CHAPTER 15: THANKSGIVING ON THE FARM McPherson to Lawrence; Days 176-187 (1 rest); Distance = 175 Miles; People Met

= 52 We encountered some snow hiking out of McPherson. Under many conditions this would have been very aesthetic, but these conditions were the Kansas Plains and we were often hiking into the wind. Fortunately we had our full packs on for the next couple days, which provided a bit of shelter even while hiking. The snow subsided by evening and a nice sunset accompanied our final mile to McPherson State Fishing Lake. There was a campground there with outhouses still open and we set up our tent by one of them. What happened that night was perhaps the least kind moment of the journey, and I was the meany. I left the camp stove and cook set right outside the door to my side of the tent for quick access in the morning. Despite there being no food in the cook set I got a visitor at 2:00 a.m. I heard rustling metal outside the door, not two feet from my tent. As I opened the door flap a raccoon nonchalantly lumbered away. He turned around by the trunk of the tree we were camped under and looked at me, either with mild interest or disdain. I got out my camera and took a picture of the raccoon with the flash on, thinking that might spook the critter a bit. He calmly continued to observe me with little obvious motion or emotion. OK, then, time for action. I climbed out the door and Rocky Raccoon climbed up the tree. Nope. That was not a satisfactory solution. I grabbed my walking stick before he could get too high up and poked Rocky down off the tree. Rocky stayed by the tree, on the opposite side of the large trunk that separated us. I circled the tree in vain a few times and then reached around the best I could with my walking stick and whacked Rocky. Rocky headed out a few yards away from the tree and then keeled over. I went right up to him and he laid there stiffly, with bared teeth. I poked a couple times with my walking stick but he didn't budge. What?! I could not have hit him that hard! I pondered this as I went in to use the outhouse.

When I came out again Rocky was sitting up on his hind legs. We gave each other a cautious stare. I moved towards him and he took off running. That's the end of that, I thought and went back to my sleeping bag. At about 2:30 a. m. I hear metal rattling again about two feet from my head. This time as soon as I unzipped the door Rocky took off. I hoped that now we were done. At 3:00 a. m. I once again hear the familiar rattle of my cook set and stove. Now I mean business! I muttered as I exited the tent and immediately grabbed my walking stick. Rocky ran away but I followed in hot pursuit, whacking him with my stick whenever I could. This continued until he went into a brush pile. At that point he growled at me for the first time. I took the growl as a personal insult and started yelling back. I pulled away sticks from the pile to see where he was. This turned out to be exhausting work, or at least it was exhausting in my overanimated condition. I got somewhere close to the bottom but could not see Rocky, who perhaps left by the back door. I returned to my sleeping bag and that finally proved to be our last encounter. The next day we came to a sign for the entrance into the Maxwell Wildlife Refuge. The sign warned of dangerous animals and stated that all vehicles should stay on the road and all passengers should stay in the vehicle. Dangerous? Harumph!! After successfully backing down a raccoon the night before I was ready for anything and we continued on foot into the refuge. There we encountered both elk and buffalo. The buffalo were quite close to the road and we were careful not to look directly at them. There was a minor stampede, but thankfully parallel to our route, not right at us. Most of the animals we encounter are domesticated. In addition to shouting at confused geese I often find myself talking to cows and horses. The horses run to the fence and look at us expectantly, in a manner I wish to think means Do you want to play? but probably means Do you have an apple? In any case I never knew or appreciated the social nature of horses until this journey. The cows look at us with ponderous expressions, as if working out the deep meaning behind our conversation or they

run away. Dogs are a mixed lot. They usually initiate the talking, sometimes a hundred feet or more before we arrive. We reply with shameless flattery: Youre such a good dog! They either stop barking to bask in the praise or they bark all the louder to make clear they wont let their guard down by sweet talk. Cats disappear on sight; theres no sense in even beginning a conversation with them. All wild critters are like cats as well, except that an occasional raven may size us up a bit before taking off with an air that suggests we are beneath his dignity. As we hiked across the state, Kansans demonstrated their pride in certain things. One was the Ar-KAN-sas River; another was the notion that their communities were special in how they cared for each other. Now as we approached Lawrence two more sources of pride grew. At many stops people told us that Kansas was where the Civil War began, when Quantril Raiders from the Slave State of Missouri invaded the Free State of Kansas. Kansans also were at least defensive, and sometimes prideful, in proclaiming their state was not as flat as its reputation. Louisiana? That's flat. Central Illinois? That's flat. Kansas? Why they have the Flint Hills! In truth Kansas is indeed more undulating in terrain than the Nevada or Utah deserts. Yet those deserts, as monotonous as the foreground may be, feature spectacular backgrounds of mountains in the far distance. The foregrounds and backgrounds in Kansas were one in the same, without much variation in features.

We first saw the road sign announcing the Flint Hills soon after leaving Council Grove. Despite the build-up given by Kansans beforehand, us easterners still were not impressed. This still looked like the midwest plains rather than the eastern hills. Fortunately, the town of Council Grove did prove to be quite an interesting and hospitable stop along our journey. The town has historical significance as the

place where a treaty was worked out with the Osage Nation allowing settlers to pass through to the west. The Hays House Tavern and Restaurant is the oldest continuously running restaurant west of the Mississippi, started by Daniel Boone's grandson Seth Hays. The main feature of Council Grove for us was the White Memorial Camp near there, owned by the UCC. Pastor Connie from the McPherson UCC provided this connection for us. The director of the camp, Sara Shaw, suffered a major head injury from a car accident in 1992 that left her in a coma for a while. She shared with us her inspiring tale of getting her memory and life back, going to college and getting degrees that led to her career in working at camps. I spoke with Sara about her work with youth, which goes beyond her camp duties. She started a group called YiP (Youth in Power) for local youth near Council Grove. They started out at five and have since grown to nineteen, with new youth attracted to the kindness they find. In keeping with their anti-bullying and acts of kindness platforms the youth started something called the Teen Store. The premise behind this is that youth of limited means often are abused because of the clothes they wear. The teens in YiP gather clothes from there peers and use their Store to provide them for other teens in need. One of Sara's favorite stories involved a high school sophomore with a rough background. She first came to YiP just for the food. The longer she came the more she got involved. At one point this hardened teenager confided to Sara that she loved coming because: This is a place where I can be nice, and be around people who are nice. We attended the UCC Sunday service in Council Grove with Sara, where we met Don Peterson. Only after our journey was over and I was pouring through old emails did I discover that I had contacted Don as Lions Club President before the journey started. I took a mass email approach and Don's reply to me slipped through the cracks, even though he was interested in hosting us. When he met us at church he invited us to dinner that evening at the historic Hays House.

In between church and dinner Ky dropped us off to hike the necessary miles into town on a blustery day in the thirties. Sheriff Dan stopped us along the way because people were calling in to him concerned about two people out in the cold. He asked us with genuine charity and concern if we were alright and if we had a place to stay. We told him about White Memorial Camp and with meeting Don for dinner. At the time I could not recall Don's last name but Sheriff Dan knew immediately who I was talking about. The Hays House Tavern and Restaurant was filled with memorabilia from the wild west era, an impressive display for any history buff. We were mainly interested in Don himself, a fascinating man at age 81 who came from that area and was a visionary in many respects. Don stood tall wearing a cowboy hat and boots, consistent with his background in ranching and farming. He knew about GIS, or Geographic Information Systems, my former trade when I worked for a nonprofit watershed organization. Don uses GIS to sample soils for farmers. He also heats his home using geothermal. I had one unpleasant experience in Council Grove, the sermon at the Sunday service. The pastor served three churches, a common occurrence as we discovered during our journey. She actually was ordained Methodist and served there as well as the UCC in Council Grove. There were two things about her fire and brimstone speech not to my liking. The first was the inconsistency in her basic message that we are love-challenged when on our own and thus need to love Jesus for our salvation. Yet if we truly are love-challenged how can we even hope to love Jesus in the first place? Such a message, besides being logically impossible, flies in the face of the Believe in Humanity message I promote across the country. The second problem is the bit of chicanery that goes into such a fire and brimstone delivery. Does not that pastor have empathy? If so, has not that pastor discovered in herself what Pastor Jason in Larned discovered in others, that there is a natural compulsion towards kindness under the right conditions? Yet she delivers a charismatic and persuasive fire and brimstone speech that betrays this basic awareness of ourselves, a paternalistic tool to herd an obedient flock into not trusting our own

kind instincts.

Certainly we encountered plenty more evidence of such kind instincts on this stretch, even outside of Council Grove. Our first town after leaving McPherson was Durham, where proprietor Wendell Wedel kept his restaurant open longer to fill our water bottles and chat with us. He echoed a common refrain we heard through Kansas: we were not the first travelers for a cause he encountered but found our particular cause to be genuine and refreshing. We stayed at the First Baptist Church in Durham, where Ky was able to enjoy a potluck dinner while we were out harassing a raccoon and avoiding buffalo. Fortunately they saved some goodies for us when we arrived the next night. Pastor Kurt made a point of coming to talk with us, having been a backpacking and hiking enthusiast himself. The next day we went through Tampa around lunch time. During the Durham potluck Ky did some scouting for us, learning of a community initiative called Tampa Pride. We stopped at the Tampa Cafe where we learned from proprietor Amber how she was welcomed into the community and now is involved in making others feel welcomed as well as helping out those in need. Waitress Nicole had a similar story and was very interested in our journey as well. That evening we came to Herington, where we ran into a mortician connection. We stayed at the United Methodist Church there. Church member Karen Donohue was our liaison and allowed Ky to park her camper at their mortuary business while Cindy and I stayed at the church near the center of town. Karen and husband Vance took us out to a Mexican restaurant that evening. We learned that every five years they do something special for their anniversary and we suggested that they come to Connecticut for their next one, their fortieth. They in turn informed us that morticians generally are the most socially networked people in town and that we should turn to them whenever in need on our journey. Gwen Crane served as the secretary for the United Methodist Church in Osage City. When Ky

contacted the church she invited us to stay with her at her home. Once again, we were not the first travelers across Kansas she spoke with, or invited into her home. A woman named Abby bicycling across the country had stayed with her just within the past year. Gwen obviously enjoyed being able to host travelers. She actually thanked us for picking her to stay with! Gwen informed us about a ministerial alliance for Osage City called ECAT: Ecumenical Christian Action Team. Among the projects of ECAT are the warmth fund to assist with heating and the love fund to assist with more general needs. The churches of the alliance also rotate hosting Lenten meals for each other. Gwen reported that the rotating of responsibilities in this alliance kept things energized and working. After Osage City we stayed at another church camp, thanks to Sara from White Memorial Camp giving us some leads. Church camps provide an ideal place for us to stop, on the one hand providing electricity and a shower, on the other hand providing solitude with which I can write and tackle my Internet chores. Unfortunately, Kansas ended up being the only state where we stayed at church camps. A workshop held at White Memorial Camp our first evening there provided a connection for our next stop at the Light Center. This is an intentional community striving to live off the grid, while providing a model of Heart-Centered Living. Robin the founder and benefactor, who we never got to meet, bought a farm and hosted retreats for the Unity Church. She initiates a lot of philanthropy abroad, something that she calls Love Light, which provided one hook for people to come to the farm. Another hook was promoting the farm as an eco-village. That attracted Matt, a former anarchist who attended the University of Kansas. Much of the living off the grid energy comes from him. Soon after Matt came Christee and Adam arrived with their four children. The Heart-Centered emphasis seems to flow most from Christee, who very much wants to continue the spirit embodied in Robin's Love Light. We were at the Light Center during its fledgling state. They hope to grow, and probably will need more members in order to successfully live off the grid.

The stay at the Light Center proved to be particularly opportune. I figured that at some point we would catch the common cold and that happened to me the day Ky picked us up to bring us to the Light Center. This was a cold with a rapid onset and I had a fever by that evening. To complete a long distance trail you can't escape hiking with some injuries and infirmities; you just need to suck it up. However, hiking with a fever is one thing that should be avoided, the hiking will only exacerbate that harmful high temperature. We took an impromptu rest day at the Light Center to prevent that from happening. Another connection provided by Pastor Connie from the UCC in McPherson led to a speaking engagement at the University of Kansas in Lawrence, though this proved to be somewhat of a fiasco. The connection was through Ecumenical Campus Ministries, which provided both phone and email confirmation of the engagement along the lines of: We really look forward to having you. That eager anticipation evaporated somewhere. By the time we arrived on campus they had not announced the talk. Indeed, they did not even inform the janitor, who on that Sunday evening had to unlock the door for us and then confirm our legitimacy with a phone call. Fortunately there were two people in the audience, our two hosts in Lawrence, Reid and Heather Nelson. We spent a good long time conversing with them over the dinner table even before they brought us to my presentation. I later learned that Reid read my book Systems out of Balance in about a week, a rather impressive feat. He also left one of the nicest comments I received about my presentations on my web site: After you left Lawrence, it occurred to me that maybe you are part of an ancient oral tradition, bringing news and ideas on foot. There is something about this combination of exercise and sharing of ideas that is very appealing to me.

We came to Reid's house in Lawrence via a connection set up by Gretchen Davis, whom we met in Frisco, Colorado. Gretchen had been in contact with us ever since via email. At first she invited me

to speak at the elementary school where she once taught. As we hiked eastward across the plains she arranged for more speaking engagements in the Kansas City area. That meant we would need to stay in the Kansas City area for awhile. I adjusted our schedule accordingly while Gretchen went on to the next step of finding us places to stay, including the connection made with Reid. After Ky's parked minivan was hit she was able to have some initial repair work done back in La Junta. The body repair would require more time and our extended stay near Kansas City now provided the best opportunity. Of course, Gretchen took care of that for us as well, arranging for us to repair the car cheaply with a favorite mechanic of hers. As we entered the Flint Hills Ky got in touch with Kip via her cell phone to arrange for the repair. Kip asked her what we were doing for Thanksgiving. Ky revealed that we would be near Ottawa, but nothing was lined up. Originally, we intended to volunteer for a community Thanksgiving meal program. Ottawa used to have one but they canceled the same year we were coming through. Kip told Ky he would call her back in an hour. During that time Kip contacted one of his mechanics who lived near Ottawa, David Talbert. The Talberts were planning a traditional Thanksgiving family for their large, extended family and they were glad to extend their company a bit more for that important holiday. In addition to Dave working as a mechanic near Kansas City, the Talberts owned a farm. This would be our very first Thanksgiving on a farm in our fifty plus years. We found out why it occurred to Kip to contact his employee David on our behalf. The Talberts are not new to hosting large gatherings. Once a year they host a big communal gathering in October. This outreach is an extension of their faith as devoted Christians. Hay rides, bonfires and good food are common ingredients. For this Thanksgiving family gathering there were no hay rides nor bonfires, but there was plenty of good food and the ambiance of being on a farm for an occasion that celebrates the bountiful harvest. At one point I helped the Talberts load up some hay bails for family members. This hearkened

me back to my time on a farm, during the summers of my college days. My favorite job happened to be haying. I loved being outdoors; I loved the physical challenge of throwing bales as high up as possible on the truck for the stacker; I loved the camaraderie of the teamwork and taking needed breaks to gulp down home-made ice tea. To me there would be no more perfect job than haying . if one earned enough income to pursue other life ambitions. This brings me back to the argument I had soon after entering Kansas, with a disgruntled WASP claiming that Americans don't want to work hard anymore. To the extent that is true, and I've already established that Americans work longer if not harder over the past 40 years, the deterrent is not the work itself but the expectations we've developed for what work should accomplish for us. On the one hand I'd be the first to concede there is a thread of indulgence throughout the fabric of American society. To us much have been given, by all paternal entities from parents to government, raising our expectations for what we deserve. Yet at the same time the deck has been stacked against us, with a need to work longer hours while going further in debt because housing, health care and education costs far outpace the increase in our average incomes. I can understand why employers, particularly corporate employers, now face a work force that feels part entitled, part resentful to the work situation they now find themselves in. Hard work is not the problem as much as expecting people to be content with debt-inducing minimum wages doled out by an anonymous hand in a land of extravagance and entitlements. Because most of the Talbert family had so far to travel, we were actually the last ones to leave their home, providing us a chance for a little time to chat. The Talberts work with the organization Harvesters to distribute produce that would otherwise be thrown away by large chains. David's wife Arlene is well aware that many of those struggling with food also struggle to be available when opportunities like Harvesters come around; she often serves as a middle person to distribute this food. One reason for Arlene's good works is their own story of misfortune when their house in Missouri burned down. Through that tragedy they learned of what the Red Cross does in providing

emergency funds for anyone who gets displaced from their homes, and they now volunteer with the Red Cross to provide this service to others. Through their own experiences the Talberts have become keenly aware that many people who need help would like to receive that help in the context of community rather than simply an anonymous hand-out by someone fulfilling a service requirement or need. This provided further confirmation for the community ingredient I observed and formulated in Kansas called expectations. People respond to the expectations, or lack of, that are laid before them. This holds true not just for our communities, but our American society as well. Podcast: Tell Them Fellers in Washington Podcast: Kansas Wind, Part II Podcast: Sara Shaw Podcast: The Light Center