Sunday, December 25, 2016
Saturday, December 24, 2016
You Are Simone.
You are Simone - you do not moon.
You Sun and you Stars.
You sway with tall trees while diamond light captures your shadow.
You call the seas and walk the old paths of new adventures.
You sit in fields of gold and watch the butterflies chase.
You do not chase.
You are Simone - you do not moon.
You Rocket and you Galaxy.
You teach by action. You love by action. You live by action.
You wade barefoot in cold waters - mossy and deep.
You seek the unpaved and search for the direction up.
You do not look back.
You are Simone - you do not moon.
You Comet and you Universe.
You draw line and color because your soul directs it.
You dance with hands aligned with the airy notes of tune.
You accept the face of challenge and bless its being.
You are Simone.
You are of the Divine....
A reminder to myself.
Monday, December 12, 2016
The Grace of Color
A few months into my Montana 2014 move I went to the optometrist. A new patient, I had to fill out all of the paperwork - wait around the waiting room - browse the spectacles - you know, your ordinary visit to the optometrist.
A man in his late 40s and a young boy - maybe 8 - exited the exam room.
Got back to see the OD - and he seemed distracted - not anxious - not unprofessional - just... deep in thought.
Looked over my chart. Looked into my eyes - shined the light - "look over my shoulder," he directed ... and then he handed me these cards. There were 6 or so cards, and they were different colors, with circles that formed number combinations.
Like this:
I read off the numbers (in the case above, 74) and handed him back the cards and he looked at me and said, "I've been an optometrist for over 25 years - that test you just completed I performed on a little boy that just left here. He didn't read the numbers. In fact, he asked me if I could give him glasses that would make him see color."
The little boy was colorblind. He could see - but he couldn't see colors.
I distinctly recall walking outside and staring at the very blue sky of Montana and the white snow capped mountains which are a wondrous cornucopia of shades of grey, blue and purple. I took a very deep breath and felt thankful for color.
Some days - weeks - I get wrapped up in "the solution" part of life that I forget to balance it with the blessings. Today, I watched snow fall in the early dawn that sparkled like glitter - and tonight I looked around me and saw blankets of white wonder, people in bright coats with yellow shovels moving the heavy blankets aside - and for some reason - I was struck by the color of the shovel... and then remembered the little boy.
I live in the grace of moments that are recognized and unrecognized. I live a life filled with vivid, bright color and need reminders that I should not take it for granted. Just color. Just yellow.
Just right.
It's cold in Montana. There is snow e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. - and I love it.
May you recognize your own moments of grace. May color be a reminder of the amazing (and often unrecognized) parts of your life.
Much love - (like so much your heart smiles...)
- §
A man in his late 40s and a young boy - maybe 8 - exited the exam room.
Got back to see the OD - and he seemed distracted - not anxious - not unprofessional - just... deep in thought.
Looked over my chart. Looked into my eyes - shined the light - "look over my shoulder," he directed ... and then he handed me these cards. There were 6 or so cards, and they were different colors, with circles that formed number combinations.
Like this:
I read off the numbers (in the case above, 74) and handed him back the cards and he looked at me and said, "I've been an optometrist for over 25 years - that test you just completed I performed on a little boy that just left here. He didn't read the numbers. In fact, he asked me if I could give him glasses that would make him see color."
The little boy was colorblind. He could see - but he couldn't see colors.
I distinctly recall walking outside and staring at the very blue sky of Montana and the white snow capped mountains which are a wondrous cornucopia of shades of grey, blue and purple. I took a very deep breath and felt thankful for color.
Some days - weeks - I get wrapped up in "the solution" part of life that I forget to balance it with the blessings. Today, I watched snow fall in the early dawn that sparkled like glitter - and tonight I looked around me and saw blankets of white wonder, people in bright coats with yellow shovels moving the heavy blankets aside - and for some reason - I was struck by the color of the shovel... and then remembered the little boy.
I live in the grace of moments that are recognized and unrecognized. I live a life filled with vivid, bright color and need reminders that I should not take it for granted. Just color. Just yellow.
Just right.
It's cold in Montana. There is snow e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. - and I love it.
May you recognize your own moments of grace. May color be a reminder of the amazing (and often unrecognized) parts of your life.
Much love - (like so much your heart smiles...)
- §
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Blogging First in the Last Part of 2016
It has been some time since I've posted.
I think I write a lot in my head right now. Whole blogs of Simone-isms and thoughts.
... just felt the need to blog today.
...
First I need to say - Hey - Universe. I remember. I remember and I'm thankful and grateful.
Here I am again offering myself - I'm open.
...
This year has flown by - light-speed holds nothing on 2016.
It's December and I haven't blogged all year - does anyone remember a time when I blogged sometimes twice a day...
This year I turned 40. This year I went to Vienna, Austria. I walked the same streets of Beethoven, Brahms, Mozart, Strauss, Freud and my beloved Klimt. I drank coffee in cafes and watched people strolling, walked in palaces, got lost on the subway, rode the prater - drank wine with waiters calling me "madam" and stood in the midst of old Vienna turning in circles and grinning.
Don McLean's song "Vincent" played through my head the entire time I walked through the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam and I felt this strange kinship with the frantic works before me.
I danced with my hands waving over my head at the Baltic Sea - wildly letting the wind blow my hair and letting my soul soak in the sea. Accountable to none and loving all.
I stood in awe of Brandenburg Gate, ached for those affected by the Berlin wall, listened to the most beautiful street music in Amsterdam, Luneburg, Berlin, and Hamburg. I was introduced to Goslar, Germany - a city I feel like I've known for the centuries it has stood.
I fell in love - mad, passionate, heart-aching type of love with a city and people half a world away. I celebrated the 25th birthday with a young-woman whose family is every bit of my family - blood of my blood - heart of my heart.
My 40th birthday was my walk-about - one of many - to remember that living is about just that...
Living.
....
My living is a lesson of yearning. (happy sigh) How. Very. Fantastic.
Yes, indeed.
Much love to you. That Simone-calm-frantic-living-patient-anticipating kind of love.
§
I think I write a lot in my head right now. Whole blogs of Simone-isms and thoughts.
... just felt the need to blog today.
...
First I need to say - Hey - Universe. I remember. I remember and I'm thankful and grateful.
Here I am again offering myself - I'm open.
...
This year has flown by - light-speed holds nothing on 2016.
It's December and I haven't blogged all year - does anyone remember a time when I blogged sometimes twice a day...
This year I turned 40. This year I went to Vienna, Austria. I walked the same streets of Beethoven, Brahms, Mozart, Strauss, Freud and my beloved Klimt. I drank coffee in cafes and watched people strolling, walked in palaces, got lost on the subway, rode the prater - drank wine with waiters calling me "madam" and stood in the midst of old Vienna turning in circles and grinning.
Don McLean's song "Vincent" played through my head the entire time I walked through the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam and I felt this strange kinship with the frantic works before me.
I danced with my hands waving over my head at the Baltic Sea - wildly letting the wind blow my hair and letting my soul soak in the sea. Accountable to none and loving all.
I stood in awe of Brandenburg Gate, ached for those affected by the Berlin wall, listened to the most beautiful street music in Amsterdam, Luneburg, Berlin, and Hamburg. I was introduced to Goslar, Germany - a city I feel like I've known for the centuries it has stood.
I fell in love - mad, passionate, heart-aching type of love with a city and people half a world away. I celebrated the 25th birthday with a young-woman whose family is every bit of my family - blood of my blood - heart of my heart.
My 40th birthday was my walk-about - one of many - to remember that living is about just that...
Living.
....
My living is a lesson of yearning. (happy sigh) How. Very. Fantastic.
Yes, indeed.
Much love to you. That Simone-calm-frantic-living-patient-anticipating kind of love.
§
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Growing Up Ronnie - and These Further Truths
One of the most influential people - would be my Nana. My mother's mother. (by adoption - that's a whole other story) Nana was a complex, amazing soul and she was - in the years that I knew her - the poster child for Southern Baptist living.
My grandparents - Nana & Papaw - were avid and vocal Republicans. In the 80s they donated various funds to the Reagan efforts of election and I remember a framed signed photo from 'Nancy and Ronnie' thanking my grandparents for their financial support to the Reagan cause.
How very glamorous in my young mind.
I grew up. I made various choices - I became rather independent minded and it drove my grandmother crazy. I was not/am not always right in my direction - but I try very hard to balance my own heart with the belief that I have been raised.
In 1996, I could vote in a Presidential election for the first time. I was 20. I watched debates. I read the paper. I tried my best to educate myself ... and I voted for Bill Clinton. I did not (do not) consider this a fault.
Telling my grandparents - however - that admission on my part showed how quite unaware I was to the political differences and opinions of those I love. They didn't talk to me for a month. (However, these were an extraordinary couple who, when I disclosed my pregnancy at the age of 14, they were amazingly supportive and loving...)
Politics - man, how they divide us. Politics/religion/financial class - these are - throughout history - dividing measures for much of society.
"Us and them," - these are dangerous lines. Often we buy into this prescribed version of 'reported' current events and history. Maybe we hold ourselves afar from other religious beliefs or we cater to the media's version of fear and indoctrinated hate and suspicion.
I can't be part of this. I won't be part of this.
I am consistently thankful for the diversity of individuals who have crossed my path. These real life interactions have molded me - and I realize my voice may often be the minority of my small world paths.
These - though - are my truths:
My grandparents - Nana & Papaw - were avid and vocal Republicans. In the 80s they donated various funds to the Reagan efforts of election and I remember a framed signed photo from 'Nancy and Ronnie' thanking my grandparents for their financial support to the Reagan cause.
How very glamorous in my young mind.
I grew up. I made various choices - I became rather independent minded and it drove my grandmother crazy. I was not/am not always right in my direction - but I try very hard to balance my own heart with the belief that I have been raised.
In 1996, I could vote in a Presidential election for the first time. I was 20. I watched debates. I read the paper. I tried my best to educate myself ... and I voted for Bill Clinton. I did not (do not) consider this a fault.
Telling my grandparents - however - that admission on my part showed how quite unaware I was to the political differences and opinions of those I love. They didn't talk to me for a month. (However, these were an extraordinary couple who, when I disclosed my pregnancy at the age of 14, they were amazingly supportive and loving...)
Politics - man, how they divide us. Politics/religion/financial class - these are - throughout history - dividing measures for much of society.
"Us and them," - these are dangerous lines. Often we buy into this prescribed version of 'reported' current events and history. Maybe we hold ourselves afar from other religious beliefs or we cater to the media's version of fear and indoctrinated hate and suspicion.
I can't be part of this. I won't be part of this.
I am consistently thankful for the diversity of individuals who have crossed my path. These real life interactions have molded me - and I realize my voice may often be the minority of my small world paths.
These - though - are my truths:
- The religious readings of every system speak of extremes that we would not allow in a civil society.
- I am a sinner of proportion past redemption - and yet - this is exactly what I'm offered. (Redemption.)
- I know "felons" who are some of the most admired people in my life. I would give my all for each one of them.
- Love, in any form, is the light of this world - better check your anger, bigotry, and homophobia.
- We cannot allow a world where fear invades the following: protection (2nd Amendment), free speech (1st Amendment) - and here - without Bill of Rights and Constitution - respect for your neighbor.
I'm incredibly - and always - verbal. It's because of my true and very real belief in you - each and every one of you - that I'm this way.
And, frankly, I love being this way.
May love and light grace your paths.
- Simone
May love and light grace your paths.
- Simone
Saturday, August 8, 2015
22 Years Ago - Mom
22 years ago today I got a life changing, bone-jarring phone call.
"Your name is Simone Frigo."
"Yes."
"Is your mother Nicki Hite?"
"Yes - is she okay..."
"Ma'am, I hate to tell you... but..."
The rest was a roller coaster of letting everyone else know - calling - finding - comforting...
Her parents, my Nana and Papaw, were on vacation in Ruidoso at their cabin. I had to call the church in Lovington, New Mexico so my Great Uncle Joe could find them.
Jimi - my oldest brother - literally challenged me and then ran out the door - trying to outrun the truth that our mother was dead.
Joe - my second to oldest brother - laid his head upon my dining room table and wept.
John found out from our aunt and uncle at the military school he was currently attending.
... I was just 17. Just. It was 6 days past my birthday - and I was dealing with moving her body from San Angelo to Abilene. Getting in touch with Grandma Eva - my mother's birth mom - coordinating people - comforting friends who were my age but had known my mother well - comforting my grandparents - arguing the place of mom's burial - she never said anything good about New Mexico - I could not allow her to be buried there. Agreeing to a casket - ... it was hell for a seventeen year old.
My husband, Robert, was watching over me - mentioning, "you need to rest... you need to sleep..." How could I sleep? How could I rest? My mother was dead - I needed to take care of people - I needed to take care.... of...
Her. I have blogged ad nauseam about the relationship with my mom. Her death changed me - her life changed me. We switched rolls often - and I will venture to say I knew her better than most - and likely more than I should have.
I miss her. Still. 22 years later. I miss her laugh - I can't tell you how many times she and I would be so tickled by something that we were rolling with tears streaming down our faces. I miss her writing. She saw the world so differently - in a good way. I wish she could see all of her
grandchildren - she only met Meredith - because she would be as proud of Jimi and John as I am - they have beautiful children.
She would have, likely, tried to talk me out of moving to Montana. Change wasn't her strong point - and change with chance was downright intimidating. Secretly, though, she would have been really proud of how I make a decision and just go with it. I did not become the woman dictated by her past - but I am strengthened by every single bump, hill, and mountain.
She was a daughter, a mother, a sister, a wife, an aunt, a friend, a writer, a kind soul, a haunted past, a singer, a cousin, a comedian, a daughter - and so much more than each of these titles will tell you. She was married, divorced - married - and God love her - she was, most days, just trying to survive.
I write that - "God love her" - it's a phrase I use often. But - here - it carries a different meaning.
She believed in the grace of God. She was a sinner who believed in the mercy and love of her Savior. With the very few consistencies that she instilled - she did make her love of the Lord very clear and the importance of our choice in spiritual path - hoping that we would find our way to Him.
22 years. That's more than half my life.
Nicki Dianne Hale Hite Simpson (Mary Gibson) - we honor you today. We love you.
Love,
Jimi, Joe, Simone & John
(and every single life you touched)
"Your name is Simone Frigo."
"Yes."
"Is your mother Nicki Hite?"
"Yes - is she okay..."
"Ma'am, I hate to tell you... but..."
The rest was a roller coaster of letting everyone else know - calling - finding - comforting...
Her parents, my Nana and Papaw, were on vacation in Ruidoso at their cabin. I had to call the church in Lovington, New Mexico so my Great Uncle Joe could find them.
Jimi - my oldest brother - literally challenged me and then ran out the door - trying to outrun the truth that our mother was dead.
Joe - my second to oldest brother - laid his head upon my dining room table and wept.
John found out from our aunt and uncle at the military school he was currently attending.
... I was just 17. Just. It was 6 days past my birthday - and I was dealing with moving her body from San Angelo to Abilene. Getting in touch with Grandma Eva - my mother's birth mom - coordinating people - comforting friends who were my age but had known my mother well - comforting my grandparents - arguing the place of mom's burial - she never said anything good about New Mexico - I could not allow her to be buried there. Agreeing to a casket - ... it was hell for a seventeen year old.
My husband, Robert, was watching over me - mentioning, "you need to rest... you need to sleep..." How could I sleep? How could I rest? My mother was dead - I needed to take care of people - I needed to take care.... of...
Her. I have blogged ad nauseam about the relationship with my mom. Her death changed me - her life changed me. We switched rolls often - and I will venture to say I knew her better than most - and likely more than I should have.
I miss her. Still. 22 years later. I miss her laugh - I can't tell you how many times she and I would be so tickled by something that we were rolling with tears streaming down our faces. I miss her writing. She saw the world so differently - in a good way. I wish she could see all of her
grandchildren - she only met Meredith - because she would be as proud of Jimi and John as I am - they have beautiful children.
She would have, likely, tried to talk me out of moving to Montana. Change wasn't her strong point - and change with chance was downright intimidating. Secretly, though, she would have been really proud of how I make a decision and just go with it. I did not become the woman dictated by her past - but I am strengthened by every single bump, hill, and mountain.
She was a daughter, a mother, a sister, a wife, an aunt, a friend, a writer, a kind soul, a haunted past, a singer, a cousin, a comedian, a daughter - and so much more than each of these titles will tell you. She was married, divorced - married - and God love her - she was, most days, just trying to survive.
I write that - "God love her" - it's a phrase I use often. But - here - it carries a different meaning.
She believed in the grace of God. She was a sinner who believed in the mercy and love of her Savior. With the very few consistencies that she instilled - she did make her love of the Lord very clear and the importance of our choice in spiritual path - hoping that we would find our way to Him.
22 years. That's more than half my life.
Nicki Dianne Hale Hite Simpson (Mary Gibson) - we honor you today. We love you.
Love,
Jimi, Joe, Simone & John
(and every single life you touched)
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Father's Day Adventures - Traveling Opportunity
Montana has molded me into a soul that discovers.
For that matter, since I've arrived in this lovely 41st State of the Union, I can't help but search for the road that goes "higher" or those roads that are unpaved.
But this is not the story of Simone.
Today, Father's Day, JT and I wandered up a known road - trying to find paths that we didn't take the first time around when, much to JT's frustration, we happened upon a bicyclist who slowed our progression. JT didn't want to pass him because we had already seen multiple ATV riders on narrow curves - ... so the jeep slowed... and slowed... uphill...
"Wait til' this next turn," I told him. Then you can pass.
And we did... and we both glanced at this bicyclist - wondering, 'what in the world is he doing this far, this high up... '
And we kept going.
Nearing a clearing in the woods, continuing up the mountain, - we stopped to let Dexter run. After 20-25 minutes I glanced behind our parked, bikini-less Jeep and said.. "Look. There he is again."
Walking now, his mountain bike alongside him, was the man we followed and passed before.
He called out, "You wouldn't have any extra water, would you?"
... A side note, for those who have not traveled with me... I pack like we're going into war, or the forest, or Carlsbad Caverns, or the Grand Canyon, or... just go with me... it's how I'm made... I'm predispositioned to be the person who packs with "what if... " in mind...
"Yes, we have water," JT called to the man. And so they worked out filling a bit from the ice chest and and a bit from our water reserve.
The stranger mentioned, "There aren't many signs around here. I think I missed my turn to Lincoln." JT glanced at me - I looked around. We have learned that most Montana folks don't typically take well to correction or direction - we explained we were recent transplants from Texas and JT offered the man one of our blankets (stored in the back of the Jeep) - he declined, thanked us for the water and continued UPHILL on his way.
JT and I loaded up Dexter, looked forward at the bicyclist and discussed, "Lincoln is not this way." "Not on this road." "Do you think he can fit in the jeep with his bike?" "Think we can get Dexter in the front and he and his bike in the back?" ...
I said, thinking of the determined men and my own determined soul - "Let's just go and we'll keep our eye out for him..." And so we did... We went up and up - on old paved roads - on roads that took us to the first Mason gathering of Montana (1862?) ... We walked around, took photos, scolded Dexter for moving logs to get mice or small animals .. and then we headed on our way...
And then... we saw him again... passing....
"You sure you're okay?" "It's going to rain soon."
He said, at the top of this mountain, "I'm okay, I have a down-sleeping bag here..." He pointed to a pink bag covering a pack on the back of his bike... for that matter, he had a pink bag protecting items on the front of his bike... and pink and silver strands on another area...
"Okay... " "Be safe," we offered...
As we drove past, and JT decided to travel a road that was not of my choosing, we discussed the man again... "Do you think he'll be okay?" "It's awfully cold up here..." "Did you notice the pink?" "Maybe it's for breast cancer awareness..."
I mentioned, "Did you see the camera he had recording us the last time we passed?" "Was that a camera?" "Yes, yes it was...."
And so we drove on - discovering roads that we have never traveled upon, drops of rain falling upon us ... "Look," JT mentioned - "there is a great camping spot." A few miles down the lane - crowded with trees, bushes, flowers - we look to the left and another camping spot presented itself. Soon - a mile or more - we see a more traveled road and look left and right - "Right" we decide, and off we went.
There were areas of cattle - lots of calves with their mothers, cattle guards, more calves, more mothers - a few bulls - another cattle guard - we realized a spot left of another T in the road and pulled over to take a break and do what nature requires.... about 10 minutes into our looking around and breaking I look at the crest on the rise we just crossed and ...
"There he is again!" We both watch as the man on the bike worked his way through the calves and their moms - he crossed the last cattle guard and then peddled our way...
"Is it dinner time?" he called.... JT and I both waved - smiled... welcomed this man that we kept passing and worrying over along this day's adventure.
He told us his name. He was, in fact, recording part his adventures for a movie he was making. There was a ride from El Paso to Alberta Canada - he had completed this ride last year, but this year decided to handle the Montana portion of the ride - his bearings were a bit discombobulated from the Garmin that was giving him great and not so great directions. He has a wife in Detroit, a daugther in Kalispell and was quite kind and agreeable.
He listened to our story - offered us his business card - and we refilled his water reservoir.
Before he went on his way he mentioned, "Make sure you email me and I'll send you a link to the movie - you're the people who saved me on Priest Pass..."
And on his way he went... we turned around and returned home on roads that we had already discovered... because it's Father's Day and JT wanted to watch a certain baseball game.
... and I sit here sending our prayers and good tidings to this traveler... I wish him well, I wish him good speed, God speed ... may kind souls cross his path.
And that, dear reader, is my blog for the day.
May you always offer water, be kind to strangers, and be aware of the opportunity to serve others.
Much love - it's crazy beautiful here....
- Simone
For that matter, since I've arrived in this lovely 41st State of the Union, I can't help but search for the road that goes "higher" or those roads that are unpaved.
But this is not the story of Simone.
Today, Father's Day, JT and I wandered up a known road - trying to find paths that we didn't take the first time around when, much to JT's frustration, we happened upon a bicyclist who slowed our progression. JT didn't want to pass him because we had already seen multiple ATV riders on narrow curves - ... so the jeep slowed... and slowed... uphill...
"Wait til' this next turn," I told him. Then you can pass.
And we did... and we both glanced at this bicyclist - wondering, 'what in the world is he doing this far, this high up... '
And we kept going.
Nearing a clearing in the woods, continuing up the mountain, - we stopped to let Dexter run. After 20-25 minutes I glanced behind our parked, bikini-less Jeep and said.. "Look. There he is again."
Walking now, his mountain bike alongside him, was the man we followed and passed before.
He called out, "You wouldn't have any extra water, would you?"
... A side note, for those who have not traveled with me... I pack like we're going into war, or the forest, or Carlsbad Caverns, or the Grand Canyon, or... just go with me... it's how I'm made... I'm predispositioned to be the person who packs with "what if... " in mind...
"Yes, we have water," JT called to the man. And so they worked out filling a bit from the ice chest and and a bit from our water reserve.
The stranger mentioned, "There aren't many signs around here. I think I missed my turn to Lincoln." JT glanced at me - I looked around. We have learned that most Montana folks don't typically take well to correction or direction - we explained we were recent transplants from Texas and JT offered the man one of our blankets (stored in the back of the Jeep) - he declined, thanked us for the water and continued UPHILL on his way.
JT and I loaded up Dexter, looked forward at the bicyclist and discussed, "Lincoln is not this way." "Not on this road." "Do you think he can fit in the jeep with his bike?" "Think we can get Dexter in the front and he and his bike in the back?" ...
I said, thinking of the determined men and my own determined soul - "Let's just go and we'll keep our eye out for him..." And so we did... We went up and up - on old paved roads - on roads that took us to the first Mason gathering of Montana (1862?) ... We walked around, took photos, scolded Dexter for moving logs to get mice or small animals .. and then we headed on our way...
And then... we saw him again... passing....
"You sure you're okay?" "It's going to rain soon."
He said, at the top of this mountain, "I'm okay, I have a down-sleeping bag here..." He pointed to a pink bag covering a pack on the back of his bike... for that matter, he had a pink bag protecting items on the front of his bike... and pink and silver strands on another area...
"Okay... " "Be safe," we offered...
As we drove past, and JT decided to travel a road that was not of my choosing, we discussed the man again... "Do you think he'll be okay?" "It's awfully cold up here..." "Did you notice the pink?" "Maybe it's for breast cancer awareness..."
I mentioned, "Did you see the camera he had recording us the last time we passed?" "Was that a camera?" "Yes, yes it was...."
And so we drove on - discovering roads that we have never traveled upon, drops of rain falling upon us ... "Look," JT mentioned - "there is a great camping spot." A few miles down the lane - crowded with trees, bushes, flowers - we look to the left and another camping spot presented itself. Soon - a mile or more - we see a more traveled road and look left and right - "Right" we decide, and off we went.
There were areas of cattle - lots of calves with their mothers, cattle guards, more calves, more mothers - a few bulls - another cattle guard - we realized a spot left of another T in the road and pulled over to take a break and do what nature requires.... about 10 minutes into our looking around and breaking I look at the crest on the rise we just crossed and ...
"There he is again!" We both watch as the man on the bike worked his way through the calves and their moms - he crossed the last cattle guard and then peddled our way...
"Is it dinner time?" he called.... JT and I both waved - smiled... welcomed this man that we kept passing and worrying over along this day's adventure.
He told us his name. He was, in fact, recording part his adventures for a movie he was making. There was a ride from El Paso to Alberta Canada - he had completed this ride last year, but this year decided to handle the Montana portion of the ride - his bearings were a bit discombobulated from the Garmin that was giving him great and not so great directions. He has a wife in Detroit, a daugther in Kalispell and was quite kind and agreeable.
He listened to our story - offered us his business card - and we refilled his water reservoir.
Before he went on his way he mentioned, "Make sure you email me and I'll send you a link to the movie - you're the people who saved me on Priest Pass..."
And on his way he went... we turned around and returned home on roads that we had already discovered... because it's Father's Day and JT wanted to watch a certain baseball game.
... and I sit here sending our prayers and good tidings to this traveler... I wish him well, I wish him good speed, God speed ... may kind souls cross his path.
And that, dear reader, is my blog for the day.
May you always offer water, be kind to strangers, and be aware of the opportunity to serve others.
Much love - it's crazy beautiful here....
- Simone
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