Flagstaff AZ: How not to tell a story

Posted on October 8, 2012 by Julie McDonald

It is clear on day three that I will never be a journalist. Not that it was ever an aspiration, but I have a notebook, camera, recording device and the right outfit. I have the look, but not the instinct.

Not once, but twice today, in the Phoenix Greyhound station, human drama unfolded right in front of me. I watched as one mother and then another, in line to board the bus to Nogales, said goodbye to their children. Their faces and the length and nature of their embraces made it clear that this was an unwanted separation. I stood still. I could not step forward, I could not record the moment even in a photograph. I simply could not impose myself on their sadness.

It was on this backdrop that I met Juanita Cercone. A single mother of three, she cheerfully works food service for Greyhound. She was born and raised in Phoenix and speaks honestly and clearly about the issues of immigration and campaign finance reform.

[rtmp3 url=”https://dl.dropbox.com/u/108166614/Audio2012/Juanita%20Cerone.mp3″ title=”Juanita Cercone”]

Posted in Looking for America | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Phoenix AZ: Jumping In

Posted on October 7, 2012 by Julie McDonald

Yesterday I kind of broke the rules. See, if it was truly to be the start of an ‘odyssey’, then by definition it requires wanderings and adventures, new experiences and hardships. Instead, my first day was spent enjoying the familiar scenery of my state’s central valley, interviewing a kindred green spirit, changing my route so that I could visit my (awesome) daughter, eating sushi at Sugarfish and, worse, I wore makeup. Pitiful.

But today I jumped in. I left my state and makeup behind and the view from my bus window made it clear,

My odyssey has begun.

And with it I would like to introduce you to William Colbert (William would like to you pronounce the ‘t’ until he makes his first million when he will change to the same pronunciation as Stephen Colbert). A father, many times over, and husband, maybe even more times, he is articulate, well educated and engaged. So cool.

[rtmp3 url=”https://dl.dropbox.com/u/108166614/Audio2012/William%20Colbert.mp3″ title=”William Colbert”]

Finally, William shared the story of his defining experience growing up as a young black man… the election in 1983 of Harold Washington as mayor of Chicago. A wonderful story that I promise to share in a later post.

For now, I am all in.

Posted in Looking for America | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Los Angeles CA: My first day on the bus

Posted on October 6, 2012 by Julie McDonald

There is a lot that is right about buses.  I am happy to report that Greyhound express buses are appointed with comfortable seats, no-fuss wi-fi, AC power in every seat and staff that are engaging and helpful (I’m looking at you Gordon and Duwan).

Today I met Alix Aylen.  Cool name aside, Alix’s story is compelling.  A Canadian, Alix is 25 years old and possessed of an adventurers spirit.  She left her home in Toronto with her bike in pieces, took a train to Vancouver where she reassembled it, and set out (alone) to ride to San Francisco.  En route, she met Bobby (check him out at tallbikebobby.blogspot.com) and, well, it was the start of a beautiful friendship.  Alix plays trumpet, a skill that payed for her bus fare, and is a graduate of the University of Toronto. Her passion is public green space design and, as you will hear, she is thinking of ‘coming to America’ in the literal sense.

[rtmp3 url=”https://dl.dropbox.com/u/108166614/Audio2012/Alix%20Aylen.mp3″ title=”Alix Aylen”]

Which brings us to, what I suspect will be a recurring segment on these posts,

Crazy sh#t that happens on the bus

Our comfortable ride morphed slowly as the air conditioning died a gradual death and left us sweltering for the last 120 miles. The initial reduction in ventilation resulted in the staff realizing that someone was smoking in the back of the bus. The wacky kind of smoking. A warning was issued. Twice.

We were close to LA when the second infraction occurred. This time in the bathroom. Infuriated, the staff announced that LAPD would be waiting at the station. And so, we arrived to LA’s finest.

Yes, life can get crazy on the bus.

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San Jose CA: I am Alice

Posted on October 5, 2012 by Julie McDonald

I love my Mom.

As I write, I am less than 36 hours from departing and it seemed poetic to start where I started.  To reach out and record my Mom.  This act is not without some complications.  My Mom and I enjoy the fullest spectrum of mother-daughter angst and, I think you will hear, joy.  But both have been tempered these recent years with the onset of dementia (I suppose mine as well as her’s) and I approached our time together gently and without expectations.

All four of my grandparents were Armenian.  All four were refugee’s having lost most, and in some cases, all of their families.  It is the generational differences in our experiences and our realities that has largly defined our relationship.  I will confess that it is those distinctions, and not our shared experiences, that have dominated my perceptions.  But today, as I listened closely, for the first time in many years, all I could feel was the thread that binds us.  Today, it is clear, I am Alice

[rtmp3 url=”https://dl.dropbox.com/u/108166614/Audio2012/Alice%20Dorian.mp3″ title=”Alice Dorian”]

Posted in Looking for America | Tagged , | 10 Comments

And it starts….

Posted on September 21, 2012 by Julie McDonald

It turns out that a long journey does not start with the first step.

No.  It starts with explaining to your friends and family why you would want to put yourself on a [insert quirky transport here] for 30 days alone to talk to strangers.

It would be disingenuous  to suggest that when I set out on my scooter 4 years ago that I was clear on what I was doing and why.  It was, in the purest sense, a journey. But this time, I do not have the the veil of plausible deniability.  I know the gifts and challenges that are a part of setting aside those defining comforts and attachments for the joys and infuriation of showing up to listen, truly listen.  That years of dismaying the demise of our national discourse can be assuaged by putting a face, name and dignity to each persons story.  Water over rock.  Very cool.

This election, as the last, forces a light on who we are and who we want to be.  Every day my promise is to share one such story from the road.

More than anything, I want get past sound bite responses and thoughts limited to 140 characters.  Turns out, I just need to show up.

 

Posted in Looking for America | Tagged , | 10 Comments