Making The Leap

Stan Miller of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel wrote a great story about us:

(http://www.jsonline.com/entertainment/50476562.html)

Stan spent a lot of time working on the article (an afternoon interviewing us, sitting in on us interviewing Paul Olson, and then a long day watching Paul teach Greg how to hang glide). I think he really captured the essence of what Our Next Thing is about.
Real journalists still walk among us even though Stan has a face for TV and a voice for radio. He's one to watch.

Putting It Out There

Last night, Greg & I gave a talk to the Spreenkler Group of Milwaukee. They have casual forums every Wednesday and provide information & feedback to creative enterprises.

In their words:
"Spreenkler Creative is a creative services agency that hires talented college students to give them real client and project experience, expose them to dynamic organizations and help them launch their careers."
www.spreenkler.com

It started as a group of about 8 people getting together for Margaritas and has grown by leaps and bounds. Normally the presentation would have been at Bucketworks, but that facility is recovering from a massive flood that damaged their space. So we met at the new Independence First facility. It's a good-energy, beautiful place. Here's a quote from their website.

"The Independent Living Movement was born out of the civil rights movement for persons with disabilities in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Consumer choice, autonomy and control define the Independent Living Movement. The independent living philosophy holds that individuals with disabilities have the right to live with dignity and with appropriate support in their own homes, fully participate in their communities, and to control and make decisions about their lives. The National Council on Independent Living is comprised of organizations throughout the nation, including IndependenceFirst, that continue to operate under the independent living philosophy."

YES. Don't we all deserve that?
http://www.independencefirst.org/

Thanks to our hosts for the great pizza and, most of all, the enthusiastic audience who offered provocative comments and suggestions. We also got some ideas for more people to interview.

IN OTHER NEWS:
If you're in the Milwaukee area, watch for an article about us in this Sunday's (July 12) CUE section of the Journal Sentinel. Stan Miller spent a lot of time with us observing how we work, from sitting in on an interview with Paul Olsen of Scooter Tow Hand Gliding to Greg's first hand gliding lesson and brief flight.

AND SOME PERSONAL NEWS:

Last week, I officially graduated from a 3-month Cardiac Rehab Program at Columbia Hospital. You know, the people who saved my life? For several weeks after my Heart Attack, it was the only place where I felt safe. They helped me push myself and provided gentle encouragement and much love. All the women who work there are extraordinary people who help people like me get back on their feet and then on the road to living healthier. Something I have to work at every day because it's not exactly second nature to me. I had filled out a huge questionnaire when I first arrived and then the same one last week. Based on those answers, my emotional, mental and physical progress was measured and rated. Overall, I made a 150% improvement! This was so overwhelming to me that I just cried and cried, especially when they handed me my official diploma.

After hugs and tearful goodbyes to the Ladies of Rehab, I saw some people from the next class sitting in the waiting area. So I had to show off my diploma and offer them some encouragement. Now, I'm pretty much "the kid" in these classes. Most people are anywhere from 10 to 30 years older than me. So I think I had it a lot easier than they do. Each recovery is unique. As we were sitting there, I said: "You know what the hardest part of this was?...Making the decision to live." To my surprise, they all nodded in agreement. It would have been SO MUCH easier to just say, "This isn't worth it." So much easier to just go home from the hospital and give up. And for a couple weeks, that was the biggest internal struggle for me. It's not enough to have great family and friends tell you they love & need you; in fact, that was often annoying to me! I hated getting advice like, "well now you have to ......" Grrrr. Words like "should," "have to," "must," and so on just don't work for me. There were no easy fixes.

Now I have this newest diploma hanging on the wall of my newly-created exercise room for motivation. I need it!

Something Sweet About Someone

Greg Ryan is my husband of almost 10 years. He is, without question, one of the sweetest and funniest people I've ever met. He has no idea what a great guy he is, which is nice too.

So here's a Greg story. We met in 1996, three years after I lost Will Rockett, my first husband, to a brain tumor. Greg was always respectful of Will's memory, gave me space with it, but asked lots of questions about The Rockett Man because, oddly enough, he said he wished he had known Will. Okay, that's not even the sweet part.

We never needed to be around each other 24/7 and since our taste in movies doesn't always coincide we often go to movies separately with friends. He sees the big-blockbuster-blow-'em-ups and I go off to see my dark subtitled celluloid. Back in '96 John Travolta was in a film called "Phenomena." Okay, it wasn't the greatest film of all time, but I wanted to see it because of the subject matter. A man suddenly develops incredible psychic abilities after having a vision of a UFO or comet. Turns out, Greg had already seen it and I started to make plans to go with a friend. But he said he'd see it again and wanted to go with me. Well, if you've seen the film you know where this is going. Turns out, the Travolta character didn't see a comet; he had a brain tumor. And after everyone on the screen and in the audience falls absolutely in love with this great guy, he dies. I, of course, am crying my eyes out. I think it actually took me a few minutes to regain my composure after the credits rolled to go back outside without having snot roll down my face.

Days later, I ask Greg why he wanted to see it again. And he said, "I knew it would be hard on you and I wanted to be there for you when you saw it." And that got me crying all over again.

Now off you go. Go think about something sweet about someone you know.

PS Soon after, I told my sister-in-law Victoria about this. She said, "You better not screw things up with this guy!"

Two People I'd Like to Be More Like

Maybe it was writing about the entire heart attack and its aftermath, maybe it was my declaration that I might or might not choose to lead a healthy life. Whatever it was, I sure feel better! Stamina is up; normalcy is returning. I only think about cigarettes about 3 dozen times a day.

I've stumbled on to two people that I want to emulate: Michael J. Fox and my neighbor Kris.

Take a look at Fox's appearance on The Daily Show and you'll see what I mean:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/66641/the-daily-show-with-jon-stewart-michael-j-fox

I love the fact that he said it took him 7 years to come to terms with being diagnosed with Parkinsons. And now he's this amazing force who uses his celebrity to champion research and awareness as opposed to being the self-proclaimed "jackass" he'd been over the previous few years.

And then there's Kris, who has been fighting cancer for a couple years now. I'm sure I've been one of the well-meaning people that I mentioned in my last blog, one of those who asked her one to many times how she was feeling. Or one of those people who suggested yet more reading material and alternative treatments, as though she didn't have enough of that. If my questions or comments were ever annoying, intrusive or just plain ignorant, Kris never let on. She has always been gracious and patient, as though she was there to make everyone else feel better rather than the other way around. Her attitude never ceases to amaze me.

But, then again, Kris always seemed to be a positive person. My brand of optimism has always been cautious; I try to guard against disappointment and heart break. I'm not sure if that's an inherent character trait or something that can change. It makes me think of a time when I was traveling alone in Italy. It was two years after my first husband Will had died and I thought I was past the worst of my grieving. I was sitting outside the main cathedral of St. Frances of Assisi when what seemed like an endless line of young Asian nuns streamed out of the church in a single file; all smiling, all looking radiant. They carried the bliss of pure faith around them like auras; I envied that innocence and simplicity and was almost brought to tears at the sight of these sweet nuns. I wished I could feel that kind of blind comfort in the midst of my grief. But I also came to terms with the fact that I simply did not share that faith; that one of my life's challenges was to live with rationality and uncertainty. Being uncertain as to whether or not there's an after life, a higher being, all of that stuff. It forces one to make decisions, especially those that involve ethics, not on the basis of getting some kind of reward after one's death, but simply because one has determined that it is the right thing to do.

Far too often, I've found that the people who advertise their religious beliefs the loudest are often the least likely to treat others fairly. Greg and I were recently cheated by a so-called Christian person; his sanctimonious attitude could only come from feeling absolutely correct, which is where I find religious fervor to be so dangerous. It can give license to humankind's worst behavior. And the question for us now is: do we just let the bad deed go or pursue justice? Which is better for our own peace of mind and well being? We're weighing the options.

In the meantime, I'm trying to find more people like MJF & Kris. And if it took Fox 7 years to figure things out, then maybe I will too.

The Black Mountain Welcome Table, Chef John Crognale

pictured above: 

Toni & Brooke; Lake Tomahawk & the Seven Sisters Mountains; Greg Dunn finds feathers along the lake

Our new friends Toni De Lisa (potter) and Greg Dunn (tribal mask maker) brought us to the Black Mountain Welcome Table today. The daughter of a chef and one helluva cook herself, Toni seems to be able to find fellow Italian-Americans wherever she goes. 

Today she introduced us to John Crognale, a retired chef who had a 5-star restaurant in Monterey, California for many years.  The son of Italian immigrants, John has the charming demeanor of an accomplished host. He's constantly creating new community projects and started the community table in the neighboring town of Montreat. Right now, he's developing this Welcome Table in Black Mountain with a small army of cheerful volunteers. The food is prepared from fresh ingredients which are locally grown wherever possible. You sit at family-style tables and get to meet new people while enjoying a gourmet meal. Everything is friendly and casual, most of the diners today were senior citizens but that may change as the word about this gets out. There's a donation jar and you pay what you can; if you can't pay, that's okay too.

Chef John hopes increase these events at Black Mountain's Community Center to include several breakfasts and lunches every week. With its location on the banks of Lake Tomahawk and the lovely Seven Sisters Mountains in the background, lunching here is a sweet way to spend an afternoon. If you eat too much dessert, like all of us did, you can walk it off around the lake. 

When we met, John and I shook hands; when I left, we hugged. That's what a community table does.

Herding Goats to Bending Steel: Tessa Whittman

Greg & Tessa at her new studio


We may have conducted our last interview in Asheville today, at least for this trip. And it couldn't have been with an individual who better personifies what Our Next Thing is all about. Tessa Whittman could be our poster woman!

Tessa worked briefly as a Live Sound Engineer in her hometown of Minneapolis. Maybe it was those brutal upper midwest winters, maybe it was the finicky nature of the music business, but Tessa dreamed of learning how to surf. She yearned to experience "Island Fever" and escape her known world for a while. What better place than Maui? 

She found herself living on the edge of a hippy enclave in the Hawaiian jungle and built herself a little shelter with not much more than an extension cord and a pot. Her new job was on the other side of the island with a daily commute that dropped 10,000 feet to a goat farm in one of the few desert-like areas in the region. Yes, she became a goat herder and worked for a couple who eventually became well known for their artisan cheeses. 

Her existence there sounded like paradise; but Tessa reminded us that paradise is not necessarily what gives us peace of mind. She was still searching. She returned to the mainland, this time West Virginia, to take a class in Blacksmithing. Now it was Appalachia itself that felt like home to her and Blacksmithing was what she wanted to do. 

The decision to leave Hawaii with all its charms wasn't too difficult for Tessa because she had found both a craft and a place to hone that craft at the Penland School of Crafts in Western North Carolina. For three years, Tessa studied and worked at the school. Greg filmed her this past Sunday during one of her last days at the Smithy of Penland. 

We talked to Tessa today, on the day she would sign her lease for a blacksmith studio that she'll share with several other blacksmithers in the Wedge Building of the River Arts section of Asheville. Not too long ago, this space was the studio of John Payne, a legendary figure in this city. He was a pioneer as a metal sculptor and one of the forces behind Asheville revitalization as an arts community. John Payne passed away last year but his presence is still deeply felt in his former studio and in this city. 

Now, Tessa and her business partner Tina - along with other blacksmiths - are the next generation of artists and crafts people working in steel. I never had the honor of meeting John Payne, but when I look at the people inhabiting his studio now, I can't help but think that he'd be proud. An ancient craft continues and it is a beautiful thing to behold. I can't wait to come back to Asheville and see what Tessa and her fellow blacksmithers are creating.

Note: to read a lovely tribute to John Payne, go to google and search for "john payne wedge studio". You'll see a link to the Mountain Express site. 

Sound Healing - Dielle Ciesco

We interviewed Dielle Ciesco last Saturday at her home, which part of a Habitat for Humanity community on the outskirts of Asheville.

Dielle is difficult to describe; she's like a little bundle of calm and joy. You can feel better by just talking to her. She has a new career as a Sound Healer, Vocal Meditation Instructor and is a member of the Asheville Life Coach Clinic. 

Dielle started her working life as a public school teacher but quickly realized it wasn't the right fit for her. Through a series of twists and turns, she became a student of a shaman in Mexico and studied several healing modalities. Since singing was always a source of joy in her life it became a part of her healing path. 

At the end of the interview, Dielle gave me a Sound Healing session. Usually, Greg is the one who gets to do this kind of thing while I stay behind the camera. But we had just given up smoking two nights before and I managed to get through a very stressful family emergency the day before. I needed it! The setting is similar to many massage therapists. I laid down on a comfortable table with silky linens while Dielle worked around and above me.

Now, I have a pretty open mind and I've tried a lot of alternative medicines and spiritual practices. There are a lot of lotus-eaters out there. But Dielle is the Real Thing. She asked permission to touch me during the session. I immediately trusted her and just let it happen. In the beginning, I felt a soft pressure inside my lungs (I hadn't told her about quitting smoking). Dielle used her own incredible voice, bells and hand crafted sound makers at different times in the session. Tightness and knots and other indescribable things in different areas of my body were released. There is a kindness, compassion and acceptance that Dielle imparts that let me go deeper and deeper into a meditative state. 

When the session ended, we reviewed what happened. I know it helped me and right now I get a little teary-eyed just thinking about it because it was so wonderful.

You can find out more about Dielle's work by visiting her website:

www.TheVoiceofLife,.com

inquire@thevoiceoflife.com

Back in Asheville

Happily, we're back in Asheville, North Carolina - a city that seems tailor-made for Our Next Thing. People seem to come here to reinvent themselves. Or maybe it's Asheville itself that creates the need for change. Whatever it is up in these mountains - the crystals in the hills, the vortex, the clean air - something very positive is always happening. 

As we resettle, we're advertising for interviewees in Craig's List. If you know of anyone who fits the Our Next Thing profile, be sure to contact us!

Finding the Silver Lining - Mujde Temel

It's difficult not to judge a place when your initial experiences there have been awful. This is where I stand with Sullivan's Island, South Carolina. The island itself is completely innocent here; the guilty party is a money-hungry landlord who rented us a disgustingly dirty house and refuses to refund us any portion of our rent. We tried to be reasonable with him, but he won't budge. We're leaving 3 weeks early and he gets to keep the whole rent. End of story.

But I can't help but feel as though Sullivan's Island itself is somewhat soul-less. On the first day here, we took a walk to the beach. There was house after house, all huge monuments to excess, status and waste. It was as if each house was saying to the other, "Look at me! I'm bigger than you are!" Many of these mansions are summer homes, so they languish in February like the empty vessels they truly are. 

On the second day, we took a walk around Fort Moultrie. It was here I learned that Sullivan's Island was one this country's largest portals for the slave trade. A lightbulb went off. Why didn't I know this piece of history? Of course, this is what I was feeling. The cruelty, the lack of empathy. The utter inability to feel what another human being feels. Now all I could think about were those poor people, pulled from their homes, taken from their families and probably corralled on this island under the most brutal conditions. And then they were shipped to the Slave Market in Charleston. This Northerner was taken aback to hear a waiter in Charleston give directions like this, "You just walk down this street, pass the old slave market, and then turn right..." It was said so casually that it was almost impossible to process at the time. 

The entire area seems to show an outer face of gentility. But everywhere you go there are museums of one of the darkest times in human history, monuments to war after war after war, as though this is the only way to latch on to an identity. 

We're trying take away something positive from this trip. So we're doing some interviews.

Today, we met Mujde Temel, an enthusiastic woman who was born, raised and educated in Turkey. Her father was an engineer and her mother was the vice-principal at the elite private school she attended. Mujde was determined to become an industrial engineer like her father, to prove to herself that a woman could work in what was considered to be a man's profession. She proved it. In fact, she came to the states to further her education in Virginia. Even though she earned a Masters Degree, it was much more difficult to get a job in her chosen profession in the states than it was in Turkey. She and her future husband worked as substitute teachers to make ends meet. After they married, they moved to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan where her husband came from, a place that couldn't be more different than Turkey. 

One day stood out above all others. Mujde was working with a senior teacher trying to help young children with math. The kids were having a lot of difficulty, so Mujde decided to show them how to solve the problems. She was reprimanded by the other teacher and told that these children should know the answers. If they didn't (and most of them did not), they lost their recess and had to stay inside. Mujde's heart went out to these children, most of whom came from households where parents worked 2 jobs, where the parents often only got a glimpse of their kids in between driving to working or school. There was no time to help them work on math problems. Mujde went home and cried. And when she stopped crying, she knew she had to be a teacher.

Now, Mujde is a high school algebra teacher in Summerville, South Carolina. She hears from former students all the time; she knows she makes a difference in their lives. How many of us can remember a certain teacher who encouraged us, who saw our potential, who even seemed to push us harder than the others? 

Mujde is such a teacher. You can see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice when she talks about her students. 

I can't wait to edit the video and post it. 

Mujde's story served as a reminder of why we're doing Our Next Thing.

Bad Rental, Jasper Boulevard, Sullivan's Island, SC - continued

We were shivering when we went to bed last night even though we used all the blankets available in the house. We weren't provided with a space heater to make up for the poor heating system. When we woke up at around 6 am, still shivering, the thermostat was just under 50 degrees. The landlord is not returning our calls.  

See the video on youtube. Just type in "bad rental" or "Sullivan's Island bad rental" for the newest version.

Bad Rental Video

It was strangely satisfying to do this video! 

Go to my youtube site: brookemaroldi and look for "Bad Rental."

www.youtube.com/watch?v= OGZBx2Wrp4

Sullivan's Island, SC - an experiment that failed

It was difficult to leave Asheville. We had met so many great people and had a genuine connection with the place as a whole. But we were also excited to see what the interviews in the Charleston area would be like.

Maybe that excitement is what makes our disappointment in the place we rented so deep. We had decided upon a house rental in Mount Pleasant; it was right on a waterway and looked lovely. But the owner decided he would be home during February after all and the realtor who was brokering the deal suggested another place on Sullivan's Island. It's owned by her ex, who would be away and this would be his first time renting. We were sent a couple photos, told that the island was a quiet, casual getaway and thought it was worth a shot. A contract was signed, money was sent and that was that.

Well, we arrived to find a house that felt like the owner had just stepped out and would be returning at any time. In other words: not in shape for renters. Greg & I have been on both sides of the rental game. We remove all personal items (clothing, toiletries, etc.) and things that we don't want the renters to use. The fridge is stocked with condiments and sometimes beer, wine, and other non-perishable items. The pantry also has some basics: sugar, flour, spices, soups, etc.

Here, one of the bedrooms was filled with the owners' clothing. The closet was stuffed. I don't think anyone would have felt comfortable sleeping there. The second bedroom was all right, but it didn't have a dresser. The third bedroom was the nicest - it had both a dresser and an empty closet.

The bathrooms were another story. The floors were stained, personal items were left in each. I don't really want to use a sink where a person I don't know left a toothbrush or an electric razor or a woman's bathing suit is drying on the shower or used towels are hanging. To me, this is not "renter ready." There are a couple rooms that are pretty much empty, so I'm not sure why the owner didn't put his stuff in either of those. The kitchen was dingy and he didn't leave any cabinet space for us to put our own food. It looked like it could use a good scrubbing from top to bottom.

The temperature outside dropped last night and the heat only got up to 58 degrees. The house is on a busy road that's more like a highway than a boulevard. So much for a quiet getaway!

We barely slept on our first night because it felt so awkward to be here. I called the realtor, who told me to call the owner. Greg talked to the owner the next day. At first he said he felt so bad that he didn't really want to charge us anything. We said we wanted to leave after only two weeks and asked if he'd consider refunding us half our money. We weren't looking for something for nothing here and never asked for a full refund. He took a day to think it over.

Well, no matter how "sorry" he says he feels about the situation, he doesn't want to give us a single cent back. As for the heat, he said that we should be used to cold weather since we're from Wisconsin! Uh, we heat our houses in Wisconsin, Mister! We were the guinea pigs for his rental experiment and rather than try to work it out he just wants to take ALL our money. He offered us a couple weeks in the summer, but we have no plans to return to this area. And we'd certainly wouldn't want to stay on such a busy road!

I'm not sure I understand how this guy is going to sleep at night knowing that he took ALL our rental money and that we'll be leaving after LESS THAN A WEEK because his house was not in good shape. It'd be easier to take if he stopped acting like he was "so sorry that it didn't work out" and just said "too bad!"

It makes me sick to be here. Can't wait to leave!

A Community Garden

THE PISGAH VIEW COMMUNITY PEACE GARDEN

PISGAH VIEW, ASHEVILLE, NC

JANUARY 13, 2009

Today Greg and I met with Bob White and Lucia Dougherty, a husband and wife team who are the catalysts for creating a community garden in an area that was once known more for drug deals than plant exchanges. 

It was a cold day by Asheville standards and Bob met us with a cozy fire on the edge of the garden. He recalled the first time he and a volunteer tried to till the tough clay soil and how much garbage had to be cleared from the former baseball field before a single plant could be introduced. It's difficult to believe looking at the garden now, even on this wintry morning. It all began with a voice.

One day, while listening to some Miles Davis music, Bob heard a voice inside him telling him to build a community garden. This was not something he had ever been involved with before. Bob had been a member of the Black Panthers back in the 1960s, worked as a carpenter, owned a bookstore and travelled around the country searching for answers to questions about racial disparity in America. At one point, after feeling like he was working hard but never getting ahead, he pretty much dropped out of society. He chose to become homeless and went on a different path.

Lucia appeared in his life at this point, a woman who's inner light and beauty can be seen a mile away. How could he resist this beautiful, intelligent young lady? Lucia voluntarily became homeless to be with Bob. They worked as community activists side by side until Lucia became pregnant with their first child. To make a long story short, they've been together since 1998 and have three beautiful daughters together. Lucia comes from a family of activists and was  accustomed to working for positive change in this community, particularly for members of the homeless community.

So when Bob told Lucia about that little voice in his head, Lucia wasn't really that surprised. She encouraged Bob to follow through with this idea. That was back in the Spring of 2007. Now, barely two years later, the Peace Garden is a place where people from all backgrounds come together. The Peace Garden is supported by lots of hard work, donations, and volunteers.

In this city where local farming is celebrated, the Peace Garden of the Pisgah View Community is a place filled with hope and renewal.

It was an honor to meet Bob and Lucia.

Up the Mountain Again

January 12, 2009

What is it here that makes me look forward to each day's adventure? Some people say it's the Magic of the Mountains. I think the people themselves are pretty magical.

Last week, Greg and I - with Lafayette in tow - tried to visit artists Toni De Lisa and Gregory Dunn. They live way up on a mountain near the lovely town of Black Mountain, only about 13 miles outside of Asheville. 

Now, I have to preface this by saying that I'm a nervous passenger, especially when it comes to winter driving and hairpin turns on mountainous roads. During our "engagement tour" up and down the California coast, I was a mess. We ran into another couple who were the reverse of us. She was the driver, he was the nervous passenger. There were "falling rock" warnings all along the treacherous roads. And the guy said, "Right now, a rock to the head wouldn't be such a bad thing." I agreed. As gorgeous as it was, it was difficult for me to enjoy the drives. Somewhere we still have a map where Greg wrote in the name of location: "Vomit Rock." Well, you can guess what happened to me there.

Anyway, I was really trying to put my fears aside. This time, Toni offered to meet us in town and drive us up. But Greg still wanted to do it on his own. I think a part of his manhood was at stake. So I rode with Toni and Greg followed. This time, I looked at the road through my camera and it was much easier. 

Toni and Greg Dunn are a wonderful couple who left Miami to live in the mountains of western North Carolina doing their art. Toni was a potter years ago and returned to that. Greg Dunn now makes tribal masks. She put out an incredible spread, starting with authentic Italian antipasti. We were joined by two other artists, Leo - a transplant from LA who creates paper sculptures, and Joan who is a fabric artist. Here we were on top of a beautiful mountain, so far away from the so-called art centers of the world, having what felt like a salon of artists meeting and talking about their work. When I was a kid reading about Paris in the 1920s, or Florence in the Renaissance, I yearned for that kind of life. But I thought I'd missed the boat and was born in the wrong time and the wrong place. Toni said she manifested this house in her mind over 20 years ago. Maybe I manifested this moment as well when I was a kid dreaming of living and working with other artists, having stimulating conversations and exchanging ideas. Ultimately, I realize now, I was searching for a sense of community, for a spiritual and physical connection to a place and people that shared some of my basic ideals. I know there are pockets of this all over the world. But for whatever reason, this area is more than a pocket. 

Greg Dunn told us that a lot of New Agers are attracted to these mountains; crystals are abundant here and many people find it to be a place of healing and rejuvenation. Maybe that's part of what makes me excited to wake up every morning these days.

Almost to Black Mountain

January 7, 2009

Greg has been making appointments with people in the Asheville area. Today we were all set to visit Toni De Lisa, a potter, and her husband Gregory Dunn, a tribal mask maker, outside Black Mountain. But first we stopped in to see Mondy Carter who owns and operates the Soulshine Candle Company near town. We knew Mondy back in Milwaukee where he was an actor and did a lot of comedy shows with our pal Anthony Wood. Mondy seems content in his new life here and we hope to interview him and his wife Karen Stobbe before we leave the area.

Then we were off, guided only by our new GPS system, to Toni & Gregory's place way, way, way up in the mountains. I was pretty surprised at how steep the grade was, but felt okay because the roads were in good repair. But then we got off the main road onto a single lane, rough road with dozens of hairpin turns on even steeper grades. Usually I'm the one who's nervous in these situations, but Greg was showing some signs of distress as well. Our 4-cylinder RAV4 was straining with every  curve. We were probably only a quarter mile from their house when we were faced with an extremely narrow road going up what looked like an impossible hill. With no room for error, we parked and tried to figure out what to do. Neither of us had cell phone service. We were stopped near a house with lots of barking dogs defending their territory, which made it even more difficult to think straight. Greg realized that he didn't have Toni's phone number. Then the wind kicked up and it started to snow. That was the tipping point that made us decide to retreat. Although we really wanted to get up there, I don't regret turning back (not an easy feat on that tiny road with horrifying drops on either side.) When we got back to Black Mountain, Greg was able to look up Toni's number in the library. She kindly offered to come down and get us, but we were pretty fried by then. 

When we got back to Asheville, Toni had made arrangements to have us back up (she'd pick us up with her truck). She was going to have us and another artist that we could interview over for a big Italian feast. I can't wait to see the view from her house and I'm relieved that she'll be driving. It's so interesting to visit other people's lives with this project and see what drives them to make huge changes. In this case, Toni & Gregory left a hectic life in Miami behind for life on the edge of the grid. They grow lots of their own food and life a much more solitary life now. My biggest question is: How did a nice Italian-American gal like you end up on the top of this mountain throwing pots?

First Impressions - Asheville, NC

January 5, 2008. 

Flying into Asheville is one of the most beautiful descents into a city that I've experienced in a long time. Coming from the flat Upper Midwest, the sight of mountains is both exhilarating and a little intimidating. Once inside the airport, I'm met by a huge mural depicting the area as a sea of green bumps with Asheville in the center of the bumps. There are rocking chairs in the airport! And they're not nailed down. People can just sit in rocking chairs while they wait for their planes. This may sound ridiculous, but this alone makes me fall victim to the city's charm within minutes of my arrival.

Outside, it smels good. How does an airport smell good? Now I know what those air fresheners are trying to accomplish when they claim their product is "Mountain Fresh." Yes, even the airport here is mountain fresh.

We're staying in the Montford section of town, which is known both for its stunning Victorian mansions and its small cottages. We're staying at the Morning Glory cottage on Short Street, just a few blocks from the edge of downtown. Unfortunately, busy highways circle Montford and there's a steady hum from the traffic. But I've gotten used to it and it's just ambient sound to me now. Brian Eno should record it. Our landlord, Rebecca Banner, has seen to every last detail for our creature comforts. She assured Greg that we'd always get a good night's sleep here because the bedding is made by a relative's company, Affordable Bedding. Yes, they are incredible beds and Rebecca has donned them with exquisite linens. But I'm a die hard insomniac, so even this little slice of horizontal heaven can't keep me for long.

The cottage is a wee bit tight because Greg and I need separate work stations, but we're figuring things out. Speaking of "wee bit," Greg tried a local beer during our first dinner out - "Wee Heavier," made by the French Broad beer company. It's like a cross between a Guinness and a Riverwest Amber. Very nice, even for an almost-non-beer-drinker like me. We had dinner at Zambra's in town, a cavernous establishment with Spanish and Moorish influences. The tapas menu is extensive. Our waiter looked like a miniature Errol Flynn with a bit of attitude; he was obviously disappointed that we didn't order one of the $100-plus bottles of wine. Although it's on the pricey side, the food is excellent and we wanted to celebrate our  first dinner together in several days. 

Our neighborhood is made for walking; I'm already fantasizing about our next house. But I'm still recovering from getting out of our last house. For the past couple weeks, I've been purging stuff. Hundreds of VHS tapes and audio cassette tapes ended up in the garbage. I shredded barrels of paper, but there was still plenty to go. Greg and I both want to scale down our possessions. I've never lived in one place for so long (12 years), and I'm embarrassed by how much we've accumulated. Now that we're in this small cottage, I hope to get a better idea of what kind of space we actually need to live, work and be creative. I'm resolved to continue the purge from a little "p" purge to a Big P Purge when we get back to Milwaukee.

I love Wisconsin for so many reasons, most of all because of the friends I've made over the last 16 years. But last winter, the 2nd snowiest in the state's recorded history, just broke something inside me. I'm tired of plummeting deep into a depression for several months a year, of cursing the floods of spring, and clinging to our all-too-few days of decent weather. There's always an evening in August, yes August, when I feel a cool breeze that is somehow different from the other cool breezes. It's the one that whispers, "Winter is Coming." It doesn't say that "Fall is Near" or "Summer Is Ending." No. There's a difference when you hear "Winter is Coming" and it's only August.

That August whisper is part of what got Greg and I started with this project. Our Next Thing is also about finding Our Next Town.