the first female congresswoman

Who knew that the first female congresswoman was born in Missoula, Montana, where I spent a week this summer? It's true. She was the definition of a hippie, fighting for women's lib, and in the 40s, she was the only Congressperson to vote against war with Japan. (She thought FDR made it all up...)
Anyways, there's this awesome shop in Missoula named after her that sells all sorts of free-trade products from all over the globe, specifically products made by women in struggling countries where they have literally no job opportunities. I could have spent my life savings on things like giant frisbees with peace signs on them, weird posters, and what not...

I found this on a notecard and thought it was a perfect description of the school where I teach...our leaders are fully committed to all of these things, not just TAKS scores, and encourage teachers to be too.

I also really like this poster...who wouldn't?

Here's a brief bio I hacked from a few websites if you'd like to read more...: Jeanette Rankin was born in Missoula on June 11, 1880. After graduating from Montana University in 1902, Rankin worked as a schoolteacher. She became a member of the Republican Party and in 1916 Rankin decided to run for Congress. Rankin, who campaigned for universal suffrage, prohibition, child welfare reform, became the first woman to be elected to the House of Representatives.

One of her first actions was to introduce a bill that would have allowed women citizenship independent of their husbands. A pacifist, Rankin was one of the 49 members of Congress to vote against war with Germany. Rankin's controversial views on the First World War, trade union rights, equal pay and birth-control, lost her the Republican Senate nomination in 1918. She therefore stood as an independent but without the support of a party machine, was easily defeated. She remained active in the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom and the National Council for the Prevention of War.

In 1940 Rankin was elected to the House of Representatives on an anti-war programme. Rankin maintained this position and in December, 1941, was the only member of Congress to vote against the declaration of war on Japan. Rankin was convinced that Franklin D. Roosevelt had deliberately provoked the Japanese attack. Once again her pacifism made her extremely unpopular with the electorate and she decided not to stand for re-election.

In the 1960s Rankin established a self-sufficient women's co-operative in Georgia. Rankin was also active in the campaign against the Vietnam War and on 15th May, 1968, at the age of 87, led a women's demonstration against the war in Washington. Jeannette Rankin died at Carmel, California, on 18th May, 1973.

You can find the notecards and posters here: (though different from the shop in missoula)

http://syracuseculturalworkers.com/

renza, wyoming, and buffalo bill

Its been quite the busy day. Monday, july 12...I loaded my car and cleaned out the cottage I had rented this past week in Missoula, said goodbye and tried not to look in the rearview mirror too much. Approximately four hours and 202 miles later, I found a nice new friend at the Bozeman airport. Turns out, it was long lost Renza Sharpe, here to conquer Wyoming & Colorado with me! Hooray!

Several u-turns, a log-cabin drive-in restaurant (basically Abraham Lincoln's version of Sonic), and 220 miles later, we crossed the state border into Wyoming and wound up in the Wild West town of Cody. It’s named after the Pony Express rider and Bison hunter named William Cody – oh, I guess you can call him Buffalo Bill if you want. (town has a population of 8800. it’s a huge tourist destination in summertime because it’s the east entrance to Yellowstone park.)

So, yesterday, while laying around giving my knees a rest after the Missoula half marathon, I read up on Cody and places to stay. There was a normal, nice looking B&B that had decent photos online. They were the only place in town within walking distance of the main street, had reasonable prices, etc. We show up today and its cute: screen porch, red door, etc. We walk in to meet the owners, they show us to our room, the Mary Eleanor room. It’s named after each of their mothers – Mary, and Eleanor, respectively.

Their pictures are framed above one of the twin beds in the room, and Mary’s wedding dress hangs on the opposite wall. If that’s not creepy enough… turns out they’re both deceased. So basically we have a dead woman’s red velvet wedding dress – I said red velvet, that’s right – and their photos watching over us all night. Creepy? You betcha.

Did we mention we share the hallway bath with another guest room? It was supposed to be empty, so no big deal, I thought. Turns out a German dude in his late forties by the name of Ulrich is staying across the hall. (Could I make this stuff up? Probably. But, seriously, this is all true.)

We got to hear Ulrich Von Lichtenstein's very thick, very real German accent when Renza, without knocking, pushed the bathroom door open. “Ohhh! Jest a moment.”

Clearly someone was occupying the bathroom. I had watched this take place from the doorway of our room, and Renza's facial expresssion... priceless. Before I could find out if she’d seen anything, I threw myself on the bed trying to contain loud bursts of giggles at the thought of Renza barging in on an aging German man. Turns out, he was behind the door and she didn’t cause too much awkwardness, Ulrich was not seen nor too embarassed. But the poor man! Apparently they don’t have locks on the bathroom doors in Deutschland.

We also went to the Cody rodeo this evening – I had to explain to Renza, my environmentalist love, that the way they get the animals to buck is by tying a rope around the things that make the male horses and bulls… well, male. “I’d like to see someone tie a rope around those cowboys balls and see how they like it!!!” She exclaimed more than once in the next hour. Also, did you know Renza is from the steer wrestling capitol of the world? She should be explaining rodeo stuff to me. Sheesh.

Last thing of interest – we bought some locally brewed beer (Missoula Big Sky Brewing Co) and planned to pop a top out on the Buffalo Bill Dam, while watching the sun hover over the horizon, past the giant reservoir and mountains. But, we didn’t think about twist offs or needing a bottle opener.

Don’t worry though. I used the nearby chain link fence to pry the top off of our bottles. Sure, it was messy, and though I didn’t even finish my entire beer, it tasted good as we sat on some boulders off the highway, wind blowing the Wyoming air in our faces, the Wild West soaking into our bones. Or at least the wild part...

Renza’s mom thinks we should refer to ourselves as Thelma and Louise, but Renza objected to that because they set things on fire, stole lots of stuff, and ended up dying at the end of their adventure. So, we’ve come with alternate names. Gertrude and Betty Lou. You can call me Trudy. And this is my friend Lou.

And yes, that's us, cartwheeling and laying in the middle of the highway, across the Montana-Wyoming border.

like i said, it's been a busy day.

four-dollar-tube-rentals

Life is a funny thing. This afternoon I found myself floating down the Clark Fork River in a tube rented from the Army Surplus store in town. I was surrounded by strangers, new friends who had taken me in, the lonely Texan in town all by herself.

Some of them I had met the night before, at a beer festival on the river in downtown Missoula. A few of them I had just met, while we were hiding the keys to our cars and leaving them in various parking lots. We put our tubes in the river at a place referred to as “White Trash Beach” and floated a few miles down the Clark Fork River, the water rushing from rains a few weeks back and chilling our toes at a balmy 58 degrees.

My chacos bobbed on the water and the smell of sunscreen hung in the air as we floated through some small rapids. As we got out of the water an hour or so down the way, some of the locals headed to work (as bartenders at a local upscale hotel) or wherever. I thanked them for being so nice to a random out-of-stater. I drove a few people back to their house with their tubes in the back of my Dad’s dust-covered Acura. As they climbed out, I found myself grateful for the chance to have time off from work, to get in a car and escape the familiar, to make friends and go tubing and just to appreciate all that the world has to offer. I found myself so thankful for the peace that doesn't come from a fulfilling job, or a close family, or fun friends back in Houston - though those things are awesome - but it comes from faith and from His Holiness and knowing that there is someone else in charge.

My first 48 hours alone in Missoula have passed, and I think the adventure is just beginning…
Peace. Love. Suntans & sunsets.

"I keep asking that the God of our Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better." Ephesians 1:17

carwash waterfalls

My stomach felt as if someone was repeatedly punching me with gusto, hoping to cause pain. My head hurt, my skin was clammy with sweat and I felt hot and cold at the same time. I was trying not to complain too much, but I felt horrible. I was thankful my mom was awake and ready to drive the first shift that day.

After about an hour on the road, we stopped for some vitamin water and gas. I sat curled up in the passenger seat, leaning against a pillow and alternating between clinging to a blanket and kicking it off me. I faded in and out of sleep.

My mom decided to drive us across the street to get the car washed, which I sort of processed before falling back asleep. The next thing I knew…water was raining down on me. I sat up immediately in shock, cold water soaking through my shirt, my nike shorts, dripping off my face and soaking my pillow in a few places. I immediately registered that we were in a carwash and that my side of the car was the only part getting wet. “Holy shit!!!!” I yelled loudly. (My apologies. I know I should have more original, less offensive things to scream in a moment of crisis, but, I don’t.)

Apparently, the sunroof had not been properly closed the night before when we were stargazing in the dark night of Utah. (My fault, I’ll admit, but I feel that is irrelevant.)

My mom, laughing at me in my wet moment of rage, ripped back the sunroof cover. “DON’T DO THAT!” I yelled, pushing her hands away. I knew that the water hose was coming back around and we needed to CLOSE the sunroof, not open it more. I managed to press a few buttons before the machine whipped its soapy waterfall back around, and we sat back in our seats.

I smiled but could not bring myself to bust out laughing, as my mother did for the next few minutes while our car was cleaned and I ripped off my soaking wet shirt. I wrapped myself in the blanket and dug around in the back for dry clothes, while telling my mother I found it very suspicious that a) she had the brilliant idea to wash the car and b) only my side of the vehicle had taken in water – on top of that, not one inch of the actual car got wet.

Nope, my body and clothes were the only victims of the icy, weird smelling carwash rainwater. Thanks, Mom. It’s never boring when you’re behind the wheel.

you need to visit santa fe

"I lift my eyes up to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth." Psalm 121:1-2

Day Three: Wednesday, June 30
No traveling, we parked in Santa Fe for an additional day and night

Perhaps it because I arrived with little to no expecations for this place, but Santa Fe has been delightful. It is a small town, busting at the seams with culture, history, art, and hippies. (Newsflash: its probably time to remove the "Impeach Bush" bumper stickers from your cars.

We've strolled, we've climbed hills, we've had sangria and discovered galleries. The buildings are 400 years old in a few places and the trees are as wide as small automobiles.

I love Santa Fe - how much there is to do outside, even just sit and be...and the art and charm this city has to offer. The only flaw I've found is that the Georgia O'Keefe museum is only exhibiting her abstract works currently - what a let down. A security guard told my mom and I: "Excuse me, ladies, but I think you missed a room." When I told him that we had not, he said, "Um, yes, I walked you walk right by this room and now you're leaving without visiting it..." Duh. Because the stuff in all these rooms is pretty much weird or ugly or something my third graders could have made. Love ya, Georgia, but seriously...abstract? Not so much. Poppies? Anytime.

I'll have to tell you more about Soulman Sam and my mom and I dancing inside a jazz bar on an otherwise calm Wednesday night... but I'm sure you're tired of reading at this point. Happy Summer, thanks for reading. Peace. Love. Hippies.

coolest yard art ever (above)

(this guy was near our hotel)

(It's over 200 years old!)

This was at the top of a hike that started literally across the street from our bed & breakfast. It was about 2/3 mile and a bit of a steep slope to reach the top... and you could look down over the city... beautiful at night, and quite the workout.



Mark Twain!!! Obviously I had to kiss him. And say... "I'll be your Huckleberry..."

santa fe & st. francis

we spent tuesday evening and wednesday in santa fe. off their main square is st. francis's basilica, which was built in 1870s. But there has been a church/adobe structure occupying the spot and holding daily mass since 1610. (read 400 years.)

i loved the st. francis dancing on water statue outside - it had quotes from his life/prayers all over the statue.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

-Francis of Assisi

happy birthday, gentry!

wednesday was gentry's birthday and i wasn't near the internet to share this fact with the blog world.

his girlfriend is on a young life trip, his dad is flying around montana, his mother and sister are relaxing in santa fe, and he had to work all day. sometimes, i think growing up is silly. i wish when i was seven or eight someone would have pulled me aside and said: Newsflash. Enjoy the cake and parties and frolicking now. Because when you hit the real world in "adultland" it will not be like this. so i'm telling you that now, younger bro. sometimes adult reality bites.

but still, we should stop once a year and celebrate the fact that we've made it around the sun another time. because life in the adult world isn't that bad...its actually pretty awesome!

happy birthday, midget!!! even though people tell you that you look like a face model in GQ and that you quote movies like ace ventura incessantly and you're a foot taller than me...i still love you more than you even know. and now we're both 23! yahooooo.

day two: meeting coast to coast dan

Tuesday June 29
Start time: 9:49 a.m. Marfa, Texas
End time: 6:20 p.m. Santa Fe, NM
Total Miles: 530

Day two was a busy day on the road. After many rotations on the odometer, we finally made it out of the great state of Texas. But first, we had our eyes peeled Tuesday morning, looking for the Prada Marfa building on the highway between Marfa and the next tiny town, Valentine.

Prada Marfa is an art project planted in the middle of nowhere Texas in 2005 – it is a store front that has no working doors, contains real prada shoes and handbags from the 2005 season. It is one of the most photographed stores in the world, apparently. Upon googling it recently, I read several different editorials questioning its purpose, who was behind the project, etc. The sign says that two artists teemed with an architect as just a fun project to promote art and style in an otherwise rural area.

Some people say that the Prada Foundation claims to have nothing to do with the structure, that it would be using art to advertise, which would be wrong, rude even to the people of Marfa. But, one article asked, when is art advertising? When is advertising art? An interesting question, but really, I’m not sure I cared on Tuesday. I was just excited to be standing at a weird, much-talked about building that I had seen in Texas Monthly and other publications.

We looked around and snapped a few pictures, about to climb back in the car bound for Santa Fe, when a guy on a bike approached from the opposite direction we were traveling. He pulled his bike to a stop and asked if we’d like him to take our picture together. “Um, sure,” I walked over to him with Frere Jacques (my camera.) I squinted at him in the morning sunlight, immediately noticing the heavy trailer he was pulling behind his bicycle, a box of Wheat Thins strapped right on top. I also immediately took notice of the pistol tucked into his cycling short’s waistband. (During the forty minute conversation that followed with this man, Coast-to-Coast Dan, my mom never noticed he was packing heat.)

“Are you with the bikers we passed a few miles ago?” I asked this fifty-plus year old stranger.
“Oh, no, I’m not with them. I met them last night. They’re too young and too fast for me. One of them beat cancer, so they’re riding together as a ride for the cure.”
“Are they riding from California to Florida? Are you?”
“Ya, we’re all riding coast to coast. I started in Cali, I’ll end up in Florida. That’s where I’m from.”
“That’s so awesome!!” My mom enthusiastically piped up. Dan proceeded to take our picture as he laughed at the Prada Marfa. He hadn’t heard about it before, but, much as the other cars that stopped when they past it, found it hilarious and definitely worthy of a photo stop.

Dan continued to tell us that he was riding across the country via bicycle, he had been in a three year relationship with a wonderful woman in Florida, but they had split up and he had given her his whole heart, everything he had.

“Well, that is so good! That is so healthy!” My mom waved her hands in the air as she spoke. “I think that is so much better than drinking away your problems or just staying in your house upset – what a healthy, cool way to work that out!”

Oh, here we go, I thought. Dan seemed nice enough, cool even, but I had a folder in the car with timetables on it. We had miles to make and I didn’t my mom talking to this dude for an hour. Which is kind of what happened… After he told us several cool stories about people he had met thus far on his journey, he even quoted scripture at one point, we got in the car.
“He was such a neat guy! How crazy that we met him at Prada in Marfa.” I said.
“He was awesome!” my mom said, climbing in the passenger seat.

“True, but next time, if you’re going to be twenty minutes late getting started, we cannot spend forty minutes talking to bicyclists with pistols in their pants.”

“We only talked for ten minutes and he did not have a gun!” Oh, mother. Your concept of time amazes me.

I was wiping the windshield in Van Horn, a little south of El Paso, when a Lockheed Martin trailer and suburban pulled into the gas pump next to me. The guy was probably way too old for me (like late 30s but who’s asking) and I couldn’t help but notice he was quite handsome. A little old lady walked over, nosily inquiring about his giant trailer. “Are you headed down to clean up the gulf sir??”
“No,” he laughed and looked over at me. “I’m going to meet with border patrol, this our new line of surveillance equipment. I’m a sales rep.” She kept talking to him and I figured I should stop staring. He smiled and nodded as I pulled away and I couldn’t help but think it would be really cool to hang out with a Lockheed Martin sales rep who pitches presentations to US Border Patrol.

Next we headed to El Paso and Santa Fe. I’ll have to fill you in later about that – though I have been to Mexico more than a few times, I was shocked to see the contrast in El Paso and Juarez, just because of a river and fence. Lives are so different on each side. I had to wip out the pen and journal to jot some thoughts down lest my brain explode.

(Before leaving El Paso though, we supported the economy by shopping at the Lucchese outlet. Lucchese boots, oh how I love thee. Too much, I know.)
We arrived in Santa Fe that evening. When Mom and I were strolling the square, I asked a nice looking man to take our picture. Not only did he inadequately push the shutter release and we did not get a picture out of the deal, he followed us around the square demanding to know if we were really sisters. Surely, you’re sisters. Nope. Surely. Nope. Goodbye, sir. And goodbye, blog world.