The Time Jesus Came to Rugby, North Dakota

He wasn't exactly the walks on water, savior of mankind version from the bible but I had to do a double take at the man in shepherd's clothing walking down Main Street. As a kid growing up in Rugby, this was exactly why I spent hours of my week dragging main: the hope of seeing something different.  On this particular summer evening the man we kids would take to calling "Jesus" would be that something different. Very different.

I miss the summer nights in Rugby, because the sun is up until bedtime. I loved those summer nights in the sunlight. On this night we gathered under the sun at the Merchant's Bank parking lot to talk to this mysterious stranger. Of course since we were teenagers, we were there to make fun of him for being "strange". We made fun of his clothes and his shepherd's staff. We ridiculed him for his preaching. He told us he wasn't Jesus and wasn't trying to be, only trying to spread his message. We ridiculed him more. Looking back, I don't feel bad about this even though I joined in. We were kids. Kids are jerks.

I wish I could remember his name but I don't. I can't say that I took to his message about the gospel and the word of the Lord, but I did take something away. It was one of the deadly sins he might have told us about, given the time. I envied him. He told about quitting his job to walk the U.S. and spread his message. The job and life he had left behind were hundreds of miles away in Missouri. He had been walking for years leading this new life. He had visited small towns like ours and big cities I had only dreamed of seeing.

I knew the path that was laid out before me. I was intelligent, so there was no way I wasn't going to college. I knew I'd likely go into a business program because that's what people who still aren't sure what they want to do choose in college. Admit it, my fellow business majors, unless you picked one of the numbers based skills like finance or accounting, you basically just picked business because it was a step above liberal arts. I think every marketing, management, international business, retail management, hospitality management, organizational behavior, human resource management, and small business management major out there has a little wanderer in them. Why else would we pick a program we know does not have a definitive career waiting at the end? This was the route I was headed.

I revolted a little against the plan. I decided at the last minute I wanted to go to North Dakota State (Go Bison!) instead of the private Catholic school I had received a scholarship to attend. I did this without ever having toured the campus. Years later, when I wrapped up my degree for wanderers, I took my brother up on his offer to rent a room from him in Phoenix. As I made both these decisions, I thought about the man who gave up everything to walk the countryside. I have strayed from the planned path just enough to indulge my wandering spirit while still being a functioning and contributing member of society.

Fifteen years or so later, I'm sure that man (if he is still out there) would be a little disappointed that his message of salvation was not the one that resonated with me. A few days after the initial meeting, I was headed to the nearby big "city", Minot, to go shopping at the mall. We passed the man about 30 miles down the road dripping with sweat on a muggy North Dakota afternoon. As we passed him walking alongside the highway, part of me thought "that poor man", but mostly I just thought "that lucky son of a...."

I was going to wrap things up there (and it would have been a good Hollywood style finish) but I decided to do a little research. In the era of the Internet, I figured I might be able to come up with something if I dug for a while. It literally took me until the second item on Google to come across this



I have no clue if it's the same guy, but the story sounds familiar...

Free Bumper Stickers in Support of the Repping Rogue Wanderer Page

In support of the new section to this new section of the site I've got an extremely limited number (4 to be exact) of these bumper stickers to give away. All I ask as that you take a picture of where you posted the sticker to be added to the section. The first 4 people with U.S. addresses to comment on this article will get one mailed out for FREE!

A $5.50 value in the Shop

This Ain't My First Rodeo, Probably Because it was a Powwow

.....and it was my first Powwow.

My concept of wandering is not always about traveling somewhere different or doing something spontaneous or crazy. Unfortunately, my limited budget and other commitments do not always make that possible. Sometimes that means having the spend a weekend close to home. However, my goal for every weekend is to do or try something new. This website is the catalyst for me continuing to push myself outside of my comfort zone to experience the wide variety of things life has to offer.

Having grown up in the Dakotas where county fairs, rodeos, and dirt track racing are still major forms of entertainment, I have to admit that I'm a little embarrassed I had never been to a Powwow before. Now that I have been to one, I'm disappointed in myself for having missed out on so many opportunities to attend in the past. It would be insulting for me to even attempt to say I grasp the depth of the rituals and ceremonies of the weekend, but there were so many beautiful things I witnessed and heard that transcend culture. 

This past weekend, I knew Jenn's son had basketball games all weekend. We both really enjoy going to these games to see how much he keeps improving. He's getting really good! So with three days of games on tap, there was no way we would be headed out of town. On Friday morning, I found myself driving around near ASU wandering (procrastinating) before I went to my school to work on stuff for the site. One of the banner's for the ASU Powwow caught my eye and I knew that was the perfect activity for the weekend. When I mentioned it to Jenn that night, she said she had wanted to go too. I was excited for her to get to share part of her culture with me because it meant even though I would be stepping out of my comfort zone, I'd have her to help me feel comfortable.

We arrived late Saturday morning to witness the opening gourd dance ceremonies. Here are the things that really stood out to me during the day:

• The Comradery: The men in the gourd dance seemed very close with each other. Although they were representing different tribes and clans they often stopped to talk and share a laugh with other men in the circle, all while keeping perfect rhythm to the drum beat.
• The Amount of Effort in the Outfits: We were there early enough to see some of the participants putting together their regalia. One mother spent what seemed like an hour helping her daughter put in her braids with interwoven fox tails and putting together various parts of the ensemble using kit of tools that took up an entire suitcase. And that was for a child's outfit. I can't even begin to imagine how much time goes into some of the ones worn by the men and women.
• The Knowledge of Culture: Considering the only tradition I know anything about from my culture is that we drink and wear lederhosen at Oktoberfest, I was amazed by how much old and young people understand about the traditions of the powwow. There were certain times when photography was completely forbidden and crowd members were quick to call out anyone who did not abide. 
• The Sense of Community: Powwow dancers from all over North America were in attendance but they all seemed to know each other or at least felt like they knew each other. I'm sure sharing a passion for traditional dance is what binds them together, just like athletes of any sport are united by love of the game.
• The Energy of the Participants: This was especially true for the elders. I can only hope that I will be able to move with that much energy when I am their age. Heck, with some of them I wish I had as much energy as they have now. Despite the head to toe regalia, which had to be extremely hot in the Arizona sun, they were constantly moving. After 5 hours in the crowd, I needed shade, frozen yogurt, and about 2 hours laying around my apartment in my boxers with the AC blasting. These men and women would be dancing late into the night after I left. 
• The Colors and Movement: The only thing I can think to compare a powwow to is an amazing laser light show, but even more enjoyable because it is created by humans instead of electronics. I made the mistake of waiting until the next day to ask Jenn what I should have been watching for in the dances. I was mesmerized by the dancers feet, probably because that is what the types of dance I typically watch focus on foot movement. She told me I should have been watching for the flow of the outfits, their bodies, the colors, and yes, their feet. I guess I have something to watch for next time.

• Words with Tears: This is the part that most stood out to me. One of the dancers had recently lost a loved one. She was being honored in the powwow circle. So many people came up to make an offering to her, hug her, and give her words of condolences. This is when the announcer said something that really hit home for me. He said a word in his language and explained that it roughly translated to "words with tears". Sadly, I cannot remember the word and even if I could I would butcher it. I'm sure Jenn would love to tell you how much entertainment she gets from watching me try to pronounce the Navajo words she tries to teach me. I'm convinced there are syllables white tongues are incapable of replicating. The reason this hit home with me is that it was a bit of a revelation. Words with tears can hit with any emotion. Whether you're happy, sad, angry, or annoyed, words with tears come from a deeper place. They are the ultimate form of truth.

And this is where it comes back to how most of these stories have ended on my website so far. Unfortunately, there was a point in the weekend that included some words with tears that did not come from a happy place. Yes, Jenn and I do have fights on occasion, but she is still the only person I have ever wanted to keep working with to overcome these. When we had a chance to cool down I started to look back and remembered the concept of "words with tears". I thought about how many times in the last 8 months I have been so happy talking with her that I could feel the tears starting to well up. Although all "words with tears" come from a place of deeper emotion, these are the ones that matter most to me. The ones out of anger, sorrow, or annoyance will usually be forgotten. If you are lucky they will be forgotten quickly. It is the moments where the tears are out of pure, unadulterated happiness that I hope I never forget.

But of course I'm a guy and this is a public writing, so I'll let you make your own assumptions about whether or not I actually cried any of those times.