Bikers for Babies - they all have a story.

Warning: it's a lengthy post tonight... feel free to skip right to the photographs and the last paragraph!

Ian and I spent part of our morning today on a highway overpass, watching the 19th annual March of Dimes Bikers for Babies. Kansas City has the largest Bikers for Babies event in the country; 6,000+ bikers started their ride from the Kansas Speedway and headed south on 435. In years past, because of my job, our family has had the opportunity to see the starting line and the opening ceremonies from the inside of the Speedway. It's incredibly impressive to see that many motorcycles all lined up waiting to ride together as a group. You can not imagine the noise all those revving engines make. 

But today, I wasn't working! Ian and I staked out a great viewing spot on the Kansas Avenue bridge over 435 before the bikes made an exit on K-32 to head west. As we waited, several other cars joined us on the bridge. One family brought a big flag and draped it over the side of the bridge. One family had made a sign that said "Thank you for riding! We love you!" A group of bikers stopped to take pictures before getting back on the highway below to continue their ride. Everyone on the bridge had a reason they were there. One was a grandpa whose granddaughter was a 1 pound 10 ounce 25-weeker who spent 7 months at St. Luke's NICU. He took out pictures from his wallet to show me how "normal" she looked. One family had a daughter who had been a preemie with a 2 month NICU stay. Two parents were there wearing their matching t-shirts with a picture of their twins with the words "Riding for Aubry". We all had our story to share.

The bikers started out in small numbers, only one or two at a time, interspersed between cars and trucks. Within 10 or 15 minutes, the groups of bikes started getting bigger. In no time at all, I realized that I had snapped 168 photographs from the bridge. 

My favorite pictures are the single shots of the riders. They all have their own style of waving: peace-sign, thumbs-up, high-5, love-sign, power-to-the-people, we're-number-one... we definitely felt the love up there. I think I've said it before: I'm a novice at taking pictures. I'm still working out the whole shutter-speed/f-stop/ISO thing... those darn bikes were moving pretty fast, so none of my pics today will win any awards. Some are a little fuzzy, but the individuality is still fun to see. 

Behind the hard exterior, the leather chaps, the tattoos and the noisy bike, all you have to do is ask one of them why they ride in this event. They immediately melt and soften, usually pull out a photograph from their inside vest pocket and tell you a story. It's my story, too. I simply love this day.

Due north.

 "I know my moral compass doesn't exactly point due north, but if I say something's wrong, something's wrong." In the movie, 27 Dresses, actress Judy Greer recites this line to Katherine Heigl's character. Katherine, who is a people-pleaser and usually so nice, has just finished a very unkind, publicly humiliating rant towards her sister, played by Malin Ackerman. Rather than lecturing and being judgmental towards her best friend, Judy replies with the moral compass comment. That scene, and in particular, that line, has always stuck with me. 

The idea of always pointing exactly due north all the time is sometimes challenging. How far off of north do I sway? Usually, only a tad. A bit. Slightly. Perhaps, 1:00 rather than 12-noon. Kind of like the pictures below, where every line is angled just slightly askew.

 

I've never sailed. Watching the sailboats this weekend was fun; there were so many of them. They start from the north and as a group of about 15 or 20 boats, they all sail to the south, circling around buoys in several figure-eight formations, and then head back to the starting point.The amount of effort to "right" the boat from tipping over into the water when it's listing so far to one side seems incredibly difficult. It takes more than one person leaning as far back as possible to keep that delicate balance between staying afloat and submerging.

In times when I have revealed the less-than flattering side of me, I cherish the friends who care enough about me to say the words that set me straight and keep me afloat, and not stand by as I completely submerge.

23 days & a wake-up

Twenty-three days and a wake-up.  But who's counting? When Kelly leaves Afghanistan in 23 days, on September 30th, it'll take him a full week to get back to Kansas City, via Kuwait City & Ft. Bliss, TX. That's thirty days and a wake-up for us. When he left on January 6th, it seemed like October was such a long way off, and yet, here we are. Just 23 more days and a wake-up!

In some ways, our lives have gone through many changes over the past nine months. Plans have been unexpectedly rearranged. Things didn't go exactly the way we had anticipated. There have been some ups and downs. Most of those changes seemed to happen outside of our control. 

One of the changes I purposefully made in April was a dedicated effort to my health; physical and mental health. I became reacquainted with my bicycle, walking shoes and yoga mat. The local bike trails have helped me to clear my mind, reduce stress and enjoy the beauty of our area. The moderate temperatures this spring and summer have been a blessing and made for perfect riding and walking. This summer, I joined a weekly, early morning yoga class at the marina of Shawnee Mission Lake; about 15-20 people gathered at 6:45 am to watch the sun rise, listen to the geese & birds and feel the breeze as we attempted to hold poses on a gently swaying dock. 

Last week, Ian had the opportunity to mow a friend's pasture, so I slung my camera around my neck and brought my bike along and rode trails and roads I'd never been on before. It was a beautiful cool morning and the sun broke through the trees along the pathways. 

Kansassumptions

I had lunch with two of my favorite people today; we had yummy food and great conversations spanning topics of family, religion, work, theater, music, photography, travel and food... I'm pretty sure we didn't solve a single one of the world's more complex problems during that (almost) three hour lunch, but it was lovely, just the same. 

They asked me about my trip last week to a Mississippi hospital where I did a staff training and we talked about how hospital policies can vary vastly based on an institution's (or staff member's) ideas, attitudes and backgrounds. Sometimes the variance in a policy has nothing to do with evidence or scientific reasoning, but is system-centered or based on the convenience of the staff; sort of the "we've always done it like this in the past" way of thinking. This particular hospital had some policies that were very outdated; I don't often see the extremely restrictive visitation policies or ideas on when parents can hold their babies like in this particular hospital. Is it because it's in the South? Is this typical Mississippi? It's so easy to generalize and lump everyone into the same bucket, but I've trained staff at hospitals in Florida, Texas, Georgia, Birmingham and Huntsville, and I know it doesn't have to be like this.

That conversation got me thinking about how I'm perceived as a Kansan when I travel. People think they know who you are when you say you're from Kansas. They assume things about you. Dorothy and ruby slippers almost always slip into the conversation. I usually am asked if I own a horse. I once had someone say they had expected me to be wearing fringe. What does that even mean? Someone else told me I was dressed very cosmopolitan for being from the midwest. Awesome. Every once in a while, when I say I'm from Kansas City, I may be asked "Kansas or Missouri" so I know all is not lost. 

Some of the most condescending conversations have been with people who have only seen my State from 30,000 feet. What they "know" about my Kansas is a patchwork quilt of greens, yellows and golds, a blurred vision from a hurried glance out of a tiny, smudged window before quickly looking back to their magazine. They have no connection to the people or the land or to the history of the plains.

This past week, you may have seen the article that made national news proclaiming Kansas as the least scenic State in the nation. I'm not exactly sure how the data was collected, but I'm wondering if those who completed the survey had ever been in the State of Kansas, or were they just making an assumption of what they thought Kansas looked like. The ensuing photographs of the rolling Flint hills, golden wheat fields, endless sunflowers and green pastures flooded social media from those who think Kansas is full of beautiful scenery. I really enjoyed seeing so many photographs of my home State, many of which I had never seen before. Where are those chalky rock formations? Kansas has water falls? ...huh. (On a side note, my parent's 54th wedding anniversary is today and they just happen to be in Cottonwood Falls for the night - I hope they bring me back a photograph of the water fall!)

So, a couple of nights ago on my bike ride, I took some photos at Shawnee Mission Park in my beautiful State of Kansas. Below are three. I have always thought Kansas is beautiful. 

I'm not sure why I love this tree so much, but we have pictures of it through the years and through three seasons. This winter, I'm hoping for a beautiful snow fall to capture this in white!

Courage Zone

I love being in the middle of the comfort zone. It's so cozy and secure. Safe and easy. Unfortunately, it tends to be very boring. There is something so invigorating, if not slightly terrifying, to wade into waters yet to be explored, to move beyond that position of security into something new and untried. It's not always a natural step; it can take a lot of courage. Some times the way someone moves out of their comfort zone is through coaxing, or even a gentle (or not so gentle) push from a friend.

I've recently been a witness to several people moving beyond their level of comfort and into new areas, expanding their idea of what they can accomplish and feeling proud of their ability to make the most out of their new opportunities. I'm inspired by their acts of bravery and their willingness to be vulnerable in trying new things.

As I look back at some of the photographs I've taken through the years, there is a theme of searching or wandering that runs through so many of the pictures. There are many photos of pathways, winding roads, twisting sidewalks, subway tracks - I've never really thought about the grouping until now. As I make those pictures, I always wonder what's beyond the bend in the road, what's on the other side of that door, where does that track lead and who might I find at the end of the path? I like the sense of movement in those pictures; an idea that there is something waiting to be discovered if we're willing to take a walk in a new direction.

Yellowstone, 2010

Missouri, 2012

Shawnee Mission Park, 2013

Provence, France 2011

Paris, 2011

France, 2011

France, 2011

France, 2011

Florence, Italy 2013

Florence, Italy, 2013

Lucca, Italy, 2013

Italy, 2013

Viviers, France, 2011