The Road to Amistad

by Ken Dickson

  We saw each other frequently after that and a fresh, new relationship blossomed. On February 28, 2016, on the twenty-fifth anniversary of my first marriage proposal to Beth, I threw caution to the wind, dropped to one knee and asked her once more to marry me. Tears filled her eyes as I waited patiently for her response. To my relief, it was “Yes.”

  We remarried on June 18, 2016, twenty-six years to the day from our first date, surrounded by more friends and family than I cared to count. On that day, we placed the same rings upon each other’s fingers that we’d already worn for nearly half our lives. We’d planned a special honeymoon after that, but due to all the activity as Amistad neared completion, we postponed it to the end of July.

  Amistad finished in record time on July 9, 2016—just over two years after Primera’s demise. The development, with over five hundred homes, promoted a strong community spirit, lacked fences, contained miles of greenways and bike paths, produced more electric power from the sun than it used and even had a park with a small lake, filled with reclaimed water.

  A huge focal point was the Community Center, which included a swimming pool with a spray-park and water slides, volleyball pits and a playground. Indoors, it boasted a fitness center and a large multipurpose room that hosted everything from political rallies to dances.

  Another popular attraction was the Mercantile Center, which contained a grocery store, a hardware store, shopping and a few restaurants. Close to that, a charter school, police station and a volunteer fire department rounded out the list of amenities.

  On July 23, 2016, a grand celebration took place to commemorate Amistad’s completion. Mayor Greg Stanton gave a moving speech, and Sherriff Joe Arpaio pledged his support to the community and handed out pairs of his infamous pink boxer shorts that he once forced prison inmates to wear. I mingled with the crowd during the festivities wearing my tattered EWU baseball cap that I’d worn all through the building of Primera and Amistad. Though I regularly washed it, the years of hard work in the Phoenix elements took their toll, and sadly, it had reached end-of-life.

  After all the speeches, a surprise speaker was announced: me. I took the stage with a little fanfare from the crowd. Someone even chanted “chief, chief, chief,” accompanied by laughter. I shook the announcer’s hand, took the microphone from him and moved to the front of the stage where I gazed out in wonder at the immense crowd.

  “Hello, everyone. It’s great to see so many smiling faces. Anyone who knows me is familiar with this tacky cap that I frequently wear. Those of you who don’t know me are probably wondering if I’m homeless. There’s a long and colorful history associated with this cap, but it brings me great sadness to announce that today, I’m retiring it.”

  A good chunk of the crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheers and applause.

  “I guess I timed that just right. Anyway, a few weeks ago as I considered this life-altering decision, I wondered if I could ever replace such a fine headpiece.” I removed the cap and looked at it admiringly. “I decided to contact EWU to see if I they still had one sitting in a corner somewhere, covered with dust and all but forgotten. I emailed the International Field Studies Program and related the tale of the cap. Afterward, I asked them a question: ‘Do you have one more?’ A week later, I received this in the mail.” Beth handed me a cap from the front of the audience. I held it up for the crowd. “A brand new replacement!”

  “It took a few days for me to notice a subtle difference between the two caps. In small print on the front of the old cap it says, ‘Travel the World, Earn College Credit.’” I handed the old cap to Beth and placed the new one on my head. “On the front of this cap, it says, ‘Start Something Big.’ Let me tell you, we have started something big, and I can’t wait to see what adventures await my new cap!” I took off the cap and waved it high into the air, riling the crowd for a few seconds and then replaced it on my head.

  “A few years ago, I stood not far from this spot and surveyed the burnt remains of sixteen homes. At that time, it seemed foolish to rebuild, and I tried to convince everyone to abandon the idea. However, the employees of BRI are a very determined lot. Over time, they figured out ways to circumvent all of the problems that previously plagued us. Soon, I was right alongside them, hammer in hand, building this wonderful community. I learned something very important from them.” At this point, my eyes welled with tears, and I began to choke up. I paused briefly, wiped the corners of my eyes and then continued.

  “In life, there invariably are choices. Forks in the road, if you will. Often, we fret over which will be the better one, but in reality, we cannot predict that with certainty. Each fork presents its own unique challenges, and whether the choice was good or bad really boils down to how we deal with those challenges. We can dwell on our misfortunes, feel guilt, anger, mistrust and hate, or we can see beyond all that and focus on trust, friendship, compassion and love. We can suffer over past failures and worry about more to come, or we can leave the past behind and look forward to the blessings the future will bring.

  “Sometimes in life, we are fortunate enough to take a fork where everything works out perfectly. The choices are all easy and satisfying, friendship and trust abound, and it seems that you can do nothing but succeed. Whenever I find myself on such a road in the future, I will be reminded of the first time I traveled on that road—the road to Amistad.

  “I want to thank each of you personally for allowing me to be on this amazing journey with you and for reminding me how good life can be.” I paused to create a little anticipation in the crowd and then finished. “I just have one more thing to say… Hit it!”

  With that, a subtle mechanical thrumming commenced as nearby pumps came to life followed by a geyser of water that grew steadily from the small, man-made lake behind the stage, from the exact spot where the fire hydrant had spewed water incessantly during the death of Primera. It was a remarkable display—one of the finest fountains in all of Arizona and perhaps a good part of the Southwest. Tears streamed freely from my eyes as I recalled the death of my good friend and the end of a dream: Primera; but then, the crowd roared, the band came to life, and I forgot all about such things.

  In that moment, I felt the full impact of Skip’s words in the meadow of a dream—all you have to do is shine. What we were celebrating was the infectious result of changed and unchanged people working together and shining. I guess the world is going to be okay after all, I admitted to myself and then waved jubilantly to the crowd as I joined them to admire the fountain and everything that we had accomplished together.

  ***

  Later, I made my way toward a familiar face. Dad passed away early in 2015 after a brave battle against cancer, but Mom somehow made it to the ceremony.

  “Nice speech. I was a little concerned when you took to the stage with that tattered cap, but you really knocked one out of the ballpark with that story.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Dad and I were really sorry to hear that Primera burned down. What a shame. But like Dad always said, if at first you don’t succeed…”

  “Try again.” I’d heard him say that plenty of times in my life.

  “And look at what you did. He’d be so proud of you.”

  I choked back tears again. “It means the world to hear you say that.”

  “You could do well building communities like this.”

  “I probably could, but I think I’m about landscaped out. I love working outdoors, but this heat is too much for an old guy like me. I’ve got something else I want to do now. You know me—Jack of all trades and master of none.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m teaming up with a psychologist: Dr. Merriweather Waters. A lot of people could use my help.”

  “Aren’t you worried that you might be walking away from a great opportunity?”

  “Actually, I think I’m walking right into a great opportunity.” I sighed as familiar goose bumps rose on my arms and then for some reason, I gazed upward. �
��Will you look at that,” I said, pointing. High above, oblivious to the din of the celebration below, two red-tailed hawks circled relentlessly, their keen eyes missing nothing.

  Chapter 51

  FINDING HOPE

  In 2001, my family and I raised the first of six guide dogs. Her name was Cinder and we all cherished her. Shortly after her first birthday, she completed her training and became a guide for a sight-impaired woman living in Kelowna, Canada.

  On a whim a few years later, we contacted the woman with whom we’d kept in touch and asked if we could visit her and Cinder. She agreed. We flew into Spokane, Washington, rented a car and then drove to Kelowna from there. We thoroughly enjoyed our three-day stay in Kelowna with Cinder and her owner. After leaving, we continued our adventure, driving to Banff and then Lake Louise, where we stayed at the spectacular Fairmont Chateau Resort. Next, we drove through scenic northern Idaho and spent an evening at the Coeur d’Alene Resort on Lake Coeur d’Alene before returning to Spokane the next day. We fell in love with the lake and mountain views.

  That’s where we were headed now for our honeymoon. Beth had reserved a guest cottage near the lake for nine days beginning July 30, 2016 and ending August 7. From the start, we’d planned on bringing the kids. Our most memorable experiences included them, and what better way could there be to celebrate our remarriage than with a family reunion?

  While there, we swam at pristine beaches, water-skied and inner-tubed behind a runabout, rented jet skis and parasailed. We white water rafted on the scenic Clark Fork River in Montana, spending an entire day there. I’ll never forget watching Kaitlin and Hailey vanish under an enormous standing wave as we paddled furiously through rapids named “The Fang” or jumping from a high cliff into the raging river below. As we returned, we stopped at the 50,000 Silver Dollar Saloon in Haugan, Montana where $50,000 in silver dollars line the walls and bar of an old-fashioned saloon. Their gift shop is the largest in Montana and sells the oddest and most interesting trinkets I’ve ever seen.

  Much of the trip, we simply relaxed at the guest cottage, reading books and lounging on the deck watching lightning and listening to booming thunder from afternoon storms echoing off nearby mountains. Or we window shopped in downtown Coeur d’Alene. On the last day of the vacation, I insisted that we visit Sandpoint, located a short drive to the north on the shore of Lake Pend Oreille and considered one of the prettiest small towns in America.

  It was cool and drizzling intermittently when we arrived. Our first stop was Sandpoint City Beach Park. The beach was gorgeous, but due to the weather, we opted not to swim, and carried umbrellas to keep dry instead. The lake was as black as obsidian under the ominous clouds. The patter of infinite raindrops dimpling its tranquil surface produced a barely audible hiss. Mist all but obscured ghostly mountains beyond the lake.

  With nothing to occupy us at the beach, we made for town on foot, crossing the Bridge Street bridge and then strolling north on First Avenue. An ice cream shop caught our attention and, despite the chilly weather, none of us could resist. We shook our umbrellas, retracted them, and entered. On a sunny day things might be different, but on that dreary day, we were the only customers.

  A single employee smiled broadly as we approached the counter: an attractive teen-aged brunette with striking blue eyes. Her remarkable resemblance to Emma seemed beyond coincidence and aroused my curiosity. After purchasing cones for everyone, I studied the shop as I ate mine and noticed a white board listing specials. At the bottom, in bold, black letters, it said, “Please wish our Employee of the Month, Emma, a Happy Birthday!” A photo of the very same young woman who’d served us was neatly taped to the white board below the message. It seemed uncanny that someone who reminded me so much of Emma was in fact named Emma. I’d not met many Emmas in my life. After that, my senses were abuzz.

  By the time we left, the rain had stopped and the sun had broken through the clouds, reminding me of my first walk down Shaughnessey Road. We continued exploring: clothing stores; custom hand built furniture stores; gift shops. The names of the stores elude me now. I was tuned in to the radio of life, receiving only the details I was meant to and anticipating more.

  We crossed the street and headed south, eventually entering a women’s apparel store. As my wife and daughters admired clothing, I paid close attention to my surroundings. Then, another synchronicity occurred. A sales associate approached Beth and the girls. She seemed an identical twin to Emma of the ice cream shop. I may have imagined it, but I swear that she winked at me.

  We left the store and continued south, passing a real estate brokerage. I paused to peruse the home listings affixed to the storefront window, but nothing clicked. An old yellow newspaper box near the storefront—the kind you could once buy papers from for a quarter—caught my eye. To me it appeared the only colorized object in an otherwise black and white film. I approached it and pulled its handle. The heavy metal door creaked downward on rusting hinges revealing a neat stack of real estate brochures, all displaying the same image: majestic peaks rising from the opposite shoreline of Lake Pend Oreille silhouetted against a backdrop of cloudless blue sky. I reached for one and examined the image.

  “We have to go,” I informed my family.

  “But Dad, we just barely got here,” Kaitlin protested.

  “We can return later, but this is important.” My family scrutinized me. “Everything’s okay—I promise. Just humor me for a while. Think of this as another adventure.”

  “We’ll come back later. I’m sure that Dad has a good reason for whatever he’s up to,” said Beth.

  We walked briskly back to the rental car and piled in. I retrieved an atlas that I’d brought for just such a spontaneous escapade, opened it to the map of Idaho, and traced my index finger along the route—north on Highway 95, east and then south on Highway 200—where it stopped of its own accord at the tiny town of Hope.

  As we drove, it was hard to imagine that we paralleled the shoreline of the largest lake in Idaho along our route. Pine trees obscured it almost until reaching our destination. Eventually, the trees thinned to reveal the lake several hundred feet below. From then on, the road sloped downward toward the shoreline. Just after crossing a bridge near the town of Hope, I turned left onto a graveled lot and parked the car. A crisp breeze carrying the scent of wet pines greeted me as I exited, and oblivious to my family, strode anxiously toward the lake. I crossed the quiet road, hopped over a concrete barrier and side-stepped through wet, knee-high grass down a steep embankment.

  I leapt the last few feet where wave action had eroded the grass away. As I landed, my feet crunched pleasingly in smoothed, half-dollar-sized pebbles born of glaciers. A few strides later, my journey ended. I gazed down at the crystal clear water lapping lazily against the shoreline a few feet from me and then to the reflection of the sun and clouds dancing on the calm waters. The view included densely forested islands and peninsulas, and magnificent distant peaks. Large swathes of missing pines on the grandest of them were unmistakable: the ski runs of Schweitzer Mountain.

  Although I could not see it from here, I realized that somewhere close by was a place that I’d dreamed of in a darkened room of a psych ward and had sought for years: the home of an underground city that I once named Utopia.

  Skip was right. I would find it. It was real, and I was living it at this very moment. I didn’t know what role, if any, it would play in my future, but if what I’d dreamt in Pinecrest over five years earlier was real, then just as I had believed then, anything and everything was possible. It didn’t escape me or surprise me that this special place was located near a town named Hope. My body melted. I dropped to my knees on the pebbly beach, buried my face in my hands and cried. I cried tears of joy.

  ***

  Before long, the crunch of three pairs of footsteps on the pebbles behind me brought me back to reality. One pair drew closer and the others scampered away. I wiped my tears, rose and composed myself. Moments later, Beth stood
beside me.

  “We were wondering if you were ever coming back. Are you okay?”

  “Never better. By the way, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this—you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “It took you long enough to figure out.”

  “Aside from Nick, you’re also the biggest smart-ass I know.”

  She grinned mischievously.

  “Dad! This beach is full of skippers!” Kaitlin shouted.

  I gazed down the beach to where Kaitlin and Hailey were skipping stones across the glassy water and doing an impressive job of it.

  “I bet you a dollar, I’ll beat you,” Beth challenged.

  “Two, and you’re on.”

  “You forget that I grew up on a lake. Deal.”

  I bent down and chose a real beauty, straightened, and then polished it against my shirt for good measure. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On three… one, two, three!”

  AFTERWORD

  It is a proven fact that we need not be victims of our genetics—we are capable of much more, and it is ours for the taking. With proper knowledge and practice, we can rewire our minds, shedding emotional baggage, freeing bandwidth, and improving our health and longevity as we do so.

  For those determined enough, these skills will become innate and cast an entirely new light upon their world. Through perseverance, they will arrive at the next frontier of humanity: resilience. What is resilience? It is the ability to set aside the fabrications of the mind; it is a stepping back from the ego, recognizing it for both its value and limitations, and being able to operate separately from it by employing logic and reason; it is the capability to manage thoughts, emotional triggers and expectations; it is the doorway to a limitless future.