Podcasts about panther creek

When I turned twenty-one in 1994, I embarked on a 500 mile solo hike on the Pacific Crest Trail across the state of Washington.  The Tread of My Soul is a memoir-meets-travelogue written from the trail.  Originally self published and shared with only a handful of family and friends, I recently dusted off the manuscript with the intention of sharing it with a new generation, on the 30th anniversary of its completion. Among black bears, ravens and Indian paintbrush, I grappled with the meaning of life while traversing the spine of the Cascade range with a handful of pocket edition classics in tow. Quotes from sacred texts, poets, and naturalists punctuate a coming of age tale contemplated in the wilderness.What follows is Part 1 of the book, squared off into four long Substack posts. For this first post, I'm also exclusively including Pacific Crest Trail Soundwalk, featuring a binaural field recording captured while hiking the first few miles on the Pacific Crest Trail up out of the Columbia Gorge in Washington. (If you haven't already, feel free to tap that play button at the top of the post.) The 26-minute composition cycles a triad of parts inspired by the letters PCT: part one in Phrygian mode (in E), part two in the key of C, and part three with Tritone substitutions. The instrumentation is outlined with Pianet electric piano, and colored in with synthesizer and intriguing pads built with a vaguely Appalachian mood in mind. It's on the quieter side, in terms of wildlife, but all in all, I think it compliments the reading. It concludes with a pretty frog chorus so, like the book, I'm making it unrestricted, in the hope of enticing some readers to stick with it to the end. If you prefer, you can find The Tread of My Soul in ebook format available for free right now on Apple Books or Amazon Kindle Store (free with Kindle Unlimited, points, or $2.99). If you read it and like it, please feel free to leave a review to help others find it. Thank you. So, without further ado, here we go:The Tread of My SoulComing of Age on the Pacific Crest Trailby Chad CrouchACT 1(AT RISE we see TEACHER and STUDENTS in an art studio. It is fall term; the sun is just beginning to set when class begins. Warm light washes the profiles of eight classmates. The wood floors are splashed with technicolor constellations of paint.)TEACHERHello. Welcome to class. I find role taking a tiresome practice so we'll skip over that and get to the assignment. Here I have a two-inch square of paper for you. I would like you to put your soul on it. The assignment is due in five minutes. No further explanations will be given.STUDENT #1(makes eye contact with a STUDENT #4, a young woman. She wears a perplexed smile on her face.)TEACHERHere you go.                                    (hands out squares of paper.)(People begin to work. Restlessness gives way to an almost reverence, except STUDENT #5 is scribbling to no end. The Students' awareness of others fades imperceptibly inward.  Five minutes pass quickly.)TEACHERTeacher: Are you ready? I'm interested to see what you've come up with.                                    (scuffle of some stools; the sound of a classroom reclaiming itself.)TEACHERWhat have you got there?STUDENT #1Well, I used half of the time just thinking. I was looking at my pencil and I thought…                                    (taps pencil on his knee, you see it is a mechanical model)this will never do the trick. The idea of soul seemed too intense to be grasped with only graphite. So 1 poked a pin sized hole in the paper and wrote:                                    (reading voice)“Hold paper up to sun, look into hole for soul.” That's all the further I got.TEACHER                                    (looking at student #2)And you?STUDENT #2                                    (smiles)Um, I didn't know what to do so all I have is a few specks where I was tapping my pen while I was thinking. This one…                                    (she points to a dot)is all, um, all fuzzy because I was ready to draw something and I hesitated so the ink just ran…(Students nod sympathetically. Attention goes to STUDENT #3)STUDENT #3I couldn't deal with just one little blank square.                                    (holds paper up and flaps it around, listlessly)So I started dividing.                                    (steadies and turns paper to reveal a graph.)Now, I have lots of squares in which to put my soul in. I think of a soul as being multifaceted.TEACHEROkay.  Thank you.  Next…                                    (looking at student #4)STUDENT #4                                    (without hesitation)I just stepped on it.(holds paper up to reveal the tread of a shoe sole in a multicolor print.)The tread of my soul.•     •     •            The writing that follows seems to have many of the same attributes as the students' responses to the problem posed in the preceding scene. While I have a lot more paper to work with, the problem remains the same: how do I express myself?  How do I express the intangible and essential part of me that people call a soul?  What is it wrapped up in?  What doctrines, ideologies and memories help give it a shape?            I guess I identify mostly with Student #4. Her shoe-print “Tread of My Soul” alludes to my own process: walking over 500 miles on The Pacific Crest Trail from Oregon To Canada in the Cascade Mountain Range in Washington. In trying to describe my soul I found that useful to be literal. Where my narrative dips into memoir or philosophy I tried not to hesitate or overthink things.  I tried to lay it all out.            Student #1's solution was evident in my own problem solving in how I constantly had to look elsewhere; into nature, into literature, and into symbology to even begin to bring out the depth of what I was thinking and feeling. Often the words of spiritual classics and of poetry are seen through my writing as if looking through a hole. I can only claim originality in where I poke the holes.            As for Student #2, I am afraid that my own problem solving doesn't evoke enough of her charm. For as much as I wanted to be thoughtful, I wanted also to be open and unstudied, tapping my pen. What I see has emerged, however, is at times argumentative. In retrospect I see that I had no recourse, really. My thoughts on God and Jesus were molded in a throng of letters, dialogues, experiences, and personal studies prior to writing this.Finally, in the winter of my twenty-first year, as I set down to transcribe this book, I realize how necessary it was to hike. Student #3 had the same problem. The soul is complex and cannot fit into a box. Hiking gave me a cadence to begin to answer the question what is my soul? The trail made me mindful. There was the unceasing metaphor of the journey: I could only reach my goal incrementally. This tamed my writing sometimes. It wandered sometimes and I was at ease to let it. I had more than five minutes and a scrap of paper. I had each step.•     •     •            The Bridge of the Gods looks like a behemoth Erector set project over the Columbia River spanning the natural border of Washington and Oregon. My question: what sort of Gods use Erector sets?  Its namesake actually descends from an event in space and time; a landslide. The regional natives likely witnessed, in the last millennium, a landslide that temporarily dammed the Columbia effectually creating a bridge—The Bridge of the Gods. I just finished reading about why geologists think landslides are frequent in the gorge. Didn't say anything about Gods. How we name things, as humankind, has something to do with space and time doesn't it? Where once we call something The Bridge of the Gods it has been contemporarily reduced to landslide. We have new Gods now, and they compel us to do the work with erector sets. Or perhaps I mistook the name: It doesn't necessarily mean Gods made it. Perhaps Gods dwell there or frequent it. Or maybe it is a passageway that goes where the Gods go. It seems to me that if the Gods wanted to migrate from, say, Mt. Rainier in Washington to Mt. Hood in Oregon, they would probably follow the Cascade Ridge down to the Bridge of the Gods and cross there.            If so, I think I should like to see one, or maybe a whole herd of them like the caribou I saw in Alaska earlier this summer, strewn across the snow field like mahogany tables. Gods, I tend to think are more likely to be seen in the high places or thereabouts, after all,The patriarchs and prophets of the Old Testament behold the Lord face to face in the high places. For Moses it was Mount Sinai and Mount Nebo; in the New Testament it is the Mount of Olives and Golgotha. I went so far as to discover this ancient symbol of the mountain in the pyramid constructions of Egypt and Chaldea. Turning to the Aryans, I recalled those obscure legends of the Vedas in which the Soma—the 'nectar' that is in the 'seed of immortality' is said to reside in its luminous and subtle form 'within the mountain.' In India the Himalayas are the dwelling place of the Siva, of his spouse 'the Daughter of the Mountain,' and the 'Mothers' of all worlds, just as in Greece the king of the gods held court on Mt Olympus.- Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue            These days Gods don't go around making landslides every time they want to cross a river, much less perform a Jesus walking on the water miracle. That would be far too suspicious. Gods like to conceal themselves. A popular saying is "God helps those who help themselves." I think if Moses were alive today, Jehovah would have him build a bridge rather than part the waters.            Someone said, "Miracles take a lot of hard work." This is true.•     •     •Day 1.Bridge of the Gods.Exhausted, I pitch my tent on the side of the trail in the hot afternoon and crawl into to take a nap to avoid the annoying bugs.My sweat leaves a dead person stamp on the taffeta floor.Heavy pack.  A vertical climb of 3200 ft.Twelve miles. I heaved dry tears and wanted to vomit.Dinner and camp on a saddle.Food hard to stomach.View of Adams and gorge.            Perhaps I am a naive pilgrim as I cross over that bridge embarking on what I suppose will be a forty day and night journey on the Pacific Crest Trail with the terminus in Canada. My mother gave me a box of animal crackers before my departure so I could leave “a trail of crumbs to return by.” The familiar classic Barnum's red, yellow and blue box dangles from a carabineer of my expedition backpack            As I cross over the bridge I feel small, the pack bearing down on my hips, legs, knees, feet. I look past my feet, beyond the steel grid decking of the bridge, at the water below.  Its green surface swirls. I wonder how many gallons are framed in each metal square and how many flow by in the instant I look?How does the sea become the king of all streams?Because it is lower than they!Hence it is the king of all streams.-Lao-tzu, Tao Teh Ching            On the Bridge of the Gods I begin my quest, gazing at my feet superimposed on the Columbia's waters flowing toward the ocean. Our paths are divergent. Why is it that the water knows without a doubt where to go; to its humble Ocean King that embraces our planet in blue? I know no such path of least resistance to and feel at one with humankind. To the contrary, when we follow our paths of least resistance—following our family trees of religion, learning cultural norms—we end up worshipping different Gods. It is much easier for an Indian to revere Brahman than it is for I. It is much easier for me to worship Christ than it is for an Indian. These paths are determined geographically and socially.             It's not without trepidation that I begin my journey. I want to turn from society and turn to what I believe to be impartial: the sweeping landscape.            With me I bring a small collection of pocket books representing different ideas of the soul. (Dhammapada, Duino Elegies, Tao Teh Ching, Song of Myself, Walden, Mount Analogue, and the Bible.) It isn't that I want to renounce my faith.  I turn to the wilderness, to see if I can't make sense of it all.            I hike north. This is a fitting metaphor. The sun rises in the east and arcs over the south to the west. To the north is darkness. To the north my shadow is cast. Instinctively I want to probe this.•     •     •Day 2.Hiked fourteen miles.Three miles on a ridge and five descending brought me to Rock Creek.I bathed in the pool. Shelves of fern on a wet rock wall.Swaths of sunlight penetrating the leafy canopy.Met one person.Read and wrote and slept on a bed of moss.Little appetite.Began another ascent.Fatigued, I cried and cursed out at the forest.I saw a black bear descending through the brushBefore reaching a dark campsite.            I am setting records of fatigue for myself. I am a novice at hiking. Here is the situation: I have 150 miles to walk. Simple arithmetic agrees that if I average 15 miles a day it will take me 10 days to get to the post office in White Pass where I have mailed myself more food. I think I am carrying a sufficient amount of food to sustain my journey, although I'm uncertain because I have never backpacked for more than three consecutive days. The greatest contingency, it seems, is my strength: can I actually walk 15 miles a day with 60 pounds on my back in the mountains? Moreover, can I continue to rise and fall as much as I have? I have climbed a vertical distance of over 6000 feet in the first two days.            I begin to quantify my movement in terms of Sears Towers. I reason that if the Sears Tower is 1000 feet, I walked the stairs of it up and down almost 5 times. I am developing a language of abstract symbols to articulate my pain.            I dwell on my condition. I ask myself, are these thoughts intensified by my weakness or am I feeding my weakness with my thoughts?            I begin to think about God. Many saints believed by impoverishing their physical self, often by fasting, their spiritual self would increase as a result. Will my spirit awake as my body suffers?            I feet the lactic acid burning my muscle tissue. I begin to moan aloud. I do this for some time until, like a thunderclap, I unleash voice in the forest.            I say, "I CAN'T do this,” and "I CAN do this," in turn. I curse and call out "Where are you God? I've come to find you." Then I see the futility of my words. Scanning the forest: all is lush, verdant, solemn, still. My complaint is not registered here.And all things conspire to keep silent about us, half out of shame perhaps, half as unutterable hope.- Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies            I unstrap my pack and collapse into heap on the trail floor, curled up. I want to be still like the forest.            The forest makes a noise: Crack, crack, crack.            I think a deer must be traversing through the brush. I turn slowly to look in the direction of the sound. It's close. Not twenty yards off judging from the noise.            I pick myself up to view the creature, and look breathlessly. It's just below me in the ravine. Its shadowy black body dilates subtly as it breathes. What light falls on it seems to be soaked up, like a hole cut in the forest in the shape of an animal. It turns and looks at me with glassy eyes. It claims all my senses—I see, hear, feel, smell, taste nothing else--as I focus on the bear.And so I hold myself back to swallow the call note of my dark sobbing.Ah, whom can we ever turn to in our need?Not angels, not humans and already the knowing animals are aware that we are really not at home in our interpreted world.- Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies            Remembering what I read to do when encountering a bear, I raise my arms, making myself bigger. "Hello bear," I say, "Go away!"            With the rhythm of cracking branches, it does.•     •     •Day 3.Hiked thirteen miles.Descended to Trout Creek, thirsty.Met a couple en route to Lake Tahoe.Bathed in Panther Creek.Saw the wind brushing the lower canopy of leaves on a hillside.A fly landed on the hairs of my forearm and I,Complacent,Dreamt.            I awake in an unusual bed: a stream bed. A trickle of clear water ran over stones beneath me, down my center, as if to bisect me. And yet I was not wet. What, I wonder, is the significance of this dream?            The August sun had been relentless thus far on my journey. The heat combined with the effort involved in getting from one source of water to the next makes an arrival quite thrilling. If the water is deep enough for my body, even more so:I undress... hurry me out of sight of land, cushion me soft... rock me in billowy drowse Dash me with amorous wet...- Walt Whitman, Song of Myself            There is something electrifying and intensely renewing about swimming naked in a cold creek pool or mountain lake.I got up early and bathed in the pond; that was a religious exercise, and one of the best things I did. They say that characters were engraven on the bathing tub of King Tching-thang to this effect; "renew thyself completely each day; do it again and again and forever again."- Henry David Thoreau, Walden            Is bathing, then, a spiritual exercise?            When I was baptized on June 15, 1985 in the tiled pool of our chapel in the Portland suburbs, I thought surely as I was submerged something extraordinary would happen, such as the face of Jesus would appear to me in the water. And I did do it—I opened my eyes under water— but saw only the blur of my pastor's white torso and the hanging ferns that framed the pool. I wondered: shouldn't a ceremony as significant as this feel more than just wet? I'm guessing that most children with exposure to religion often keep their eyes open for some sort of spectacular encounter with God, be it to punish or affirm them. (As a child, I remember sitting in front of the television thinking God could put a commercial on for heaven if he wanted to.)            Now, only ten years after I was baptized, I still keep my eyes open for God, though not contextually the same, not within a religion, not literally.            And when I swim in a clear creek pool, I feel communion, pure and alive. The small rounded stones are reminders of the ceaseless touch of water. Their blurry shapes embrace me in a way that the symbols and rites of the church fail to.I hear and behold God in every objectYet I understand God not in the least.-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself            And unlike the doctrines and precepts of organized religion, I have never doubted my intrinsic bond to water.And more-For greater than all the joysOf heaven and earthGreater still than dominionOver all worlds,Is the joy of reaching the stream.- Dhammapada, Sayings of the Buddha•     •     •Day 4.Hiked fourteen miles. Climbed to a beautiful ridge.Signs, yellow and black posted every 50 feet: "Experimental Forest"Wound down to a campground where I met three peopleAs I stopped for lunch."Where does this trail go to?" he says. "Mexico," I say."Ha Ha," says he.Camped at small Green Lake.            My body continues to evolve. My hair and fingernails grow and grow, and right now I've got four new teeth trying to find a seat in my mouth.            I turned twenty-one on August sixth. On August sixth, 1945 a bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. The world lost more people than it made that day. When I was born, I suspect we gained a few.            I'm an adult now, and I'm not sure where it happened or why. I wonder if someone had to stamp something somewhere because of it? A big red stamp that says "ADULT".  It was a blind passage for me—just like those persons who evaporated at ground zero on August sixth, 49 years ago.            I do feel like I just evaporated into adulthood. I am aware of the traditional ceremony of turning twenty-one. Drinking. Contemporary society commemorates becoming an adult with this token privilege. Do you have any idea how fast alcohol evaporates? I am suggesting this: One's response to this rite rarely affords any resolution or insight into growth. Our society commemorates the passage from child to adult with a fermented beverage.            I wanted to more deliberate about becoming an adult. Hence the second reason (behind a spiritual search) for this sojourn into the wilderness. I took my lead from the scriptures:And he was in the desert forty days... He was with the wild animal and the angels attended him.- Mark 1:13            Something about those forty days prepared Jesus for what we know of his adult life.I also took my lead from Native Americans. Their rite of passage is called a vision quest, wherein the youth goes alone into the depth of nature for a few days to receive some sort of insight into being.            I look around me. I am alone here in the woods a few days after my birthday. Why? To discover those parts of me that want to be liberated. To draw the fragrant air into my lungs. To feel my place in nature.…beneath each footfall with resolution.I want to own every atom of myself in the present and be able to say:Look I am living. On what? NeitherChildhood nor future grows any smaller....Superabundant being wells up in my heart.- Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies•     •     •Day 5.Hiked to Bear Lake and swam.Saw over a dozen people. Eighteen miles.Watched raven fly from tree and listened.Found frogs as little as my thumbnail.Left Indian Heaven.            Surprise.  My body is becoming acclimated to long distance hiking. I know because when I rest it is a luxury rather than a necessity.            The light is warmer and comes through the forest canopy at an acute angle from the west, illuminating the trunks of this relatively sparse old growth stand. I am laying on my back watching a raven at his common perch aloft in a dead Douglas fir.            It leaps into its court and flap its wings slowly, effortlessly navigating through the old wood pillars. The most spectacular sense of this, however, is the sound: a loud, slow, hollow thrum: Whoosh whoosh, whoosh....  It's as if the interstices between each pulse are too long, too vacant to keep the creature airborne. Unlike its kind, this raven does not speak: there are no loud guttural croaks to be heard.            Northwest coastal tribes such as the Kwakiutl thought the croaks of a raven were prophetic and whoever could interpret them was a seer. Indeed, the mythic perception of ravens to be invested with knowledge and power is somewhat universal.           My raven is silent. And this is apt, for I tend to think the most authentic prophecies are silent, or near to it.Great sound is silent.- Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching            The contour of that sound and silence leaves a sublime impression on me.•     •     •Day 6.Hiked twelve miles.Many uphill, but not most.Met several people.One group looked like they were enjoying themselves—two families.I spent the afternoon reading my natural history book on a bridge.Voles (forest mice) relentlessly made efforts to infiltrate my food bag during the night.            I am reading about how to call a tree a “Pacific Silver Fir” or an “Engelmann Spruce” or “Western Larch” and so on. If something arouses my curiosity on my walk, I look in my natural history book to see if it has anything to say.            Jung said, "Sometimes a tree can teach you more than a book can."            Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha was enlightened beneath a fig tree.            I read that a 316-year-old Ponderosa Pine east of Mt. Jefferson bears scars from 18 forest fires. Surely that tree taught us one thing a book couldn't.  All things are clues. Everything is part of a complex tapestry of causality.            The grand design behind these mountains has something to do with plate tectonics. Beneath me the oceanic plate is diving beneath the continental at twenty to sixty degrees putting it well under the coastline to where it partially melts and forms magma. This has been happening for millions of years. Every once and a while this magma channels its way up to the surface, cools and turns into igneous rock. Again and again, this happens. Again and again, and yet again until a mountain is made; a stratovolcano.            Meanwhile, on top, water, glaciers, wind, and sun are trying to carry the mountains away grain by grain. Geologic time is as incomprehensible as it would be to imagine someone's life by looking at his or her gravestone. These mountains are gravestones.            Plants fight to keep the hillsides together. Plants and trees do. But every summer some of those trees, somewhere, are going to burn. Nature will not tolerate too much fuel. New trees will grow to replace those lost. Again and again. Eighteen times over and there we find our tree, a scarred Ponderosa Pine in the tapestry.            And every summer the flowers will bloom. The bees will come to pollinate them and cross-pollinate them: next year a new color will emerge.            And every summer the mammals named homo-sapiens-sapiens will come to the mountains to cut down trees, hike trails, and to put up yellow and black signs that read Boundary Experimental Forest U.S.F.S. placed evenly 100 yards apart so hikers are kept excessively informed about boundaries.            Here I am in the midst of this slow-motion interplay of nature. I walk by thousands of trees daily. Sometimes I see just one, sometimes the blur of thousands. It is not so much that a tree teaches me more than a book; rather it conjures up in me the copious leagues of books unwritten. And, I know somewhere inside that I participate. What more hope could a tree offer?  What more hope could you find in a gravestone?•     •     •Day 7.Hiked twenty miles in Alpine country near Mt Adams.More flowers—fields of them. Saw owl. Saw elk.Wrote near cascading creek.Enjoyed walking. Appetite is robust.Camped at Lave Spring.Saw six to ten folks.Didn't talk too much.            Before I was baptized, during the announcements, there was a tremendous screech culminating in a loud cumbf! This is a sound which can be translated here as metal and glass crumpling and shattering in an instant to absorb the forces of automobiles colliding.            In the subsequent prayer, the pastor made mention of the crash, which happened on the very same corner of the chapel, and prayed to God that He might spare those people of injury.            As it turns the peculiarly memorable sound was that of our family automobile folding into itself, and it was either through prayer or her seat belt that no harm came to my sister who was driving it.            Poor thing. She just was going to get some donuts. Do you know why? Because I missed my appointment with baptism. There is time in most church services when people go to the front to (1.) confess their sin, (2.) confess their faith in Christ as their only personal savior, and (3.) to receive Him. This is what is known as the “Altar Call”. To the embarrassment of my parents (for I recall the plan was for one of them to escort me to the front) the Alter Call cue—a specific prayer and hymn—was missed and I sat expectant till the service end. The solution was to attend the subsequent service and try harder.            I don't recall my entire understanding of God and Jesus then, at age eleven, but I do remember arriving at a version of Pascal's reductive decision tree that there are four possibilities regarding my death and salvation:1. Jesus is truly the savior of mankind and I claim him and I go to heaven, or2. Jesus is truly the savior of mankind and I don't claim him and I end up in hell, or3. Jesus isn't the savior of mankind and I die having lived a somewhat virtuous life in trying to model myself after him, or4. Jesus isn't the savior of mankind and I didn't believe it anyhow.            My sister, fresh with an Oregon drivers license, thought one dose of church was enough for her and, being hungry, went out for donuts and failed to yield.Cumbf!            Someone came into the chapel to inform us. We all went out to the accident. The cars were smashed and askew, and my sister was a bawling, rocking little lump on the side of the street. We attended to her, calmed her, and realized there was yet time for me to get baptized. We went into the church and waited patiently for the hymn we had mentally earmarked and then I was baptized. I look back on the calamities of that day affectionately.Prize calamities as your own body.- Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching            Those events that surrounded the ritual decry a ceremony so commonplace one often misses the extraordinariness of it; of humanity; the embarrassment of my parents; the frustration and impetuous flight of my sister; and the sympathy and furrowed brow of our pastor. These events unwind in my head like a black and white silent film of Keystone Cops with a church organ revival hymn for the soundtrack.  There was something almost slapstick about how that morning unfolded, and once the dust had settled and the family was relating the story to my grandmother later that day, we began to find the humor in it. Hitting things and missing things and this is sacred. All of it.Because our body is the very source of our calamities,If we have no body, what calamities can we have?- Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching            Most religions see the body as temporal and the soul as eternal. Hence, 13th century monks cloistered themselves up denying their bodies space and interaction that their souls might be enhanced.            I see it this way: No one denies their bodily existence, do they? Look, your own hand holds this book. Why do you exist? You exist right now, inherently, to hold a book, and to feel the manifold sensations of the moment.            If this isn't enough of a reason, adjust.            I've heard it said, "Stop living in the way of the world, live in the way of God."            My reply: "Before I was baptized, I heard a cumbf, and it was in the world and I couldn't ignore it.  I'm not convinced we would have a world if we weren't supposed to live in the way of it."Thanks for reading Soundwalk! This is Part One of my 1994 travelogue-meets-memoir The Tread of My Soul. This post is public so feel free to share it.Read: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Or find the eBook at Apple Books or Amazon Kindle Store. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe

The show visits Panther Creek Country Club for the opening day of play in Memorial Health Championship presented by LRS on the Korn Ferry Tour as Tournament Director Kate Peters and Panther Creek superintendent Brandon Razo discuss preparations for the professional golf tournament. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This week the Flyts went to Panther Creek to celebrate its 4th year with our boys Jeremy and JT.

Speaker: Mylissa Horrocks

WALL (3-1) @ MASON (5-0) KICKOFF AT 7 P.M. Ryan Chadwick (17-12) - The No. 4 Wall Hawks come into this matchup with their long-time rival and former district opponent, Mason, off a bye week on Friday. After rolling over Peaster two weeks ago, it seems like the loss to Jim Ned really stuck with the Hawks. Coming off a bye week, I think Wall will be too much for the Punchers to handle. With that being said, Mason has a talented roster, and Hawks' Head Coach Houston Guy says that it's Mason's size that might be a factor in this game. I think this matchup will come down, as it often does, to how Wall's defense matches up with the athletes on the other side of the ball. The Hawks will be able to put points on the board. Their methodical offense is too difficult for any defense to hope to shut out for an entire game. Mason will have to outscore Wall's offense and keep the Hawks' defense on the field. That's a tall task and, if you ask me, too much to ask the Punchers to do. Wall will control the clock, and if they play a cleaner game than the one last season where the Hawks had 10 fumbles, Wall wins this one. PICK: WALL 31 MASON 21 Matt Trammell (16-13) - Every year that Mason and Wall play it is a nail biter. Expect no difference today. These two teams know each other very well. However with Mason being undefeated expect them to keep that rolling in this defensive matchup. PICK: MASON 14 WALL 6. James Boulginy (22-7) - The Hawks return off their bye week with a tough test in the Mason Punchers. This is a rivalry game that was a low scoring game last season where Wall took the victory 14-6. Both these teams feature good run games as Wall has Nathan Pepper, Hagyn Barbee, and Gunnar Dillard and Mason has Ryne Todd and Sutten Silerio. Not only do both of these teams have good running games but they both have very good defenses. There are not common opponents yet but Wall gets the edge as they're coming off a bye week. PICK: WALL 28 – MASON 24 OTHER PICKS: Scott Menchaca (22-7) - WALL | Yantis Green (18-11) - MASON | Ernesto Rodriguez (20-9) - MASON | Arleen Castillo (16-13) - WALL | KIMBERLY (15-14) - MASON | WATER VALLEY (1-3) @ STERLING CITY (3-1) KICKOFF AT 7:30 P.M. Trammell - Another big rivalry game this week is between district foes Sterling City and Water Valley. Last year the Eagles took the game by a large margin winning 42-14. However as we know the Wildcats went through a ton of adversity last year. This game should be closer (despite what the rest of the crew thinks) but its likely not going to work out for Water Valley. PICK: STERLING CITY 35 WATER VALLEY 27. Bouligny - Sterling City has quietly been winning a lot of football games although their last game was a loss to Roscoe before their bye week. They run the ball a lot with Johnny Monreal, Canyon McCabe, and Seth Turner. Quarterback Ty Turner gets it done at quarterback. The Wildcats have a dangerous duo in the backfield in David Valeriano and Anthony Quintana. This district is wide open as Eldorado and Iraan are also quietly gathering wins. In this one, Sterling City takes the win. PICK: STERLING CITY 48 – WATER VALLEY 37 Chadwick - District play begins between two Concho Valley teams coming off of bye weeks. Water Valley showed flashes of brilliance earlier in the season but has not rekindled that same magic ever since. With that being said, the Wild Cats' three losses come out to a combined 16 points. That's rough. Water Valley has been in every game they've played so far on the year, and do not expect that to change on Friday night. Sterling City kicked off its season strong and picked up momentum with a win over their rivals, the Miles Bulldogs. Like Wall, Sterling City runs an old-school offense that depends on physicality and time of possession. The Eagles' offense seems inevitable at times, marching steadily down the field. The Wild Cats may stop the Eagles occasionally, but Sterling City is no stranger to going for it on 4th down. From what I've seen from the Eagles this year, I think they are just too much for Water Valley. I'm picking the Eagles to beat the Wildcats at home. PICK: STERLING CITY 27 Water Valley 21 OTHER PICKS: Scott Menchaca - STERLING CITY | Yantis Green - STERLING CITY | Ernesto Rodriguez - STERLING CITY | Arleen Castillo - STERLING CITY | VERIBEST (5-0) @ PAINT ROCK (4-1) KICKOFF AT 7:30 P.M. Bouligny - Like the Brownwood game, this is the 6-Man equivalent. Two very talented teams going head-to-head. Falcons sophomore Bryce Martin and senior Hunter Hallmark at quarterback have gone 36/46 for 433 yards, 12 touchdowns, and one interception. They also have that split pretty evenly. Those two, along with running back Lane Howard, get it one on the ground. Martin has 371 rushing yards and 11 touchdowns, and Howard has 538 yards and five scores. Paint Rock has put up 227 points so far. This should be a good one that will not be over by halftime. PICK: VERIBEST 63 – PAINT ROCK 45 Chadwick - Two Concho Valley Six Man teams meet in the two schools' last non-district matchup before the final grind begins. The Falcons come in at 5-0 and Paint Rock at 4-1. Veribest defeated Paint Rock's eventual district opponent, Panther Creek, last weekend 55-6, so this matchup will be a good test to see where the Indians match up later in the season. The combination of Bryce Martin and Hunter Hallmark will be too much for Paint Rock, in my honest opinion, but look for the Indians to make this a close matchup with a lot of points. PICK: VERIBEST 70 PAINT ROCK 55 Trammell - This one is simple to me. The Falcons are the best 6-man team in the Concho Valley. This game will be over before you know it. PICK: VERIBEST 45 PAINT ROCK 0 OTHER PICKS: Scott Menchaca - VERIBEST | Yantis Green - VERIBEST | Ernesto Rodriguez - VERIBEST | Arleen Castillo - PAINT ROCK | STEPHENVILLE (3-2) @ BROWNWOOD (5-0) KICKOFF AT 7:30 P.M. Bouligny - The Lions against the Yellowjackets should be one of the better games in the state. They are both ranked in the Top 10 for 4A schools. Brownwood is similar to San Angelo Central in the fact they graduated a lot of their offense last year but returned their quarterback, Ike Hall. The Lions also have a couple of legit prospects on defense in Quinten McCarty and Morsello Hooker. They are 5-0 and coming off two respectable wins against Glen Rose and Waco Connally. Stephenville is 3-2 and has played some dogs. Abilene Wylie is a common opponent where Brownwood won 35-21 and Stephenville lost 41-32. The Jackets have a good quarterback in Ryan Gafford, who has thrown for 1315 yards, 14 touchdowns, and four interceptions. His favorite target is by far, Tristan Gentry, who has 37 catches for 748 yards and eight scores. This should be a great game, and the Lions come out on top. PICK: BROWNWOOD 42 – STEPHENVILLE 35 Trammell - If you want to know what game everyone in Texas is talking about that would have to be this game. Two state ranked teams clashing at a sold out Gordon Wood Stadium. No clue how it'll end but it's going to be a nail biter. PICK: STEPHENVILLE 28 BROWNWOOD 27 Chadwick - Everyone expected the Brownwood Lions to take a step back this season after they graduated a good portion of their offense last year. Brownwood has since silenced any talk like that, as they currently sport a 5-0 overall record and sit at No. 7 in the 4A state rankings. However, Stephenville is no slouch either. They also sit in the Top 10 just behind Brownwood, and this game will be the game of the week to watch. I give the edge to Brownwood in this one solely because the Lions play at home. Brownwood ISD already announced that the game on Friday night is sold out. Expect the atmosphere at Gordon Wood Stadium to be eclectic. PICK: BROWNWOOD 42 STEPHENVILLE 35 OTHER PICKS: Scott Menchaca - STEPHENVILLE | Yantis Green - STEPHENVILLE | Ernesto Rodriguez - BROWNWOOD | Arleen Castillo - STEPHENVILLE |

Frisco Panther Creek HC Clint Surratt & Helpful Honda Mailbag Friday

This week Panther Creek called Bro. Erdie Carter to be our new pastor. Here is the message he delivered to the church. If you would like to contact Bro. Carter or the editor of the podcast you can email us at PCBCposcast@yahoo.com or visit our website at PantherCreekBaptistOwensboro.net

On this episode I sit down with Keyton Stone. Keyton is the owner of Big Ridge Performance Horses in Baldwyn Mississippi, where he specializes in colt starting and training. Keyton really has a passion for young horses and getting to “create artwork on a blank canvas”. We discuss how he got started, and some of the rewards and struggles of being a horse trainer. Y'all check it out.  Show Sponsors:Panther Creek RanchDaniel Bishop Horseshoeing 

Bishop talks with officials from the Memorial Health Championship Presented by LRS going on this weekend at Panther Creek near Springfield. Details: https://www.memorialhealthchampionship.com/

Bishop talks with officials from the Memorial Health Championship Presented by LRS going on this weekend at Panther Creek near Springfield. Details: https://www.memorialhealthchampionship.com/ --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/bishoponair/support

Caution: Southern Metal Ahead. Tune your guitars to Drop D and head down to the dirty south as we cover the debut, self-titled record from Maylene & the Sons of Disaster. It's a long road home to Panther Creek, but we're joined by Zach Jordan and guest host, Joe Cutler, for our journey. We've got breaking news in typography, speculations on the true identity of John Jacobs, and plenty of terrible southern accents as we learn the tale of mother Maylene and her sons of disaster.For some context, if you wanna hear the greatest DFW Maylene cover band Del Sur, you can check out for free on Bandcamp. https://ofthesouth.bandcamp.com/Church Jams Now is sponsored by Collide Records. Visit colliderecords.com and use promo code “churchjamsnow” for 20% off your first purchase!If you like what you hear, please rate, review, subscribe, and follow!Connect with us here:Voicemail: 971-380-5660Email: churchjamsnowpodcast@gmail.comIG: @churchjamsnowTwitter: @churchjamsnowFB: https://www.facebook.com/churchjamsnowpodcastPatreon: https://www.patreon.com/churchjamsnowpodcast

Welcome to the SLT “You Got Next” series. This series is dedicated to the athlete/actor/entrepreneur who doesn't ask for any recognition but continues to push themselves to limits that many didn't think they had. We see you and we want to let the world know who you are... we present to you the SLT next series and Fairrin Thomas Anderson has "Got Next" Make sure you subscribe, like and follow us on IG, Twitter and Facebook @sportlifetalk. You can watch the live streamed show on our Sportslifetalk Facebook page and on our YouTube channel. On this episode, B Jones and KT are joined by one of the hardest working coaches in the state of Texas, Fairrin Thomas Anderson. She joined the show to share her coaching journey and why she has Got Next!!! Want

The guys meet up with Panther Creek's JT, Jeremy and Melvin to celebrate the holidays and round off the year. Shane surprises the group with an entire beer advent box from The Casual Pint. Will they make it through?? 

On this episode episode I sit down with Ethan Lee. Ethan is a Louisiana cowboy who has found himself involved in the hit series Yellowstone! Ethan is part of the bunkhouse crew and his character packs that now famous Yellowstone brand. Although he may be spending more and more time in front of the camera, Ethan is a cowboy first and foremost.  You can follow Ethan and all he has going on Instagram @ethan_lee0873Show Sponsors:Panther Creek RanchDaniel Bishop Horseshoeing Buckaroo Hatters

On this episode I sit down with Sonny Gould. Sonny and his wife Carla are the owners of Gould Arena and Roping horses in Moscow Tennessee. But Sonny's cowboy journey began over 70 years ago in Oklahoma. He has spent the majority of his life cowboying big ranches all over Oklahoma, Texas, Kentucky, and Tennessee. This is one episode you don't want to miss. You can follow them on Facebook at Gould Ropin Horses and ArenaShow Sponsors:Panther Creek RanchDaniel Bishop Horseshoeing 

The guys are LIVE at the Jack Daniels Barrel House in Bridgestone Arena for the 2022 Nashville Predators Beer Festival, and we managed to talk about beer!!.... mostly!! Other fun topics include a 4 Year Fart Vertical, Retail Boob Sweat, Shane's Ballsack Botox, The ML Rose Beer Council (we want in!), Farm to Tap beer and more! Featuring some new brews from Panther Creek, Dope Whip and Mango Soda Jerk as well as Hunahpu's Imperial Stout from Cigar City Brewing. Cheers!

Kate announces free admission to this year's professional golf event at Panther Creek and has the latest on the tournament that begins in just over a month. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

On this episode I sit down with Zeke Entz, owner of Entz Cutting Horses. Zeke is a cutting horse trainer based out of Collierville Tennessee. He has a long list of accomplishments with the NCHA, and at the top of that list in 2010 he was inducted into the NCHA Open Rider Hall of Fame. He shares insight into the world of cutting, how he got to where he is, and advice for those wanting to get involved. Y'all check it out! You can follow Zeke and all he has going on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/rockingzcuttinghorses/This episode is sponsored by Panther Creek Ranch.

The Unioncountyhoopscoms Game Of The Week State 4A State Title Weddington Panther Creek

Zac, Alex, Jim and Shane exchange gifts, share beer and discuss holiday traditon, a choir of Karens, play some holiday trivia and play a raucous round of Ruin a Movie Title. Featuring beer from Hi-Wire Brewing, Panther Creek, Orpheus, and more!

Shane, Jim and Zac with special guest host Shani Hadiya from The Black Beer Experience. Casual Pint Home Brew Competition recap, upcoming events, Cabin Attic Burgers at Panther Creek's Halloween event. Old lady gets a lifetime supply of Yuengling, barley and aluminum shortages, and I'm an islaaanndd booiiiyyyyy

The guys are up the creek again.. Panther Creek! JT and Jeremy provide venue for the show as we share beer from Barrique and discuss Zac's Big Mac Hack, Coach Jim's words of encouragement, Alex's wedding planning stories, Shane's authority complex, nutton chops, Smashmouth, Nacho Peenbre, your mom, Hi-Wire's new location and baby news, shameless plugs, and we play a new game called 5 Seconds or Less. Cheers!

Meet Stacie Smith and Mary Bell!  They are two of the three ladies hosting the MidWest MuleFest!  2022 will mark their 5th year!  These two ladies are a hoot!  In this interview you will get to meet these two and hear their love and compassion for inclusion in the equine industry for mules.  Normal people can make extraordinary impacts in the world.  Stacie and Mary are making the mule owners top priority at this annual event hosted at a trail facility called Panther Creek located in Tuscumbia, MO.  Stacie and Mary will make you feel like family and welcome you with open arms.  

Listen to light-hearted interviews with Melinda Burgoon, Head Honcho of Panther Creek Trail Rides, Donna Cornett, Stacie Smith, Debbie Dill of White Horse Trading Post, David Robbins, Scott Handy, Matt, and Ashton Wampler, Dave Recker all at the MidWest MuleFest 2021 annual event. 

Zac, Alex and Jim meet up with JT from Panther Creek to help dole out some generous servings of brews and tolerance at the 1st Annual Boro Pride event. We were honored to have been invited and hope you enjoy this very special episode!

On Pro-Am Day at the Memorial Health Championship presented by LRS, the guys talk at Panther Creek Country Club with DTN on-site meteorologist Brad Nelson, Panther Creek general manager and course superintendent Perry Greene, and Memorial Health System CEO Ed Curtis and Gregg Matthews of LRS. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The most fundamental story of Coach Cromer left him with one less finger and turned his world upside down spurring the genesis of "Living 9 Strong" and his motto for life. Stumbling into softball and the life lessons he's learned from his players and winning conference championships, Bryan brings a ton of insight wrapping up his question you can ask yourself to get better by focusing on "intentional attention." Empowering you to take control of your story! Episode on YouTube Instagram/Twitter: @Living9Strong Panther Creek Softball: @PantherCreekSB

Head Honcho Melinda Burgoon shares with us what's going on this year at Panther Creek Trail Rides. Mule rider - Karen Brown shares her love for mules on Mule Talk! 

Aaron and Mark talk about playing a gold level course in Morristown named Panther Creek, Huk Central & Goat Hill results, Stickers & minis coming in soon, how you can support the channel, RPM discs, and finally talk about UDisc pricing increase. Update Mark renewed his PDGA number and signed up for the Tennessee State tournament. We are also starting a history of disc golf companies segment and would like to hear from you about what companies you would want to know more about. Thank you!!! --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/rootsdiscgolfpodcast/support

Panther Creek is in the house! Well, we were in theirs, anyways. Zac, Alex, Jim and Shane share beers with JT, Jeremy, and Melvin on location while discussing Cancel Culture. It's a wild episode!

NC State wrapped up its Early Signing Period of the 2021 recruiting class and came away with 20 new signees. Of the early signees, the Pack has already added four defensive backs, including Chase Hattley, who is one of the top safety prospects in the country. The 6-foot-3, 205-pound playmaker out of Cary (N.C.) Panther Creek joined Cory and Michael to discuss signing with the Pack, early goals for his college career, relationship with the coaching staff, his relationship with his father and much more on the Pack21 Podcast.

Panther Creek Cellar’s winemaker Tony Rynders has had a fascinating journey as a vintner, one that’s taken him from the Pacific Northwest to California and back again. Along this path, he’s garnered one of the more stellar reputations in the industry for creating award-winning Pinot Noir and unique white blends highly prized by fans of wines from Oregon state’s terroir. Dave & Sandi will discuss wineries with a presence in both Washington and Oregon, and reveal some of the wineries with cross state boundaries between Washington and Oregon, highlighting how our shared AVA’s (American Viticulture Area) inspire collaboration. Plus, they discuss their tasting notes of Panther Creek Cellars’ three single-vineyard Pinot Noirs and the Winemaker’s Cuveé.

Emily from Highwire surprises the guys at The Casual Pint with some free beer! We listen to our very first voicemails and discuss spatchcocking, Amazon Sidewalk, Bob Yourself, Sarah Fuller, Alex Trebek and Stan Lee have a curse off, Panther Creek movie night upcoming, Robin Williams, Stu is WAY overdue for a physical, and end with a round of What Came First

Zac and Stu meet at The Casual Pint to support Carpe Cafe, Game Galaxy, Janarty's Ice Cream as well as Panther Creek's Movie Night. Southern Grist's Kopra Kai on hand as well as an exclusive Two Scoops peach cream ale. Animal visitors, car wrecks and the mindless things people do as well as a never before revealed talent that Albert Einstein possessed. 

Zac and Stu meet at La Casa and Alex joins via Zoom to drink some delicious brews from Panther Creek and Yazoo while cracking each other up in a show devoted almost entirely to parody music.

Owner, Melinda Burgoon talks about her experience of running the Panther Creek Trail Rides in Tuscumbia, Missouri.

Recorded live at Panther Creek during the Rouge and Rogue all women's event, Melanie Wiechel shares her experience as an animal communicator. Listen to Melanie explain about energy levels and how she works with animals and humans to move forward in their lives. Check out her website: www.humanhorseconnection.com

Ken Wright is the founder and winemaker of Ken Wright Cellars, based in Carlton, Oregon. Ken discusses his work with Dick Graff in the 1970s, and then explains why he decided to move from California to Oregon in the 1980s to pursue winemaking in Oregon. He gives a thorough explanation of the different rock types found in state, and the attributes that different sites bring to a resulting wine. He also goes into depth in explaining his own winemaking evolution, from working at Panther Creek, to starting Ken Wright Cellars in 1994. Along the way, Ken makes several connections between the winemaking and the farming, and explains how one is often the result of the other. In particular, he talks quite a bit about the phenomenon of reduction in a wine, something he tries to prevent. Ken further describes several key vintages for Oregon Pinot Noir, discussing the attributes of those years and their impact on his own thinking. Take the demographic survey. This episode is sponsored by: Vknow Wine App NY Drinks NY Trip to the Finger Lakes Wine Region Oregon Wine Trail Tasting      

Listen in as Jennifer and Merideth kick of this week’s show of Grit and Grace with a quick catch up on their week – Plus, special guest Sheila Greaver with Panther Creek Inspiration Ranch stops [...]

Mission encre noire Tome 22 Chapitre 272 Les yeux tristes de mon camion de Serge Bouchard paru en 2017 aux éditions Boréal collection Compact. Serge Bouchard, de cette voix profonde et unique, fait couler nos rivières, celle du Lièvre et celle du Loup, celles là qui ont une belle robe rouge, l'Olomane et la Romaine des Innus. Plus loin, il s'attarde sur les courses des caribous dans la poudreuse. Celle-ci se fait plus rauque lorsqu'elle hante les montagnes rugueuses de la Sierra Nevada, errante parmi les fantômes des centaines de nations originales qui vivaient là - Miwoks, Yuroks, Karoks, Mohaves... Elle gagne en agilité et en souplesse à l'évocation de ces hommes et de ces femmes qui ont fait l'amérique, ces canadien-e-s français-e-es qui ont couru à la découverte de ces pays fabuleux. Cette grande voix solide au timbre plus corsé s'accote aux souvenirs inoubliables de la tête ronde d'un Mack modèle B, de la trame sonore des matchs de baseball les soirs d'été, du Nebraska, de Santa Monica, des oncles et des tantes d'Amérique, et bien d'autres. Serge Bouchard, anthropologue, auteur, animateur, conteur formidable, nous raconte Son Amérique, il a voyagé sans relâche pour ça, et c'est lui qui chauffe. Il est notre invité à Mission encre noire. Extrait: « Je me souviens de longues soirées d'été, heures de méditation et de contemplation, seul sur la plage, comme une chose échouée, quelque part entre Migan et Longue-Pointe-de-Mingan. J'écoutais la tranquillité du onde, assis sur le sable fin. Des macareux arctiques, que les pêcheurs appelaient des « perroquets », volaient en groupes au fil de l'eau. Oui, les oiseaux de mer étaient au rendez-vous, istorlets et moyaks, canards noirs, goélands anglais, outardes, je voyais même parfois des balbuzards. Mais cela n'étais rien encore. Il arrivait qu'une orque épaulard surgisse hors de l'eau, comme un missile lisse et métallique ; elle s'élevait dans un sifflement irréel et majestueux avant de retomber avec fracas dans l'eau noire et calme de l'océan tranquille. J'étais conscient d'assister aux instants mythiques de la vraie nature du temps. Des petits rorquals se montraient aussi, en bandes, comme les phoques apeurés. Bientôt le soleil allait se coucher, disparaître derrière moi, il descendait dans les épinettes pour aller faire le beau de l'autre côté de la terre. J'avais la jeunesse et la paix, deux choses qui vont bien ensemble, quoi qu'on en dise. Derrière moi, la forêt chétive, la mémoire boréale, le pays des Indiens. Devant moi, la mer. » Par le vent pleuré de Ron Rash paru en 2017 aux éditions du Seuil. 1969 à Sylva, une petite ville des Appalaches, deux frères partent pêcher un dimanche après la messe. L'écho de la guerre du Vietnam et des émeutes de Berkeley appartiennent encore à une autre planète. Et pourtant cette silhouette qui jaillit des eaux de la Panther Creek, Ligeia Mosely, une sirène qui n'avait pas regagné l'océan, va bouleverser, le temps d'un été, la vision du monde. Au son du Grateful Dead, des Doors, de Jefferson Airplane, la jeune femme amène un vent de plaisirs et de liberté, qui emportera Bill et Eugene, au prise avec un grand-père tuteur tyrannique, dans un tourbillon macabre. Quarante six ans plus tard, la découverte de petits ossements blancs dans des lambeaux de bâche bleue, déposés par la rivière, rappelle les frères à leur passé. Ron Rash se tient debout face à la mémoire et tourne son regard vers un sud en pleine révolution culturel, Par le vent pleuré est un superbe roman noir. Extrait: « À San Francisco, le Summer of Love, l'été de l'amour, a eu lieu en 1967, mais il a fallu deux ans pour qu'il atteigne le petit monde provincial des Appalaches. Sur l'autoroute, en février, on a aperçu un hippie au volant d'un minibus bariolé, un événement dûment signalé dans le Sylva Herald. Sinon, la contre-culture était quelque chose qu'on ne voyait qu'à la télévision, tout aussi exotique qu'un pingouin ou un palmier nain. En ce mois de juin, les seuls petits signes de changement étaient deux ou trois étudiants de l'université de Caroline du Nord revenus de Chapel Hill pourvus de chevelures plus broussailleuses. Notre grand-père ne permettait pas à nos cheveux de toucher notre col, mais de toute façon Bill ne les aurait pas laissés pousser.» L'amour est une maladie ordinaire de François Szabowski paru en 2017 aux éditions Le Tripode. Francois est heureux en amour. Il a rencontré son âme soeur. Leur entente est parfaite. Tandis que Marie s'endort contre lui dans le petit studio de la rue des Pyrénées à Paris, il arrête de se voiler la face: elle est tombée amoureuse de lui. Il n'a plus le choix, il lui faut disparaître. Pour que leur amour reste à son apogée, il achète une bouteille de vodka et une grande tablette d'anxiolytique et se précipite vers le canal. Cynique farce, ce journal d'un goujat ordinaire est une lecture divertissante, qui vous fera réagir à plus d'un titre. Cet égoïsme sans limite dissimule une réflexion plus sombre sur l'amour. L'auteur fait preuve d'audace et d'originalité pour nous surprendre avec une observation acide sur la vie moderne. Extrait: « Et puis, à vrai dire, je ressentais aussi comme une sorte de seconde jeunesse à me transformer à nouveau. Après mon costume de corbeau surmonté d'un oeuf dur et d'un bouc, j'étais maintenant un petit feu follet de couleurs avec ces chemises à carreaux, ces pantalons serrés, ces lunettes à grosses monture noire qui barraient mon visage, et cette barbe qui recouvrait mes joues. Je continuais à porter la perruque car mes cheveux n'avaient pas encore suffisamment repoussé, mais d'ici peu de temps j'allais devenir tout à fait un nouvel homme. J'avais une chance inouïe. La plupart des gens choisissent généralement l'identité qui sera la leur pendant leur vie entre l'adolescence et leurs 25-30 ans. Là, durant cette période, ils expérimentent différents styles, différents modes de vie, de pensée. Ils pourront être punks, hippies, dandys ou métalleux, gauchistes ou réactionnaires. Mais à partir de 30 ans, tout se fige. Ils font un choix, et ne s'en éloignent jamais vraiment beaucoup. Moi, j'avais la possibilité de prolonger cette jeunesse, cet esprit d'invention.»  

Mission encre noire Tome 22 Chapitre 272 Les yeux tristes de mon camion de Serge Bouchard paru en 2017 aux éditions Boréal collection Compact. Serge Bouchard, de cette voix profonde et unique, fait couler nos rivières, celle du Lièvre et celle du Loup, celles là qui ont une belle robe rouge, l'Olomane et la Romaine des Innus. Plus loin, il s'attarde sur les courses des caribous dans la poudreuse. Celle-ci se fait plus rauque lorsqu'elle hante les montagnes rugueuses de la Sierra Nevada, errante parmi les fantômes des centaines de nations originales qui vivaient là - Miwoks, Yuroks, Karoks, Mohaves... Elle gagne en agilité et en souplesse à l'évocation de ces hommes et de ces femmes qui ont fait l'amérique, ces canadien-e-s français-e-es qui ont couru à la découverte de ces pays fabuleux. Cette grande voix solide au timbre plus corsé s'accote aux souvenirs inoubliables de la tête ronde d'un Mack modèle B, de la trame sonore des matchs de baseball les soirs d'été, du Nebraska, de Santa Monica, des oncles et des tantes d'Amérique, et bien d'autres. Serge Bouchard, anthropologue, auteur, animateur, conteur formidable, nous raconte Son Amérique, il a voyagé sans relâche pour ça, et c'est lui qui chauffe. Il est notre invité à Mission encre noire. Extrait: « Je me souviens de longues soirées d'été, heures de méditation et de contemplation, seul sur la plage, comme une chose échouée, quelque part entre Migan et Longue-Pointe-de-Mingan. J'écoutais la tranquillité du onde, assis sur le sable fin. Des macareux arctiques, que les pêcheurs appelaient des « perroquets », volaient en groupes au fil de l'eau. Oui, les oiseaux de mer étaient au rendez-vous, istorlets et moyaks, canards noirs, goélands anglais, outardes, je voyais même parfois des balbuzards. Mais cela n'étais rien encore. Il arrivait qu'une orque épaulard surgisse hors de l'eau, comme un missile lisse et métallique ; elle s'élevait dans un sifflement irréel et majestueux avant de retomber avec fracas dans l'eau noire et calme de l'océan tranquille. J'étais conscient d'assister aux instants mythiques de la vraie nature du temps. Des petits rorquals se montraient aussi, en bandes, comme les phoques apeurés. Bientôt le soleil allait se coucher, disparaître derrière moi, il descendait dans les épinettes pour aller faire le beau de l'autre côté de la terre. J'avais la jeunesse et la paix, deux choses qui vont bien ensemble, quoi qu'on en dise. Derrière moi, la forêt chétive, la mémoire boréale, le pays des Indiens. Devant moi, la mer. » Par le vent pleuré de Ron Rash paru en 2017 aux éditions du Seuil. 1969 à Sylva, une petite ville des Appalaches, deux frères partent pêcher un dimanche après la messe. L'écho de la guerre du Vietnam et des émeutes de Berkeley appartiennent encore à une autre planète. Et pourtant cette silhouette qui jaillit des eaux de la Panther Creek, Ligeia Mosely, une sirène qui n'avait pas regagné l'océan, va bouleverser, le temps d'un été, la vision du monde. Au son du Grateful Dead, des Doors, de Jefferson Airplane, la jeune femme amène un vent de plaisirs et de liberté, qui emportera Bill et Eugene, au prise avec un grand-père tuteur tyrannique, dans un tourbillon macabre. Quarante six ans plus tard, la découverte de petits ossements blancs dans des lambeaux de bâche bleue, déposés par la rivière, rappelle les frères à leur passé. Ron Rash se tient debout face à la mémoire et tourne son regard vers un sud en pleine révolution culturel, Par le vent pleuré est un superbe roman noir. Extrait: « À San Francisco, le Summer of Love, l'été de l'amour, a eu lieu en 1967, mais il a fallu deux ans pour qu'il atteigne le petit monde provincial des Appalaches. Sur l'autoroute, en février, on a aperçu un hippie au volant d'un minibus bariolé, un événement dûment signalé dans le Sylva Herald. Sinon, la contre-culture était quelque chose qu'on ne voyait qu'à la télévision, tout aussi exotique qu'un pingouin ou un palmier nain. En ce mois de juin, les seuls petits signes de changement étaient deux ou trois étudiants de l'université de Caroline du Nord revenus de Chapel Hill pourvus de chevelures plus broussailleuses. Notre grand-père ne permettait pas à nos cheveux de toucher notre col, mais de toute façon Bill ne les aurait pas laissés pousser.» L'amour est une maladie ordinaire de François Szabowski paru en 2017 aux éditions Le Tripode. Francois est heureux en amour. Il a rencontré son âme soeur. Leur entente est parfaite. Tandis que Marie s'endort contre lui dans le petit studio de la rue des Pyrénées à Paris, il arrête de se voiler la face: elle est tombée amoureuse de lui. Il n'a plus le choix, il lui faut disparaître. Pour que leur amour reste à son apogée, il achète une bouteille de vodka et une grande tablette d'anxiolytique et se précipite vers le canal. Cynique farce, ce journal d'un goujat ordinaire est une lecture divertissante, qui vous fera réagir à plus d'un titre. Cet égoïsme sans limite dissimule une réflexion plus sombre sur l'amour. L'auteur fait preuve d'audace et d'originalité pour nous surprendre avec une observation acide sur la vie moderne. Extrait: « Et puis, à vrai dire, je ressentais aussi comme une sorte de seconde jeunesse à me transformer à nouveau. Après mon costume de corbeau surmonté d'un oeuf dur et d'un bouc, j'étais maintenant un petit feu follet de couleurs avec ces chemises à carreaux, ces pantalons serrés, ces lunettes à grosses monture noire qui barraient mon visage, et cette barbe qui recouvrait mes joues. Je continuais à porter la perruque car mes cheveux n'avaient pas encore suffisamment repoussé, mais d'ici peu de temps j'allais devenir tout à fait un nouvel homme. J'avais une chance inouïe. La plupart des gens choisissent généralement l'identité qui sera la leur pendant leur vie entre l'adolescence et leurs 25-30 ans. Là, durant cette période, ils expérimentent différents styles, différents modes de vie, de pensée. Ils pourront être punks, hippies, dandys ou métalleux, gauchistes ou réactionnaires. Mais à partir de 30 ans, tout se fige. Ils font un choix, et ne s'en éloignent jamais vraiment beaucoup. Moi, j'avais la possibilité de prolonger cette jeunesse, cet esprit d'invention.»  

Sinthia Shabnam speaks in different venues around campus with messages of unity, and acts as a humanizing face of Islam. But, she wants you to know: she is not a representative for all of Islam, and she doesn’t fit the stereotypes put onto her. Hear what she has to say about anti-Islam sentiments, her one-year experience living in a community where she couldn’t find her place, and why her mother was scared to see her interviewed on TV.

How do you explain to your dad that you’re gay when you’re afraid he might not accept it? When and where is it safe to discuss sexuality? What are the effects of five percent of Americans being invisible to the people around them? One of NC State’s most visible and active students discusses these questions, his own sexuality, and what it was like to come out to his friends and family in high school.