Pope speaks to Haitians and offers support...

VATICAN CITY, 23 JAN 2010 (VIS) - Made public today were two telegrams sent by the Holy Father on 16 January to Rene Preval, president of the Republic of Haiti, and to Archbishop Louis Kebreau S.D.B. of Cap-Haitien and president of the Episcopal Conference of Haiti, for the earthquake which devastated the country on 12 January, killing and injuring hundreds of thousands of people.

Benedict XVI tells President Preval of his "profound sadness" at the tragic event and assures him of his "fervent prayers for all the people affected by this dreadful catastrophe. I also pray", the Pope continues, "that a spirit of solidarity may enter people's hearts and that calm may reign in the streets, so that the generous aid arriving from all countries may bring comfort to everyone, and that people who have today lost everything may be consoled by knowing that the international community is truly concerned about them".

The Holy Father expresses his appreciation for "the commitment shown by both Haitians and foreigners, sometimes at risk of their own lives, to do everything in their power to search for and rescue survivors". And he assures the president that the Catholic Church, "through her institutions, will remain - and not only in these moments of great commotion - alongside the people who have been so sorely tried by this tragedy, and will, to the limit of her powers, help them regain the chance to build a better future".

In his telegram to Archbishop Kebreau, the Pope mentions the tragic death in the earthquake of Archbishop Joseph Serge Miot of Port-au-Prince, and of many faithful, priests and consecrated people. "At this sad hour", he writes, "I invoke Our Lady of Perpetual Help that she may become 'Mother of tenderness', and that solidarity may triumph over isolation and individualism in people's hearts".

The also Pope praises "the rapid mobilisation of the international community, collectively touched by the fate of Haitians", and reaffirms that, through her institutions, the Church "will not cease to make her contribution to the emergency efforts and to the patient reconstruction of devastated areas".

the earthquake was five days ago...

I got on a plane a few years ago to find suffering and found instead, joy.
I expected to find darkness and found only light.
I arrived there to give help but received it instead.
I expected to find only poverty and found immeasurable wealth.
I went to affect change, and was affected.
I came home and struggled to explain what I know, and failed.
I wonder why it took so many lives lost to get our attention?
I think people are listening now, but for how long?
I want to scream and shout and cry and hold a small blood-stained hand.
I beg God for mercy, healing, and forgiveness for I am "blan."
Here my prayer and tell me what to do...
Please, ease their pain.

Ride for Haiti... THE MOVIE is here...

http://pmrphoto.com/ak

Please take a look at a little flash movie I made of a selection of my photos from the trip last summer. I hope you enjoy looking at the slideshow. God Bless you! Deacon pat

Update: my trusty steed is gone...

I sold the motorcycle that carried me so faithfully on my ride this summer; there is a sleek new R1150RT in its place in the garage. We will have our adventures as well, but probably not like the GS. I would have loved to have kept it forever, but I think my need of a two wheeled landcrusier is no longer a reality now that the Dalton Highway is behind me. the new "used_ RT is set up for the kind of riding I do weekly and beyond.

The strain I put on my family, being gone almost a month, was pretty great. I also had difficulty missing them, even as I had fun riding and praying. Missing out on 1/12th of my son patrick's third year on earth was significant in my life as well as his. Still, I have no regrets about my solitute in the wind last summer. While I don't see myself doing it again any time soon, I would do it all the same if I did it again.

My butt healed after about ten days of avoiding wooden chairs, in case you're wondering...

Man, it was a great trip, and I thank God and my family for praying me home safe again. Each time I ride, the road noise, wind, and sound of the engine bring me right back to the Dalton Highway and all that asphalt in between Tennessee and AK. I'll get out there again someday... Carpe Deum! Deacon Pat

Day 26: St. Louis to Knoxville, 487 miles Total Mileage: 11,253

Sometimes I do my best thinking on the bottom of the pool in our back yard. That’s where I ended up at the end of today’s ride. I sat down there for a while, as long as my breath held out, and I thanked God for keeping me safe in my eleven thousand mile odyssey. Ultimately, I feel more than a little guilty, spending all that money on fuel, food, and lodging, riding to Alaska and back on a state of the art German motorcycle. Motorcycling is something that I love to do. I always have. The first motorcycle in my memory arrived loudly into our driveway in the early 70’s under an old family friend named Dave Lowe. He rode a Norton Commando across the country and stopped in Chicago to visit us after leaving his home in Cleveland. While I left with special rain gear, heated grips, fuel injection, and ABS brakes, Dave had no windshield, an uncomfortable crude plastic seat, and a bike that probably burned a quart of oil every 1000 miles. The raw sound of that big twin warming up in our driveway was the beginning of a love affair that lasts to this day. Even my father, at 70, who is against me riding for all the safety reasons, will still talk about the guy in Ashland he remembers with the big Indian from when he was a boy. The first person to introduce me face to face to the motorcycle is my old friend Joe Fontana. His family moved out of Chicago to the "country" in the early 80’s to Naperville, IL. They built a home out there and the area all around it consisted of empty fields filled with grass, weeds, and dirt trails. New subdivisions going in created new opportunities for riding in mud as heavy equipment created many possibilities for riding on the weekends when all the construction crews were off. That was a Suzuki RM80. It was a tall, black and yellow gangly thing made for serious motocross. It was a single cylinder “thumper” that could really churn the ground when you twisted the throttle. It sounded like a demon possessed chain saw when you hit the powerband. I dumped it on my first try at the handlebars. Joe helped me back on and then I got the hang of it. For the record, his little brother Dan is the guy that got me into the darkroom for the first time. Those Fontanas have had some serious input on my life. Then there was the green 200cc Kawasak Enduro that I found propped up against my Uncle Ed's cabin in Woodland Park, Colorado. I had come to visit him for a week and I rode that thing everywhere up there. I loved to spin the back tire on gravel but had to take my time learning how to go around corners at speed. I actually broke a clutch cable way up on a gravel mountain road about 10 miles from the cabin. I had to teach myself on the fly how to RPM shift and get back down the mountain. I would give a lot to have that bike back again. I've probably owned twenty or so bikes since then. About three years ago, I spied a green BMW at the Honda car dealership by my old office. It had no plates on it as someone had traded it in and the Honda folks didn't have a clue what it was. Once I rode that bike about 15 miles, I knew I was “done” with everything else, now that I'd discovered what the big deal is about B’mers. There are four things you want a bike to do: go fast, stop fast, corner well, and be able to ride them all day long. BMW’s sort of rule the roost when you combine all those attributes. My friend and brother Deacon Dan Hosford had something to do with this transition as well as he’s been riding them forever. Dan is fearless mechanically and we performed a major service that winter together in the garage; for the record, I mostly handed him tools. Dan and I rode together to Sweetwater for our monthly seminary classes together and often took the “long way” home. And now I’ve come a long way home, back to the green mountains of East Tennessee. I want to thank those of you that have been praying for me along the way. I have never prayed so much in my entire life. My self-directed (some say misdirected) retreat has been everything and more than what I had hoped for. I spent 26 days on the road with my Lord. I was a bit selfish about my companion and while I invited a few buddies to go along, it’s just as well that I went alone. The time I spent reflecting on the realities of Jesus giving his life for us was deeply profound as I watched four time zones go by and gazed upon the endless beauty of the last frontier: Alaska. Hans Urs von Balthasar says that “beauty is not accidental, but essential.” I understand a bit more what he means now. I spent as much time listening as I did praying. The sounds of the wind and the engine are still ringing in my ears, and while that will fade, the sound of silence I will not forget. The wilderness offers us a place where we can escape all distraction and re-align ourselves to the silent language of God. Although my Alaskan adventure has come to a close, my great adventure as Deacon is just beginning and my role as husband, son, brother, and father continues. I pray that I will always have the fervor and excitement in serving God in that capacity as I do starting the engine on whatever two-wheeled machine is in my garage. And when the time comes for me to stop riding, I pray that I'll have the wisdom to do so, and remember these 26 days out on the road in my memories. And what have I learned after all that time on the road spent in prayer? The only thing I can offer God is my simple and humble thanksgiving for this wonderful life. Each day, my prayers started in thanks for my loving and extremely patient wife Ellie, my daughter “the Sophster,” for my long awaited gift-from-God-son Patrick, and for the health of our families. A month ago, a reporter asked Dolly Parton, “what do you owe the success of your forty-one year long marriage to?” She responded, “stay gone.” Well, I guess I did my part this month… God Bless you all!

Day 25: Emporia, KS to just east of St. Louis, MO 438 mi.

2:30pm Tuesday: I decided that since it was so hot today, I'd find a Panera and upload a bunch of days worth of stuff as I've not had internet lately. It's about 90 degress out right now and overcast. It rained a lot here in KS yesterday and caused some flooding but it's been dry for me so far today. I've been traveling along US 50, which is an old road. I started in Pueblo, Colorado and ran through many towns including Dodge City, KS, the home of Bat Masterson and a bunch of bad guys from the old west. US50 travels along the Arkansas river which has shocked me in that it's mostly bone dry in KS. US50 is dotted with small farming towns and old motels & gas stations now defunct because of the I-70 going in during the 50's. I'm in a suburb of Kansas city right now, hence the Panera which I haven't seen for weeks. I am moving straight East now. I don't know where I'll stay the night tonight but I'm fairly certain I won't be home till tomorrow. I've still got about 700 miles to go and I've already ridden around 160. It's always sad to leave the mountains of Colorado behind me as I have a lifetime of memories there, but it eases my pain somewhat that I know the Smokies are waiting for me with their lush green grass and trees and gentle rolling landscape. East Tennessee is so welcoming, especially when you come out of the visual boredom of the Midwest. I've gotten to travel to every state in the USA now, and have been in seven countries in Europe, to Japan, Iceland, the old Soviet Union, Mexico, and spent a ton of time in Haiti. I am always happy to return to the "old mountains" that have become our home of these last eighteen years. Every mile gets me closer the the pool in the back yard and yes, to the foot-tall grass that awaits me as well. More later...
11pm: I stopped in Columbia, MO to see my old friend Zoe Smith today. Zoe was my college photojournalism professor at Marquette University in Milwaukee. She was the first person that tried to reign me in as a young shooter and helped me improve both my quality and content. I was a junior at Marquette when she met the love of her life, Conrad. They fell in love hard and I remember how cool it was to watch her change as their relationship deepened. When Zoe got an offer to move to the U. of M. years ago, Conrad moved with her. They were like two big kids and were really devoted to one another. Conrad died last year in a freak accident at home while Zoe was teaching in England. Whenever I'd call Zoe at home, she was often at work so I got to talk to Conrad more than she sometimes. I miss him too. He was a great guy and made Zoe very happy. I'm learning that when you loose a spouse or parent, it doesn't really get "better" but rather people learn to cope with the loss somehow. They taught us an aweful lot of stuff over the last four years, but I know in my heart that the things I learn from people like Zoe often have more impact. After eating a nice dinner in Columbia together, I headed out again on I-70. I passed by Arrowhead stadium which was the site of one of my greatest sports photos ever during my Sports Illustrated tenture. It was a photo of Ryan Leaf getting sacked in the rain. SI ran it double truck and I smiled for a week straight. It was noon start game but was as dark as night the whole game. Arrowhead has great lights and so the results were fantastic. I also went through downtown St. Louis and saw the Arch as well as all the buildings downtown all lit up. It was a super clear night with a huge electrical storm raging to the East. Afgter going over the bridge headed for Louisville on I-64, I thought it better to stop when it started raining. So, not much of a mileage day, but it will make for a pretty easy day tomorrow to make it all the way home. Just 500 miles or so to be able to sing "Rocky Top" and say a final prayer of thanksgiving for my safety and spiritual jackpot on my way into town. Tomorrow I pray for and with the dead. I will remember all those that I knew in my family that have died, for those I never got to meet, for my ancestors who contributed mightily to my wanderlust, and for others that I have known that have gone on with the hope of eternal life. May the souls of the faithfully departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen and goodnight... pat

Day 24: Colorado Springs, CO to Emporia, KS, 602 miles

While the “superslab” was tempting, I opted once ore for the road less traveled and headed South out of Colorado Springs to Pueblo, Colorado where I hooked up with US50. I was immediately rewarded for that decision as US50 parallels the Arkansas River and sports a ton of old filling stations on it’s lonely route. Once they put in I-70 in Colorado, places along US50 went the way of “Radiator Springs” in the movie cars. Many businesses just shut down once the traffic along the old two-laner waned. It was still hot, however, so I stopped often to drink water and give my touché a rest. There are many old motels from the 40’s and 50’s that look like someone just walked away from them in the middle of the night. The weird thing is that in many cases, they never became any other business so there they sit to this day. There are old cars and trucks often in the parking lots, now grown up with weeds. As you travel East on US50, there is a gradual turn from rolling hills to flat land, as the Rockies quickly disappear in my rear view mirrors. It’s always sad to leave Colorado Springs as the place provides me a wellspring of memories and I have so many connections with relatives there and the good times we’ve shared through the years. Relationships that are family seem progressive where you can pick up right where you left off the last time. There are bits of US50 like that. The road’s old steel & rivet bridges have all been replaced with modern concrete affairs but if you pay attention, every 60 miles or so, you can spot a section of old US50 that runs parallel to the new road. These are mostly small frontage roads that serve as overbuilt driveway access for farms and ranches but the distinctive double yellow lines can still be seen though they are filled with cracks and whoop-de-do’s. The small towns, with cheap gas and food are still a welcome sight for me after my Alaskan and Canadian experiences. At one point after the middle Kansas section of the road got flat and straight, I got a little bored and reprogrammed the GPS to look for a straight line, rather than shortest time to the next destination. It told me to turn right about a mile up and then it brought me to a T intersection about 20 miles to the South where it told me to head East again. It was a gravel road. Wow… I wasn’t really ready to do dirt again as my butt was pretty sore, but the though of backtracking all that way just sounded like a bad idea so I turned left. I rode mostly in the right hand rut and after about fifteen minutes, I got my gravel legs back and was able to make about 45 mph safely. The problem is that it kept going… and going, and going… The GPS kept saying next turn 16 miles and then I’d get to it and it was a crossroads with other dirt roads. So I ended up killing a couple hours in KS just riding on the dirt. Once I finally made my way back to civilization, I came into the outskirts of Dodge City, KS. I saw this huge building through the massive heat waves of the day some distance ahead. I made for it by dead reckoning and as I got closer, I realized it was a church with a high cross maybe 100’ in the air. I assumed that it was one of those evangelical mega churches and continued towards it. When I got close, it turned out to be a Catholic Cathedral named, “Our Lady of Guadalupe.” I was stunned. But the more I thought about it, it made sense. Most of the farming in the area was done my Latino people and they had probably lived here for many years. I felt immediately convicted about my needing to re-learn Spanish so I’ll be able to serve all of the people of God, rather than just those that speak my language. The fields in Kansas stretch on and on with the corn raising itself over ten feet off the ground.
I finally limped into Emporia KS that night very tired after my first day on the bike after taking three days off. It felt good to shower and lay on my bed with the AC on. Then I did my evening prayer and crashed hard. I thought today mainly of the high school students in Haiti. I wondered what they were doing today because school was out. They love to play cards and dominoes under the shade of trees if they can find it. They play for money but since no one has any, they pick leaves off of the trees in equal amounts for each player. That way it’s fair as they all start out with the same amount just like in Monopoly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a board game down there so I might have to bring one next time I go. Amazing that they play with leaves… God Bless you & good night.