A Journey For Life

Here's something I never would have guessed:  This year, as many firefighters have died by suicide as in the line of duty.

That, apparently, shocked Denny Ying, too.  That, and a friend who took her own life.

They spurred the 36-year-old Marine Corps veteran into taking a ride across the United States.  Yesterday, he stopped at Denver Fire Department  Station #21, having pedaled 1000 miles out of the 3800 he plans to ride.  

While his goal is to raise awareness of suicide prevention, he says his ride was borne out of his own struggles with depression. That is one reason why his journey, if you will, won't end with this ride:  He plans to start a cycling team of survivors.

All of this is even more impressive when you realize that, earlier this year, Denny Ying didn't even own a bicycle.

How Did This Little Piggy Get To Market?

If you grew up in the English-speaking world, you almost certainly heard this Mother Goose nursery rhyme:

This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home,
This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none.

This little piggy went
Wee, wee, wee
All the way home!

A piggy eating roast beef?  Hmm... What, if any, are the ethics of that?  Sometimes I still feel guilty about laughing when Matt and Trey Parker, the creators of South Park, fed bacon to Macon.




Did Macon stay home after that?

And what about the piggy that went to market?  How did he/she get there?

Let's hope that the piggy on the back of that bike didn't become Macon's lunch!

Or was that Macon on the back of that bike?

The Heights Of Fall

Today is the first day of Fall.  And it feels like it, in a pleasant way:  Billowy but thin clouds waft over cool breezes.

A few hundred kilometers north of here, the leaves have begun to change color. Here, though, they're still green.  So if we want Fall colors, we must look elsewhere:

People who don't know the area don't associate these houses with Harlem.  But they line Convent Avenue, a street that bisects the City College campus in a part of Harlem known as Hamilton Heights.  

I was all smiles on my bike, and everyone and everything--including the stones of these houses--seemed to smile back.