Furnace Out And No Water Yikes!

The furnace in the Lucas House died on me a couple of nights ago which then led to frozen pipes so now I have no water or heat. It's 35 degrees inside right now. Joe Eaton is coming over tomorrow to take a look to assess the problem.

I do have a couple of space heaters which help a bit. No water means no toilet. Oh well the Kum and Go gas station is only a quarter mile away.

Sent off my bio info the Unity Church in Quincy, IL requested. Went over to the library to do some research and helped Amy P. with figuring out her new DISH TV remote.

If it's Wednesday its meatloaf at the Blackwells. Church at First Baptist afterwards. I am once again in charge of the now monthly spaghetti dinner at Clear Creek Neighborhood Church tomorrow night.

Sunday will be attending Calvary Evergreen Church on Floyd Hill east of Idaho Springs. Then will walk over to the Tin Shed Food Pantry and pick out 2 weeks worth of foodstuffs.

We got about a foot of snow the last 2 days. And the temps have nose dived down into the teens with wind chills in the negative range. Yikes!

Even without heat and water my situation is fine. Told the Blackwells it beats being outside in a tent up on York Gulch!

Pic shows the snow we got the last 2 days.

Ciao!

BR Schoenbein
February 3, 2016-Wednesday

My Final Trail

Lumbering out on my last trail,
Wandering towards
The fabled West
Where the trees and the skies
Beckon me on
To my final destination:
A shallow grave under a moonless
Night,
Out on the mirthless prairie
Where the screeching cold blows
and the coyotes
Howl.
No more woes
No marker, no monument
No mourners.
Bury me out on the Illinois prairie
From whence I came
And to where I now go
Ash to ash
Dust to dust
Dont be sad
Cry if you must
But
Paradise bound is my spirit
And
Prairie bound
Are my old weary bones.

BR Schoenbein
January 27, 2016

Illinois: Here I Come!

Took a call this morning from Jim Burns VP of the Unity Church Board. He advised that it's a go for me to fill the pulpit starting in April. We haven't worked out the details yet but intend to do so in March.

I'll stay with Jim for the duration. Compensation yet to be determined. I'll take the California Zephyr out of Denver Union Station and head either to Galesburg or Chicago. The Zephyr doesn't go to Quincy but Amtrak does service Quincy so I may have to transfer to a separate train at Chicago's Union Station.

It's an exciting proposition for me to reunite with all the friends I made in Quincy. And, I hope to reconnect with friends and family from back home too.

This adventure going back to Illinois will mean that I will start my westward journey from Denver to Seattle a month later than originally planned. No matter, it just means getting to Seattle a month later but I'll still be crossing the Cascades before the first snowfall... I hope.

I'll definitely miss my Idaho Springs friends, brothers and sisters for sure.

But, that's life. Saying hello and goodbye. Hopefully, I'll be back to see everyone in Colorado in a few years and rekindle these delightful relationships that have sustained me here for so long.

Thanks to Jim Burns for all of his support, financial, love etc and to the Unity Church Board for this great opportunity to proclaim the greatest news that there is: God coming back to live with us to make his abode with us and to bring us back to the Garden of Eden where we will reign with him as Kings and Priests in the Kingdom of God!

In other news: if its Wednesday then it's meatloaf at the Blackwells tonight with Church services at First Baptist following with Pastor Dawit who is teaching out of Revelation.

Performed my laundry duty at the laundromat where I ran into Mona who used to attend Tuesday night Celebrate Recovery with me. I stopped going a good while ago as did she.

Mona left her home in California to go on her own traveling journey via her automobile and somehow ended up in Idaho Springs. She related to me the story of the church next to where she is renting. The church is St John's Anglican. Bishop Fischer passed away suddenly at the young age of 65. The story is that he was a defrocked Catholic priest here in town and evidently there was some disagreement with the Diocese in Denver and a new church was constructed a few blocks away and a new priest installed. The old church building was transferred to Fr Fischer. He still held court and officiated with only 2 parishioners, 2 older ladies including Mona's landlady Susan. Susan and Fr Fischer became very good friends so when be died last September he bequeathed the church property to her. So now she owns the church and conducts a prayer service on Sunday morning.

Mona is going to ask Susan if I can interview her to do a story on Fr Fischer and the events surrounding this situation.

I am no longer driving Miss Daisy to her medical appointments so I'm no longer splitting my time between the Lucas House and the Boarding House. I'm back to full time at the Lucas House. I just could not commit fully to her schedule but, I'll miss my car driving time with her.

Last pic shows St John's Anglican Church.

That is all.

Grace and peace to you all!

BR Schoenbein
January 27, 2016- Wednesday

My One Year Anniversary Trudging Around In Idaho Springs!

It was a year ago today that I arrived in this drowsy little town situated on a skinny sandbar along Clear Creek in Clear Creek County. Idaho Springs, Colorado is nationally noted as the skinniest town in America measuring only 3 miles long east to west and about a half mile wide north to south for a total of 2.2 square miles.

Interstate 70 which heads east to west cuts along the south edge of town takes the skiers to the slopes west of town.

Idaho Springs is squeezed in tightly between two steep rocky canyon walls rising up a thousand feet straight up towards the Colorado sky.  Idaho Springs, Colorado an old gold mining town was the center of the Colorado gold rush in 1859. Today, it's the local tourist mecca for skiers who come here from all over the world to swoosh down powdery slopes at nearby Echo Mtn, Loveland, Breckenridge, Vail and Aspen.

After getting squared away at my new digs an 1872 two story Victorian known as the Lucas House situated on a spacious lot located at the corner of Ninth and Colorado Blvd, I decided to search out the coffee/roaster shop I had noticed on a car trip to Idaho Springs just a few weeks prior to my arrival.

I bent down to open the oversized 8 foot tall entrance door. The door handle is located only 2 feet off the floor. Everybody who enters the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop has a certain degree of difficulty opening this door, some more than others.

As I walked in, the sound of my shoe leather slapping the old wood planked floor made the patrons there that day look up and wonder who this new guy was.

I moseyed on up to the beautifully wood paneled bar and introduced myself to the pretty red headed barista named Donna. After the normal pleasantries were exchanged I directed the conversation to my mission which brought me here on foot from back home in Peoria, Illinois. After hearing about the whys and wherefores of my westward journey Donna put a dollar in the cash register and told me that my coffee was on her.

Since that day Donna, the other baristas, Patti, Amy Sue, Paul and Cindy have become my very close friends. Glenda and Randy Watson who own the Frothy Cup have also become close friends and fantastic supporters of my journey and routinely offer their home in Lone Tree for a respite away from Idaho Springs.

The past year has been a busy one to be sure. I have worked with three churches, the First Baptist, United Church and Clear Creek Neighborhood Church by preaching, facilitating events and teaching.

Pastors Dawit Woldyhannes and Bill Robertson have been supportive and  hospitable towards my mission here. Brian and Becky Blackwell have so graciously offered the Lucas House rent free and have paid for all of the utilities. Furthermore, they have me over for meatloaf suppers every Wednesday evening.

My mission here has centered around creating relationships with as many people here in town and by doing so proclaiming the love and Kingdom of God.

In that I have been successful.  Clear Creek County is a tough nut to crack spiritually speaking. It has a population of just under 10,000. On a good Sunday morning around 100 people gather in the churches in Idaho Springs, Georgetown, Empire, Dumont, Downieville and Lawson. That's 1% of the population which attends church here in Clear Creek County. Admittedly, some people drive down the hill to Jefferson and Denver County for church. But, I suspect that maybe only another 100-200 people account for that group.

What accounts for this seeming lack of interest in organized religion? The local pastors all have their theories. I suspect it has something to do with a generational factor going all the way back to the gold rush days when greed, avarice and even murder dominated the culture here. These anti-christian traits found their way into the DNA of Clear Creek County.

It could be that these vices have had a residual effect on the population especially the old families of this County. But, who knows? All I know is that previous church planters and missionaries have all had more than  typical difficulties in establishing and furthering churches and fellowships here.

Now, I also recognize a difference between "spirituality" and "religion" especially organized institutionalized religion. There is probably a sizeable number of people who consider themselves spiritual but not necessarily religious.

I have been able to appeal to both groups without sacrificing my own adherence to both the so-called spiritual and to the religious. I am a firm believer in the "Church Universal." Having said that, I have also critiqued the Church where such criticism is warranted. I have likewise looked inward and found myself wanting. I have been hypocritical at times by not adhering to the tenets of God's Word yet at the same time espousing those principals. I am a work in progress that's for sure.

It's been a wonderful year trying at times but fruitful too. I owe a lot to the great people of Idaho Springs but I owe everything to God who cleared my way from Illinois to this unique little town in the mountains of Colorado and who provided me with everything I needed and then some.

I have no idea if I will have the same success in the towns, villages and cities up ahead on the road westward. That remains to be developed. But, I do know that God is with me. So, who or what circumstance should I fear?

So, finally, I thank all who those I have encountered and fallen in love with in Idaho Springs, Colorado. My thanks go to the town itself. And of course thanks again be to God who rains on the just and unjust alike.

And, so we Christ followers should likewise rain God's love on all, just and unjust.

Pics are of Donna, Melissa, Amy, Jerry, Brian and Donna(who took me out to Tommyknockers for dinner). Craig also came by to say hi. He's Pastor of Calvary Church in Evergreen.

BR Schoenbein
January 21, 2016- Thursday

Goin To Ramble Till I Die

Miles down this road to go,
Just left town, left all I know,
The Sun's low, the wild winds blow,

I'm going to ramble till I die.
I'm going to ramble til I die.

Just rolling across the plains,
A dark land where the moon wanes,
But in the morning the Sun flames,
I keep on keeping, going,
Keep on till I find you,
Wherever you've gone,
To mountains, deserts or
Valleys with grass wet with dew.
.
I'm going to ramble until I die,
I'm going to ramble until I die.

BR Schoenbein
January 19, 2016

Radio Interview On KGOAT 102.7 Idaho Springs, CO

I was interviewed by DJ Amy Sue Kirschbaum on KGOAT 102.7 yesterday for 2 hours. She also played one Woody Guthrie song and several Bob Dylan songs which I requested.

We talked about the road trip I took from Illinois to Colorado, the dangers, the good and bad times. Also discussed my future plans Lord willing of trudging west to Seattle starting in May.

It's the first radio interview I've done on this trip. Amy Sue had some very insightful  questions and great comments.

Thanks for the invite Amy Sue!

BR Schoenbein
January 17, 2016- Sunday

Farewell: A Tribute To Harold Witzig 1927-2016

On January 15, 2016 I received the news that Harold "Bert" Witzig died.

The great men of the world, the eminent scientist, the powerful politician and the religious leader may have shrines or bronze statues to remind future generations of their many accomplishments. Harold Witzig will have no such shrines or monuments.  But, the love and devotion he had for God, his family, friends and others is nonetheless enshrined forever in the folds of our hearts.

We will carry his life into the next generations through and by the wonderful memories he created for us.

I first came to know Bert sometime early in life. I went through the public school system with his son, Scott, who became my best friend. Fortunately for me and in the Lord's wisdom God placed me in a house just a couple of blocks away from the Witzig's.

Scott and I became such pals that I invariably ended up at his house most days especially during the dog days of summer and after school. During that time, Bert became a surrogate father to me and I was drawn to him by the love he showed to his family. I was an eyewitness to his easy ways, his long suffering patience and his concern for this little kid with a big hole in his heart.

You see, I lost my own dad when I was just 7 years old. Until Bert came along in my life I never truly knew what it meant to have a man have your back, or help you turn a simple block of wood into a car for the pinewood derby in Boy Scouts.

After more than a half century of life I can finally come to terms with the loss and pain of losing a parent. But back then I just couldn't figure out why God would allow such a thing to happen. I was lost and just kinda bounced around. But, Bert had this knack for helping me find the path again.

Bert, in own way helped me through that valley. Whether he knew it or not is unknown to me. But, the point is this: he selflessly took the time to be a father figure, friend and a mentor.

He helped me when Scott and I took up with Scout Troop 85. He made sure I had a ride to every scout activity. He made sure I had the right gear and clothes to camp out in the woods.

I remember a conversation I had with Bert about girls back in the late 70s. This would have been just the kind of conversation a father and son would have had.

He even brought up the names of girls from church who he thought would make good wives. In fact, he mentioned the name of the girl I eventually did marry. I remember how pleased he was with the eventual matchup.

The sad news of Bert's death today brought so many memories back. I can see myself, Scott, Jeff and Bert playing a very competitive game of "Horse." Bert was a master of that game. The Witzig's were all good athletes and very competitive. In fact, Bert was the first captain of the Morton High School football team circa 1945.

Bert knew that I was a history buff. So, one day back in 1976 he asked if I wanted to serve on the Morton Historical Society. I was only 16 years old at the time. "Wow! You bet I do" was my quick reply! The board even made me the publicity chairman. I thought I was really something important back then with that appointment. I remember serving with Bert, Bob Conibear the druggist and others whose names are now lost to me.

I can remember Bob Conibear used some real colorful language during the meetings and after a cuss word or two Bert would bend over and whisper in my ear, " Sorry Bruce, it's just Bob. Don't hold it against him." What was funny at the time is that I must have heard these same cuss words a hundred times everyday at school! I didn't have the heart or guts to admit to Bert that these words sometimes even escaped my mouth too. I never wanted to disappoint him.

Unfortunately, later some of the life choices I made certainly disappointed Bert. We all must live with the consequences of our free will and I know I did not live up to the standards I learned from Bert and others. That, makes Bert's death even more poignant for me. I wished I would have searched him out for direction and wisdom back then. But, that's life I guess.

As many of you back in Illinois know, the Witzig's owned a clothing store in Morton which was started in 1910 by Theodore Witzig, Bert's grandfather. The store was a fixture in Morton. It was operated by Gene Witzig, Bert's brother and their cousin, Lloyd Domnick.

Bert and his son Jeff gave me a sales job at Witzig's during the Christmas season of 1978 while I was attending Illinois Central College.

I learned ethics, compassion and leadership from Bert Witzig. I learned about how to walk the Way of Christ. I saw Christ in Bert literally every time I was in his presence. And, let me tell you this; if you knew me as a kid you knew I was always at the Witzig's. Poor Cindy, Gwen and Ann were terrorized by my boyish antics. Sometimes Dort had to send me home because of my bad behavior!

I cannot tell you how many spaghetti and other dinners I ate over there. Bert's wife, Dort, was a fantastic cook. Invariably, I would end up eating all of the leftovers. I can remember Dort calling me her garbage disposal! Bert and Dort were such a great pairing.

After supper Bert would pull out a Bible story book of some kind and read it to us children and then asked us questions. I received a sound theological education from those evenings seated on the benches around the Witzig supper table.

Bert and Dort and the family suffered their share of loss to be sure. Jeff, their son died in the summer of 1980 from Leukemia I believe. I think Jeff was only 25 years old. He was married at the time to Teresa. They were such a happy couple I recall.

Even now after 36 years I can tear up thinking of Jeff. He was my boss in charge of the Men's Department at Witzig's Clothing Store. He was a dutiful manager and had a great sense of style and knew what the customer wanted. Jeff was one of those people that were just fun to be around. Bert taught him, Scott and Phil all they knew about the retail clothing business.

Bert so loved his daughters, Ann, Gwen and Cindy as well. You see, that was and is the crux of the thing. Bert knew how to love people. And, he did it so well.

He was a leader, a truly great husband, father, brother, uncle, cousin, Sunday School teacher, businessman and all around great human being. But above all he was a giant of a man. A Christian man who will be remembered down through the generations of not only the Witzig's but he will also be remembered by many others his life impacted including that little lost kid back in the 60s and 70s who sorely needed a dad.

I inevitably lost touch with this great man through the inevitabilities and vagaries of life. But, now I realize that just when I needed him he was there. I wish Bert and I could have had a cup of coffee at Eli's Coffee Shop back home just so I could have said goodbye.

Fare thee well, Bert Witzig. Trust me, you will never be forgotten. We too are on our journey home and on some bright day we shall see you again in the sweet bye and bye when we meet on that beautiful shore. Rest in peace my dear old friend.

BR Schoenbein
January 15, 2016

Chance Meeting With a Fellow Traveler

Met Leah, a 20 something who walked into the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop late this afternoon heavily laden with a huge backpack. I was curious, because she reminded me of me. Her backpack was even bigger than my 70 lb "beast".

I asked her where she was from and where she was headed. She's from Seattle and heading back there but not on foot even though she loves the idea of being on foot. She spent a little time at a bed and breakfast up in York Gulch near Mt Pisgah which is only a quarter mile from my old campsite.

She just spent a year abroad in Australia. I told her of my plans to walk out of Idaho Springs in May to guess where? Seattle her hometown. I told her she should quit her job at a non profit agency and stay here and walk with me to Seattle. She wants to get on the road but she loves her job. Good for her! Maybe she'll head out of Seattle with me when I leave to go east?

We discussed spirituality versus organized religion and Buddhism and the similarities between Christianity and Buddhism.

If only I had Leah's wisdom when I was her age! It took me over a half century of living to get where she is at a quarter of a century!

Leah I hope you caught your bus for Denver on time and I wish you all the best! You were a joy to talk to! And, I hope to see you when I get to Seattle sometime around September. Ciao!

This is the best part of my walk across America meeting all these new people and exchanging ideas of philosophy and spirituality. Making friends and creating new relationships with people all over the country is what my trip is all about!

BR Schoenbein
January 10, 2015- Sunday

May Be Headed To Quincy, IL To Preach At Unity Church

Jim Burns called me yesterday night to catch up on how my journey was panning out.  I met this magnificent Irish storyteller in May of 2014 when I walked into Quincy, IL on my way west. Actually met him on Sunday the day I spoke to the congregation of Unity Church located on Washington Square.

Monica Thompson hosted me in her home for my 2 week stay in this most delightful city on the Mississippi. Monica attends Unity as well. She found me trudging in the hot sun on the side of Rt 24 outside Rushville, IL after she noticed I was limping and stooped over.

She pulled over and asked me to hop in so I could take advantage of her air conditioning and offered to take me to my next town of Rushville.

I asked her if it was her normal routine to pick up strange men on the side of the road. She replied that no she doesn't do that but saw that I had a beautiful aura of color about me so she knew it would be safe to pick me up. Told her I have heard that some people can literally see a band of color around people. Not me.

She then drove me the few miles to Rushville. When I arrived later in Quincy she invited me into her home occupied by herself and her 13 year old son, Dakota.

Monica is a practicing holistic healer and masseuse and gave me several back massages and even took me to her chiropractor and paid for my adjustment.

I still remember the chiropractor telling me in a somber tone, "Sir...you have the range of motion in your limbs of a 90 year old man. You cannot possibly keep walking to the west coast. You will never make it!"

I told him that he should not underestimate me or the power of the mind over matter. I have found that grueling tests like mine are mostly mental not physical. He gave me a little smirk as if to tell me he knew better.

In any case, Jim told me that Unity Church has been without a minister for awhile and I advised him that I have been ordained a minister. Told him that I could help out for a month or 2 while they find a permanent replacement. I'm still scheduled to walk west in May.

So, if Unity Church could pay my way out to Quincy and back to Denver I would be amenable to helping out. Jim thought it a splendid idea and told me he has rental space where I could be housed.

Jim is Vice President of the church board and will bring it up at their next meeting. He also wanted my address here in CO so he could send me a contribution.

Jim used to be a Catholic Brother and worked in a community of Brothers years ago. He is now retired.

As for my activities today, I visited the library and checked out "War and Peace" by Tolstoy and "Kim" by Rudyard Kipling. Spoke with the librarian and she asked me if I liked Dylan Thomas's book of poetry which I had brought back today. Told her I love Thomas and noted that he and Edgar Lee Masters used to go on drinking binges together and Thomas probably wrote some of his best work either drunk or hungover.

She told me she really got into Dylan Thomas when she was an English Major at Georgetown University and when she was working towards her Masters at the University of Virginia.

She showed me where they keep all of the classics like War and Peace. They are hidden in a cabinet near the librarians office. Told her I would be back to check out some of the other classics.

Staying at the Boarding House tonight to work on an article for Prof Mike Foster's blog. It concerns some of the more harrowing incidents I encountered on my trek west across the Great Plains on my way to Denver.

Tomorrow I am leading the Adult Sunday School Class at the United Church, so I'm working on my lesson as well tonight.

Goodnight my friends and I trust tomorrow will find you well.

BR Schoenbein
January 9, 2015- Saturday

Tales Of The Road

In late April of 2014 I set off on foot from Morton, Illinois, the Central Illinois village where I grew up. It is said that pilgrimages begin in the spring and so it was with mine. I began my journey walking across the vast expanse of America in search of an idea, in search of God and ultimately in search of myself.

Months before, an existential crisis unexpectantly grabbed me around the shoulders and propelled me into what St John of the Cross called the "dark night of the soul."

I had gone through 2 failed marriages and at 54 years of age I found myself going around in circles swirling towards the bottom of a long 30 year career in the insurance adjusting industry. It seemed to be the right time to embark on a long journey to rewrite the script that had originally been written by others. It was time now to create a new reality.

This crisis and the resultant epiphany drove me back to my spiritual roots so I decided to devote whatever time I had left to God. In furtherance of this new devotion I decided to walk town to town as an itinerant missionary proclaiming the Kingdom of God. I would speak to local churches and work with their pastors. I would seek out relationships with strangers, show hospitality and by the example of my new life show the love of God to my neighbor and even to my enemy.

My 1,100 mile trek across the boundless vistas of the Great Plains over to the Rockies turned out to be simultaneously monotonous, dangerous, arduous and especially rewarding. The quietness, the lack of people clamoring for my time, the lack of rules and regulations that society puts on us all satisfied my inner drive for contemplation and introspection. 

There appeared to me to be a surfeit of civilization of people living ontop of people, arbitrary rules and arcane laws. I longed for a simpler time. A time when a man with his own two hands built a house for his family, grew his own food and didn't look to a government in Washington for help. My thoughts about a simpler life also drew me back to childhood stories of kings and queens, knights and people of the Bible which I read at the library back home.

As a boy the West loomed large as a mythical place with tales of Indians, cowboys and pioneers. Grandpa Schoenbein was my link to those days as he was born right at the close of the Western frontier in 1889 and would regale me with stories which he had heard from his father.

So, it seemed only natural for me to go west to find a late in life adventure. But, for someone who throws himself into an unstable, unpredictable life on the road adventure comes hunting for him many times hiding behind unfamiliar faces and  quirky guises.

My journey has been momentous and exhilarating and I can relate to you many tales of overly aggressive cops, self righteous clergy, frightening weather, vicious animals and pesky insects among other things.

I also encountered dangerous maniac drivers and even a crazed redneck who picked me up in his broken down car in Nebraska. And, then there were the pharisaical clerics I encountered when working with the churches. Many of the pastors with their wagging heads and pietistic platitudes scorned my mission and my radical lifestyle.

Law enforcement presented yet another problem. Once I spent a night in the County jail in Julesberg, Colorado as a guest of the High Sheriff. Before that, I was harassed by a county mounty a mile outside Lewistown, Illinois. The lady deputy saw me and pulled over and told me to approach the car. She asked for I.D. which she had no legal right to do so as there was no indication I had committed a crime. No probable cause. Yet, I chose the expedient course of action and complied with her demand. But, then she told me to get in her patrol car. 

I asked if I was under arrest. She replied I was not. I then told her I was leaving to head into Lewistown. She said I was not free to go. I then asked if I was being held in custody. She again replied no. By this time I'm a bit confused. So, I refused to get in the car. That's when she literally screamed at me to get in.

Seeing how crazy this armed woman was I decided it was smarter to give in so I placed myself in the back seat. After running my name for warrants and finding none she had to let me go. I experienced even more police harassment in other towns along the way.

Fighting boredom, local animals and insects turned out to be a great challenge too. I was forever swatting at swarms of mosquitoes in Nebraska and the giant gnats that were on the wing around the Sugar Creek bottoms near Rushville Illinois and all along the upland prairie following the Missouri River.

One completely forgettable night I splurged for a room in a filthy no-tell motel where as I laid sleeping my lower limbs were savaged by multitudes of belligerent bed bugs which resulted in a blood infection that laid me up for a couple of weeks.

Then there was that pack of vicious dogs in the mountains of Colorado which came close to chewing me up for dinner. Dogs would turn out to be the most dangerous animal on the road both the domestic and wild varieties.

I camped out in thickets of woods off the side of the road sleeping under endless starry skies. But it's not quite as romantic as it sounds what with dodging the law and all because stealth camping is trespassing. I didn't dare make a fire or cook so as not to draw attention to my camp. My meals usually consisted of oatmeal mixed with cold water.

Sometimes, I slept on soft mattresses under clean, sweet smelling sheets where people I had just met invited me in their homes. But, mostly I pitched my pup tent in church yards, woods, abandoned barns and sheds and even on the edges of old forgotten cemeteries.

One hot day somewhere out in the treeless nothingness of the Platte River Basin in Nebraska I was limping along a deserted highway headed northwest half walking and half leaning on my cottonwood walking stick. A thick blanket of humidity covered everything from horizon to horizon.

The intensely hot sun was glaringly bright that afternoon; its white hot rays shined right into my eyes already burning from being bathed in sweat dripping off my forehead.

It was then that I heard a car coming from up from behind me heading west. I watched as it slowly passed by. A skeleton looking man, stooped shouldered, his eyes hidden by a pair of overlarge outdated dark sun glasses was behind the wheel.

He stared way too long at me as he passed by. About 50 yards ahead he turned the car around and now headed back east towards me. Hmm, what's this guy up to?

He pulled up to me and stopped and rolled down the passenger window and leaned over towards the now open window "Hey, guy...could you use a ride?"

"Well...sir...I'm on a hike across the country so, no... I have to walk. But, thanks anyway." I replied. "Where you headed?" he asked a bit annoyed at my response. ,"Well...I'm headed for the next  town up ahead." " Let me at least drop you off there then cause I'm going that way myself." So, I says okay.

But my gut told me no. I could tell this guy was getting a bit agitated, apparently due to my reluctance in letting him do his good deed for the day. So, against my better judgement I relented. Plus, I was bone tired, hungry and dehydrated. So, thinking I could use a break I opened the back door of his beat up sedan and stowed the "Beast" (my backpack) and my Israeli paratrooper bag in the back seat. But, first I had to clear the seat of what looked like 10 or 15 empty McDonald's bags. The back floor was carpeted with garbage including empty beer bottles. Now, my initial reluctance hardened.

While attempting to slide down in the front passenger seat, "Buck" as he volunteered his name, told me to wait until he cleared the seat of paper wrappers, a notebook, old work gloves and an empty box. He threw it all in the back seat right on top of my backpack.

The moment I sat down the stale, musty smell of cigarette butts stabbed me in the nose. Cigarette butts were crammed in the ash tray and scattered all over the console in between the driver's and passenger seats. And, of course, Buck, had a cigarette hanging off the right corner of his smallish looking mouth. I could envision this guy with a cigarette stuffed in his mouth fast asleep in bed or even while he was showering...if he ever did shower.

He had a kind of lisp which made conversation interesting for me. And, from the moment I got in the car he ranted on and on about the government and FEMA camps and whatnot which in a puzzling way put me at ease as I was used to hearing that kinda talk.

We had gotten about 10 miles down the highway when he tells me he's been remodeling his cabin in the woods. I said oh...okay...cool and then continued looking out the window. He then says, "Hey, let me take you over to my cabin to show you what I'm doing." I turned my head, looked at him and replied that I'd rather not as I need to get to the next town to find a campsite for the night and I gotta set up my tent while its still daylight. He says no problem I can get you there before nightfall. I continued to protest but by that time he had already gotten off the highway and began driving down a dusty gravel road.

I reiterated that I really need to get to town to find a campsite and that takes time. It was then he reaches down under his seat and pulls out an old looking long barreled .22 caliber revolver. With that he asked if I liked his gun.

I drew a long breath and contrived an enthusiastic voice saying it looked like it had some history to it. " Oh yeah, it's a collector's piece. But, I actually use it so I always keep bullets in it." Oh, geez. Just what I wanted to hear.

I honestly didn't know what to say. I turned my head back to the window and said nothing. That's when fear, like an ocean wave washed over me and I silently muttered a short prayer.

He placed the gun on the gear shift in between us. I figured I should make a grab for it. But, I thought what if he wasn't threatening me with his gun. I make a grab for it then he thinks he's in danger and shoots me. So, I just remained calm and acted like this happens to me every day.

After 20 minutes or so we pulled up to a rattletrap log cabin situated in a large clearing bordered by a dark stand of woods near a stream. Actually, it was that fake wood siding that's made to look like real logs. I saw no other houses or cabins nearby.

Buck got out of the car first grabbing hold of the gun. I got out rather tentatively not quite sure what was transpiring here.

I decided on a strategy of controlling the conversation; so I told Buck his place looked great but I really needed to get going. The sun was going down. He says, "Why don't you stay the night here and I can take you to town in the morning?" " No. I've got to be going! Either you take me now or I'm walking outta here and back to the highway! " I said angrily as my patience was wearing thin.

"Come on man! What's your rush?" Buck says. "Bye." I replied as I opened the car door to retrieve my gear. I then swung the "Beast" over my shoulder and started walking towards the gravel road.

It seemed an eternity as I made my way down the long dirt lane to the gravel road bracing for the inevitable shot in the back when I heard Buck starting the car. I stopped and watched him pull alongside me. He says for me to get into the car that he would take me to town. I hesitated at first wondering what kinda games he was playing. But, I got in anyway and said nothing. I looked down on the console and sure enough Buck had placed the .22 back back on the console.

It was a tense and quiet drive into town. I quickly thanked him and lighted out of the car as quickly as I could. Buck said nothing as he sped away.

What in the hell was that all about I kept muttering to myself as I casted about looking for a nearby park or woods to pitch my tent. I eventually found a large park on the edge of town and set up camp far away from the neighborhoods and houses and wondered all night long about my bewildering experience with this Nebraska tweeker.

I debated calling the police. My law school education taught me that he committed the offenses of menacing and possibly kidnapping by placing a loaded weapon that close to me and then telling me we weren't going to town but to his cabin.  But, honestly, I simply didn't want to waste time dealing with cops and swearing out a complaint. I had to get to Denver. And, he did end up taking me where I wanted to go. But, holy shit! Was that a frightening event!

The most resolute resistance to my peregrinations comes from an unexpected source: church clerics. One incident in particular comes to mind.

In Nebraska I walked into a town in the middle of the afternoon tired, hot, sweaty and downcast. I needed to sleep.  But, I discovered that when your homeless you can't just go down to the park and sleep on a bench.

The good church going folk in town will call the police. This happened to me in Astoria, Illinois and Big Spring, Nebraska. A cop nudged me in the ribs with his black booted foot at about 230am while I was sleeping in the town park in Astoria. Some lady across the street called the police and complained of a vagrant "living" in the park. I was there one night. 

He told me it was against the law to sleep in the park and I was scaring people so I needed to get my stuff and move on.

Anyway, I shuffled on down the highway into this little one horse town looking for a church to obtain permission to put up my tent in their churchyard. The first church I came to was an magnificent looking edifice with a medieval looking tower with an old bell in it.  Turns out to be a fundamental evangelical congregation.

I walked into the office and met a nice lady who I assumed was the church secretary. I told her my story. She seemed to listen with great interest. After I was finished, she pulled up her purse from the floor behind her desk and found her wallet from which she produced a nice crisp $50 bill which she bestowed into my very willing hand.

I did not and do not ask people for money. But, she felt compelled to do so she said. I then asked if she knew anyone from church who could put me up for one or two nights. The church did not have a yard for me to camp.

She sent out an email to her parishioners explaining my situation. In the meantime, while she waited for an answer she told me I could take a nap in the baby room upstairs. I thanked her for her generosity and christian charity. I then took a much needed nap. I was asleep for about a half hour or so when I felt somebody tugging on my arm. " Wake up...sir...wake up. The man said urgently.

I rose halfway up and swung my legs over the edge of the couch and the man pulled up a chair and introduced himself as the pastor. He then explained to me that someone replied to the  secretary's email. She was a 83 year old widow who would be happy to provide me with room and board at her home provided I help her around the house.

Well, I jumped at the chance. Here was an opportunity to help someone who really needed it and I could have a place to stay for a few days.

So, the pastor says he will take me over to "Alice" and Introduce me. "But, we gotta get going, I really don't have the time for this" He said quickly.

We pull up to a two story white Victorian, beautiful and inviting but a bit disheveled giving it the appearance of an old run down country hotel. We walked up the wooden stairs to a large wood porch painted in battleship gray, most of which was peeling off as the porch hadn't been painted for quite some time.

The pastor rings the doorbell. The door opens and a thin, spindly white haired elderly lady greets the pastor and shakes his hand. And, after the pleasantries he introduced me to Alice.

Alice appeared a bit annoyed as she lightly shook my hand not looking me in the eye. Something appeared amiss.

"I thought you were going to give me his phone number so I could speak to him before I decide whether I will let him stay here." Alice said impatiently. I had assumed all of this was worked out already but, apparently she wanted to interview me first before she would decide whether I could stay with her. But, the pastor was in a hurry and didn't see the value of an interview.

The pastor just stood there not replying but instead glanced down at his watch in awkward silence. Then, Alice looks at me and says, "Alright. You look okay. Come on in." " Hey, Alice I gotta run and get back to the church. Thanks." the pastor said hurriedly. He didn't even wait for Alice's response.

I apologized to Alice for what I perceived as the pastor's rudeness and lack of respect for proper convention. She replied that it was okay, that's just Pastor Bob always in a hurry. "Well, he must have a large congregation."I said. Alice smirked and said, " Yeah, all of 70 members!" We both laughed. And, with that I enjoyed a two week stay with Alice.

But, after a few days Pastor Bob called Alice and asked if everything was okay. Was BR working out? I heard her say, "Oh you bet! Better than what I thought."

"Alice...are you sure?" He asks. "Pastor, you of all people know I speak my mind, so yes I'm sure. " Well, if it doesn't work out call me and I'll get him outta there! " Yeah, okay. Bye now." Alice replies as she hangs up the phone. She then looks at me while I'm preparing lunch for us. "I just don't know about him."as she shakes her head.

This calling and asking about me went on for days. Finally, I asked Alice for the phone when the pastor called. "I'd like to meet with you and talk about this." I announced. "I'd like to talk to you too. How about I come over there at 2pm?"says the pastor. "Sounds good." I replied.

Sure enough at 2pm Pastor Bob rings the door bell. I opened the door and we walk into the living room. Alice decided to stay in the family room giving us some privacy.

Pastor Bob starts right in. "I think your milking a good thing." He says. A bit stunned, I told him that Alice doesn't seem to thinks so. And, isn't her opinion the determinative one? "Well, I think Alice is just being nice and isn't admitting it." Pastor Bob replied.

"And, furthermore I just don't like what you're doing. You're not under any church authority. You're just going rogue here." He said smugly.

"Well, why don't you hold off on your opinion until you hear me talk to the Adult Sunday School Class on Sunday." "You're talking to the Sunday School Class?" " Yep. The teacher wants me to tell my story."

"You can count on me being there. And, if I hear anything weird I'll stop you!" "Weird? What are you talking about?" I asked incredulously.

"Let me tell you something! You have no idea who I am. I am the head of the Nebraska State Convention of my denomination. I have oversight over 2,000 churches and I have seen your type blow into town before. You people declare yourselves " disciples " or "apostles."

"Well, I've seen YOUR type plenty of times too. You have no idea what Christianity is all about. You have no idea who Jesus really is." I angrily replied.

The conversation just deteriorated from there. I told him I was done with him. He shot up from his chair and turned around towards me before he went out the door. "I'll see you  Sunday." "Yeah, I guess you will." "Bye, bye."

On Sunday I got up at the beginning of class after being introduced by the teacher. Pastor Bob was there standing in the back of the room leaning against the cinder block wall with his arms folded.

After I was finished the class erupted with applause. I had taken the whole hour. They all came up to me to shake my hand and told me how courageous I was to be walking across the country camping in the woods and making relationships with strangers.

I saw Pastor Bob slip out the back door. We never spoke again. One of the class members who came up to shake my hand offered to take me out to supper. He was a big time farmer with several farms. Later he offered his home to me as well.

I walked slowly back to Alice's home where I had stayed for the last two weeks. I walked inside and announced that I would be leaving in the next several days. Alice protested. "Has Pastor Bob been on your case again?" "Nope. But it's time. I am causing concern and becoming controversial. That's not my purpose here."

Alice looked down and said that she would miss me badly. She had opened up to me about her late husband and their business they ran together, a variety 5&10 store downtown. She spilled out long forgotten memories of her childhood to me. We had become truly good friends. She needed a friend, someone she could talk to...and I apparently I needed a mother to connect with.

I shall always miss our long conversations about things and people of long ago. When I assembled my belongings and gear I went out in the front porch and piled it there waiting for the farmer and his wife to pick me up. I would stay with him for a week. This farmer then hooked me up with his cattle rancher friend over in the next county. Alice teared up as she hugged me. I was too emotional to talk. I hugged her again and walked down the stairs into the farmer's pickup and onto yet another chapter.

I would stay with the rancher for two months helping on the ranch and with their farmers market.

I ran into several Pastor Bobs on my journey west. Invariably, these scribes feel threatened by me or rather by my message of sacrifice, change and transformation.

And, I can compete with them on the finer points of theology. But, the kicker is is that my Jesus doesn't look quite like theirs. Their Jesus is overtly nationalistic, angry and respectable.

When I explained to them that Christ was a radical and a subversive within the context of first century Jewish culture their eyes glaze over. They seem more concerned with promoting their careers rather than their parishioners.

It's just a shame that these ministers who attended Seminary and know Greek and Hebrew still have no idea what Christ was and is all about. They subsume orthopraxis and concentrate too much on orthodoxy. This is why Christians today look and act no different than the culture of today. We Christians have shed our radicalism and attempt to legislate the Kingdom of God instead of bringing down the Kingdom by our love for our neighbor and for God. We are more concerned with being entertained and going to church in all of our finery. Look at John the Baptizer. He came dressed in coarse camel hair eating locusts. Jesus said if you're looking for finely dressed people you need to go to the palaces you will not find them crying in the wilderness.

If Nebraska rednecks and sanctimonious clergy weren't trying enough a pack of wild like dogs tried their best to turn me into a buffet dinner.

I was up on a ridge in York Gulch Colorado about 9200 feet above sea level building a winter shelter so I could camp up in the forest a couple of days a week. After getting two walls up I was hard at work dragging more trees I had just cut down. It was then that a pack of dogs including a Rottweiler, a Rottweiler mix, pit bull and a dalmation came out of the trees and brush snarling and barking. They began advancing towards my position forcing me to grab my two ski poles which I used to keep them at bay.

After a bit, two of the dogs left and circled around coming up behind me. That's when I called 911. Forty five minutes later a Sheriffs Deputy came up the slope and into the clearing. I told him to use his gun but he said that was unnecessary. He told me we should charge the dogs. "Charge em! Are you nuts they're vicious, just shoot em!" "Oh they'll turn and run I've seen it time and time again." he said loudly.

"On the count of three charge! the deputy tells me. " One, two...three! And, we charged. And, they turned tail and ran in four different directions just like the deputy said.

I left the scene with my camping gear and hiked a mile west and set up camp there. I went back to town and stayed there for a few days. Then I got a call from Joe who owned the land I was camping on and he told me that my tipi had either been blown over or toppled by animals. So I headed back to York Gulch and examined my campsite and concluded that the dogs had discovered my camp and tore it up. At that point I decided to abandon my plans to build my winter shelter.

.These stories I just related are only a fraction of what happened to me walking from Illinois to Colorado. I'm actually surprised I made it without injury. This coming spring I will leave Idaho Springs, Colorado and will trudge up to Seattle for the second and last leg of my journey westward. The plan then is to board a train east to Galesburg, Illinois where family will pick me up and drive me back home to Morton. Then after a few weeks I plan on hiking east to the Atlantic. Then, it's on to the Appalachians where I will travel town to town preaching, proclaiming and making new friends.

After that who knows? I have the rest of my life to figure that out.

BR Schoenbein

Preventing and Treating Shin Splints

http://howtostopshinsplints.com/

Old Friends And Tourists At The Frothy Cup

Ran into old Bruce Bell this morning at the Frothy Cup. Haven't seen him since his heart attack a couple of weeks ago. He told me he had symptoms months ago but didn't think they were serious. He said his heart attack was extremely painful with shooting pain from his stomach through his arms and into his chest.

He showed me pics of his trip this summer to Ecuador his granddaughter put together in a scrap book. He showed me other pics of his family especially his late wife, Chee Chee. There's a pic of Bruce giving his comatosed wife one last  kiss before her life support was disconnected. Very sad indeed.

I met a tourist, Tony Silvester and his wife, Angel, from New York. Tony spoke with a heavy New York accent and when I told him his mannerisms reminded me of Robert De Niro he hugged me. De Niro is his favorite actor. When he found out I was planning on hiking to the Atlantic he told me to let him know when I get to the area so we can visit. I run into people from all over the world at the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop.

I got back a few minutes ago from Golden, CO about 20 miles east down the hill. Beautiful town.

Spending the evening writing an article for Professor Mike Foster's blog, peoriatazewoodfordblog.wordpress.com. Peoria, Tazewell And Woodford: Here, There & Everywhere!

It's a great blog with articles about faith, art, literature, sports you name it. Editors are Mike Foster and Brandon C. Hovey.

Toodaloo!

BR Schoenbein
January 6, 2015- Wednesday

Ebony Died Today. Tears Flowing At The Boarding House

Woke up at 2:30am with pain shooting along my right shin bone. I couldn't even move my right leg without grabbing it with both hands and moving it. Obviously, it was a case of shin splints caused by walking a total of 14 miles on asphalt. Walking on pavement is what does it. When I walked to Colorado from Illinois I never once got shin splints because I walked on the dirt next to the roads shoulder. It's softer thus less impact.

I hiked from Idaho Springs to Dumont and back. Dumont is a hamlet 6 miles west of Idaho Springs. Then, I walked to the Kum and Go and back to the Lucas House a total of 1 mile. Later, I walked to the Boarding House which was yet another mile. That's a total of 14 miles walked on concrete and asphalt.

But, here it is 1pm the following day and the pain is only a 1 out of 10. So, I'm good to go for Friday for another session of long distance hiking.

I ambled into the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop at about 10am and lo and behold Craig Babcock, Pastor of the Calvary Chapel Church on Floyd Hill in Clear Creek came in at the same time. I met him once before when he was visiting with Pastor Bill Robertson at the Frothy Cup.

Craig is a former Colorado State Trooper who chucked a great career with a hefty salary, benefits and potential advancement and became a Pastor.

He asked if he could join me for a cup of coffee. He wanted to hear my story. After I told him the Reader's Digest version he and I discussed the current state of Christianity in America. After 2 hours or so he had to run to an appointment.

It was a lively and at times a controversial conversation dealing with topics like homosexuality, gay and polygamous marriage and the Church's positions.

I think that as important as those ideas are the more important issue is that we as Christians seem to be more interested in dogma and right believing than in actively living out the tenets of Christianity. Gandhi was quoted once that he liked Christ but didn't like Christians because they didn't live like Christ did.

Christians need to get back to the 4 so-called Gospels and start looking at what Christ taught in the 3 years he walked the earth. Instead, Christians seem to focus exclusively on his death and resurrection as important and central those incidents are to right belief and seem to just skip over the Sermon On the Mount. They skip over what Christ taught about material wealth and what he taught about this new family he created. A new family which actually takes precedence over blood family, better known as the "Church" a living breathing organic thing.

Christ, when told his mother and brothers were outside and wanted to talk to him said in reply pointing to the crowd he was speaking to said here are my mother and brothers those that do the will of my father.

That's Christ's new family, those that DO...not just believe... those that do the will of the Father.

Joe, Bobby, Kenny and Neil came into the Frothy Cup while Craig and I were talking. I introduced them to Craig. Craig goes to the coffee shops all around Clear Creek County to meet with people just as I do here at the Frothy Cup. We both agree you have to meet the people where they live, work and shop.

Well anyway, I hope to speak before Craig's new church on Floyd Hill sometime before I leave Idaho Springs in May.

When I got back to the Boarding House to spend the evening I received a text from Mary which read that Ebony, Bill's 14 year old black lab, was running free. I texted back that I would run outside to corral her before she ran out into the street. Mary replied that no Ebony passed away at 430pm or so and that she is running free now in doggie heaven. Well...let me tell you I instantly teared up and immediately felt sad for Bill. Bill and his first wife brought Ebony home 14 years ago. Bill's first wife died of cancer years ago and Ebony's death no doubt brought a flood of long ago memories and tears.

I had just walked back into town after hiking back from Dumont and saw Bill driving down Colorado Blvd. I waved at Bill and he waved back but I could tell he wasn't himself. Come to find out Bill had Ebony in the car with him to take her to the vet to put her down. But first, he wanted to ride around with her to tell her goodbye. I had no idea all of this was going on.

Bill and I talked about Ebony's passing away and he recounted a past he experienced with his dead wife and little Ebony. It was true all of these latent feeling he had have now burst through and he's having a difficult time with it all.

What more can be said about that?

The rest of today is for writing my book. I never realized what a daunting task writing a book really is.

Pics show Stanley Rd where I hiked and the Sheriff's log cabin.

Time to go. See ya later.

BR Schoenbein
January 5, 2015- Tuesday

Hiked to the Tri-Cities 12 Miles Round Trip

Starting my calisthenics/exercise program today by hiking the 6 miles to the "Tri-Cities which encompasses Dumont, Downieville and Lawson. Combined these 3 towns don't amount to 57 people! And, yet Dumont has a Starbucks!

This hike is a round trip of 12 miles. The grade going west is upwards and walking back east to Idaho Springs is downwards.

Ended up at the Starbucks and occupied one of their big fluffy leather chairs. Starbucks was busier than a 3 legged ballerina. The holidays are over and it's a Monday; but, then again, the kids aren't back to school yet I guess. Most of these people are skiers going to Loveland, Aspen, Breckenridge or Vail.

Starbucks over roast their beans giving the coffee a burnt taste to it. Some people prefer this taste. I do not. I'm too used to the superior coffee at the Frothy Cup.

My new exercise program will start out at 3 days per week with hiking carrying my new backpack stuffed to where it weighs approximately 35-40 pounds. Then pushups, stretching and pull ups will round out the program.

I've got 4 months to get prepared for my journey northwest in May. My tentative route is approximately 1600 miles which should get me to Seattle in 5 months.

Lord willing, I would then book passage on the Empire Builder train and travel 2257 miles to Chicago's Union Station then transfer to a southbound train to Galesburg where Ma could pick me up at the depot for the 50 mile car ride to Morton.

I trained for 3 months during the winter of 2013-14 to prepare for the first leg of my trip from Morton, IL to Denver. And, let me tell you I still had lots of difficulty especially during the first 2 weeks. What suffered most were my back muscles. I was at one point carrying 75 pounds in the "Beast" that fearsome creature that ended up bringing me to tears and fusillades of cursing and cussing especially along old Rt 24 between Bartonville and Quincy.

So, I'm going to pack my new camouflage back pack given to me as a gift by Christopher Watson with upwards of 50 pounds and hike a minimum of 10 miles 3 days per week. I plan on increasing my daily hikes to 5 times per week the closer I get to May.

I need to really nail down my tentative route too. I say tentative because routes can change due to construction, traffic, weather, etc. This time I plan on sending letters to the churches along the route introducing myself and asking for accommodations.

I've got about an hour at the most left here at Starbucks because it gets dark here in the canyon earlier than elsewhere. Don't want to get caught hiking in the dark on Stanley Rd no sireeee!

Was going to have Joe look at the furnace at the Lucas House as its not putting out as it should. Temps inside don't exceed 50 degrees. But, he has to be at work by 2:30pm and I'm in Dumont 6 miles away. He can take a gander at it tomorrow before he heads to work.

Not relishing the idea of hiking back to Idaho Springs. My legs are tired and my back is aching...as expected.

But, it is needful for me to get my exercise program started sooner rather than later.

Supper at Blackwells is scheduled as usual for Wednesday night along with Church at First Baptist. Thursday is either contemplative service at St Luke's in Highlands Ranch or evening service at Clear Creek Neighborhood Church. 

Also, I will be donning my chauffeur's hat on Wednesday driving my client to Golden, CO.

On friday I will be meeting once again with Bobby and Pete at the Frothy Cup to explore collaborating regarding our separate ministries.

Looking forward to the rest of the week and the new year.

Pics show Stanley Rd which I hiked to get to Dumont, CO. Last pic is of Starbucks.

Peace to y'all and thank you for reading.

BR Schoenbein
January 4, 2016- Monday

Mom

Called mom yesterday. Tipping my hat right now to Prof. Mike Foster who told me, "call your mother."

It was good just hearing her voice which reminds me of home where I once lived. She used to read me stories at night before bed. And, one story in particular stands out. I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7. Mom read me a book about some fluffy white clouds floating across a blue sky.

That's the only story I can recall. But it launched me on a career of reading books. Books of all kinds, classics, non fiction, novels, stories about the journey of heros and such.

Mom turned the conversation to the latest news in town. She told me the basement flooded due to the heavy rains in central Illinois. So, she called the village and they sent out the water/sewer guy. After he checked it out, he told mom there was nothing wrong with the village sewer line so she would have to hire her own contractor. On his way out he told mom that he really enjoyed reading my blog.

It's always nice to hear that there's one or two people who enjoy reading my stories.

We talked politics and current events. My political leanings are a byproduct of debates we kids and mom held around the supper table.

I can sometimes, when recalling my childhood, smell coffee brewing and her excellent cooking.  Those days seem long gone. I haven't been home in almost 2 years.

I owe alot to my mom. So, here's to you mom as I'm raising a plastic cup of Welches white grape juice/apple cider.

Tomorrow I will probably be hiking to the Starbucks in Dumont a 12 mile round trip west of Idaho Springs. Don't tell Glenda and Randy at the Frothy Cup Coffee Shop!

Anyway, just finished watching the film, "The Notebook" a tear jerker. I was in the mood, let's just leave it at that, shall we?

I'll be taking over the adult Sunday School Class at the United Church next Sunday. Missed church at the First Baptist because I ran into Bobby and Pete again at the Frothy Cup this morning. Our conversations just keep on getting better and better. I feel a strange camaraderie with these men. We discussed setting up a joint ministry proclaiming the Kingdom of God town to town. It's very exciting.

Pic is of my Ma.

Till we meet again, peace out.

BR Schoenbein
January 3, 2016- Sunday

The Highway Is Where You Roam

The highway calls your heart,
But your ole soul is so low,
You pack up your sack, say goodbye,
It's so hard to part.

The highway is where you roam,
The highway is where you roam.

You're just a wanderer,
Can't stay, can't lay in one place,
The gaping hole in your soul,
Left life with strife and little wonder.

With no friends, hungry, lonely, cold,
Trudging down the road, sun blazing
In your eyes, back bent, legs aching,
Time goes on as the story is told.

The highway is where you roam,
The highway is where you roam.

The pretty girls cry,
The old ladys sing sad songs,
When you walk out of each town,
A new chapter written in the sky.

Left it all, you left it all behind,
Home, children, love, life,
Can't go home again,
Rover, nomad, your life redefined.

Home, is where you pitch your tent,
The highway is where you roam,
Someday, when your travels cease,
The soul to rest, no more torment.

The highway is where you roam,
The highway is where you roam.

BR Schoenbein
January 3, 2016- Sunday

Christmas Card From Mom Arrived

A bit of a heat wave is splashing over Idaho Springs this morning, the air temp is 26 degrees; the garish sun is out along and just above the mountain ridges to the south; several crows perched up in the tops of the cottonwoods along Riverside are cawing incessantly as they are want to do; Clear Creek is in good form today gurgling noisily; ice dams are building above the currents and the multitudes of humankind on their way to Loveland, Aspen or Vail have stopped off briefly to shop up and down Miner Street.

I decided to mosey on over to the Frothy Cup to get my regular cup of mountain java and greet my people.

First, I strolled on over to the Post Office as I'm waiting for some word back home.

A Christmas card from my mother back in Illinois was waiting for me. She wrote in the card that I should call her to let her know what I'm doing.

Hmm. I wonder if she forgot how to access my blog. She like a lot of Depression era people aren't very techie. But, then again, she does use her email account so I would think she could figure out how to get on my blog.

Or...mom could simply call me. She has a phone and my phone number. Hmmm.

Well, the simplest solution is for me to call her. So, I will do so sometime today.

Besides providing for my physical needs the best gift my mother gave me was to set me free, to kick me out of the nest when I turned 18. Otherwise, I could not have faced life or its adventures without paralyzing fears. She taught me independence and self reliance. 

Now, as I am firmly entrenched in middle age I must work out how to unlearn this independence and this rugged individualism which I acquired over my lifetime and which served me so well in my career and which I admire so much.

To go through the rest of whatever time I have left in this dimension alone, independent, rogue like, relying on no one else would be to me a catastrophe, a failure of epic proportions.

God teaches us dependence on him and others. Look to the Trinity for example. The 3 persons of the Triune Godhead rely and depend on each other. There is no hierarchy in their relationship with each other. All 3 persons are fully God. They all submit to each other out of love. Hierarchy assumes someone is in control of the other. 

At 56 I'm just now learning how to "be" and how to "be" in relationship with others. The thing I have to learn is how not to manipulate people to get what I want. I have to learn how not to label things, people and circumstances as either good or bad. If God is all good and if God either allows or actually brings all things and circumstances in my life then everything that comes my way is good by definition even if looks and feels bad.

Now, to get off my soap box, Joe is here at the Frothy Cup working on the ancient ice machine installing a new timer. He promised to sit down with me after he's finished and before he has to take off to start his shift as facilities engineer at one of the casinos in Blackhawk 10 miles north of here. It was on his land I was building my winter hut.

I'm going to let him know I've decided against completing the hut due to a myriad of reasons mostly because I can't seem to find the time to hike up to York Gulch several times a week while writing my book.

Just got too many irons in the fire I guess. May start my new cooking career for the Frothy Cup next week. Then, I plan on attending contemplative services at St Luke's in Highlands Ranch on a regular basis too. Plus, I'll be driving Miss Daisy(my good friend) down to Golden or Parker every so often. There will also be dog/house sitting as well.

Pics show my Christmas card, ice in Clear Creek and me.

Gots to go. Hope y'all had a great New Years Day celebration. Just remember, there is only 357 days to Christmas! Hahaha! Can't wait!!

BR Schoenbein
January 2, 2016- Saturday