and now comes the processing of the information and stories that I took on during my trip to Illinois.
I slept exactly 0 hours the night before my departure but was lucky enough to sleep through most of both of the flights that I had. Somehow, I only slept for an hour or so once I got home and was able to rally enough to dance t0 90's music until 3:30 in the morning.
I love going dancing with a posse and without even realizing it at first, went dancing with two couples, making me the fifth wheel on some sort of strange 5 wheeled vehicle. Highlights of the night include getting blatantly and awkwardly hit on for the first time in recent times, having my water bottle full of tequila and orange juice taken out of my bag, emptied out and then returned to my bag (I only had two drinks all night and didn't even make use of my secret stash).
So, now it's back to work saving for Summer adventures, trying to make some sense of the madness of the world and trying to avoid toxic people in my life. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
A Love Letter From Illinois Part 4
Today, my final day in Illinois, I accomplished two of my three main goals for my time in Illinois.
I went to the town of Strawn, Ill. (population 100), which is the town where my Grandmother was born and grew up. My original intention had been to go with my Grandmother but due to her wet basement floor, she had to spend the day waiting on the carpet cleaners. Luckily, my Uncle Bob volunteered to go with me. I would of went alone but in hindsight I wouldn't of known anything about what I was seeing, so it was great to have a tour guide along.
I was able to see the farm house and land that she grew up on and where my Mom and Aunts and Uncles spent their Summers. I took a handful of rich, black Illinois soil from the land to have in my home. I saw the gas station, where my Great Grandfather had worked, when he wasn't farming or driving the school bus. I saw the local tavern, across the street from the gas station, where my Great Grandmother was hit by a car and killed. Her nephew ran into the street and she pushed him out of the way of a speeding car, saving his life. I was able to see a place, that I had only heard of, that is an important part of who I am.
On the way down, we drove past a large round corn crib. My Uncle shared a story with me, that one Summer, he and all of his siblings (there were five of them) were driving to the farm with their Mother (my Grandmother) and when they came to the corn crib, she began to tell them about the farmer who had died in the corn crib. In awe, they all asked how he died and she replied, "He couldn't find a corner to piss in!". (This of course do to the roundness of the structure.) She then giggled and told them all, "Don't you dare ever tell your father I told you that!".
This evening, I was able to sit down with my Grandmother and talk to her for two hours (and recorded the whole thing!) about her childhood, where she came from, her siblings and parents, how she met my Grandfather and our family history of depression and suicide. This last bit was of particular significance to my own life and my struggles with depression.
I also found out that my Great Grandmother was a secret pipe smoker. She used to have a room, upstairs in their house, where she went to sew. When she was sewing the door was locked and kids were not aloud to come upstairs. Whenever she came down, the smell of pipe tobacco was thick on her. After she died, when they were going through her stuff, the found multiple pouches of expensive pipe tobacco. For some reason, I really like that story!
I have some pictures from today and Wednesday that I would like to share. They include a picture of were my Grandfather is inturned, my Great Grandparents grave site, in Strawn, some pictures of the little farm house (which has been changed quite a bit but is still the original house) and the land and some pictures from the town, including the gas station where my Great Grandfather worked. Also, while I was here, the area suffered from some pretty bad flooding. I took a couple of pictures but they in no way show what was actually happening. Houses and hospitals had to be evacuated, businesses were ruined, people had to be rescued. It was crazy driving around and seeing streets under 8 feet of water. The final picture is of my Uncle Bob (the one was my tour guide) and my Grandma, Bonnie Jean Hammerstein.
If you are lucky enough to have Grandparents, I urge you to take the time and hear their stories. Don't let your family history die out with them, when it is their time to go. I only have one Grandparent left and I feel so privileged to get to spend time with her and here about her life.
In 3 hours I will be driving to the airport, so goodnight and I hope you all are sleeping soundly.
Love,
Allan
I went to the town of Strawn, Ill. (population 100), which is the town where my Grandmother was born and grew up. My original intention had been to go with my Grandmother but due to her wet basement floor, she had to spend the day waiting on the carpet cleaners. Luckily, my Uncle Bob volunteered to go with me. I would of went alone but in hindsight I wouldn't of known anything about what I was seeing, so it was great to have a tour guide along.
I was able to see the farm house and land that she grew up on and where my Mom and Aunts and Uncles spent their Summers. I took a handful of rich, black Illinois soil from the land to have in my home. I saw the gas station, where my Great Grandfather had worked, when he wasn't farming or driving the school bus. I saw the local tavern, across the street from the gas station, where my Great Grandmother was hit by a car and killed. Her nephew ran into the street and she pushed him out of the way of a speeding car, saving his life. I was able to see a place, that I had only heard of, that is an important part of who I am.
On the way down, we drove past a large round corn crib. My Uncle shared a story with me, that one Summer, he and all of his siblings (there were five of them) were driving to the farm with their Mother (my Grandmother) and when they came to the corn crib, she began to tell them about the farmer who had died in the corn crib. In awe, they all asked how he died and she replied, "He couldn't find a corner to piss in!". (This of course do to the roundness of the structure.) She then giggled and told them all, "Don't you dare ever tell your father I told you that!".
This evening, I was able to sit down with my Grandmother and talk to her for two hours (and recorded the whole thing!) about her childhood, where she came from, her siblings and parents, how she met my Grandfather and our family history of depression and suicide. This last bit was of particular significance to my own life and my struggles with depression.
I also found out that my Great Grandmother was a secret pipe smoker. She used to have a room, upstairs in their house, where she went to sew. When she was sewing the door was locked and kids were not aloud to come upstairs. Whenever she came down, the smell of pipe tobacco was thick on her. After she died, when they were going through her stuff, the found multiple pouches of expensive pipe tobacco. For some reason, I really like that story!
I have some pictures from today and Wednesday that I would like to share. They include a picture of were my Grandfather is inturned, my Great Grandparents grave site, in Strawn, some pictures of the little farm house (which has been changed quite a bit but is still the original house) and the land and some pictures from the town, including the gas station where my Great Grandfather worked. Also, while I was here, the area suffered from some pretty bad flooding. I took a couple of pictures but they in no way show what was actually happening. Houses and hospitals had to be evacuated, businesses were ruined, people had to be rescued. It was crazy driving around and seeing streets under 8 feet of water. The final picture is of my Uncle Bob (the one was my tour guide) and my Grandma, Bonnie Jean Hammerstein.
If you are lucky enough to have Grandparents, I urge you to take the time and hear their stories. Don't let your family history die out with them, when it is their time to go. I only have one Grandparent left and I feel so privileged to get to spend time with her and here about her life.
In 3 hours I will be driving to the airport, so goodnight and I hope you all are sleeping soundly.
Love,
Allan
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
A Love Letter From Illinois Part 3
I got so swept up in my frustration and concern, that my last post accidentally turned into a rant, when in truth I came on here to share photos of small, beautiful things that I saw today. So, on a much happier and hopeful note......
and then i stumbled upon this while in the middle of the park:
A Love Letter from Illinois Part 2
The state of Illinois is 57,915 square miles and has 32,113 acres of designated wilderness. By comparison, Washington State is 71,362 square miles and has 4,527,936 acres of wilderness.
Today I spent my day hiking at two state parks, Starved Rock and Matthiessen. Starved Rock is named such, based on a story that a band of Native Americans, were chased up the rock (by another tribe) and surrounded. They eventually starved on top of the rock. There are no actual records of this story and for some reason I don't completely buy it. Starved Rock has become a big tourist destination because a number of bald eagles winter here.
I had a great time wandering around here, noticing the little flowers and other plants budding up and noticing the different species of birds, that we do not have in Washington and the different voices they have when singing.
Starved rock also has some pretty nice canyons. The one sad part is that people don't really seem to care too much about the limited natural space here. At every turn, there were plastic bottles and other debris. At the base of one particularly nice waterfall, there was a pair of wet socks laying in the mud. At one point, I was reminded of the saying, "Nothing is sacred.". I really feel like the world would be in much better shape if we instead treated everything sacred.
I have never thought of Illinois as a very beautiful state, when it comes to nature, however, it has always resonated with me in it's pastoral beauty. There was something about all the old barns and gigantic corn fields that has always really seemed special to me. This is the land I am from and I always felt that in some way, the corn fields were somehow home for me. I acknowledge that agriculture has done lots of damage to natural habitat and paved the way for industrialization but I have still been able to see the beauty in the rural.
Now, the farmland is quickly disappearing. Illinois really seems to have developed an unhealthy love of strip malls. Again, I acknowledge my overly romantic views of farmland but regardless of the harm that agriculture has done to the environment, I can't help but see how it still is so much better, cleaner and at least somewhat in line with the natural flow of things, than miles and miles of paved roads, fast food restaurants and clothing stores. Since 1950, Illinois has lost 3.6 million acres of farmland, which averages out to be almost 77,000 acres a year. (http://www.agr.state.il.us/Environment/LandWater/farmlandprot.html)
Illinois is a huge food producing state, known for it's rich black soil but this is all being covered over. If things continue the way they are going, I can only see it ending in food shortages and disaster. Of course the people who own the stores will still be able to afford food, as the prices are driven up. It is the middle and lower class folks, who shop at these establishments who will pay the ultimate price.
How have we, as a society, allowed this to happen? Why have we removed ourselves from the bigger picture that we are just a small part of, yet so dependent on? When will this sickness that is in all of us end? I am afraid that it won't and that leaves me feeling pretty bleak.
First we destroy the forests and waterways, that in most cases, historically supplied people with an abundance of food. We build farms where we can tame and fence in plants and animals. Then we pave over the farms and replace them with stores where we can buy plastic trinkets that we do not need and food that poisons us, rather than nuturing us. What is the next step in this progression? I for one, do not want to know.
We are all disassociated from the very world we live in and have replaced it with a virtual world, that is unsustainable. How can we heal the sickness, that lives so deeply within us all?
Today I spent my day hiking at two state parks, Starved Rock and Matthiessen. Starved Rock is named such, based on a story that a band of Native Americans, were chased up the rock (by another tribe) and surrounded. They eventually starved on top of the rock. There are no actual records of this story and for some reason I don't completely buy it. Starved Rock has become a big tourist destination because a number of bald eagles winter here.
I had a great time wandering around here, noticing the little flowers and other plants budding up and noticing the different species of birds, that we do not have in Washington and the different voices they have when singing.
Starved rock also has some pretty nice canyons. The one sad part is that people don't really seem to care too much about the limited natural space here. At every turn, there were plastic bottles and other debris. At the base of one particularly nice waterfall, there was a pair of wet socks laying in the mud. At one point, I was reminded of the saying, "Nothing is sacred.". I really feel like the world would be in much better shape if we instead treated everything sacred.
I have never thought of Illinois as a very beautiful state, when it comes to nature, however, it has always resonated with me in it's pastoral beauty. There was something about all the old barns and gigantic corn fields that has always really seemed special to me. This is the land I am from and I always felt that in some way, the corn fields were somehow home for me. I acknowledge that agriculture has done lots of damage to natural habitat and paved the way for industrialization but I have still been able to see the beauty in the rural.
Now, the farmland is quickly disappearing. Illinois really seems to have developed an unhealthy love of strip malls. Again, I acknowledge my overly romantic views of farmland but regardless of the harm that agriculture has done to the environment, I can't help but see how it still is so much better, cleaner and at least somewhat in line with the natural flow of things, than miles and miles of paved roads, fast food restaurants and clothing stores. Since 1950, Illinois has lost 3.6 million acres of farmland, which averages out to be almost 77,000 acres a year. (http://www.agr.state.il.us/Environment/LandWater/farmlandprot.html)
Illinois is a huge food producing state, known for it's rich black soil but this is all being covered over. If things continue the way they are going, I can only see it ending in food shortages and disaster. Of course the people who own the stores will still be able to afford food, as the prices are driven up. It is the middle and lower class folks, who shop at these establishments who will pay the ultimate price.
How have we, as a society, allowed this to happen? Why have we removed ourselves from the bigger picture that we are just a small part of, yet so dependent on? When will this sickness that is in all of us end? I am afraid that it won't and that leaves me feeling pretty bleak.
First we destroy the forests and waterways, that in most cases, historically supplied people with an abundance of food. We build farms where we can tame and fence in plants and animals. Then we pave over the farms and replace them with stores where we can buy plastic trinkets that we do not need and food that poisons us, rather than nuturing us. What is the next step in this progression? I for one, do not want to know.
We are all disassociated from the very world we live in and have replaced it with a virtual world, that is unsustainable. How can we heal the sickness, that lives so deeply within us all?
Sunday, April 14, 2013
A Love Letter From Illinois
A few months ago, I had a dream about my maternal Grandfather, who died many, many years ago, when I was a young child. This was an important event for me because with his passing, I was left grandfatherless. I think the power of grandparents, as teachers, is greatly underestimated in our culture and I strongly feel the abscence of an older male, in my life.
When I woke from the dream about my Grandfather, I couldn't remember the specifics, only that he was the prominent figure in it. Just after waking, a lightning bolt of thought ran through my head and I knew that I needed to come to Illinois and visit my Grandmother (again maternal) and spend time with the land from which I came.
I trusted my intuition and now I am here. It is currently, 1:33 AM on Monday morning. I flew in late Friday night and spent the first few days in a cold and Nyquil induced haze. I spent the first night with my wonderful cousin Andrew, his awesome wife Karen and their beautiful daughter Stella.
The second day, I drove to my Grandmother's and immediately took a two hour nap to sleep off the effects of the Nyquil. I usually only use herbal medicines and my body clearly was not happy with what I had put into it. My Grandmother spends nearly all of her time at home, taking care of her 91 year old husband. His health isn't so good and he can no longer walk. His days consist of traveling, via wheelchair, between the bathroom, his bed and the dining room table. It is a span of about 8 feet at the most. That evening we were able to go out to dinner and I could tell that she loved the opportunity to leave the house.
Today, the third day (or second full day) I woke up and drove to my Aunt Heather's house. She is Andrew's Mother and my Father's youngest sister. Andrew and his family came down, along with his sister and her daughter Ava and my Aunt Denise and Uncle Dave. It was a nice day of catching up and eating too much pizza. We also went through a box of my Grandmother's things (she died just a few years ago) and I got some pictures of my sister and I when we were younger and a few pictures of my Dad as a child. I also snagged a bible that has the birthdates of my Dad's sisters and brothers written in it.
I am now at my Aunt Janet's (maternal) house for the night. Tomorrow, I am going to hang out with her daughter Tammy and then the rest of the time is open for whatever it is I came here to do.
I have plans to go and spend some time sitting with the land at Starved Rock, visiting the farm that my Grandmother grew up on and trying to make sense of all the confusion that is family by talking with my Grandmother and hopefully learning some things from her. I am curious to understand our family history of trauma and depression and to start putting together the puzzle of how this has been passed on to me. My Grandmother, although in good shape for her age, is definently getting older and before her time is done, I want to hear some stories and get to know who she is on a deeper level.
Whenever an older person passes from this world on to whatever happens next, they take with them a wealth of stories and knowledge that only they know. This information used to be passed down from generation to generation but in our fast paced, technological world, this is no longer the case. Having grown up many miles away from my Grandmother, there is not much time for me left to learn everything she has inside her but I am determined to know what I can before she passes on.
Hopefully by the time I leave here, I will have learned from her as well as this land, from which I sprung. There is something about this place that makes sense to me on a deeply psychic level. I have always felt and known it but never been able to put it in words. I am familiar with the energy here in a way that I don't feel anywhere else. I am curious to sit with that energy and let it show me what it needs me to learn.
When I woke from the dream about my Grandfather, I couldn't remember the specifics, only that he was the prominent figure in it. Just after waking, a lightning bolt of thought ran through my head and I knew that I needed to come to Illinois and visit my Grandmother (again maternal) and spend time with the land from which I came.
I trusted my intuition and now I am here. It is currently, 1:33 AM on Monday morning. I flew in late Friday night and spent the first few days in a cold and Nyquil induced haze. I spent the first night with my wonderful cousin Andrew, his awesome wife Karen and their beautiful daughter Stella.
The second day, I drove to my Grandmother's and immediately took a two hour nap to sleep off the effects of the Nyquil. I usually only use herbal medicines and my body clearly was not happy with what I had put into it. My Grandmother spends nearly all of her time at home, taking care of her 91 year old husband. His health isn't so good and he can no longer walk. His days consist of traveling, via wheelchair, between the bathroom, his bed and the dining room table. It is a span of about 8 feet at the most. That evening we were able to go out to dinner and I could tell that she loved the opportunity to leave the house.
Today, the third day (or second full day) I woke up and drove to my Aunt Heather's house. She is Andrew's Mother and my Father's youngest sister. Andrew and his family came down, along with his sister and her daughter Ava and my Aunt Denise and Uncle Dave. It was a nice day of catching up and eating too much pizza. We also went through a box of my Grandmother's things (she died just a few years ago) and I got some pictures of my sister and I when we were younger and a few pictures of my Dad as a child. I also snagged a bible that has the birthdates of my Dad's sisters and brothers written in it.
I am now at my Aunt Janet's (maternal) house for the night. Tomorrow, I am going to hang out with her daughter Tammy and then the rest of the time is open for whatever it is I came here to do.
I have plans to go and spend some time sitting with the land at Starved Rock, visiting the farm that my Grandmother grew up on and trying to make sense of all the confusion that is family by talking with my Grandmother and hopefully learning some things from her. I am curious to understand our family history of trauma and depression and to start putting together the puzzle of how this has been passed on to me. My Grandmother, although in good shape for her age, is definently getting older and before her time is done, I want to hear some stories and get to know who she is on a deeper level.
Whenever an older person passes from this world on to whatever happens next, they take with them a wealth of stories and knowledge that only they know. This information used to be passed down from generation to generation but in our fast paced, technological world, this is no longer the case. Having grown up many miles away from my Grandmother, there is not much time for me left to learn everything she has inside her but I am determined to know what I can before she passes on.
Hopefully by the time I leave here, I will have learned from her as well as this land, from which I sprung. There is something about this place that makes sense to me on a deeply psychic level. I have always felt and known it but never been able to put it in words. I am familiar with the energy here in a way that I don't feel anywhere else. I am curious to sit with that energy and let it show me what it needs me to learn.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Dance Floor Love
I think it is safe for me to assume that anyone reading this is most likely someone I know and probably someone I know fairly well. Otherwise, you have better things you should be doing!
For years, I have had a near phobia quality relationship with the idea of dancing. The mere thought of it started my heart racing. It was not uncommon for me to feel the need to flee a social situation, when my much braver friends tried to goad me into joining them on the dance floor.
This all changed for me at a Halloween party, last October. I had ingested just the right amount of chemicals, was surrounded by just the right people and the music playing was just the right sort of music, to get my butt in gear. In the name of honesty, I will also mention that the fact that I was wearing a mask surely helped the situation. It was a great, triumphant, life changing night for me and when everyone else wanted to go home, I wanted to stay. Being to nervous to remain alone, I sadly made my feet stop moving.
Since this night, I have danced a handful of times and it has become my favorite thing to do. I have been dancing at least once over the last four weekends and there was even one weekend in there, where I danced on both Friday and Saturday nights.
This last Friday, I went with a dear and special old friend out to Soul Night. This is a monthly event that she has been attending for years. She even has a VIP token on her key ring, which gives her free entrance. This was the best night of dancing I have had yet. The music that the dj's played was amazing and had much more "soul" (which might seem obvious, seeing as it was Soul Night), than the electronic music I had danced to the two previous weekends.
Another important moment of this night, was my discovery of Dance Floor Love. There is something incredibly primal and animalistic about dancing. I have never felt more comfortable and present in my body. As someone whose self esteem isn't always the greatest, this can lead to some unfamiliar feelings of attractiveness. These feelings, coupled with the intake of alcohol can lead you to feeling completely smitten with someone, after only a few minutes of watching them dance, thus, you are in Dance Floor Love.
While we were dancing I noticed a young woman, who was wearing a baggy grey, workout shirt made out of some sort of stretch material. She had on shorts that I know must of come from a thrift store because they just don't make shorts like this anymore. Her hair was pulled tight into a bun at the top of her head. I'm not exactly sure why but something about the way she moved was completely stunning and beautiful to me. I spent much of the night trying to be in the same vicinity as her, in the hope that somehow we would end up dancing together. We danced near one another and even bumped elbows at one point. However, being me, I made no attempt to talk to her. In setting such as this, I feel incredibly worried about coming off as a sleazy guy. I think this fear stems from seeing lots of guys act sleazy and make women feel uncomfortable, so the idea of chatting someone up, is probably not something I will be doing any time soon. However, the whole situation was enough to remind me, how incredibly beautiful people can be, when they are comfortable in their bodies. People can really be stunning animals, when they allow themselves to be.
I now have added to the list of traits that I would like to find in a potential partner, a love of dancing. There is nothing that seems better to me than spending hours swaying in step, with someone you love, to the pounding of music. I'm sure my ex-girlfriend, who loved to dance and always hated that I didn't, would be a bit angry if she read this but we all grow and learn at our own pace.
So, of my three major identified fears, I have now made friends with two of them, the dark and dancing. Now all I have left to do is to figure out how I can befriend death and life should be a cake walk. I'm just noticing as I type this that all three of the major fears in my life begin with the letter d. Not sure why that is worth pointing out but there you have it.
Love,
Allan
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