Paul E. Fallon's Blog, page 50

Trip Log – Day 253 – Danbury, CT to Poughkeepsie, NY

July 15, 2016 – Sun, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 55

Miles to Date: 13,140

States to Date: 33

 Connecticut is a state of beautiful, hilly terrain, lavish suburbs, and poor cities. ‘Home rule’ is big in this corner of New England; it shows through giant contrasts from place to place. I managed to get turned around in Danbury today (I seem to tack on five miles of misdirection every day) but rather enjoyed the inner core of this city rich in Brazilian immigrants. Fortunately, Danbury is not nearly so desolate as other Connecticut cities. Entrepreneurism triumphs, as in this house with a front yard cornfield.

As soon as I crossed the New York State line, I was happy to leave the serpentine climbs through dense woods as the landscape opened up to the majesty of the Hudson River Valley. The slogan, ‘Empire State’ seems appropriate.

  

I reached Hyde Park after one, and treated myself to an incredible lunch at the Culinary Institute of America. My Danbury host studied cooking there and recommended the Apple Pie Cafe. Food so good even a guy who ‘eats to fuel’ can appreciate. CIA is as much tourist attraction as school – the place was hopping on a Friday afternoon.

Two miles upriver, I visited the FDR Museum and Library, where I met with an archivist at the first presidential library to talk about their work.

Trip Log – Day 252 – Hartford CT to Danbury, CT

July 14, 2016 – Clouds, 85 degrees

Miles Today: 79

Miles to Date: 13,085

States to Date: 33

My navigation strategy – plotting a route on goggle maps for bicycles the night before, writing it down in my small pad to cement it to memory and provide a written reference as I ride – works pretty well everywhere but in the Northeast, where traffic on the main roads is fierce and unmarked side roads twist upon themselves like wisteria vines. I left Hartford with four pages of directions, and knew it would be a day of constant reference to my pad and my phone as I missed turn after turn.

I visited several more post-industrial cities in this land of bygone manufacturing. Waterbury, the Brass City which I explored in depth for my novel, Weekends in Holy Land, is toothless as the glazed over people with bad teeth wandering its streets. The drug problems here are immense.

I rode to Newtown for the incompatible objectives of visiting Sandy Hook Elementary School and eating at the Blue Colony Diner, one of my all time favorites. Unfortunately, I hit so many snags on my route I couldn’t stall my hunger that long. I ate lunch on a bench along the bike path in Middlebury, but held out for an awesome Blue Colony dessert when I got there about 3 p.m.

A light rain began to fall by the time I got to Sandy Hook, which has been renamed and has no reference or memorial that I could decipher. A full-blown thundershower followed. By the time I got to Newtown Center, I was drenched. Then, the sun came out. I wrung everything out and dried off during my final ten miles to Danbury.

My host, Rick, is a chef. After a shower that washed away the trials of travel, we enjoyed a superb dinner, including homemade brew. Good food and good company evaporate hardship.

Trip Log – Day 251 –Mansfield, CT to Hartford CT

July 13, 2016 – Sun, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 36

Miles to Date: 13,006

States to Date: 33

The only thing better than a solid breakfast – is two solid breakfasts. My vegan host Tony made me an awesome smoothie with so many ingredients I can’t begin to recall: thick and creamy and just a tad chocolaty. Then I pushed myself over one hill to enjoy another breakfast with an immigrant mom and her daughter at the Thread City Diner in Willimantic, which makes the largest and tastiest pancakes anywhere.

By the time I rolled out of town the day was already hot, so I opted against the paved route along US 6 for the gravel bike path through Bolton Center. Not speedy, but shady and cool. I persevered East Hartford and took the snazzy pedestrian bridge over the Connecticut Rive to downtown Hartford. I had an afternoon appointment at the Harriet Beecher Stowe Center, which is unique among house museums in having a strong focus on social justice and putting the author and abolitionist’s work in today’s context.

Trip Log – Day 250 – North Kingstown, RI to Mansfield, CT

 

July 12, 2016 – Clouds, 75 degrees

Miles Today: 63

Miles to Date: 12,770

States to Date: 33

I thought today was going to be about hills, but it turned out to be about Pokémon Go and Rumanian moonshine.

I faced a half-mile of vertical rise over sixty miles; a good workout on a clear, warm summer day. Riding west in this land of north/south valleys means hill after hill. In the middle I did have seven beautiful miles on the Coventry and Trestle bike paths, but even they were a solid upgrade.

Rhode Island must have been unhappy I only planned one day there; I got massively lost searching for a bike path that didn’t exist, and spun another five miles in Little Big Rhody before reaching the Connecticut line.

I needed a serious lunch, so camped out in Riverview Restaurant in Plainfield. A big fried chicken sandwich with French fries served up with loud country music. Then I pedaled twenty more hard miles to reach Willimantic by four, where I talked with the General Manager of Connecticut’s largest coop about how will we live tomorrow.

By the time I reached my warmshowers’ host in Mansfield, the preliminaries of day were over and party time began. Tony Malloy, a vegan body builder and IT guru for UConn Library, invited several friends for some of the best food of my trip. This vitamix magician made a great Mexican dinner of gazpacho, lentil/walnut/tomato paste as a hearty meat alternative, and all kinds of toppings, plus Corona, Modelo and Plum Palinka, a Rumanian liquor so strong the vapors alone knocked me back.

Although our dinner conversation kicked off with a typically academic discussion of the value of ‘Open Education’ textbooks, we soon got to truly important stuff, like how Pokémon Go has captivated the world in five short days. Even me, on my bike, had heard of it and seen people wandering aimlessly with their eyes glued to their phone. Two people in our group downloaded the app then and there and proceeded to ball toss the imaginary Pokémon who appeared on the dining room table and in the corner of the kitchen. Anyone feeling Alpha male barked at Tony’s Amazon Alexa, who could play any song we could think of at any volume, and seemed pleased to be yelled at.

Quote of note: “Cats are good practice for dealing with people on their own terms.”

Trip Log – Day 249 – Berkley, MA to North Kingstown, RI

July 11, 2016 – Clouds, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 47

Miles to Date: 12,707

States to Date: 32

 I enjoyed another fifteen miles of bucolic Southeast Massachusetts before landing – kerplunk – on the hot streets of East Providence, a hard surfaced Italian community bisected by I-195. The new pedestrian / bicycle bridge over the Seekonk River is a terrific addition and makes getting into Providence very easy.

 

I pedaled through Federal Hill and Brown University. Brown caught a wave of publicity as few years ago, both positive and not so, when it addressed how the slave trade benefitted the university. One upshot was the creation of the Center for the Study of Slavery and Justice. I contacted the group but, alas, academicians are pretty much gone in July. I did seek out the slave trade monument, which includes a tablet that describes Brown’s relationship to the slave trade. It concludes, “Brown University was a beneficiary of this trade.” I am not sure of the impact a monument like this has, but applaud its attempt to link past grievances with current reality. The university also has a simple, but very effective monument to alumni war dead. I liked that balance as well.

 

None of the ‘official’ connections I tried to make in Providence panned out, so I spent the afternoon outside Serendipity Gourmet, where I met all kinds of locals, cafe style. Providence is a livable city with a good urban feel. And lunch costs about half of what it would in Boston.

There is a great bike path that leads out of town. I cycled most of the way with a friendly commuter. Then seven miles on US Route 1, which was not the most fun part o the day. It’s been more than a year since I was on US 1 in Maine. I imagine I will be on it many more times as I head down the East Coast.

 

My host for the night, Sharon Pickering, lives in Wickford Point, a ‘New Urbanism’ development with charming houses that sit quite close and share amenities like a dock and beach. Sharon moved there from a big house on two acres in Massachusetts. I am always interested in people who choose to live closer to others. Wickford Point is hardly dense, but it is very well designed to support community while maintaining privacy.

Trip Log – Day 248 – Onset, MA to Berkley, MA

 

July 10, 2016 – Clouds, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 36

Miles to Date: 12,660

States to Date: 31

Southeast Massachusetts is probably the least appreciated sector of my home state. Fall River, New Bedford, and Taunton are often considered maritime has-beens, currently home to Cape Verdeans, Portuguese, and other immigrants. The countryside is considered less vibrant than Cape Cod, less dramatic than the Berkshires, and less tony than the North Shore. Like all stereotypes, these are incomplete truths.

  

I started the day with a morning walk through Onset, which has all the enchanting light and mood of the Cape without having to cross those dang bridges. I spent the day traveling obscure country roads past soggy bogs, pristine period houses, and a good deal of funk. Since Southeast Massachusetts is much less expensive than the rest of the state, the counter culture element is more real than imagined.

By the time I reached Berkley I had traversed into another geologic zone. Onset is a sandbar with houses a few feet above the water. Berkley sits on one of the many granite ridges that define New England’s mainland: long peninsula’s separated by deep rivers run north/south, as if scratched out of the land like giant fingers squeezed down on a chalkboard. My friend Ted lives high above the Assonet River: 68 granite steps descend from his house to his boat.

 

Trip Log – Day 247 – Cambridge, MA to Onset, MA

July 9, 2016 – Clouds, 60 degrees

Miles Today: 68

Miles to Date: 12,644

States to Date: 31

 

It doesn’t take long on a bike to get out of the community you inhabit and come upon a different sensibility. Even though I live in Boston, navigating through the exurbs of our metropolis are just as difficult as any other major city, especially to the South, where I am less familiar with the roads. It doesn’t help that Massachusetts has the worst road signage in the country. Part of that New England hubris: “Why would you want to go anywhere, when you’re already here?”

 

Thirty miles out, after many missed turns, I got to open road where the vehicles, memorials, and patriotic banners had more in common with Pennsylvania or Texas than Cambridge and Boston.

The day was cool and cloudy, which made for great cycling, though the only color was the day lilies and sunflowers that thrive in many gardens.

Total trivia: Savery Avenue in Carver, MA is the first divided boulevard in the US, created in 1861. Today it is only a half-mile long, but it is a terrific path of shady pavement.

I reached Onset in late afternoon, a lovely neighborhood of cottages perched above marshes and a sandy beach. I spent the evening with my friends Barbara and Eric Elfman, and Barbara’s parents, Jan and Stu Feldstein, whom I met back in November in Scottsdale. The tentacles of this journey are getting beautifully tangled.

On the Road Again

Four months and change after my altercation with a Porsche, I am back on the road, spinning a route that is basically the reverse of what I planned, though shorter in order to try and complete the circuit before the end of this year. Still, my proposed route includes more than simply hitting the 17 states outstanding. In five months I hope to visit a whole lot more of America.

I plan to leave Cambridge and wind up in Florida in December. As always, weather dictates. Some elements of my route are less ideal than the original plan – South Carolina in August is not ideal – but riding in heat is easier than in cold. I hope to hit all the highlights I’ve envisioned and still spend at least one night in each of the continental United States.

I will resume my daily trip blogs to chart my progress, post a weekly compendium of responses to my question, ‘How will we live tomorrow?’ as well as unique profiles of some responders.

A yellow ribbon is a flexible thing, and my route changes often. If you know anyone along the East Coast, South, Midwest, or Plains states who might like to participate in my project, please send me their contact information. I always welcome the opportunity to meet new people. Please don’t wait for me to post a Trip Blog from their town. By then I’ve already moved on.

Cliff Notes: Rio Zika, by Michael Crichton

Dystopian novel set in the near future, written by Michael Crichton before his death in 2008. Billions of mosquitos bearing the zika virus proliferate in Rio de Janeiro coincident with the Olympic Games. The finest human specimens from all corners of the earth descend to compete. They return to their homelands infected with the virus. Within a decade birth rates plummet, disease is rampant. The human race seems destined to extinction. But one group, track and field athletes from Russia who were barred form competition due to illegal drug use, emerge as super-humans and take over the world. Vladimir Putin becomes Emperor of the Universe.

Make Mass Violence History

When I was eight years old, in 1963, I gave my parents an ashtray for their anniversary, a ceramic swirl of dusty coral with gilt trim. They displayed it on the coffee table. Boyhood satisfaction glowed when my mother pulled a cigarette from her red red lips and placed it on the curlicued edge. Smoking was very glamorous.

Ten years later, as a college freshman, a poster on the main corridor of the administration building featured a black and white close-up of a haggard woman with a butt hanging from her lower lip beneath the words, ‘Smoking is very glamorous.’ My parents had quit smoking by then; I have no idea what happened to the ashtray.

In the past fifty years, smoking rates have been cut by sixty percent (CDC, 42.4% in 1965; 16.5 in 2014). How did this happen? The 1964 Surgeon General’s Report documented smoking is hazardous to our health. Cigarette packages bore warning labels, laws prohibited sales to minors, increased taxes made cigarettes more expensive, evidence of second hand smoke damage prompted bans in workplaces, even bars. A massive public advertising campaign changed our perceptions: smokers who once released halos of intoxicating vapor in clubrooms became curbside pariahs snatching furtive puffs in the rain.

The campaign to ‘Make Smoking History’ comes back to me as I contemplate a very different public health threat: mass violence. The violence in Orlando, like San Bernardino, Charleston, Newtown and so many other place names now synonymous with tragedy, has triggered the requisite calls for gun control, for better coordinated law enforcement, even ‘lone wolf’ teams. Any of those steps might deter mass violence; none of them will eliminate it.

 

As long as disenfranchised, mentally unbalanced, (mostly) young men spin grandiose visions through the lens of an assault rifle, mass violence will continue. We’ve created a culture where such delusions are permissible. We can create a culture where they are verboten.

We’ll need a few Madison Avenue Mad Men to envision what a public service campaign against mass violence might look like. Warnings on video games and Mad Max movies? Statements confirming tolerance read in institutions that enjoy government support or non-profit status? Billboards that iterate: The United States – You have the right to believe whatever you choose. You have the responsibility to tolerate everyone’s beliefs.

Reaction One: this is too naive to actually work. Simple solutions are always the most effective. Tolerance is not an easy message. It doesn’t ring with the gut satisfaction of ‘might is right’ or ‘my truth is the only truth’. Thankfully, tolerance is the true American value. Although our history is littered with ugly examples of bigotry: African slavery, Japanese internment, Communist baiting, Civil Rights, the arc of our nationhood bends towards increasing acceptance for every person. This trajectory is threatened by the glut of narrow, unvetted media that conflates the number of hits with Truth and reinforces extreme beliefs. Against irrational rage boiling in isolation, tolerance deserves – requires – constant iteration.

Reaction Two: mass violence is a different public health problem than smoking: smokers are agents of their addiction; targets of mass violence are blameless victims. A campaign to curb mass violence should not mirror the one against smoking. Rather, the smoking campaign offers one model of successfully shifting consciousness. We are all susceptible to persuasive advertising. Let’s direct it beyond selling detergent.

Reaction Three: mass murderers are lunatics beyond the reach of conventional messaging. We may not be able to reach him directly, but we can create a more open environment for those around him. We can change the perspective of the wife or acquaintance that suspects; make it easier for her to intervene. A public campaign to promote tolerance can prompt each of us to question how well we accept others. Tolerance breeds tolerance. It trickles down to embrace us all.

Public service campaigns don’t succeed in a vacuum; we’ll still need legal and economic restrictions to curb mass violence. Ads won’t even correlate a particular message with a given response. Trigger events, like Orlando, shock our culture in the moment, but real change takes time.

I remember laughing at cigarette-warning labels. Did they convince anyone to pass up buying a pack? Fifty years later, they’re so ubiquitous we hardly see them. But in those intervening years, the warnings seeped into our consciousness, along with other anti-smoking messages. Millions of people stopped smoking, millions more never started. Quitting wasn’t simply an intellectual decision about health; it was a social decision. As our vision of being glamorous changed, so did our behavior. Let’s make tolerance cool, sexy, glamorous. Let’s make mass violence history.