. I told her that I share her hope and would like to someday live there as well or in Boulder, or back in Lakewood where  the Griders and I used to live. But, I'm afraid there are simply too many memories, good and bad in Lakewood for me.

Plus, I have no idea of when or even IF I will someday settle down for good. I suspect however, there will be a time when the vagaries of life will necessarily force me to do so out of infirmity, weakness, or ill health if nothing else.

How long I will be able to walk from town to town state to state considering my current state of health is yet to be determined.

Will I even be able to go back to a "normal" or "civilized" manner of life again? And, with the way the fabric of society appears to be rapidly unravelling will there be a "civilization" to go back to?

BR Schoenbein
December 8, 2015-Tuesday