Here you can browse through my blog posts prior to February 2022. Currently I'm sharing my travel experiences, candid opinions, and what's on my mind solely on my Facebook page. — Rick

Days 7-8: Drugs in Houston

Keith dropped me off at the Denver airport for a side-trip to Houston. Fighting my way through the chaos accompanying the merger of United and Continental airlines, I finally boarded my plane. I spent the flight preparing a new talk I was about to give as a keynote address to an assembly of drug policy wonks to kick off an all-day conference on the topic.

While Houston is considered the new hub for illegal drugs entering the USA from Latin America there’s a lot of beer here too. This house, Houston’s famous “beer house”, is literally covered with beer cans.

On the airplane, Fox News was dishing out its idea of “fair and balanced” news coverage on the backs of 100 seats all around me. I don’t know how United can inflict that on a captive audience of their passengers. (Meanwhile, I enjoyed the thought that just yesterday, Fox News friend Pat Robertson came out in favor of legalizing marijuana.)

In Houston, Professor Emeritus William Martin — a wonderful man, a fixture at Rice University, and the official biographer of Billy Graham — hosted me at the James Baker Institute, where speakers from around the world are brought together to inspire Houstonians to thoughtful civic responsibility. I gave a one-hour, two-part talk: the abbreviated TED version of my Travel as a Political Act talk, followed by my NORML material that emphasizes European drug policy. While I was a bit nervous (speaking to a room full of leading Houstonians and well-connected patrons of the university from a podium that has been occupied by everyone from Nelson Mandela to Bill Clinton to Henry Kissinger), my talk was well received.

Later that night, over dinner with drug policy activists (on both sides of the issue), we had a lively conversation. I sat next to a mentor of mine, Ethan Nadelmann, the founder and executive director of the Drug Policy Alliance. Ethan has recently been shuttling between sitting presidents south of our border. Several Latin American countries (including Mexico, Costa Rica, Guatemala, El Salvador, and Colombia) have begun talking about the wisdom of taking the crime out of the drug equation to help alleviate some of the violence wracking their societies. As Ethan counsels them on the pragmatism of legalizing marijuana, Joe Biden is flying there to remind them that if they do, they’ll find themselves in a costly trade war with the USA.

The guest speaker takes pictures of himself in a mirror.

A drug policy expert from England and I explored the existentialism of drug abuse. It seems like hard drug use in the rich world correlates with futility and meaningless in life (for example, many Russians with go-nowhere lives drown themselves in vodka all alone). He made a good case that consumption in Europe is related not to the impact of existing laws, but to how a society supports its struggling citizens. For example, the Netherlands and Switzerland have similar laws — but the Swiss, with a less forgiving welfare system, have more needle junkies, while the Dutch, with a more generous way of taking care of its troubled citizens, have far fewer hard drug users. I asked him why the Czechs smoke more marijuana than any other European country. He speculated that it may be because after they won their freedom from the USSR, and the poet and playwright Václav Havel was swept into power, it was a little like the hippies taking over. Comparing the war on marijuana to Prohibition back in the 1920s and 1930s, someone said, “Alcohol with Al Capone is worse than alcohol without.”

A man at our table who had advised the US drug czar recalled how, during one negotiation session with European officials on drug policy, the Americans started the meeting by saying, “If you say the phrase ‘harm reduction,’ we’ll have to leave the room.” (For eight years during the Bush Administration, no drug policy proposal with that term was even allowed to be considered — as “harm reduction” is considered code for legalization.)

Confirming my understanding that countries are extorted into keeping pot illegal by American trade policies (enforced through United Nations agreements), I learned that while rich countries incur a trade war if they legalize any drug, poor countries get “decertified” (in other words, disqualified from receiving foreign aid) if they decide to legalize marijuana. Because of this, the presidents of Mexico and other Latin American nations are between a rock and a hard place when it comes to taking the violence and money out of their local drug wars.

Then, after a day of events for Houston PBS, I flew north to Oklahoma City to meet Keith and continue our Road Trip USA.

Day 5: Colorado’s Arid, Red-Rock Majesty

My bedroom view: Pike's Peak over looking Kissing Camels

I’ve been a mile high for the last couple of days, hyperventilating on Colorado’s mountain views and arid, red-rock majesty. With the sternness of the vast Great Plains ready to sweep us away, my attention seemed determined to appreciate the Rocky Mountain grandeur that caused those first pioneers to fall to their knees.

Driving across Colorado, we had two stops for lectures: Grand Junction and Colorado Springs.

Grand Junction — our smallest stop yet, with just 58,000 people — is the biggest city between Salt Lake City and Denver.  Apart from a world of outdoor activities nearby, Grand Junction’s charm is limited to its delightful Main Street. I strolled the entire length of Main Street — which seemed positioned to frame dramatic Rocky Mountain peaks beyond — from my hotel to the theater for my talk. It’s the first big, wide, old-time main street I’ve encountered that traded traffic capacity for people fun. Sixty years ago, they interrupted traffic flow by adding parks, gazebos, and people zones — quite progressive for that time. Losing half its functional width and forcing single lanes of traffic to zigzag slowly through town, it’s as if town fathers wanted to be sure all would enjoy the modern and entertaining public art — like the popular Chrome Buffalo, made of old car bumpers — planted every few steps. Walking through town, I got a sense of what’s happening and who’s coming…according to the signs, it’s just me and Los Lonely Boys.

Grand Junction is a springboard for good country living: vineyards, thrilling rivers, red-rock canyons, and fossilized dinosaurs. It’s the gateway to the Colorado National Monument, a mighty canyon cut into the world’s largest flattop mountain, the Grand Mesa. The town was named for the junction where the Grand River (today’s Colorado River) flowed into the Gunnison River. The Grand was later renamed the Colorado River (perhaps to avoid confusion with the similarly named Rio Grande on the border of USA and Mexico). The Grand Canyon is named not for its size, but for the original name of the river that cut it.

The scenic drive into the Colorado National Monument, through piñon trees and cottonwoods, stirs butterflies and drops jaws with little shoulder and devastating drops. I fantasized about how easy it would be to film an engrossing TV show on this area.

This is Colorado’s wine country — a fact I was repeatedly reminded of by the friendly vintner who kept filling my glass while I did an extended Q&A at the pre-lecture VIP reception. And it is good wine. As I’d hoped, visiting smaller towns like Grand Junction reminds me how our country is filled with wonderful people.

After all the intense people action that came with our biggest crowd yet, I enjoyed a lonely walk home after my talk. Strolling back down the cold and desolate Main Street, while feeling a prairie wind like I’ve never felt before cutting through town at each cross street, I played a little soccer with a tumbleweed.

Driving farther into Colorado, we were a bit frustrated that the tiny but appealing museums along the way are open only April through September. At Glenwood Springs, we started hiking up to the grave of Doc Holliday, but were stopped by snow. Still, with a big, steamy outdoor pool powered by its namesake hot springs and busy with people, this town was a delight. Inviting streets were lined by crusty old taverns, hip boutiques and bakeries, and ski resort-type gift shops.

These days, medical marijuana dispensaries, with their happy pharmacy-style green crosses, are part of every Colorado townscape. Popping into Glenwood Springs’ biggest dispensary, we enjoyed a tour — surveying an amazing collection of strains filling an inviting wall full of jars — and interviewed its owner on the latest in the drug policy debates in his state. Colorado and Washington are the two states in the USA with initiatives on the ballot in 2012 to legalize, tax, and regulate pot.

Today, all we needed to get high was a car. The scenic highway topped 10,000 feet as we drove by the ski resorts of Vail and Breckenridge. While Vail looked as fancy-condo as I expected, inviting Breckenridge was a place I’d love to come back to for some skiing.

Next up was Alma, at an altitude of 10,578 feet — the highest incorporated town in the USA. Towns like Alma, two miles above sea level (twice as high as Denver), have a thin-air, old-saloon charm. Amid the crooked tin chimneys, weathered timbers, and faded paint jobs, Colorado flags flaps like Buddhist prayer flags in the Himalayas.

Crossing the Continental Divide, we came upon the South Platte River. It occurred to me: Toss a cork in here, and I could net it in New Orleans, where I’ll be meeting my daughter Jackie for a fun father/daughter weekend to celebrate the end of this 20-cities-in-20-days road trip.

We tumbled out of the Rockies at stately Colorado Springs. The state’s second city sits beneath Pikes Peak. Locals love to remind visitors that this is “America’s Mountain,” and from its summit, the “O beautiful for spacious skies” lyrics of “America the Beautiful” were inspired and written.

If you wagon-wheeled yourself across the great American plains and didn’t want to go uphill, you’d have to stop at Colorado Springs. Founded in 1871 by a Civil War general named William Jackson Palmer, its economy was based on mining, tuberculosis sanatoriums, and, more recently, the military. NORAD, the air-defense mountain citadel, is tucked safely into the high valleys above. Locals recall how, on 9/11, the skies overhead seemed like an Armageddon tic-tac-toe board, with all the scrambling jets airborne.

Palatial-by-pioneer-standards Victorian homes line wide streets, recalling the days when the local mining aristocracy defined Colorado Springs’ high society while caring for “the deserving poor.” Chic and dressy for a Wild West town, it still feels uniquely chic and dressy today. But not too dressy. At my evening lecture — in the amazing Neo-Romanesque Shove Chapel on the Colorado College campus, packed with a thousand travelers — my host reminded me, “’Formal’ in Colorado means to wear some clean jeans.”

Working for Rocky Mountain PBS and the local public radio station (Classical 88.7 KCME-FM), I was set up in one of the nicest hotels imaginable: the Garden of the Gods Club Lodge. It’s part of a 480-acre estate given to the community in perpetuity in return for the promise that alcohol would never be served, sold, or consumed on the property. My room overlooked towering red rocks that glow in the morning sun and reminded weary pioneers of “Kissing Camels.” Walking in my bathrobe past grazing deer and spunky rabbits to the outdoor pool, I started my last day in the mountains by taking a dip and gazing through the steam at the radiant-red camels kissing at the foot of the Rockies.

Luxuriating in that pool, I wondered how my sister Jan is doing — now four days into the Iditarod. Last night, a volunteer at a station on the 1,000-mile trail to Nome called me and said she’s on track. The dogs are happy, and so is she. (For the latest on Jan’s Iditarod adventure, be sure to visit her blog).

By noon, I said goodbye to Keith and our car at the Denver airport to fly to Houston for a talk at Rice University. (I’m giving the keynote talk at a drug policy convention there.) Keith is driving to Oklahoma City, where I’ll reconnect with him in two days to continue our road trip.

Six days into our trip, we leave the Rockies. We’ve traveled 1,600 miles from Seattle in our mighty GMC Yukon (32 hours of driving at an average of 50 mph, 121 gallons of fuel burned, paying about $3 for ethanol when available, otherwise about $3.40 for unleaded — for a total of about $400 and averaging 25 mpg).

Each evening so far, I’ve been given a nice basket of local goodies as a welcome. Boarding the plane, I enjoy the last of my favorite bit of swag so far: Enstrom’s Almond Toffee Petites in Milk Chocolate from Grand Junction (like Almond Roca from Tacoma). Letting the milk chocolate make way for a happy ending of tasty toffee, I look forward to Houston.

Day 4: Rocky Mountain Lullaby

I’m just too busy in Colorado to write a blog entry today. Napping here on a rocky crag at Colorado National Monument — surrounded by a vast canyon and red rocks, and winded from breathtaking drives over 10,000-foot passes — I’ve got piles of notes but no time to write. After my Rocky Mountain nap, we’re heading to Colorado Springs. Driving by Vail and Breckenridge on such a gorgeous day makes me wonder “What was I thinking?” not to schedule a day for skiing. Anyway, forgive my laziness. Tomorrow I’ll share the full scoop.

If you can’t see the video below, watch it on YouTube.

Day 3: Evangelical Librarians in Salt Lake City

Heading out of Boise, GPS set on Salt Lake City, within a few minutes we were in a vast plain — with flattop prairie bluffs fringed by modern windmills and mighty snowcapped Rockies in the distance. The drama of this landscape must have been even more stunning to those first pioneers.

I’m liking this daily routine. Each day, I meet Keith at the car at about 8:30. We drive an hour while I rip today’s page out of our schedule. After a little writing (these blog entries take time), we stop for breakfast in a small, characteristic town. I order the special — I had “Farmer Brown’s Scramble” yesterday. Rolling along, stopping here and there at small pioneer museums and dramatic viewpoints, I can understand why so many of my friends and relatives enjoy extended USA road trips. There’s no end of fun things to see and do.

Approaching Salt Lake City, we looked down upon the majestic setting and could imagine how the Mormon pioneers felt they’d found their promised land. The city — with its original grid street plan surviving from the 1850s, after Brigham Young declared, “This is the place” — sits at the head of a sprawling plain cradled by two mountain ranges. The twin ranges, reaching out to surround the Utah State Capitol and an ensemble of stately church buildings, remind me of a vast geological answer to the Bernini colonnades that frame St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican. The snow-dusted mountains, like that colonnade in Rome, can easily be seen as representing the outstretched arms of the Church embracing its people.

Occupying a ten-acre block at the center of the grid is Temple Square, the headquarters for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (a.k.a. LDS Church)…more commonly known as the Mormon Church. While non-Mormons can’t enter the towering Salt Lake Temple itself, they are severely welcome to visit the rest of the complex. Pairs of volunteers snap up anyone who enters, eager to give a delightful tour. Sister Peña from Mexico and Sister Smith from Tahiti showed us around. (One of the largest ethnic groups in Salt Lake City is Polynesians — a result of the Mormon mission focus on that part of the world.) The grounds, gardens, and architecture — like the people working there — were pristine, pure, and angelic. Even if your soul is happy where it’s at, visiting here is a fascinating peek at religious marketing.

An aluminum dome marks the Tabernacle, where the famous Mormon choir practices on Thursday evenings and performs on Sunday mornings (both free and open to the public). While the building was designed and built a century and a half ago, before the science of architectural acoustics, it would be tough to design a building with better acoustics today. Back then, this elegant hall facilitated meetings and preaching to large crowds without amplification. Today, with one of the world’s great pipe organs, it’s the setting for choral performances enjoyed by vast TV audiences all over the country.

Throughout our visit, I was struck by how the Mormon focus on the family would impress even James Dobson. Because Mormons believe the dead can be baptized and families live eternally together, there’s a big interest in genealogy. Across from Temple Square, a world-renowned center for tracing family roots welcomes the public. (Even Chinese genealogists come here to research family trees reaching beyond the demographic chaos caused by Mao’s Cultural Revolution.)

You can’t miss the “Mormon Vatican” aspect of Salt Lake City. For instance, if you know where to look, you can see “polygamy-influenced architecture” from a century ago — lanes with rows of similar houses (duplexes and four-plexes) flanking one bigger, grand mansion for the male head of the extended family.

Still, it’s important to realize that the town is not completely dominated by the Mormon Church. In fact, while the rest of the state is relatively conservative and red, Salt Lake City is relatively liberal and blue. (Provo, just an hour’s drive away, is considered the most conservative city with over 100,000 people in the entire USA.) The Salt Lake City and County Building (which resembles a Neo-Romanesque castle) and the Utah State Capitol seem to stand like two behemoths facing each other in a political boxing arena.

Even non-Mormons appreciate how LDS Church investment is clearly injecting vigor into the urban scene. “Downtown Rising” is a big urban-renewal vision with generous Mormon funding, which strives to make Salt Lake City more sustainable and a better place to call home. The mayor — who’s quite green, a biking enthusiast, and not Mormon — is spearheading projects to make the city more pedestrian- and bike-friendly. And there’s an exploratory committee planning to apply to host the 2022 Olympic Games. The infrastructure from the 2002 games (which were considered a boon for the city) is still in place… and, regardless of what happens in 2012, Mitt Romney should have some time on his hands a decade from now to help out.

Olympics or no, skiing is huge here. And while Colorado has the chic ski-resort cachet, Utahans claim their ski resorts are cheaper, better, and much closer to the big city — just 20 minutes away. (With this year being so mild, they had to make millions of gallons of snow.)

While Temple Square has the most visitors in town, Salt Lake City’s amazing library is a close second, with about 4 million visitors a year. It’s a striking modern building (by Moshe Safdie, the same architect as the Vancouver Library) designed with the Information Age in mind. As our society evolves beyond traditional print, modern librarians remind us that librarianship is more than just shelving books. It’s fundamentally facilitating the exchange of ideas and information: courses, books, Internet access, and hosting itinerant travel writers with stories to tell. Libraries help a society of haves and have-nots bridge the digital divide, providing free Internet and computer access to people who couldn’t otherwise afford it. The Salt Lake City Public Library is thriving with users and is generously supported by the community, with 97% of its revenue raised through local taxes.

After a reception with important supporters of the library, I gave my travel skills talk. The small (440-seat) but gorgeous auditorium was packed, and they had an overflow room with 150 people watching the talk on a screen. Picking up on the enthusiasm of this crowd of travelers (nearly all of whom had been to Europe), I talked and talked. During the Q&A session kicking off the last half, I got into a fun groove and actually forgot for a while that I still had to give “part two” of my formal lecture.  As I’m always reminded by hosts in Salt Lake City before a talk, while the state has a reputation for being quite conservative, people here in Salt Lake City are as cosmopolitan and progressive as cities elsewhere — so I don’t need to worry about being on particularly “good behavior.” One difference I did notice (which I attribute to the Mormon culture) was the number of charming families and attentive, well-behaved children in attendance.

Three hours after I started, I did my “Thanks and happy travels” and turned in early, feeling good about this lecture-a-night-for-twenty-nights gig I’ve given myself. I’m looking forward to Colorado tomorrow.

If you can’t see the video below, watch it on YouTube.