Contrast (kÉ™n-trāst’, kŏn’trāst’)  To set in opposition in order to show or emphasize differences

Visually, New Mexico geography defines contrast.  From the rich color stratifications to the jutting rock formations,  you experience it but it is hard to feel a part of it.  Meteorologically, you have to disavow yourself of everything you think a desert should be.  This is high desert.  And it is cold.

The multiple layers that I packed simply did not cut it today.  There is cold, and then there is 60 mile an hour cold.  I am learning.

During my many attempts to warm up today, I was able to speak with a variety of people.  I would like you to meet Barbara Gordon from Gallup, New Mexico.

Barbara Gordon is a study in contrasts.  She comes from a long tradition of military service.  Her father was a fifth generation career military man and her maternal grandfather was a General in a family of Generals.  She traveled the world and decided to settle in Gallup because it had ‘the best stars’ and a ‘360 degree sunset’.  Here, she worked for 28 years as a teacher and principal at the Zuni Pueblo Reservation.  She raised two children and now works with the Navaho tribe.  She speaks with equal eloquence of her support for Obama and the need to be more effective with our Federal funding programs.  Barbara has always wanted to see a woman in the White House.  Just not Sarah Palin.

Finally, I would like to introduce Mary and David Workman from Yorba Linda, California and Donna and Ron Workman of Williams, Arizona. 

We met at Old Smokey’s Pancake House and Restaurant.  David and Ron are brothers and share political leanings.  They were warm, kind and open.  And while they describe themselves as staunchly conservative, as you will hear, it isn’t that simple.  Listen for the contrasts.

(Ron speaks first)

The Workmans

 Sometimes irony demands to be noticed.

Today is my second day in Holbrook, Arizona.  Riding was simply not an option.  Sunrise began with 30 mph average wind speeds and it only went up from there.  Gusting, which was pretty much constant, reached 55 mph and produced more than one overturned semi on I-40.  The resulting dust storms were awesome and terrifying.

So here I sat.  In my hotel room, with sporadic power, staring at the one bar I had on my cell phone, willing it to leap to two.  I was restricted to how far I could walk from the hotel and both restaurants that I could reach were closed due to the storm and power issues. 

Note to the ladies – lip gloss in a dust storm is gross.

During the few respites when I had power, it was hard to avoid the news from the campaign trail.  The fracas surrounding Rep. John Lewis’ statements, the pastor at a campaign rally implying God’s preferences in this race, and, most disturbing of all, the crowd’s increasingly ugly calls and responses to campaign speeches. 

Dust storms.  They are disorienting.  But they are temporary.

Thomas Carlyle wrote, ‘The dust of controversy is merely the falsehood flying off’

If this was on my mind when I learned that the power was back on at Jimmy’s restaurant, it quickly left.  A full day of vending machine food sent me skipping over to Jimmy’s.  There I met Randy Andrews.  A father of three adult children, Randy is the retired County Assessor for Holbrook and his soft spoken account of how he came to shift his support was surprising and unexpected.

Randy Andrews

Just like a dust storm.

If testing personal resolve were an Olympic event, yesterday I was Michael Phelps. 

It started simply enough.  They were predicting high winds, so I set out of Needles by 7:00 am to ensure that I would be off the road before 11:00.  See, where I come from, wind is a pretty logical and predictable friend.  It works like this.  The sun comes up.  It heats the land.  Between 1:00 and 2:00, the cool air moves from over the water and onto the land.  Viola.  Sailors and windsurfers can practically set their clocks by the wind.

Apparently it does not work this way everywhere.  No, out in these parts they have (visual cue – I am using modified jazz hands here) new-fangled wind rules.  At exactly 9:50 am, a strong southwest wind began to blow.  Now, whatever Irishman wrote that ‘wind at your back’ stuff, never rode a scooter.  While they are fairly controllable in a head wind, a gust from any other angle and it morphs from a scooter into a sail.  I made it to Williams feeling a little closer to God.

Checking the conditions for the next day, I learned that there would be more of the same.  If I was to make it out in the morning, I would need to be on the road even earlier with the added benefit of riding in 41 degree weather.   Wanting to save time in the morning, I went to gas up and check my tires.  Returning back, the winds were a good 30 mph and I, wisely I thought, went to set my manual parking brake.  Upon engagement, the brake handle came off in my hand.  Seriously.  Four years of engineering school and a career as a product designer, and I could not get that brake to release.

What happened next is the subject of the following post.  For the purposes of this one we will fast forward 4 hours.  I am back in my room with some of the best interviews to date on my recorder.  It is late, but I was so excited to write that I fired up the laptop and started in.

But it was not to be.  Vista and my security software decided they were no longer compatible.  A break up, if you will.  Again, over 25 years in the PC industry and I am useless.  See a theme? 

Enter Derrick Kikuchi.  In keeping with our Olympic metaphor, Derrick is the Jesse Owens of friends.  There is not a single significant event of my adult life that has not felt his love and impact.  Three hours on the phone debugging and managing a woman-on-the-verge, Derrick had identified the problem and fixed it from 800 miles away.  Words fail.

So this was my day.  Facing a precipice and finding miracles.  Oh my.