Ten years ago, mom was diagnosed with cancer, with all the associated indignities; hysterectomy, mascectomy, chemo, etc, and handled it like an absolute trooper. All is now well, and life goes on.
Eight years ago, dad ruptured his Achilles tendon playing basketball, then two years ago ruptured his colon landing stomach -first on a stump when he took a header over the bars of his motorcycle; he always emphasizes the stomach part, as everyone assumes that the stump impacted a more private area when they hear the word “colon”. It was during this time that I came into the picture and we all know the sorry state I was in when I was freed from the crate.
Now here I am, tapping out these words in one of the most beautiful areas on this planet, Gothic, Colorado. Yet when I look back on pictures taken during those life-altering, difficult times, I don’t see the stress or pain that was obviously involved, only the happiness; who would have thought that those times instead of these would now be viewed as “the good old days”?
As incredible as this trip has been, Gothic, Ouray, Ophir, Chama, Gateway, etc, it’s hard to imagine that the memories made can even compare to those that are made on a daily basis back home, especially during what seems at the the time to be “the worst of times. And as the car and our thoughts turn towards home and the mundane problems we all have to face, I am reminded of those that follow this page that are going through MUCH more strenuous tests like cancer and death while we’re out here gallivanting around in the back country.
I often fear that this page might be taken as a bit of electronic narcissism, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth; we would love to be able to take everyone along on our treks, but we all know that that’s not going to happen, as dad has an odd way of traveling on the cheap that most would find insane. So instead, we aspire to do the next best alternative, which is to kidnap and drag y’all along for the ride.
And every day at the Casa del Whackos, whether on the road or at home, has the potential to be an adventure, as all adventures have the same origin:
They all start between your ears.