Seven Acts of Kindness

Seven. It's practically everyone's favorite number. It looms large in virtually every culture’s mythology. Seven days in the week. Seven deadly sins. Seven heavenly virtues. The most likely roll in a game of craps. Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Seven continents and seven seas. Seven notes in a diatonic scale. The Seven Dwarfs.

During my cross-country solo bicycle adventure, I received many acts of kindness. Most people are nice.  But one day stood out, as I counted seven.

I awoke in a fleabag motel (FBM) in Red Wing Minnesota on July 20th, around 6am and peeked outside. It was raining. I was 42 days, and 1988 miles into my trip. 

The day before had been miserable. It was only a 51-mile ride, but on and off rain and cold temperatures marred the day. My route followed the Mississippi downstream, which one could be forgiven for assuming to be flat and gently downhill, but no; there was no idyllic trail along the river and the roads were all surprisingly hilly. Steep hills in the cold rain. Then my bike, “Cassie,” developed an intermittent squeak coming from somewhere near the front wheel. Annoying squeak. Cold. Rain. Hills. I was not a happy cyclist. 

I arrived on the other side of the river from Red Wing at Hager City, Wisconsin. The campground I had researched previously, “Mister Sippy,”  was more of an RV parking lot with a bar. (“Mister Sippy,” as opposed to “Missus Sippy” ha, ha, get it? Groan.) It was still drizzling and getting dark. Worse, the campground was down-wind from the only other feature of Hager City, a Purina Factory. The stench was ever present. I could already hear one of the RV denizens at the bar saying, “you get used to it after awhile!” 

Not exactly optimal camping conditions: Purina “aroma”; rain; crammed between RVs; Microwaved pizza and a Bud Lite at the bar. 

I had already spent far too much on cheap motels -- they add up --  so with a sigh, I checked my phone for a room across the river. I found an FBM, and noted the address. It appeared to be in downtown Red Wing, just over the bridge. 

The bridge was narrow and under repair. The lanes were so skinny I had to walk Cassie over most of it -- in the rain. The address turned out to be Lutheran Church! No sign of the cheap motel. I telephoned. Google had it wrong. The real address was about two miles outside of town (at least in the right direction), next to a prison. Honest. And now the rain was coming down harder. 

Not only was the motel right next to the penitentiary, there were no restaurants anywhere near. Who stayed there? 

After several phone calls, I found a sandwich shop that delivered. At least I didn’t have to make a meal of my reserve Clif-bars and Slim-Jims. 

I was unable to reproduce the squeak in Cassie. I knew it wasn't in the drive-train, as it continued even when I coasted. In the motel room, with no load, it wouldn’t happen. Maybe it would just go away?

I vowed that tomorrow, I would be a Happy Cyclist. 

The next morning it was still raining, so I dawdled. I slowly packed up my stuff, noodled around on FaceBook, ate the awful “free” FBM breakfast, finished packing, wasted more time on Facebook, idly watched out the window for escaped prisoners, worked on my journal. 8:30 rolled around and it was still drizzling.

There was no choice but to ride in the rain. I had a modest goal of Winona, 67 miles away. 

The wind had shifted, and I could smell the Purina factory from way across the river in Hager City. Last evening, I had vowed to be a Happy Cyclist, but today wasn’t starting that way. Yet, the rain soon stopped. The same foul wind turned out to be a pleasant tailwind, and I was soon out of range of its stinky source. The mystery squeak that had vexed me yesterday wasn’t as irritating. The hills on Route 61 headed Southeast along the river were gentle. Things weren’t so bad. 

Throughout the day, it looked like rain up ahead. My first break was at a gas station in Lake City, right on the banks of the Mississippi. The river widens considerably at that point and they call it Lake Pepin. 

Cassie, at Lake Pepin

I sat on the sidewalk under the overhang drinking my coffee, casting a wary eye to the ever-present rain-clouds. I was still not feeling quite like the Happy Cyclist I had vowed to be. A battered old pickup pulled in. Out of it emerged a matching battered old man.

He eyed Cassie and all my gear as he shambled over to me, “Where you headed?”

“The Atlantic Ocean,” I replied.

His tired eyes widened, “You got a ways to go.”

“I know,” I said. I waved vaguely eastward beyond the river, “It’s over there somewhere.”

“Are you riding for a cause?”

“Yes, I’m supporting SMARTS, Students Motivated by the Arts. It’s a free art-school…”

“Can you take donations?”

“Sure, but you can also donate online.” I started digging in my handlebar bag for a card, “for kids in Youngstown…”

He cut me short again, pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket, and handed me a twenty. 

I said, “Thank you!” as I handed him the card. “What’s your name?”

“Kirby Veke. You’re gonna need some nourishment. You should get a hamburger.” He tapped my belly with the back of his gnarled hand. 

“You can count on that!” I said, “Thanks again, Mr. Veke.”

Out of the blue, a complete stranger totally changed my mood with an act of kindness. It was a big step towards the Happy Cyclist.

Most people are nice.

The sky still looked like rain as I made my way downstream. I had checked the night before and was surprised to discover there was a bike shop in the tiny riverside town of Wabasha. I wanted a professional opinion on the squeak. 

Dave at River Riders Cycles was happy to help. I removed the front panniers, and we took the front wheel off. The hub appeared fine. The disc brake appeared fine. Dave decided to give both the disc and the pads a good cleaning. We put the wheel back on and the squeak was gone! Dave and his wife live in an apartment behind the shop with their two cats(Guido and Tormantoso) and two dogs (Maybelline and Rufus). 

“How much do I owe you?” I asked.

“Let’s see… You have to sign our guest book.” I did, and left a SMARTS card. And a good thing I did. 

It was another act of kindness from a stranger, and another step towards the Happy Cyclist.

Most people are nice.

Then I pedaled a couple of blocks down to the riverside and had some lunchtime snacks, overlooking the Mississippi.  I was having trouble finding a place to camp in Winona. Plus, it still threatened rain. It was looking like I might end up in another FBM. Just then, my wife, Jena, texted and said she remembered a college friend, Patrick, whom I didn’t know, who now lived in -- Winona! She wanted to know if she should contact him and ask if he could put me up. 

Yes, please!

I took a picture of Cassie at my lunch spot. Jena texted back. It was all set. I had a place to stay. THREE acts of kindness from strangers! Patrick had asked Jena if I like kids, as he has five. Jena told him that I liked kids more than I liked camping in the rain! (True!)

Lunch Break at the Mississippi. What's wrong with this picture?

Most people are nice.

 As I made my way out of town, I went right by the River Rider Cycles store again, and stopped to take a picture. I was several steps closer to The Happy Cyclist. Now, if I could only make it to Winona before the rain -- 30 miles away. 

River Rider Cycles

About ten miles outside of Wabasha, the squeak came back. Damn. Dave did his best, but it was for naught. I was scheduled to roll into Winona earlier than expected, so I contacted Patrick and told him I was going to ride downtown to yet another bike shop -- Adventure Cycle and Ski -- and then make my way to his house.

Just on the edge of Winona, there was a deluge.  I dashed into a McDonalds and had a chocolate shake while I waited out the downpour. Checking email again, I was shocked to see a message from Dave at River Riders with the subject of “Front Panniers.” He had my front panniers. Disbelieving, I glanced out the window at Cassie, staying dry under the overhang. No front panniers. I had left them in front of his store THIRTY MILES ago. I and I didn’t notice!!

If you go back and look at the picture of Cassie at my lunch spot, you’ll see no front panniers. And if you look closely at the picture of the River Rider Cycle store, you’ll see them on a chair to the right of the door. 

I’m still amazed that I didn’t notice.

In the email Dave very kindly said he could drop them off wherever I wanted once he closed the store at six. It was now four. Had I not left my card, Dave wouldn’t have had my email address. I’m not sure when I would have noticed. He was saving me 60 miles of round-trip to retrieve them on my own. FOUR acts of kindness from three strangers (Dave gets double credit).

Most people are nice.

The rain had stopped by now and I headed into town to the next bike shop. Brad at Adventure Cycle and Ski was also very helpful, dropping everything to check out Cassie’s squeak. I obviously didn’t have to remove my panniers this time. Had I not already known they were missing, I think I would have noticed at that point. 

Brad checked the hub. No problem. He checked the front brake. Everything looked good. It was still a mystery. Of course it wouldn’t squeak there in the store. Every time I stopped, it would go away for a couple of miles, then slowly return.  

Brad also declined to charge me. FIVE acts of kindness from four people.

Most people are nice.

As usual, the squeak was gone for a few miles, and then started creeping back in. On my way to Patrick's house, the phone rang. I stopped and answered. It was Dave. He had a customer who was headed to Winona right now. After hearing my story from Dave, Sid offered to deliver the panniers. Dave put her on with me. I gave her the address, she gave me her cell number. Done. Sid would be there in an hour. 

SIX acts of kindness from five strangers.

Most people are nice.

I arrived at Patrick’s house about five. He and his wife, Lindsay, have five wonderful children ranging from two to eleven, for a total family of seven (not including Finton the dog).  I don’t have any kids, and never wanted any. I’m usually uncomfortable around them. But Camille, Gwenevere, Nora, Vera and Martin were a joy. They were well behaved, and asked intelligent, interesting questions about me and my ride. Patrick and Lindsay are doing something right. Sid arrived with my panniers shortly afterwards.

Finton, the Dog

We all sat down to a wonderful meal of make-it-yourself tacos, with loads of options, so the kids could custom tailor their meals. I stuffed myself silly. (One of joys of long-distance cycling is one can eat as much as one likes.)

After the chaos of getting five kids to bed, Patrick came into the dining room where I was working on my journal.

“Would you like an adult beverage,” he asked.

“I wouldn’t turn it down,” I said. “What do you have?”

“Do you like whisky?”

“Sure.” I was expecting the usual mid-line bourbon or scotch blends. Patrick then produced several very nice, very high-end, single-malt scotches and we had a tasting while we solved the World’s problems. Things will be different when he and I are Kings. 

Sharing high-end single-malt scotch with someone you just met is certainly an act of kindness. That made SEVEN acts of kindness from five strangers, all in one day. 

I may not have started out that day as The Happy Cyclist, but it sure ended that way.

Because most people are nice.

(NOTE: The next day, from Winona to Norwalk was my birthday. You can read about it here. Also, the squeak never went away until I got all the way back to Ohio, where my local mechanic, J.D. at Kent Cycle took care of it in 30 seconds flat. The other shops weren't inept, J.D. is just that good!)

My Top Ten Beatles Songs

I’ve been a huge fan of The Beatles since February 9, 1964, when they first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. Sure, I was only six (and a half!), but I have two older siblings who were very excited, so I knew it was Something Big. My admiration for The Beatles has only grown over the years and decades. 

Like many drummers who came of age in the sixties, Ringo is the reason I play drums. He just looked like he was having a lot of fun back there. Not much later, I realized that being a drummer attracted attention from girls as well. There was no turning back. I have been drumming every since. My admiration for Ringo has also only grown over the decades.

A while back, I heard a live version of Help! on the radio, performed in August of ‘65, right at the height of the maelstrom that was Beatlemania. Despite that, the lads still played like that had something to prove. I mused that, while not my favorite Beatles tune, Help! was certainly in the top-ten, which got me to thinking; what are my top-ten Beatles songs? 

My only criterion: Does it evoke a visceral reaction; am I going to turn up the volume and sing along  when it comes on? (That’s really the case with all just about all Beatles songs, but you know what I mean.) For example: I didn’t attempt to choose one song from each of the 13 studio albums, or only lyrics written in the first person, etc. 

So here they are, in chronological order, as ranking them proved impossible.  

Your results may vary.

I Saw Her Standing There: Please Please Me. Recorded live February 11, 1963.  This song is dripping with the sheer exuberance of young lust. From the moment of Paul’s enthusiastic count-off, one can feel the Lads’ excitement as the first rush of Beatlemania was setting in. 

All My Loving: With The Beatles:  Recorded July 30, 1963.  Don’t think of it. Don’t start singing it in your head. It will be stuck there for a looooong time. On the other hand, if you have an annoying “ear-worm,” All my Loving is the nuclear option; it will knock out any other song in your head and then settle in for a nice extended stay.  And there are worse things to have stuck in your head. That third verse with John’s harmony part above Paul’s lead just kills. 

Help!: Help!: Recorded April 13, 1965. As noted above, this is the one that got me thinking about this list. Lennon/McCartney established a pretty high bar for well-crafted pop tunes, but this one easily flies right over. It. Is. Perfect. Two minutes and twenty seconds of pure pop pleasure. Yet it’s hardly formulaic; the introduction is not repeated in any form, and it ends on a slightly dissonant note (a sixth-chord for you musician types). 

Drive My Car: Rubber Soul: Recorded October 13, 1965. Despite being known as the more sentimental one, Sir Paul rocks this tune hard, with a heavy nod to R&B. “Beep Beep, Beep Beep, Yay” is right! Sure, the cowbell is too-hot in the mix, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

In My Life: Rubber Soul: Recorded October 18, 1965. John further bares his soul after Help! Ringo’s part is easily overlooked, but it is sublime in its creativity and simplicity -- like the song itself.

Rain: Single B-side of Paperback Writer (Revolver era): Recorded April 14-16, 1966. Ringo has often cited this as his favorite Beatles song. And if Sir Richard thinks it’s worthy, who am I to disagree? Paul and Ringo made up a grossly under-rated rhythm section as all the other elements of the band tended to hog the spotlight, but they both stepped out and let loose on John’s fledgling flight into psychedelia. 

Sgt Pepper reprise: Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band: Recorded April 1, 1967. At 1:18, this is the second shortest of all Beatles songs (do you know the shortest?). I know it’s a strange choice to include, but I love this track for much the same reason as I Saw Her Standing There;  it’s counted-off by Paul and the unbridled joy of making rock and roll comes through loud and clear; it was recorded nearly live by the whole band (just like the old days!). Over 50 years later those first two bars of just Ringo laying down the groove still make me want to mosh like Wayne and Garth from Wayne’s World. Much has been written about the album (which had no singles), so I needn’t add to all that spilled ink. Any of the other 12 tracks could easily have made this list on another day.

Hey Bulldog: Yellow Submarine: Recorded February 11, 1968. The album Yellow Submarine was a disappointment. It was the first time the Beatles didn’t over-deliver. Only side one was the Beatles (Side two being George Martin incidental music for the film of the same name), and there were only four new songs. One stands out, Hey Bulldog. And it really stands out. John playfully rocking out to his now trademark nonsensical lyrics. I guess I’m not alone as this song has been covered by dozens of bands. If it’s flown under your radar, give it another listen.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Beatles (the “White Album”): Recorded September 5-6, 1968. George finally steps out from the shadow. Can you imagine being a talented song-writer, but always being in the shadow of the greatest song-writing team ever? It must have been hugely intimidating. But George persisted (and took notes). With this one, he finally reached that lofty height, and continued up from there. And he had the benefit of a pretty decent backing band. An uncredited Eric Clapton on lead-guitar didn’t hurt either.

Happiness is a Warm Gun: The Beatles (the “White Album”): Recorded September 24-26, 1968. Pure John doing his best Lewis Carroll-esqe silliness. I love the rhythmic twists and turns (Ringo makes it sound easy, but try and count it yourself). 

Oh! Darling: Abbey Road: Recorded April 20, 1969. Sir Paul sure can sing! (He’s a pretty darn good bass player, too.) I  literally still get goose-bumps when he throws in those touches of growl and Little-Richard-ish falsetto (particularly on the bridges). A few brave artists have attempted to cover this song, but it’s really pointless. There is nothing anyone can bring to this song that Paul didn’t already do better.  John said he thought the song was better suited to him rather than Paul. I hate to contradict Mr. Lennon, but he was wrong. This is a Paul tour-de-force. 

Something: Abbey Road: May-August, 1969. George is intimidated no more! Even John and Paul acknowledged that this is a great song, no matter how you slice it. It’s George’s first number one single, and the second most covered Beatles song (can you guess the first?), performed by artists as diverse as Frank Sinatra and James Brown. 

In no way does this list imply that there aren’t dozens of other Beatles songs that I absolutely adore, and stand head and shoulders above any music from just about any other artists. An “Honorable Mentions” list would pretty much be “and the rest of them.”

Let’s Analyze! 

Okay, it’s actually twelve songs. I couldn’t bear to cut two more songs. 

• Five Paul Songs. Five John songs. Two George songs. 
• The list spans their entire career yet is only six years. The stylistic changes are head-spinning. Steely Dan would take that long to decide what bass-drum microphone to use. 
• John has long been my favorite Beatle (Sorry, Ringo), so I’m a bit surprised to see a tie with Paul. If the list were twice as long, John would likely come out ahead. I’m particularly fond of his lyrical nonsense: I am the Walrus, Strawberry Fields, etc. 
• Only three were number one hits (though they had seventeen, all of which are deserving).
• Even though “The White Album” is my favorite, only two songs from it are on the list -- tied with Abbey Road. Again, if the list were longer, “The White Album” would probably come out ahead. 
• I certainly love Paul’s sentimental side (I Will stands out), even more so as I age, but I apparently like it even better when he rocks out. 
• All of these songs have endings. No fade-outs.  It’s a songwriting pet-peeve of mine. It seems lazy. “How should we end it, Walt?” “I dunno, Don, just fade it, like all the others.”  Sometimes there’s a call for a fade-out -- and The Beatles use it sparingly -- but usually not. All things in moderation, including fade-outs. 

I encourage comments. Have your own favorites? Let’s hear it! It was illuminating to create this list. I learned a few things about myself as a fan (does it show that I'm a fan?).

Dictatorship of America

This is beyond tragic. As of today, our 244 year experiment in self-government just came to a grievous end. We no longer have separation of power in Washington, D.C.  Fifty-two cowardly senators just voted to neuter both houses of congress and elevate a vile, disgusting waste of human DNA to Dictator. I can’t even bring myself to type his foul name. 

Hell’s torment is far too kind for the fifty-two filthy traitors to our once great nation. May they be mocked, shunned, and humiliated for the rest of their miserable days. 

It’s no exaggeration; Anyone paying attention can clearly see that abuse of power is now acceptable behavior; ignoring congressional subpoenas is now acceptable behavior. (If you or I ignored a congressional subpoena, we would rightfully be in jail.)  The Orange Menace and his successors have nothing in the way to full dictatorship. 

The Man-baby in the oval office is now free to do whatever he pleases, without having to answer to Congress. He is empowered to break any rules.  He can and will continue to cheat in elections. He has already flouted Congressional budget oversight with his pointless, racist wall -- more to come! We will soon see the DOJ “investigating” political opponents (it’s actually already started). Attacks on the free press will escalate. Political prisoners are a short tweet away. Even more distressing, he will move to replace himself with one of his dreadful offspring.  No stopping him now!

Sadly, I see very few avenues to save our Republic. One is for the House to start yet another impeachment. The Toddler-in-Chief has done plenty of other egregious stuff. Success there is about as likely as Mitch McConnel holding a naked press-conference announcing that he’s dedicating his life and fortune to helping under-privledged children. A more possible route is for Democrats to retain the House, and take both the White House and Senate in November (despite GOP cheating). Even then, it will be very difficult to reverse the damage done. 

But who’s to say a Democratic President won’t become just as noxious, now that this horrible precedent has been set? I can think of just one way to decrease -- not eliminate -- the likelihood that dictatorships will continue.  Congress would have to propose a constitutional amendment that the president must comply with all congressional subpoenas NO KIDDING, WE REALLY MEAN IT, or face immediate removal from office.  

If the Dems aren’t victorious in November, we can be sure the GOP will continue to cheat the system with foreign interference, voter suppression, and gerrymandering. They could stay in office forever. What’s to stop them? Not Congress. Not the GOP packed courts. But I guess that’s another subject. 

For now, Welcome to the Dictatorship of America - a once great Republic. I suppose we could all move to Canada, after all, it’s getting warmer up there.