The Titanic & a renewed appreciation of my simple life

(Written Sept. 19th)
Everyone has their breaking point. Last night while dreaming, I reached mine. I've listed all the reasons, more & plenty good reasons why anyone in their right mind would jump ship before the iceberg hits, so we'll skip all that for now. When you read this two days from now, we will have reached Minneapolis where I am checking into the closest ER on behalf of my shoulder. It's nothing, right? A shoulder. We'll see.

This shoulder, however, is an integral link in the movement of my arm and one I would therefore prefer to preserve for future use than expend on one manly & truly grand conquest of the entire Mississippi River. This shoulder is the lynchpin, and if the doctor says what I think he'll say about it, I'm out. But I'll give it that last chance. I'm not out yet, just discouraged and very much in pain, a pain that has begun moving down my arm, ofttimes rendering it useless.

I'm glad I walked the Appalachian to its end. I will have that victory to recollect whenever reminded of my halfass run at the Mighty Miss. Sad. I am. But not crestfallen. I lack the insane drive, the overdrive, that hell-bent-for-weather spirit which got me thru the toughest times on the AT. I lack a purpose for this journey, a sense of meaning on par with the "hiking off" of overwhelming grief for a dead friend. I have no more grief in me. Luci's gone. Hunter's gone. Stormy, too. Gone. But I LIVE! And I'm sick of beating myself up on a river that throws us new curveballs every day.

For every obstacle we overcome, there awaits a new one around the bend. Wind at our backs now, winter arrives. Then more low water, mile after mile of it resulting in stretches where we must get out and walk the boat over shoals. It's an endless mine field of rocks. I'm on watch every minute for the hidden boulder that will shred our hull. Then whammo! There it is! Power strokes on the right and suddenly, "Aauurgh!" the shoulder snaps. Frank was right: injured, I am a liability. "What will you do if my injury prevents me from going on, Frank?" I ask him. "I'll adjust the gear, sit forward and keep going." Pragmatic to the end.

"But what of the collection of dreams?" you ask. Indeed. I can answer that. I have collected several dozen, and they are wonderful dreams. And in the collecting I have learned something invaluable, a new approach to life, to people. The dreams WILL make it to the sea. And I will make it, a little wiser for the exercise of looking at people not as strangers, not as threats, but as people with dreams, people like me. - RSM
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