Comeback Kid

Welcome 2012. It's been awhile. Clearly from my sudden and prolonged silence through the last past of 2011, it was a bit of a duzzy of a year. After the death of my father and diagnosis of melanoma, I managed through six surgeries in nine locations, as well as other personal hiccups along the way. Not an easy one to say the least.

As I moved further through the year, I began to think of Comeback Kid, by Bret Dennen as my theme song. After being the one crying on the bathroom floor, it felt suiting. Now it feels even more meaningful, in that I really do feel that I've come back better and brighter than before. It feels good. There's nothing like adversity to make me come back feel very fortunate for all that I am blessed with in my life. Looking forward to a great year to come.



In a bit of a recap, aside from the brutal highlights, this often wandering nomad has been holding steady in our lovely new historic penthouse in the heart of Washington, DC. I'll share pictures this week so you know what lures this traveling gal to stick around for a bit longer than usual. I'll likely be back on the road sometime in spring. I know, not my traditional winter survival plan. I should be leaving right now in that case, it's finally become winter around here! I look forward to the road when it beckons, but I'm happy as can be to enjoy home for the moment.

In tribute to 2011, I'll also share my favorite song to honor the year, Dancing at a Funeral, also by Bret Dennen.

Happy New Year to all!

Amen, Omen

What started as a whisper slowly turned into a scream. Searching for an answer where the question is unseen.

Amen, Omen is one of my favorite Ben Harper songs. It speaks to me of how someone becomes a part of you. How all of us are mortal and how we must face this as part of the process of actually living.

Managing my life over the last six weeks makes "The Arab Spring" come to mind, in that it has been so monumental in terms of change, that it needs no less of a distinction to the power of change and challenges.

I learned yesterday that I have cancer. Another mole, removed last week, came back again as melanoma, but this time with cancer. My last day of being the sweet young age of 33, and I learn I have cancer. Not exactly what you are expecting for a Birthday surprise.

I'll be having another surgery next week, to remove the cancer that has been identified, and remove my trademark birthmark and all other freckles that might be of any possible risk. Needless to say, I'm not looking forward to going through another surgery alone, but I also feel extremely lucky.

I've always been on top of my skin's risk, but this was caught very early on. Had it been last year at this time, I would have been trekking around Congo and risking a great deal more than encounters with rebels.

I know my adventures as of late have been far from exotic, but I also feel it is important to share. To remind people to take care in the sun and take care to get checked regularly.

Miel

Forced Slow Down

There are times when life throw you stuff. Then it often throw more stuff at you. That's how it goes. Life's little challenger course, so to speak.

With the recent death of my father, I've had plenty of time grieving, and yet at the same time I've kept up my normal pace of life. Jumping right back in mid-stream. With two west coast trips in less than a month, much of my down time has oddly been spent on planes across the country. After superwoman like capabilities of dealing with everything that there was to handle in Eugene, both physically and emotionally, I came back to a slight nose dive back into the realities of my life in DC. Then I picked right back up and kept running.

So it turns out that I needed a bit more of a break that that. The Universe is sending its message clearly, slow your jets down, as my mom would say.

I was given a call back about a mole that was removed, ironically on the day I learned of my father's death. It turned out to be as suspicious as we thought, melanoma creeping up in the form of an otherwise cute freckle on my thigh. Had I not been aware of the dangers, with my fair and freckled skin, it could have been drastically worse. I've been consistent with dermatologist check ups, even when I haven't bothered to get a primary doctor in the last ten years. Having recently had my annual skin check, I was lucky that I had to go in for a repeat biopsy on another mole and pointed out this little guy. Had I waited until my next annual appointment, I would have had full blown cancer.

So I feel thankful for being on top of changes in my body, and having noted the tiny, otherwise seemingly friendly mole that had recently appeared.

Even this wasn't really enough to slow me down. At first I thought it was just going to be a quick re-biopsy and a few stitches. I even planned it for just before heading to California for Memorial Day. I figured I could plan on hiking a bit slower this year.

This, of course, turned out to be full on surgery instead. I went and had the operation on Friday, and have been in a bit of a post-surgery fog since then. I'm reminded of the importance of friends, family, and neighbors, and how important it is to cultivate these relationships. They are particularly helpful when you need them, and are noticeably missing when they are needed and aren't nearby.

Tomorrow I head out into the big wide world and will have to remind myself with each step to take it at least at half time walking. My standard pace around the city is ridiculously fast. According to one walking website, my pace far exceeded their "very speedy walker" category.

Today I walked past an older gentleman who was walking about my same, now reduced, pace. I was reminded of how fortunate I am that I'm normally so mobile.

So as I head out into the world, it will be with a renewed appreciation for what I have and for the health that I've fostered. I find it ironic that sometimes the most appreciation comes from the worst of events. I guess it just goes to show what we should be thankful for, even when life throws us stuff.

Miel

Respect our Roots

Written on my cross-country journey, from Oregon back to Washington, DC, I reflected on my journey home to celebrate my father Wally.

I am blessed by an extra ordinary life. Most often I live my life with intention, but perhaps not with the daily reminder that I am blessed. Perhaps it takes unexpected loss to realize this. Even more so, perhaps it takes returning to a community of incredible love.

The loss of my father has been nothing less than grueling. Unstoppable sorrow. Facing the realities of death. The finite nature of everything. That stuff is just stuff. It is the people that really matter. Stamina alone keeps us going. If you stop too long to think about it, you would just melt.

Then the never ending questions about what to do with one’s life surface through the cracks, in days that feel like weeks. The meaning of it all. Where will we end up in this great big world. What is my mission in life. How does one gather the courage to go out on a limb. I’ve done so, time and time again, in my journeys throughout the world, and yet this time it feels so much bigger. Like my life up until this point has been a rehearsal, preparing me for so much more to come.

Going back to my roots has been an incredible experience, mostly beyond description. To see faces from decades past, and reflect on how I’ve been shaped by this community. I’ve come a long ways, but I still know where my roots are. I grew up as a hippie child, or a child of the hippie era. While it was a revolution that swept North America, those of us who were raised as true hippie children are actually very few in number. We blend into the mix these days, but we know where we come from. We question whether we’ve sold out to a yippie lifestyle, but we still know who we are at heart. My days of tie-dye dresses may be past but my time spent wandering the tomato patches of my youth will never leave me.

Going home also reminds me of how far I’ve come. Normally I go through my life just as it is, often forgetting indeed how special my life actually is. I try not to take it for granted, but I realize how normative my life has become for me. When I talk with others about what I do out in the great big world, I see my life through another lense. It helps to keep things in perspective.

Wally was often that perspective for me. Sharing with him my latest adventures, he always having a story or opinion to share in response. Each of us growing from the other. Now I’m left with a myriad of feelings, but appreciation always surfaces to the top.

Thanks for being the father that you were Wally.

Miel

Wally Jones Passing On

Nothing can prepare one to loss of a parent. I learned my father died late on Thursday night and have been dealing with the grief and moving on since then. My father, Wally Pierce Jones, was one of my biggest fans and influenced me greatly to be the wandering nomad that I have become. His death will undoubtedly also alter the course of my life and shape me in ways I don't yet know.

Eugene has lost one of its most notable Elders. Wally Jones died at home and was found on May 5 in his bed, appearing to have died peacefully after some recent history of heart trouble.

He was born in Grants Pass to Ellis and Barbara Jones on December 7, 1945. He spent most of his life in Eugene, graduating from Sheldon High School in 1963. He attended the U of O for two years. Wally was one of the first members of the Hoedads Treeplanting Cooperative, and worked with them till its end in 1994. He served as its president in the 80's and in Hoedads' final years.

Wally had a passion for skiing and sailing. He spent a lot of time at Mt. Bachelor and other ski areas, often earning his way teaching others to ski. He owned a sailboat, a Lightning, and when he wasn't painstakingly working on it, he sailed it on Fern Ridge for years, where he was a member of the Eugene Yacht Club. He also was a skilled guitarist and strong singer, and had an unusual ability to remember words of myriad songs. He was a consummate story teller and a master of jokes.

He was involved with the Oregon Country Fair from its early days, and was a charter member, serving on various crews before settling on the Recycling Crew in 1986, which he stayed on till he became semi-retired as an Elder. He also got involved on the Path Planning Committee and was found tromping around at the fair site early on in the season and brainstorming on possibilities.

Wally is survived by two twin daughters, Darcy and Miel, who have spent a lot of time in Security. Darcy Cronin and her kids spent last Country Fair with Wally. Miel Hendrickson will be at this year's fair, which she had hoped to spend with her father as his SOP. He was partnered for many years with Karen Stingle, who continued to be his friend, neighbor, family, and "best
ex."

Above all, Wally was a people person. He was our historian, having participated in so much of our community's growth. He had an uncanny memory for events, people, places, and the dynamics underpinning it all. We relied on him to keep the stories straight.

Friends and family: Wally's Wake tonight @ Sam Bond's 6 p.m.

Come celebrate his life, share stories, and reunite at his favorite watering hole.

Timelapse Flight

I'm headed the opposite way around the world today, but figured this was pretty cool to share with folks. Well worth the two minutes!

SF to Paris in Two Minutes from Beep Show on Vimeo.

Safe travels,

Miel

Royal Wedding Crashing

By total chance, I have ended up in London en route back to DC from Kenya on the big day of the royal wedding. I knew it was a bank holiday from my colleagues who I met with yesterday, but I didn't realize until last weekend that I'd be here on the big day. I'm headed out now for the excitement, so I won't be long here. Yesterday afternoon we walk through all of the areas where the wedding will take place, with the flags flying aplenty. Very exciting.

Enjoy!

Miel