Date: 2003-01-31
To: Acceptance, NC
Miles today: 0.0

My brother made me cry yesterday.We are somewhat different people, and that caused a bit of tensionin our growing years. He's quiet and sulky; I, of course, am a little angel. There was quite a bit of sibling rivalry in our youth. Tuck was always tattle-telling on me: "MOM! She KICKED me!"Little brat!;-)But somehow, and I'm not sure how, we have letthe heart connection transcend our personalities. I think the secret is: though we've clashed, we just never quiteach other. By "never quit," I mean that we never shut our hearts toeach other on any permanent basis. Sure, we get mad, but we alwaysreturn. Always.I mean, he's my brother and only surviving sibling. It's not like Ican trade him in for another guy! ;-)That's why his non-acceptance of my hiking passion has beendifficult for me."It's just a hobby," he said before Christmas, exasperated that Iwould be away for so long while our aging father was still livingat home. Tuck lives far away from NC, in Wisconsin. "You were neverinterested in hiking before, it came out of the blue."There is some truth to that. Though I have always camped, canoed and horse-packed in Wilderness areas, backpacking (and the lure of the long, continuous journey) DID emerge like a bolt from the blue.In the process, it reshaped my focus on many issues - such as simplicity, the nature of "stuff," what-was-important, how-much-was-enough and - especially - what it would mean to live a life without fear? To sing my song in life? Everyone has one, or two, three songs, maybe more - what was mine, at this moment?But it wasn't "just" a hobby. This new passion for long-distance hiking had a core strength - a vitality - of it's own. For once, I saw, I was exactly where I was supposed to be, even if no one else could see it. And that wassmack dab in the middle of the current, flowing with the river of life. I was, for once, congruent.And I was helpless to explain that.So, amidst the joy of pre-hike preparation, there was thatlingering boulder lodged in the middle of my river.Yet, the trip was happening; details were being worked out. I had to finallyaccept Tuck's non-acceptance. I mean, REALLY accept it, without a lingeringgrudge or hardness.After all, the truth was - not everyone was going to understand. Not everyone will understand. And, really, why should they? Everybody is in a different place. That was the reality, I saw; that's how life is. Hmmm.... Why dash myself against the rocks of reality a second longer? Why hold onto a hard spot?I exhaled. And then, Something Interesting happened.My little brother is very clever technically, I would say bordering on thegenius. A regular McGyvver. My brother flunked out of Marquette U'selectrical engineering program, but kept his computer-roompassword.So there he would hole up, before the internet was The Internet,teaching himself all about computers, the 'net and all thing thingselectronic. So gifted is he that he's now the Go-To Guy - the major serviceprovider in Milwaukee's industrial valley, THE fixer of all thosemulti-million dollar computer-driven shop electronics.Back when he was a teen, as an amateur tinkerer and ham radiooperator, Tuck made friends with Walter, a quadriplegic war veteranat the VA. He and Walt cooked up a number of devices that gaveWalter some control over his life: turning the TV on andoff, dialing and hanging up a telephone, calling an aide, etc.At one point in Tuck's life, he was fired up with the idea ofbuilding these devices to help the disabled. He even won a science fairprize for his alarm clock for the deaf - the clock activated a fan, whichthen woke the deaf person up.But like many dreams, he gave it up as unrealistic andunprofitable, and moved on to other areas. This MU drop-out did well for himselffinancially, and bought himself some guy-toys like a farm, a citybus-turned-shop, and a backhoe (Unh! Unh! Unh! Insert Tim-the-Tool-Man-type grunts here...)I am not sure, but I think maybe the tipping point came when Iasked Tuck for some technical help, for my artist friend Palmer. Palmer is 45, was a hard-driving, ambitiousfast-track-to-the-foreign-service DC gal - who developed multiple scelrosis a decade ago. She struggled against that for awhile, continuing to exhaust herself in her ambition and denial. Finally, she could no longer ignore the obvious;the disease was progressing. She ended up in a wheelchair.After she faced the reality of her situation and began finally listening to her body, Palmer, in essence, asked herself: how can I sing MY song? Right now, in this moment?She returned her first love, painting. She had trained in Europe when younger. Palmer paints beautifully and sold many paintings. Then, after an attack of pneumonia last spring, Palmer the painter lost the useof her arms, hands and trunk. Now, she lies immobile, in a bed in a nursing home, looking one direction - until underpaid, unhappy aides come in and turn her.Then, she looks the other way for the next hour. Palmer is so gutsy. She still wants to "sing". So every Thursday afternoon, she gets aides to strap her into a painful sitting position, and she paints - with a brush in her teeth. It takes everything she has to do it.This hard-driving ambitious career woman has seen her expectations of life seriously slammed. In return, she got ALOT of "still" time to reflect on her life. For some people, this would be a fate worse than death. Not Palmer - she looked into the void and came out the other side. You can imagine - it was either come to some degree of acceptance, or lie there in utter mental anguish. She chose the former. She chose life. Of course, Palmer wishes she could wave a magic wand and have a whole body with which to paint, walk, sing, dance, hike. She is very honest - a realist. But I've never seen her indulge in bitterness and self-pity. "I've seen it's a waste of what little energy I have," she says.Soak on that, Ms. HikerShoe - a life without self-pity! My god! What would that look like?Whoosh!Palmer has been a major teacher to me. As my trip goes on, some of her wisdom will likely leak out, and I will so note.But back to my brother. You can see where this is going. At first,he wasn't that interested in the case, steering me to someoverwhelming geek websites where non-technical me quickly became overwhelmed. Icouldn't see what was needed. I just wanted give Palmer control over her telephone, so she could at least call out and connect with friends on the outside. I needed someone to say "buy this, hook this wire here..."But yesterday, there was a change. Tuck brought the subject of Palmer up. He started telling me about variousoptions, asking questions, and finally decided it would be best tospeak with Palmer herself, so as to better understand her needs! Iwas flabbergasted - and also deeply grateful. And puzzled.Until he said..."I know I wasn't very understanding about your hiking before. I see now what it's about. You are really living your life."Wow! The tears started welling up.And THEN he said..."I've also been asking myself just what it is I want to do. And I am thinking maybe it is going back to spending some time building devices for the disabled..."My brother, my hero!And, thank you, Palmer, my brave friend and teacher. You are saying "yes!" to life. Your very being is changing the lives of those around you. ========================================