Going for a Ride

A big part of a vacation for me is the planning. That's why I book flights, trains, buses, car rentals, hotels, and entertainment events up to a year in advance. Once I buy that plane ticket, the vacation begins. I borrow a tour guide of the destination from the library. I search relevant websites as I plot a daily itinerary of the trip. I watch as many videos on the stops as practical to ensure I hit the high points of each location. I create an Excel spreadsheet to detail the expected expenses, enter the hotel addresses, and record the distances and duration of each drive. 

This year, one of the destinations is Colorado, where I will tour the Centennial State in a loop begining and ending in Denver, driving as far northeast as Estes Park, as far northwest as Grand Junction, as far southwest as Mesa Verde National Park, and as far southeast as Alamosa. I planned this exact trip for July 2020, but the pandemic squashed that opportunity. I'll be leaving four years older, perhaps less prepared for the high altitudes, so I am wondering how taxing the hikes will be on my lungs.

The main objective of the trip is to visit national parks: Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado National Monument, Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, Mesa Verde National Park, and Great Sand Dunes National Park. The National Park Service provides America's greatest service to the world, as 318 million people visit its 429 sites across all 50 states. I have always enjoyed and learned from my trips to about a hundred of them. 

Worthy Words, Part 15: John Dewey

John Dewey (1859 - 1952) was an American philosopher who is still commands the attention of graduate schools of education three quarters of a century after his death. One of Dewey's best known books, Democracy and Education, establishes the purpose of education early on:

Beings who are born not only unaware of, but quite indifferent to, the aims and habits of the social group have to be rendered cognizant of them and actively interested. Education, and education alone, spans the gap. (Democracy and Education, page 3)

In the context of Dewey's position, I refer to education to not only what occurs within a school building. I include what elders teach children. A modern society tends to overlook this essential detail pf spanning the gap between ignorance and learning cultural traditions. Consider some of societal expectations: respecting public property; tolerating people unlike ourselves; contributing to the greater good of the community through work, learning, and volunteerism; investing in quality and safe food and goods; and providing housing, medical, psychiatric, social, sanitation, and security services, among other provisions. 

Sure, technology continues to change us, but we still need each other to perpetuate our species. This basic reminder from Dewey should be part of a teacher's oath.   

Worthy Words, Part 14: Albert Einstein

When Albert Einstein received a human rights award from the Chicago Decalogue Society on February 20, 1954, he opened his acceptance speech with this comment:

You are assembled today to devote your attention to the problem of human rights. You have decided to offer me an award on this occasion. When I learned about it, I was somewhat depressed by your decision. For in how unfortunate a state must a community find itself if it cannot produce a more suitable candidate upon whom to confer such a distinction. — Albert Einstein, Ideas and Opinions, p. 34. 

If you think Einstein was attempting humility, think again. He was speaking at a time of McCarthyism, at a time not long after the Nuremberg Trials showed that following government orders or arguing tu quoque was insufficient grounds for defense against human rights violations. Yet, Einstein implies, too few people step forward to denounce government crimes and resist their creators and enforcers, and most who do arrive on the scene far too late.

Worthy Words, Part 13: Robert Frost

I have been rereading some of the poems of Robert Frost (1874-1963), perhaps for the first time in this millennium, so I am experiencing his work a quarter-century older, hopefully wiser, and certainly more curious about the human condition. Few poets can write as Frost does about our proclivity toward pensiveness ("Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"), our spirit of adventure ("The Road Not Taken"), our lament of passing time ("Nothing Gold Can Stay"), our tendency toward judging humanity ("Fire and Ice"), or our heartbreak in enduring loss ("Home Burial"). 

I came across a 2-stanza, 1-sentence, 8-line, 34-word gem, "Dust of Snow," from Frost's Collected Poems. In such a short space, he shows why critics universally regard him as a master of the American vernacular. From The way a crow / Shook down on me to save some part / Of a day, the verse seems like plainspeak, merely a matter-of-fact statement made in idle passing, until it repeats and repeats in the memory like a sacred credo. 

If you read these six referenced poems at the Poetry Foundation website (53 of Frost's are there), start with "Dust of Snow."