Julie caught me leaving her house for the first time after the bike had been delivered. You can enlarge this and there is sound, too.
Regular Facetime conversations with our son Sam and wife Becky have helped me a lot as we have tried to come to grips with the loss of Pam. Their son Lucas can inject joy into any situation. Here he is working on his newly found walking skills!
Our son Clement is posting video shorts to promote his work in sound and music. Here is his under one minute “Carry On.” Two words for me to live by just now, right!? “To sing, the blues, you’ve got to live your dues.” Yes.
On the Lake Express ferry in Milwaukee harbor on Lake Michigan, where Pam and I lived for 19 years.
Notes Along the Way
Within a day or two of the death of my beloved wife Pam on January 14, 2025, it somehow popped into my head that I needed to take a long and lonely ride. Pam and I had been bikers, by which I mean we enjoyed taking long and scenic trips together on our Honda Goldwing. We had one back when we were in our 20s, but sold it when I went back to grad school. In the following years we were blessed with the birth of two wonderful boys. A motorcycle had no place either in the household budget or in getting the four of us where we needed to go.
But we often talked about getting a bike again. After our youngest, Clement, graduated from high school in 2015 we took the plunge and bought another Goldwing. On our first trip that same year we rode up to Lake Superior, in northern Wisconsin. Over the next few years we traveled by motorcycle to Colorado and the Rockies to meet my brother Tem and his wife Karen, to Nova Scotia and Canada where we walked on the ocean floor at the Bay of Fundy, to Vermont for the wedding of our Godson David Sweeney, and then to the Great Smokies where we rode the famous “Dragon’s Tail” and visited with my brother Ray and wife Elizabeth in DC.
On the bike, ours was a society of two. Pam enjoyed the enforced inactivity. If you knew her well then you will know just what I mean. Pam was not one to waste time sitting still. As Deacon Aaron said at her funeral, she was more a Martha than a Mary. Riding together with me on the bike, though, she found herself often alone with her own thoughts, attentive to the passing countryside, able to think and pray in ways she otherwise might not have done. Of course we had headsets so our conversations continued all through our travels, and we enjoyed books and music along the way too. On our last long ride we listened to CS Lewis’s The Magician’s Nephew. And in Nova Scotia I subjected her to an old favorite of mine, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which we found both profound and mysterious.
Off the bike, Pam had a voracious appetite for books, but she did most of her reading on the move via her Airpods: walking the dog, getting ready for work in the morning, or driving to client and donor meetings. My wife could multitask in a way her husband never could. I often said of her that she wasn’t happy unless her hair was on fire, unless, that is, she had way too much to do! It was a special joy for me to be able to discuss with her CS Lewis’s Ransom Trilogy when she listened to the whole thing one year. I had been teaching that text at Marquette for some time, and she had all kinds of questions and comments about the story. She was fascinated by those books as a work of theological imagination.
After Pam’s out of the blue diagnosis with stage 4 lung cancer (the never-smokers’ version) in 2021, our time for taking long rides came to an unexpected end. Still, we made the occasional short jaunt, out to dinner or just for a ride in the country. Pam was a never-give-up and always-look-on-the-bright-side kind of girl. She remained a biker chick to the end.
Riding without her now is a lonely affair! But as I thought through the idea of making a long ride by myself it began to seem a fitting tribute. I know that although she is gone she will nevertheless always be with me. I began to think that I might somehow represent her, bring a little bit of her along with me, and that I should try to visit with as many friends and family members as I could along the way. I wanted to help them mourn her passing, and to let them help me remember her well by listening to their memories of her.
The death of a spouse after a long and happy marriage is a profound loss, especially when it happens to someone who right up until the moment of that diagnosis had seemed the very picture of good health. Things like that happen all the time, of course. But this was the first time it had happened to me. How to grieve well? How to commemorate her?
This little travelog is one of the ways I am trying to answer those questions. It is also a testament of gratitude, not only for the gift she has been in our lives but also for the love and support so many of you extended to us during her long illness and after her passing. Gone on to her eternal home, yes. Her life portrait now complete, yes. But always here in our hearts, and for as long as her memory lives. May her memory be eternal!
One more thing. Just before I left for this trip I was praying over the Gospel text of the day from John 3. It’s the story of Jesus’ meeting with Nicodemus. You know, the one where he stumbles over Jesus’ statement that one must be born again. As Jesus explains to Nicodemus, being born again means being swept up in movement of the Holy Spirit, which is like the wind: it blows wherever the Spirit wills. As I was praying over that text, these words came into my mind: “Lord, take me where you would have me go, teach me what you would have me know, and make me what you would have me be.” May it be so!
Bakersfield, CA. May 12-16
I stayed with my brother Tem and wife Karen. A quiet few days. I went to daily mass at noon in the St. Phillip’s Church, which is not too far from the high school where Pam and I first met. I also visited that school, just to remember the actual site where it all happened. And then I popped in on the church where we were married. A retired police office who was doing some painting unlocked the church so I could go inside. I knelt and prayed at the altar there. An emotional moment.
Our friends Eric and Clair Bradshaw had me over for dinner and then I sat in on Eric’s home Bible study, which he has been leading for more than 20 years! A long obedience in the same direction, right? The group had been praying for Pam and me, and it was a pleasure briefly getting to know them. The world needs more men who love Jesus and the Bible!
Lodi, CA. May 16-18
After graduating from college, Pam and I lived for a little more than 2 years in Lodi, which is located in a wine grape growing region. Our dear old friend Dianne Vanderhamm put me up for two nights. We went to two wine tastings at local wineries, one of which had been a customer of mine when I worked there. Dianne also hosted a dinner for me with my old boss and his wife. It was a really special reunion. She and I talked a lot about grief. She lost her husband, our very good friend Brad, some nine years ago. He died suddenly, at home. My third encounter with a widow on this journey. Looking back, I wish I had understood when they lost their husbands what a profound grief follows on the loss of a spouse. I see now how devastated each of them must have been and wish I had been more attentive to their sorrow.
Sunday morning early (not to worry, I went to a mass of anticipation on Saturday afternoon) I rode out through Lodi’s west side, where most of the best red wine grapes are grown. It was a beautiful morning, sunny and cool-ish. Perfect for riding. I then went out through pear and asparagus growing country in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta. I arrived for about a two hour visit with Pam’s uncle Richard, who is a very spry 92, and his charming wife Carolyn. More on that below.
Sacramento, CA. May 18, and May 22-23
My first brief visit was so good I just had to go back! Pam’s uncle Richard and aunt Caroline have been mourning the loss of her daughter Allison for 5 years now. They are wonderfully empathetic and drew out from me nearly the whole story of the loss of Pam. Lots of tears. A sorrow, and a joy. Each life has its share of heartache. Their Allison died from breast cancer at 49, with two young daughters. Mmm.
Incline Village, NV. May 18-27
As mentioned above, while I was in So Cal I was able to take a quick trip down to San Juan Capistrano to visit with my Aunt Linda and Uncle Rice. Cousin Rick and wife Ann popped by while I was there too. We had a great visit. Linda is a wise Christian whose love and empathy for my situation was like cool water in a parched desert.
After that brief visit, Linda reached out to her daughter, my cousin Kathy. Kathy texted me with an invitation to stay in her AirBnB in Incline Village, on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe where she lives with her husband Doug. Their AirBnB house was off the market while some exterior repairs were being made, so I got the whole place to myself. It was so wonderful to connect with Kathy and Doug. Really sweet people, and devout Catholics too, so we even got to go to mass together. They ministered their love and understanding to me.
Their rental unit is gorgeous, and spacious. So Clement flew up for Memorial day weekend with us, which made my stay just that much more special. The two of us made a side trip to Reno to see Pam’s aunt (her father Rex’s older sister) Doris, who at 99 is doing quite well, thank you! She remembered Pam well and we had a lovely vist.
Kathy has her mom’s insight and compassion. Doug is simply a wonder. I doubt if there’s anything that guy can’t do. I feel that an old family relation that had never been previously actualized during our adult lives has now become a close friendship. Pam would have loved you guys, and you would have loved her too!
Ridgecrest, CA. 28 May
Today I enjoyed an extraordinary ride from Incline Village over and down the backside of the Sierra mountains. Left Incline at 6:30 a.m. The weather was nearly perfect. Traffic light to non-existent. The backside of the Sierras is beautiful cattle and farm country, mostly. Today the background to the farms and fields was filled with snow covered peaks. Couldn’t have been better. Missed having Pam with me.
Tonight I had dinner with Beth and Michael Culp. Beth (Sarah) is Pam’s sister Tricia’s daughter, and another of our godchildren (#5). She and her hubby work on the military base here, Michael in math and physics and Beth as a librarian. It was good to catch up with those two. Beth also gave a wonderful tribute to Pam during the eulogies after her funeral. She misses her dear Aunt Pam a whole bunch!
Bullhead City, AZ. 29-30 May
I made an early morning start on the bike to avoid 100 degree temps. Landed in Bullhead just after noon and went straight to my mother Mary’s care home, which is a lovely place with friendly and helpful staff. She seems reasonably happy there. She’s another one of my widows, btw. I told her how sorry I was that I hadn’t known how difficult it was for her to lose my dad after their own nearly 50 year marriage, she gave her condolences for my loss of Pam, and we each had a bit of a cry. Temps are expected to rise further the next couple of days, up into the 100s. I plan to ride to Phoenix early Saturday morning, again hoping to avoid the worst of the heat.
Mary and I are having dinner tonight with my dad’s cousin David and 3rd wife Pat. David lost two wives along the way. Ouch. For family members David is my great aunt Ruth’s son; Ruth was my grandma Ramona’s youngest sibling.
Second day here I went to mass at 8 and then to coffee with our friend Trish. She has become a good friend. I first talked with her a few weeks after Pam’s death. Trish lost her husband Phil 15 years ago. He was my dad’s best friend. The death was sudden. He was in his early 50s, at the prime of his life and career. Trish has never remarried or even dated. Over coffee, Trish spoke to me about how her self-understanding developed after Phil’s death. Like me—and I really didn’t know this!—Trish wears a cross and her husband’s wedding ring on a necklace, just as I wear Pam’s. She feels that her work in life after Phil’s death consists in two things: tending the legacy of faith and family the two of them built together, and being a blessing to others.
I shared with Trish what I had learned listening to some of Pam’s Audible library books written by Fr. Henri Nouwen. Nouwen taught Pam, and then me as well, to see a eucharistic rhythm at the heart of the Christian life. The shape of life lived in Christ, that is, takes on a form that reflects the actions of Christ when he celebrated the first Lord’s Supper: he took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it. When we come to know that we have been taken (accepted) by him, and blessed by him (beloved son or daughter!), then we are broken in him and in just that way prepared to be given for the life of the world.
Trish has truly been given by God as a blessing to our family. Her ongoing care for our mother Mary began with a promise she made to my dad, Albert, when he was dying of congestive heart failure. May God give you the strength to finish your race well Trish!
Kingman, AZ. 31 May
Left Bullhead City this morning early and headed for Kingman. My route after that took me down thru Wickenburg and into Goodyear/Avondale, which used to be towns well outside the Phoenix city limits but have now become part of the metropolitan sprawl that is Phoenix today.
I stopped at a little place called Liquid on old Route 66 in the heart of the old city of Kingman, which is serving up some pretty good espresso. It’s going to be hot today, but I expect to get into Phoenix before noon so hopefully I will avoid the worst of it. Crossing the desert here, though, is beautiful and awe inspiring. Lifts my heart. I will soon be passing through an area where there are lots of Joshua trees and Saguaro cactus.
The wide open spaces of a desert formed the life setting for many of the early Christian monastic communities. Kathleen Norris has spoken of these open spaces as offering a “spiritual geography” that exposes us and in just that way opens us up to God. A bit of a contrast with the biblical notion that one meets God on a high mountain, but the point is more or less the same. Physical place can provide a setting where we can hear God speaking to us, especially if that physical space leaves us feeling exposed.
For myself, I fear what God will say if I succeed in listening for the divine whisper. I am a sinner. I find myself averse to everything it seems God is doing with me just now. Perhaps desert places like this mirror my own internal devastation. Perhaps on this journey I can begin to receive my own brokenness as a moment of grace in which I can surrender more deeply to him. Perhaps.
Avondale, AZ. 31 May - 3 June
5.31: I rolled into town in the heat just after noon, and soon met my brother Rick for tacos. Rick’s wife Holly is enduring her fifth bout with cancer. It’s been more or less a game of whack a cancer mole for them over the last 15 years. Rick himself has been her caregiver through it all. Makes my own time of 42 months helping Pam while she had cancer seem short by comparison. Rick is wise and obviously dedicated to Holly and their blended family. They’ve got something like 15 grandkids now (!), so there is no shortage of family joy to go along with the trial of Holly’s ongoing cancer treatments.
6.1: I’m staying here in what was once the little town of Avondale, where my Grandad, Johnny Mabis, served as fire chief for 20 years after his retirement from the Navy. Grandad was a larger than life figure, and not just to us grandkids. Avondale itself has now been more or less swallowed up in the sprawl of Phoenix, a bit like small towns in Los Angeles and Orange counties out in CA.
I went to early mass at St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church in Goodyear yesterday, and then had a coffee before I went to join my cousin Brenda and husband Brian for the Sunday service at Avondale Baptist. Brenda has been a member there most of her life. The service was much like what I had experienced in LA at New Story: a band up front, some songs and prayers, and then a 40 minute teaching sermon. The pastor preached on the good of family and children, based on Psalm 34. He also mentioned that he and his wife had nine children of their own, so he has certainly practiced what he preaches!
Afterwards the three of us were joined for lunch by Brenda’s brother Tim Fulks and wife Shelly. Lots of visiting and remembering of our youth. Tim and Brenda are still very much mourning the loss of their mother, my aunt Mary, a couple of years back. Mary’s room in Tim and Shelly’s house is pretty much as she left it. Again I am learning on this trip that grief and loss touch us all.
I had an evening visit with my great Aunt Martha, who is my Nana’s youngest sister, and the only surviving member of her generation of the Fulks family. Martha is 90 years old and getting on quite well in an elder care home. Seemed a good place. Martha had lots of memories of Pam, because the two of us stayed in her home several times over the years when we came out here to see my mom.
6.2: I woke up to a text this morning from my dear cousin Karen saying that she couldn’t make the trip today to see me. So, fortified with some most excellent espresso, I promptly got on the bike and made the hour-long ride to her house. She and her three dogs greeted me at the door before I even had a chance to knock. It was such a joy to see her! And she had fond memories of Pam dating back to our very first years together. My wife is remembered well by so many. As Pastor Chris said in his visitation sermon, “Pamela Mattox had a good name.” Amen.
While there I also had a chance to connect with Karen’s second son, Paden, who was moving out today to an apartment in Tempe (a more happening area I gather) that he will share with two other young men. Paden is interested in music production, so I offered to connect him to Clement, who might be able to help in some way. Young men who are ambitious and want to make connections. How about that!?
I’m having the bike serviced here in Phoenix tomorrow morning, so I’ve planned a relatively short ride for tomorrow, from PHX to Holbrook, which is located in the famous petrified forest. Taking a back road out of Phoenix that looks like a fun ride. Still avoiding freeways, yes. On Wednesday I plan to ride another 5 hours or so to arrive at Christ in the Desert Benedictine monastery. Looking forward to joining the brothers there in worship and prayer. I know that when I am there my voice will be joined once again with Pam’s voice in words of praise and petition.
Holbrook, AZ. 3 June
As of yesterday, I’ve been on the road for a month. Today’s ride was special. I was born in Phoenix and lived here on and off in childhood. Our family made the Durango to Phoenix and So Cal trip many times, as did Pam and I later in life. Today I rode through country I don’t believe either of us had ever seen.
Leaving Phoenix this afternoon, the temp was a relatively mild 97 and I was at about 1000 feet elevation. The ride up to Payson took me to 5000’ where the air temp was about 80. As I climbed from about 2000-3000’ I passed through a saguara cactus forest. Lots of them, spaced roughly equally apart, presumably because the ground can’t support a denser population. At 4000‘ I got into evergreen bush trees (sorry, I’m not a botanist!) and at 5000’ there were tall evergreen trees.
The road to Holbrook took me up to about 7500 feet. Mountainous, with beautiful evergreens all around. This is the country my grandad liked to get away to, mostly for fishing I think. Gentle sweeping turns in the road, which made it a great ride. He died just a year after his retirement at age 62. Heart attack. Gone in a moment. A great loss for all of us who loved him.
Coming down out of the mountains and into Holbrook temps dropped into the mid-60s and the environment changed completely. Wide open horizons. Nothing but scrub brush on the ground, and not much of that. I could see in every direction for probably 40 miles. Dramatic skies as the late afternoon thunderstorms swept across the landscape. I got rained on a bit. It was glorious.
Abiquiu, NM. 4 June The Road [much!] Less Taken
Judged by the standard of what I had planned, today was an abject failure. Judged by the standard of where the Spirit may blow, it was a smashing success! I started out this morning on the high Arizona mesa, in Holbrook. It was raining early so my departure was delayed until almost 10. Traveling then down I40 at 80 mpm + I rode into a big storm. Fortunately, I had just reached Gallup, NM, which I remembered from my early years as not much of a town. To my surprise I found a lovely downtown with a first rate espresso bar to hole up in until the rain quit.
Which it did! Sun came out and everything looked great. Warm it was. I had greeted another man about my age (old!) in the espresso bar. He had on a serious cowboy hat and full cowboy duds. I assumed he was on a horse. But when we both left, I saw that his horse was a Harley. Hat off and into the trunk, he put on his skull helmet. I love being in old America, where people still feel free to be different!
Leaving Gallup I took the cutoff for the two lane highway up through the high desert that would take me, after 4 or 5 hours, up to the monastery where I had reserved a room. 75 miles or so out into the high mesa, and after I had crossed the continental divide at least twice (going both ways?), I realized that the flat scattered sagebrush country I was traveling through was about 7000’ elevation. Cold it became. Snow or accumulated ice/hail on the side of the road. Temps had moved down into the 40s. And then the rain came. I got chased down by a massive storm, and many miles away from any shelter. There was nothing. Nowhere to hide and watch. Not even a place to stop to don my rain duds. So, of course I hammered down. Carefully. Gotta get there, right?
I didn’t. The rain was now coming down hard. I stopped for gas in the middle or nowhere, just in case. While I filled the tank three wild looking dogs were at my feet, looking hopeful that I might toss them a morsel. Or maybe they might just eat me instead? An Indian (Navajo!) guy stopped in to fill his car and then came over to admire my bike. So cool. What a pleasant encounter. He rides a Harley. I told him I was going to Abiquiu (the town where the monatery is) and he offered advice about the right roads to take. God bless him! But after I left there the rain really came tumbling down (Rolling Stones allusion). An hour later I emerged from the desert into a little town called Cuba? I was soaked through. Stopped at the only gas station. Went into the men’s room and took maybe a half hour in the handicapped stall putting on different duds as best I could. When I emerged the rain was still pouring down. Found myself standing next to a guy from Amarillo. Shaved bald head, but a massive beard. Could have been an Orthodox monk. But instead he was a guy on a Harley from Amarillo. We stood there together and talked while we both continued to put on whatever we had to protect us from the elements. And then the rain stopped. We both hit the road!
An hour later, after riding some very wet roads through the New Mexico version of the Rocky Mountains, I pulled into the hotel I had reserved while in that handicapped stall in Cuba. Turned out to be the like actual Georgia O’Keefe hotel. Her studio, museum, all that is here. I stumbled up to the registration desk and asked if I could stay an extra night. Wish granted. Success, no. Success, yes! I guess I will have to let the monastery know that I won’t be coming. ;-(
Our old friend Peter Hasko called me from Australia while I was in the restaurant for dinner. Pam was very dear to him, and he to us. We caught up for a while. How many people loved my wife!? Answer: a lot. I feel like tonight I am right where I was supposed to be. And may God bless us (actually!), one and all. Love from Abiquiu!
Day 2, Abiquiu
Austere grace, deferred. My friend and colleague at Hillsdale, Bill McClay, has written beautifully about the Benedictine monastery about 30 miles from where I’m sitting. Christ of the Desert Benedicting monastery has been in my mind since I read Bill’s piece, The Desert’s Austere Grace, in First Things back when. I have purchased 2 or 3 icons from the brothers there. I expected to be making my first visit yesterday and today. This morning, I made one more attempt. Having survived yesterday’s storm, I hopped on the bike to go there, or at least to see if the 15 miles of dirt road that leads from the paved highway to the monastery, was passable on a big bike. Sadly, no. I went about 100 yards, fishtailed a bit while navigating a mud puddle, turned around and gave up. I will look for a time in the future when I can come out here, rent a car, and make a proper retreat.
Disappointed but not deterred, I headed over to Santa Fe, which Pam and I visited briefly a few years ago when we were out here for a conference. The Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis was a very striking place to us on that visit. The congregation was multinational. We sang mass settings, if memory serves, in Spanish, English, Latin, and Vietnamese (and Navajo?). It was near All Saints Day and the sanctuary was filled not just with living people praising God but also with memorial pictures of the dead displayed on candle lit tables. Little did Pam and I know, right? I went in and prayed for a while and then lit a candle for my beloved. Public tears. Nothing new.
Tomorrow I leave for Alamosa, Colorado, where I will visit our old friends—in fact, the whole Young family’s old friends—Karl and Bonnie Keller. Karl and his 3 brothers have known Pam and her 3 sisters for a few years longer than I have! There have been losses on the Keller side, too. Karl’s brother Paul lost his wife a few years ago from cancer.
Question: How long should grieving take?
My answer: Until he comes again.
Alamosa, CO (elevation 7550’) 6-8 June
I rolled out of Abiquiu about 11 and took the winding roads through canyons and mountains and rose on up into Colorodo. Route 84 took me over Cumbres pass, which tops out at 10,022’. Great ride. Beautiful day. Perfect temps. Traffic again light to non-existent. My girl would have loved it.
Imagine for minute that it’s about 1979. Now please allow me now to introduce:
The Young family: Dad Rex (a geologist), Mom Barbara (a nurse), and 4 girls; Tricia, Pam, Susan, and Julie. The Keller family: Dad Gus (a geologist), Mom Pat (a housewife), and 4 boys: Bill, Paul, Mike, and Karl.
Barbara & Rex and Pat & Gus also shared a wedding anniversary: Dec 27. Working for the same company, the dads became friends and the families got very close. As adults, we had reunions of the two families in the Rockies at Bailey, CO in 1985, on the beach at Cayucos in 1987, and back in the Rockies at Angel Fire, NM in 1990. By then those girls and boys had married, and the children had begun to come along. Our firstborn, Sam, was a little more than a year old for that last reunion. After that, everybody scattered. Gus, Pat, and Barbara have already gone home to the Lord. Rex is still going at 94. Sadly two of the Young girls died young-ish: Susan at 63 and my Pam at 67. The Kellers and the Youngs are still united by lots of love and great memories.
The youngest of the Keller boys, Karl, lives in Alamosa with wife Bonnie. They have three kids, all grown and prospering. They kindly took me in for a couple of nights. Last night they took me to—what else?—The Colorado Farm Brewery, where some devout Lutherans of mostly German descent are brewing beer, farming, pastoring Lutheran churches, and raising large families out in the countryside. Is there perhaps hope for our tired old world after all?
The usual plan is in effect: mass of anticipation this afternoon, and Sunday services with the Lutherans tomorrow. God is good. Karl and Bonnie have fond memories of Pam.
Karl reminded me that in 1987 he visited us just after I had gone back to grad school. He had Pam to himself while I was attending a night class. He talked to her about me. What was it that attracted her to me? Why had she defied her mother for me? What was so special about Mickey?
I was gratified by the answer Karl reported. No mention of my manly physique, brilliant smile, or rugged good lucks. Instead, the talking part. She said she had never dated anyone like me. Our conversations soared. I was a surprise, a revelation. The unexpected. Our every conversation left her wanting more.
It is hard to believe that decades-long conversation has reached its temporal end. She left me wanting more.
An Orthodox funeral blessing: “May her memory be eternal.” God holds her now eternally. In the hope of life eternal there is also the expectation that when I see her again on that hoped-for last day then our conversation—our unique communion of persons, our one flesh union—will be both resumed and fulfilled. And if the holy eucharist is that place where heaven and earth meet, where the Lord unites all of us to himself, then in the holy supper we commune also with one another. A good reason not to skip mass, right!?
7 June
Karl and Bonnie took me for an afternoon ride out to the oldest continuously inhabited city in Colorado: San Luis, which dates back to a land grant given by the Spanish king. There is a little chapel on the mesa (flat top) of a hill just off the main street through San Louis, population 600 or so. A winding trail goes up the face of the hill and takes you through the 15 stations of the cross. When you get to the top there are walking trails that lead past maybe 15 or so statues of the saints, including some of the Spanish Catholic priests who helped found the city. We prayed the stations of the cross on our way up, and then in the chapel we prayed as well, including a regular set of prayers I’ve been saying for Pam every chance I get. It was a beautiful and deeply moving moment. I was, per usual, quite broken down. I suspect I will always feel like a beginner when it comes to learning how to live without Pam. Karl and Bonnie surprised me then when they asked if they could lay hands on me to pray. Yes. What a loving gesture. We sat in their family room for dinner that night and I introduced them to The Chosen series, a portrayal of Jesus that always reminds me that the Lord wants me not only to place my trust in him but also to love him, and to walk in his way.
Buena Vista, CO. June 10
Riding up the 150 miles or so from Alamosa to Buena Vista I went over Poncha Pass into a beautiful valley nestled between peaks. Arriving here yesterday evening I went directly to see Tricia Holian, Pam’s beloved older sister. No one knew Pam longer than she did. They were as close as two sisters could be. Like me, Tricia is heartbroken over Pam’s passing. Tricia and I spent a wonderful afternoon together reminiscing about Pam and related family stuff, and then we went out for dinner in a, get this, Swedish burger restaurant here in Buena Vista. They feature a breaded and deep fried green bean dish that substitutes for french fries.
Tricia picked me up early this morning to go to the divine liturgy with her at the Dormition Skete, an Orthodox monastery where her son Joel, now Fr. Jacob, lives and works. The monastery is very impressive: beautiful buildings in a spectacular natural setting. But what is inside is even more beautiful. The monks here dedicate themselves to the work of painting icons, which they sell. I had breakfast with them after the liturgy and enjoyed getting to know them. I also met Mother Agnes, a nun who lives close by to the monastery, and we had a nice talk about the fascinating road that led her to become an Orthodox nun. Each of us is on a journey, no?
Fr. Jacob, by the way, is doing well and seems to love the life of a monk. He has very long hair and an impressive beard! I was told that it was he who introduced gardening at the Skete, which helps them with a regular supply of veggies. Tricia herself lives away from the monastery but it seems she’s there most days. Like others I’ve met on this trip, Tricia is demonstrating her love by offering herself as a gift to this little community. She is clearly a blessing to them.
June 11
Big news this morning! I reconnected with Norb and Jackie Oesch. He was the pastor who married us. No more important person in Pam’s life or mine than pastor Norb. He and wonderful wife Jackie are retired in Couer d’Alene, Idaho. I plan to be up there within the next two or three days. Pam had spoken with Norb on the phone maybe 18 months ago so they knew about her cancer but had not heard that she died. I am very excited to reconnect with them. Please pray for my visit there. God is good!
Rawlins, WY. 11 June
I rode up out of Buena Vista this morning, through Leadville (10,000’ elevation), and on to Lake Granby, where I met Paul Keller (Karl’s older brother) for lunch, where we had a great view, if from a distance, of Rocky Mountain National Park.
Paul lost his own dear wife Debbie nine years ago to cancer. She had several types of cancer over a ten year period or so. At the end she was in home hospice. She died in her husband’s arms. Paul is one of my few male friends who has become a widower. Our women typically outlive us.
Like some of my widow friends, Paul has no desire to re-marry. He told me at the outset that he felt he was over the loss of Debbie. But as he told his story, and as he listened to mine, both our eyes welled up with tears. I have a feeling that what he meant was that the sorrow was no longer overwhelming. But it remains.
West Yellowstone, MO. 12-13 June
My ride took me up and out of Wyoming and into Montana where I entered Grand Teton National Park. Beautiful ride. Great weather. Amazing mountains. The Grand Tetons seem aptly named. From there I rode up into Yellowstone National Park and the Old Faithful geyser, and then on into the little town of West Yellowstone, where Pam’s cousins Michelle and Lynette live. Michelle was away, but Lynette and her husband Richard put me up for the night. Michelle had a number of long phone conversations with Pam while she was in cancer treatment, most of them after we had moved to Hillsdale. She told me that Pam spoke glowingly of our new home and of her many new friends there. Richard taught me a little about fly fishing, but sadly I did not have time to actually go fishing. When I do, Richard, I’m coming back to see you guys again!
Coeur d’Alene, ID. 13-15 June
I am enjoying a wonderful reunion with Norb and Jackie here. Last night they had friends over for dinner and we had a lovely time. Norb is as wise and kind as ever, and at 85 he shows few signs of slowing down. He and Jackie each have active ministries, which take them to exotic places frequently. They just got back from Ethiopia, where they had visited several times before. My conversations with Norb have been a joy and very helpful for grappling with the loss of Pam. He remembers us from when we were in our early 20s. A joy to be here. Still don’t know where I’m riding off to I know not where,after church and lunch tomorrow. Better give that some thought!
Baker City, OR 15 June
I left CDA after a great visit with Norb and Jackie. I so wish Pam could have been there with me. She loved them just as much as they loved her. After church services and a brunch, I loaded the bike and took off for Salt Lake City. I just couldn’t face all the alone time I would have had if I had continued on up into Canada. This is not a sightseeing trip.
In Salt Lake, I plan to see our friends David and Jeana. The ride out of CDA today took me through three states: Idaho, Washington, and Oregon. Tomorrow Utah.
South Jordan, UT 16-18 June
I made the seven-hour ride today from Baker City to this lovely town nestled between the mountains and just south of Salt Lake City. Our friends David and Jeana live here. Like me, David is a Luther researcher. Unlike me, he went into the software business with his brother after finishing his PhD degree at Oxford. He and Jeana live here with their two 15 year old sons, both of whom are high school lacrosse players. Their home is busy with the pleasant sounds of family banter, all of which reminds me of times past when Pam and I were bustling around in the mornings with our own two boys. They are taking me out tonight for a golf event, where we plan to have dinner with friends of theirs who have a son who will be headed to Cornell U in the fall to pursue a degree in philosophy. It will be fun to meet them and to offer whatever advice I can to their son. Being in the hustle and bustle of a family household is lifting my spirits.
I plan to ride back into Colorado on Thursday the 19th and from there make my way out to Clear Creek Abbey in Oklahoma by next Monday, the 23rd.
The Eastward Trek Begins. 20 June
I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Burlington, CO, recovering from a couple of long hours riding in the heat and sun. It’s about 99 degrees here. I’m riding the I-70, which today presented a study in contrasts. I overnighted in Vail yesterday, and even there it was quite warm. Got up early this morning, loaded the bike and hit the road. I-70 between Grand Junction and Denver is just a spectacular ride. The road is generally in good shape, with several tunnels and mostly long sweeping curves. The peaks all around still have patches of snow at the top. From Vail to Denver this morning was one of the best freeway rides I’ve ever made. And then there’s what comes after. I-70 from Denver to where I’m sitting is a mostly straight, high speed road across the plains. Quite a bit of agriculture. Lots of trucks on the road. So, not the most exciting. I only have about a hundred miles to go to my next hotel. I plan to hole up there all afternoon, writing, reading, thinking, praying.
Somebody recently put my situation after losing Pam into words I find helpful: Single wholeness. To be a single man but find in that a kind of wholeness that’s different from married wholeness, the one flesh union.
Hmm. I agree with the main point here—that the single Christian life brings its own wholeness in such a way that singleness is a path to holiness that’s different but not inferior to the married life. Certainly.
But I’m not sure that works for me. I can’t understand myself apart from my long union with Pam. I was not called to the single life, even though that now seems to be my situation. I prefer to think of my own singleness as a brokenness, a life, to be sure, that must be lived like any other Christian life—in faith, hope, and love—but one in which the wound of love itself has an abiding place and an ongoing role in shaping my identity and experience.
Living without Pam now does not entail a reversion to single wholeness. She is built in to me, woven into the very fabric of my life. Of course, my own life portrait is not yet complete. Some of my tapestry remains yet to be woven. Perhaps a way of making sense of this would be to say that I will and must live on without her, but in such a way that the without functions as an abiding absence that somehow leaves its own imprint on my tapestry. Just a thought.
Addendum: Friday 20 June
Oh my! The last 90 miles or so I rode on the I-70 today were some of the most difficult I’ve encountered. Like ever. Temperature at 109°. Steady crosswinds out of the south at 25 mph, with gusts that had to be much higher than that. Lots of truck traffic so I had to contend with truck wash as I went by them. As I came up behind each truck, I encountered blustering winds and a suction effect that wanted to pull the bike closer to the truck. Uh oh. As I moved past the trucks the crosswinds and truck wash combined to give me a hard push away from the truck and toward the center median. Ugh. I’m here safe and sound. This was the one day I was almost glad Pam wasn’t along with me. But she was always a trooper, so she probably wouldn’t have minded much. And I always got her where we were going safely. Thanks be to God!
A Long “Winded” Explanation of My Choice for Favorite Movie
Of course it’s Forrest Gump. I’m no movie critic but here are a few reasons why:
1) Tom Hanks is mesmerizing as the mentally impaired title character whose simplicity veiled an astonishing capacity to redeem the broken people around him; the poignant-hilarious fictional scene with President John F. Kennedy and a lot of tasty Dr. Pepper; the maybe best-ever story of black/white friendship in Forrest and Bubba (ok, since Huck Finn and, er, that Jim guy).
2) Robin Wright’s haunting portrayal of Jenny, the abused daughter of an alcoholic father who became first the best friend and then the mostly unrequited love of Forrest’s life. The excesses of the 60s and 70s have rarely been put so compellingly on display. But at the same time, the movie offered a ringing affirmation of the goodness of life! Pam and I saw it in Durham, NC, with Sam.
Spoiler alert: Forrest saves Jenny in the end with words viewers won’t soon forget: “I’m not a smart man, Jenny. But I know what love is.” Broke her heart, and ours too. Sounds like a redemption story with a Christ figure to me!!
That movie came to mind this morning as I fought my way from Oakley KS to Wichita, where I will be staying a couple of nights. The winds from yesterday continued unabated. The first hundred miles or so I was traveling on the I-70 going directly east, into the rising sun. I had hoped that the morning air would be a little calmer. Nope. Hundred miles of misery and then I switched over to two-lane highways to come the last 200 miles or so. It was tough out there too, but the traffic was very light, with few trucks. Still, I had to fight wind gusts coming across my right side that really wanted to blow me into oncoming traffic. Argh!
After 50 miles of so of that I thought of Forrest Gump. Not Forrest himself, nor Jenny, but Lieutenant Dan. Remember the scene where Forrest’s former commanding officer, now a double amputee, comes down to Bayou LeBatre to become first mate on Forrest’s shrimp boat? They find themselves in a violent storm with winds that threaten to sink them. Where’s Lt. Dan? At the top of the mast, shouting imprecations at the powers that be, and whoever they may be. “Is that all you’ve got!!” Steady winds on the road today were one thing. Those unexpected gusts, something else. Felt like a personal attack. So I went to war against the god of the south wind, using phrases like those printed above, and others not fit to print.
I’m sitting safely now in a little espresso bar in downtown Wichita. Makes me think of the summer before Pam’s diagnosis, when the two of us were in Knoxville, TN for a few days. Why? Veo. They have Veo scooters here. Hadn’t seen them since Knoxville, where we rented two Veo scooters one sunny day. Pam was delighted! She had great fun while I worried every minute for her safety. That’s a precious memory.
Pam haunts me. Always will. It was too good for that not to be true. I’m planning to put some money back in my Veo account and use one to get to and from a restaurant tonight, and the Catholic cathedral church as well. Perhaps in that moment she’ll look down on me in love, and with her own good memories. Say a prayer for my safety. I’m sure those scooters are a lot more dangerous than my Goldwing!
Clear Creek Abbey, OK. 23-26 June
I got here yesterday after a warm but enjoyable ride from Wichita. The last two or three miles I was riding my big bike on a gravel road. Argh. But I couldn’t let myself chicken out this time. On that road I had to pass through a running stream that crossed the road. Fortunately, each time the road where the stream crossed had a concrete apron. At last I reached Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey. What a fascinating place! There are about 55 70 (!) brothers here, which is quite a large community as monasteries go. Men of all ages. Silence is the general rule, and the brothers pretty much keep to themselves so I haven’t had any long heart to hearts with them.
What I have gotten a lot of is Latin liturgy. So far, all the hourly services and the two masses I’ve attended have been entirely in Latin. I don’t know these liturgies, so it is fortunate that the brothers have prepared little booklets so we can follow along. By we I mean the two or three dozen of us who are guests staying at the monastery, as well as others, presumably from around here, who just show up for the masses. It is an encouraging sign of spiritual hunger, including my own. Reminds me, perhaps ironically, of what I saw at Clement’s two evangelical churches in LA. Yes, I am an ecumenical guy. I have an eye for the parallels and similarities.
I’m also still a generally happy guy, but my heart has been heavy the past week or two. I miss Pam a lot, and I really need her to be here and assure me of her love. Of course I do know that she loved, and loves, me. We assured each other of our love many times every day. And a whole bunch of times when we went to bed at night. Every time I left the house, and most of the time if I so much as left the room. It is very difficult to live without the steady rhythm of that mutual assurance.
Well, as the brothers here at Clear Creek would probably advise me to say: “Ora pro me!” Pray for me!
Wed. 25 June
Clear Creek Abbey is a very distinctive place. Benedictines, with a strong sense of the given goodness of the Latin liturgical tradition, including Gregorian chant. Each day’s services, which run from Matins at 5:15 a.m. to Compline at 8:25 p.m., includes both a Low Mass and a High Mass. Low Mass is offered 7 a.m., right on the heels of Lauds at 6:15 a.m.
Low Mass means spoken mass. It’s hot right now, so all the services are being held in the crypt church, right below the main church. The crypt includes, I think, 15 altars: 2 up front and the rest around the sides. Fifteen priests and many deacons and acolytes celebrate simultaneously at the Low Mass. Each priest whispers his mass, and they all do it at the same time. Fifteen masses being said all around us, with silence in the church otherwise. At first it seemed a little odd. In fact, I really didn’t know what was going on.
But today was my second time and I found that the silence began to draw me in. Guests in the monastery are welcome, it seems, to commune either from the priest at the high altar up front (which most of us do) or to sit on a bench in one of the altar alcoves and commune from the priest celebrating there. If I understand correctly, by the way, Catholic priests are encouraged but not required to celebrate mass each day. It seems that here the community’s 16 priests celebrate each day, with one of them reserved to preside at the High Mass. Who said Catholicism wasn’t complicated?!
An Afterthought
I think weird stuff all the time, right?! Ok, here’s another weird thing I think:
I’d rather be Pam’s widower than any other man in the world. I’m still the most blessed man ever!
Pretty sure an angel whispered that one in my ear, so don’t even think of contradicting me. I do imagine there are a lot of other guys who love their own wives so much that, should they lose her (may God forbid), then they would tie me for first place in that luckiest guy contest. I can live with that.
Tulsa, OK. 26-29 June
I left Clear Creek Abbey this morning early, after the 7 a.m. low mass. Again, I had to ride the three miles of gravel road with streams crossing it in several places. I made it out alive and have ensconced myself at an espresso bar in Tulsa called Collaborative. Good espresso, which is always welcome. I will drop the bike off soon at a bike shop here for a new set of tires. Whew! My back tire doesn’t look good at all.
Bill and Lisa Keller are hosting me while I’m here. I don’t believe we have seen one another since our last big reunion in summer 1990. Lisa was a big encouragement to Pam back when she had suffered a few miscarriages. Life is a journey, and it is good to have companions along the way. Bill and Lisa took me to mass at the downtown Tulsa Holy Family Cathedral. What an impressive place! The large church was nearly full, and with a crowd that was quite diverse. A beautiful sung mass with a wonderful choir, that sang Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus during the eucharist. It seemed a healthy Catholic community, which is always good to see. Wouldn’t mind going back there sometime!
Kansas City, MO. June 29
I left Tulsa this afternoon and made my way to Kansas City, where I will spend a night on the road. Got swallowed up by a thunderstorm for while on my way here, but temps had been in the mid-90s so I didn’t mind getting soaked. Day after tomorrow I expect to be in Oak Park, IL, visiting with our very good friends Steve and Chandler Roskam. Our kids went to school together at Grace Lutheran Church & School in River Forest, IL, back in the 1990s when Pam and I were working at Concordia College.
Peoria, IL. June 30
It was about 350 miles from KC to Peoria. I took back roads, which took me on a beautiful of farm country in Missouri and on up into Illinois. I crossed the state border, marked unmistakably by the Mighty Mississipi at Quincy. Ran into late afternoon thunderstorms, including one massive storm that looked like an inverted wave about to break on the ground. Honestly, it freaked me out a bit. I was traveling right into it. The winds became strong and, even worse, haphazard, coming at me from one side and then the other. Yipes! Fortunately, my route then took a turn moving away from the storm. I got rained on a little bit but otherwise no big deal.
It’s the next day now, July 1. I left home two months ago, on May 2. While I was traveling I hit upon the idea of turning a little writing I had been doing about my misspent youth into a book about my life and marriage to Pam. I have now completed eight chapters, pairing vignettes from our life together with short spiritual/theological reflections on our journey. I am at the point now where I will be writing a little about our long 19 years in Milwaukee and then about Pam’s cancer diagnosis, treatment, and death. Feels like I saved the hardest for last. But I am ready to do this. When I get home a few days after the 4th of July it will be time to get off the motorcycle and climb back up into the saddle of everyday life. God help me, right!?
Hillsdale, MI. July 8
Full Circle: The Journey Complete
I pulled into my driveway at home about 7:30 last night. The ferry ride across Lake Michigan, with the motorcycle tied down securely in the hold, was pleasant. I made a panorama video just as the ferry was about to depart.
The last week of my trip included two days in Oak Park, IL, with our old friends Steve and Chandler Barnes. They are both docs, and we turned to them for help and advice as soon as Pam’s cancer was diagnosed. They were with us all along the way, and made a couple of trips to Hillsdale to check in on us. Steve and I always enjoy cooking together, while Chandler and Pam take long walks and talk about family. They were here last September, when Pam’s condition had taken a sharp turn for the worse. So they were able over the next few months to help me make sense of Pam’s worsening condition and what the docs at U of M and Mayo were saying about it. Our kids went to school together, and we were all members of Grace Lutheran Church in River Forest, IL for several years. The bonds of love and friendship run deep.
The last few days of the trip I was in Milwaukee with our son Sam, wife Becky, and their 15 month old son Lucas William. Pam got to meet and hold and feed and play with the little guy on three different visits to Milwaukee last year. She was, and would have been, a terrific grandmother. Sam and Becky took me to her family’s annual 4th of July party on Beaver Lake out west of Milwaukee. A wonderful time. Lucas and I are already very good friends. I’m pretty sure it’s because he thinks the motorcycle is so cool. ;-)
I had time as well to catch up with Chris and Katie Ganski, our best friends and one-time Covid bubble family. We were there for the births of both their kids, Tess and Van, who are each now just about as tall as their parents and becoming young adults quickly. Pam was the unofficial grandmother. She is missed by all.
Including her good friend Marion and her husband Don Heinz. I had a much too short lunch with them on Sunday.
Our dog Dash survived my long absence just fine, thank you. My house sitter, dog sitters, pool guy, and yard guy kept everything in shape while I was away. So now is the time for me to begin settling into a new normal. The book I’m writing will have the title After Pam, which is right where I am right now, living on after her departure from this life with joy and gratitude for the many blessings we have enjoyed in this life. I came full circle on the trip yesterday. First stop as I was leaving town: Pam’s gravesite (and mine!) to pray and talk. Last stop just before I went home: the same.
The circle of my own this-worldly journey, however, is not yet complete. Pray that I may live in a manner worthy of her memory.
Thank you for reading my travelog. Thanks too for all your prayers and well wishes.
And may God bless you one and all!
Mickey
Claremont and Los Angeles, CA. May 2-11 2025
I spent a week with Julie and Marc in Claremont. They threw a lovely party for me on the weekend. Jack, Pam’s special nephew, flew down with his girlfriend Lauren from SFO for the occasion. Everyone was delightful. They reminded me that we are family. I also talked with two widows: Marc’s mom Jo, and Pam’s cousin Becky. Each of them lost a husband several years ago. Each of their husbands died younger than Pam did. Each also told me that they still grieve the loss. Neither has remarried. Hmmm. More evidence how hard it is to lose a spouse. Also a reminder that we all suffer the trials of this life, including the loss of loved ones long before we feel ready to let them go.
The two Sundays I was in town, I went to church with Clement. Clem being Clem, of course he has two churches: one a Korean evangelical church called “New Story” in LA, the other a church called “Mosaic” and located on Hollywood Boulevard in, well, Hollywood. The preaching at each one was excellent, the worship styles similarly informal. Pastor Tom at New Story—a Tim Keller style reformed church—offered an excellent teaching sermon on mental health, an important issue, and perhaps especially so in his younger congregation. Pastor Kim at Mosaic preached the mother’s day sermon focusing on the faith and commitment seen in the story of Ruth and Naomi, which resulted in Ruth’s marriage to Boaz. She called on the young men in the congregation to embrace commitment, get married, and make a love story that results in family and children. Not exactly a message I was expecting to hear in Hollywood. I also learned in my visit to New Story that many of them had been praying for Pam and me over the last two years. Humbling. And encouraging.
I took a side trip to Saugus, where I had a lovely stay with my cousin Crecia and her partner Cassandra, with whom I share interests in good tequila and red wine. Ahem! Crecia, like many of us, had a difficult childhood, though in her case the difficulties included parental substance abuse and addiction. Stuff like that stays with you, but she is upbeat and resilient nevertheless. We share many happy memories, especially of the world’s best Grandad, Johnny Mabis. Crecia’s mom, my aunt Kay, also lives in an assisted living home there in Saugus, but I did not get a chance to see her.
A special highlight: I made a trip on the bike down to San Juan Capistrano where I got to visit with my mother Mary’s brother, Uncle Rice, and his wife our Aunt Linda. Linda is a retired Catholic director of religious education. I had not noticed before that she was doing her MA training for that job during some of the years when I was in grad school. The two of us have a lot in common!
Santa Barbara, CA. May 11-12
I rode the Pacific coast coming up out of LA. Went native for while and did some “lane splitting” in heavy traffic. If you don’t know what that is, just Google it and you’ll conclude that even as an old man I am still a little on the crazy side. It was fun. I was careful. So, not to worry.
I overnighted in Santa Barbara where I enjoyed a special dinner with my old friend Mark Wade. Mark had lots of memories of Pam to share with me, all from the first several years of our marriage. Mark and his former wife Carol’s two daughters, Jessica and Amber, were the first two of the eight godchildren Pam and I collected along the way. I was able to steal Amber away from work and a busy household (3 kids!) for coffee before I left town. Yes, I asked her if they were going to church. What’s a godfather for if not that?