Monday, April 24, 2017

Moutaineering: Beyond the Horizon of Mount Kilimanjaro


Seven days after his seventeenth birthday, a plane landed in the Netherlands, and Kyle Gorant found himself 7,562, miles away from his family and home in Coopersburg, Pa.  Eleven days later, he was 19,341 feet above sea level in below zero degrees Fahrenheit, witnessing a magnificent sunrise as he stood on the icy glacier of Uhuru Peak, Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa.
Summiting Africa’s highest peak and the world’s largest freestanding mountain is an extraordinary accomplishment.  This volcanic mountain of many wonders sits high above the clouds of Africa and magically draws people from everywhere.  The youngest person to ever reach the summit was in January, 2008, when Keats Boyd carried his seven year old son to the top.  The youngest to ever climb the large volcano that continues to remain dormant-, and reach the summit of Kilimanjaro was ten year old Jordan Romero from Big Bear Lake, California, in July of 2006.  The oldest to achieve the summit was an eighty-six year old woman named Angela.  Some claim that a Frenchman, 87 year old Valtee Daniel was the oldest, but he is not recognized in the Guinness Book of World Records.[1]
 According to World Wild Life, approximately 25,000 people every year attempt to summit Mount Kilimanjaro; however, approximately only two thirds accomplish their goal.  The major reason to turn climbers back is problems in adjusting to the higher altitude of the mountain.  “Altitude sickness happens when there is less oxygen in the air at higher altitudes.”[2]  Every year people die of altitude sickness.  It can range from acute mountain sickness that causes headache, nausea and vomiting or severe causing fluid to build up in the lungs and or in the brain which can become fatal within hours.  It is dangerous to ascend higher than 1,640 feet per day.  Yet, many attempt to explore the curious world of Kilimanjaro and discover its secrets.  I am amazed at the wondrous mountain that can produce fire yet is crowned with snow, but what is even more astounding to me, are the events that allowed this young man to dream big and experience a dream come true as he stood tall upon a mountain overlooking the Serengeti.
Two different worlds and two very different cultures collide with one boy’s dream.  In Kyle’s second year at The Hill School (an International boarding school) in Pottstown, Pa, he was invited and encouraged to apply for a special grant.  In 2008, Geoffrey G Scott, an alumnus and Hill School graduate from the class of 1966, partnered with the school to establish what is called the Horizon Fund.  The purpose of this fund was to provide grants for a select number of students who were highly motivated to experience summer adventures and potentially life-changing experiences.  The application process was tedious and required students to make a career- oriented proposal, a comprehensive budget and defend it to a panel of faculty.
This is Kyle’s initial proposal letter: When given the opportunity to apply for a Horizon Fund grant I was excited and grateful.  However, after giving some thought towards my desired experience I became conflicted.  I consulted with my teachers and parents and they all seemed to ask one common question, "Well what do you want to do when you’re older?"  After not having an answer to this question time after time I realized, I don’t know what career I want for myself.  While still being uncertain of my future career ambitions, I opted for an experience that will teach versatile lessons which I can apply to any career I choose.  I opted for an experience that will allow me to do what I love and teach me important life lessons at the same time.  I want to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. 
Sports and physical activity have been a significant part of my life since my first time on a wrestling mat in kindergarten.  I have an interest in wrestling and running.  One might think that these are two totally different sports, and they are mostly correct.  Although different, the common tie between these two sports is that they both allow me to push myself further each and every time and constantly expand my limitations, which is my real passion.  Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, or any mountain, has always been something I saw as unattainable.  Being granted the ability to see out this experience will allow me to step out of my comfort zone and break through that limitation.
Some lessons are better taught outside of a classroom, and others simply cannot be taught in a classroom.  On my journey to summit the 19,341 foot Uhuru Peak, I would be traveling with, eating with, and camping with a small group of people I have never met before.  The 8-9 day trek up Mount Kilimanjaro will definitely arouse some difficult situations, but these situations will teach me how to overcome obstacles, congregate with others, and work together toward a common goal.  Whether it be playing on a team, working on a group school assignment, or collaborating with coworkers to finish a project, this skill will translate into all aspects of life.
Searching for my desired experience made me think a lot about myself and my future.  During this process I learned that I am not one to settle for mediocrity.  I am rarely the best at anything from the start, but I will keep fighting until I am at the top, the top of a podium, the top of the classroom, or the top of Mount Kilimanjaro.  Thank you for this wonderful opportunity and your consideration. 
 Kyle was one of six students who received a grant that year.  Thursday, June 22, 2016, Kyle proudly hugged his parents goodbye and boarded a plane from Newark, NJ.  I couldn’t help but cry as he walked away.  I was so proud and excited for him while simultaneously full of fear because I realized how powerless I was.  I could no longer provide encouragement, direction, or care as he bravely attempted to experience and accomplish a once in a life-time opportunity that could potentially be dangerous.  My last interaction with him before his hike was while he was staying his hotel in Tanzania.  
There was no communication while he was on Kilimanjaro.  I grieved over the thought that my only begotten son was literally facing the world on his own.  His flight took him across the North Atlantic Ocean into Amsterdam, Netherlands, 3,726 miles away from home.  Almost missing his connecting flight, he sprinted across the large Schiphol airport making it just in time to board his next flight.  Throughout this experience, Kyle thought of a man he admired, a YouTube filmmaker, Casey Neistat. Kyle reveals how Casey made traveling seem easy and exciting, which helped him overcome any fears he had of traveling alone.  He saw being nervous as a chance to expand his boundaries and act like the man who inspired him to travel and to make a YouTube film of his own.  The 4,270 mile flight continued over Europe, into Northern Africa, proceeding 200 miles south of the equator into Eastern Africa and landing in Dar es Salaam, the largest city in Tanzania.
The primitive conditions in which the Swahili speaking people of this country lived was “very different,” Kyle stated.  He said, “Seeing the environment that some people live in made me grateful for the blessings I have.”  Before departing the African continent, Kyle left some personal belongings behind for some African friends he met.  Upon arrival, he stayed in a gated hotel and was warned not to leave after dark.  During the day, rabbits would greet tourists in the courtyard.  They were friendly and people enjoyed petting them.  A day later he was in a white, cramped van, on a three hour ride into Kilimanjaro.  Along the way, baboon families would watch the travelers passing by as much as the people traveling would be amused by them. 

                                      
The Chagga people lived in the southern slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro.  They speak Kichagga and most spoke Swahili as well.  Their clothing was made out of cowhide, their houses are rectangular, with walls made out of stick and mud and the rooftops are covered with banana leaves.  These people live in the cultivation zone or bushlands, where there are plantations, farms, pastures and grasslands.  The main vegetation is coffee, bananas, maize (corn), and millet.  Many males work as Kilimanjaro porters.  Porters are hired help who very rarely climb to the summit but are extremely hard workers who carry cookers, tables, tents and luggage up the mountain with tour groups.  As amazing as these people are, they are not as resilient as they may act.  Few perish on the slopes of the mountain every year.  One of the most common reasons are exposure to the elements.
Kyle and his group, two Drexel University Graduates and a woman from Germany, trekked along the Lemosho trail through six distinct ecosystems on the majestic Mount Kilimanjaro.  Imagine hiking through the Amazon and a week later standing in the North Pole.  The first day they hiked for four hours through the cultivation area and into the humid rain forest flooded with dense, lush vegetation and heavy rainfall.
\\\
  This is where they set up camp for their first night.  The elevation of the Heath zone is usually 9,000 ft. and is the kingdom of the shrubs with some added color from the flowering heath plant.  This is the transition from forest to moorland.  There is usually a midst and fog closer to the forest as if the mountain is hiding its secrets from the world.  Day two the group hikes for 6 hours to an elevation of 11,000 ft. in the moorland habitat.  They enter a savannah of tall grasses where heather plants are plentiful, the soil is acidic, volcanic rock is clothed with lichen, the climate is cool, and the sun is intense.  They camp in a meadow by a stream. 
 By day five, at an elevation of 13,000 ft., the group has trekked through harsh conditions and entered the Alpine Desert.  The sun is radiant and the temperatures fluctuate to extremes.  It is summer during the day and freezing at night.  The habitat is unkind to plant life and there is no water.  On day seven, the group will begin their hike at midnight, enter the artic zone, and ascend in below freezing conditions, hiking through the clouds and above the clouds to reach the crater rim and the snow of Kilimanjaro.  The Summit exhibits cold artic conditions with half the amount of oxygen a person is used to so they cannot stay for long.
Even though Kyle had a friendly encounter with a monkey while camping in the forest, his favorite ecosystem was when he was just above the clouds.  “It was a new experience being able to walk in and out of a cloud.”
 He claims he had some difficulties as well, such as adjusting to the humidity in the rainforest and the altitude at higher elevations.  “Adjusting to the food was the most difficult.  I got very sick the second and third day on the mountain.  I couldn’t keep anything down.”  He continues, “I remember waking up in the middle of the night with a stabbing pain in my stomach.  I struggled to slip on my boots, unzip my tent, and crawl out as far as I could before throwing up.  I remember standing up and looking at the stars, untouched by light.  The next memory I have is waking up in the morning just outside my tent with a sticky, silky dirt all down my jacket, in my hair and in my mouth.  I had a mixture of dried blood and dirt that covered up a cut on my head and I had a grainy, metallic taste in my mouth.  The next day on the hike, I told the rest of the group I was with to keep going without me because I needed to stop and rest so frequently.  My whole body was sore and my head throbbed.  I recorded no footage or photos from that day.  I knew I would push through because I was given this opportunity and I wasn’t going to let it slip away.  I wasn’t going to let anyone down, including myself.”


On July 1, 2016, this talented and determined wrestler, began on what is considered the most mentally and physically challenging portion of the trek.  They started at midnight for an eight hour hike to Stella point to see the sunrise.  This section of the route is one of the steepest on the non-technical paths of Kilimanjaro.  From Stella point, he continued on his way to the summit between the Rebmann and the Ratzel glaciers.  He climbed up a heavy mass of small loose stones along the crater rim to conquer Africa’s highest point.  By 8:00 am, two weeks after he turned seventeen, Kyle was standing on the rooftop of Africa!


                                                               
After spending nine days on the mountainous region with three volcanic cones, Kyle and his group celebrated their victory.  The next best feeling he enjoyed was when he returned back to his hotel and showered for the first time in over a week.  He watched the remains of Mount Kili pour off his body and down the drain, yet his victory was still fresh in his mind and a memory that will last a lifetime.
A mother stood at the gate waiting for her teenage son to arrive home, and was amazed at the confident young man that was walking toward her.  A young man who told his mother during an interview, “there is something about being alone on a mountain with no communication that makes you think….I had time to think about anything and everything.  I had time to sort myself out.”
If he had the opportunity to do it again, he said, “I would do it again.  If I had the privilege to go anywhere in the world, I would choose a different location simply for a different experience.”
Perhaps the secrets of Mount Kilimanjaro are unlocked by those who climb and become one with this mystical wonder of the world as they discover to live in the mountain of their imagination.  A young boy who began his wrestling career at the age of five has climbed many mountains and his hard work has always brought him to the top.  Before the beginning of his junior year at The Hill School, Kyle Gorant created a YouTube documentary about his ascent to the highest moment of his life.  It begins with “Dream, Dream big, not just while you are asleep but while you are awake… use your dreams as guidance and motivation.  Wake up every morning and strive to fulfill your dreams”.  Later he reveals, “The power to turn a dream into a reality lies in the hands of the dreamer.”   

Dream Big- Mount Kilimanjaro https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8nuy-Dkmpw




[1] The reference to the records of the youngest and oldest to climb Mount Kilimanjaro are from Kilimanjaro Records.  Climbmountkili.org. (2010).

[2] “Altitude sickness happens when there is less oxygen in the air at higher altitudes. Ballie, Kenneth, Thompson, Roger, Bates, Matthew. (2010).

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Grace Wins

I just recieved word that this next piece will be published in Xanadu Literary Magazine with LCCC. It will be released Weds May 3.

Feb 2016
                                                   GRACE WINS
            Number of childhood memories, pleasant: 7, not very pleasant: too many.  Number of alcoholic beverages consumed: 5,462,080.  Number of consecutive days without an alcoholic beverage: 699.  Number of houses owned: 1. Number of homes I lived in: 12.  Number of times homeless: 1. Number of times married: 1. Number of children alive: 1. Number of dogs I’ve own: 4. Number of dogs I have now: 2. Numbers of cats I had: 2. Numbers of Guinee pigs I’ve owned: 1. Number of hermit crabs owned: 9. Number of childhood bunnies: 2. Number of fresh water fish I’ve owned: 24.  Number of times I wished I was dead: 44.  Number of times I am thankful to be alive: 609.  Number of miracles witnessed: still counting.  Number of rehabs as a patient: 1. Number of rehabs as a volunteer: 32.  Number of times incarcerated: 0. Number of times in jail as a volunteer: 21.  Number of times I’ve cursed God: 13.  Number of times I’ve prayed: lost track.  Number of times I stole from family: 123.  Number of times I’ve experienced a drunken black-out: 267.  Number of times in a hospital: 27.  Number of years when I consumed my first drink: 12, my first drug: 13, my first sexual encounter: 11.  Number of times I have driven drunk: can’t remember.  Number of times in college: 2. Number of awards received: 4. Number of times I cried happy tears: 999.  Number of times I’ve lost my keys: 188.  Number of times I’ve lost my glasses: 72.  Number of times I threw something against the wall: 18. Number of times I threw my hands up to the sky in surrender: 551.  Number of times I felt freedom from addiction: 699 days and counting….
                                                                                                                                               Feb 2016

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Memoir: A Drunk's Love Story

Memoir:       A Drunk’s Love Story: The Ultimate Betrayal
                                      CHAPTER 1
InsanityRepeating the same behaviorExpecting different results.
 Obsessions of the mind are greater than willpower.
It took thirty eight years for a woman like me to learn such a lesson. 
Most women grow up to talk about their first love and their first kiss.  The story is quite different for an alcoholic like me.  I don’t remember my first kiss.  Sadder yet, I can’t tell you anything about the first boy I had a relationship with.  What I can recall is every detail about the first time my lips touched a bottle of alcohol.
An extraordinary moment occurred in my young life that would characterize who I would become.  I was twelve years old.  I experienced my first drink, my first drunk, and my first blackout.  The sun was warm in the early month of October 1987.  It was a Saturday.  Anne, Kimmy and I had already planned in school the day before about how we were going to hang out and drink together.  There was no question about the where and how.  That was easy.  My father had been recently released from prison and the first thing he did was restock the liquor cabinet.  My mother was a daily drinker so no one would suspect me if a bottle was missing. Everything was at our fingertips.  We just needed to make the conscious decision to go through with it.  
Saturday afternoon Anne and Kimmy showed up together at my home.  Before we stole some Canadian Whiskey from my father’s bar, the three of us primped ourselves in front of the mirror in my bedroom.  Thirty minutes quickly moved in time and we finally decided which lipstick looked best on whom.  Kimmy chose black lipstick that complimented her Guns and Roses t-shirt and spandex pants and also brought out the freckles in her face.  Anne chose red which made her pale skin look even paler to me but did bring out the strawberry highlights in her long, straight hair.  I chose pink because it matched the pink and black polka dot nail polish I had painted on my nails in the girl’s room at school on Friday.  As I reached for the Aqua net hairspray to stiffen the Billy Idol hair style I had given myself, Anne put on her stonewashed jean jacket that matched her jean pants and I saw Kimmy in the mirror as her black lips tattooed My Guns and Roses poster that was on the wall next to my bed.  After my room had been perfumed with Marlboro cigarettes and Aqua net hairspray, we were finally ready to kick back like grown-ups. 
The three of us stared at my father’s liquor cabinet as we debated about what pretty bottle to choose and what color to drink.  All three of us were wearing gold earrings and braided gold necklaces so we chose the gold colored booze with a beautiful black label.  I grabbed the bottle of Canadian whiskey and we headed down to the baseball fields at John Fitch Elementary School, just as planned.  I believe I fell in love at first sip.  I remember that first swig, how my jaw tensed, and the burn as it went down my throat culminating with the warm explosion as it landed in my belly.  I couldn’t get enough of it.  The effect was immediate; it made me feel good and quieted my mind.  Nothing else in the world mattered but me, in that moment, and so began the chase of a lifetime.
 I remember being in the dugouts of the softball field I had played at on Wednesday evening.  I vaguely recall throwing-up down Danny’s back as he tried to carry me across centerfield, but I don’t remember him dropping me after I puked all over the back of his legs.  He was six feet tall and me, four feet 10 inches.  It must have been an awkward fall because it left grass stains on my favorite blue and white jeans.  The lush green of the fields and the cloudless blue sky meshed together until they went black.  An anonymous person had called my mother to come pick me up.  The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed with echoes pounding in my head.  My mother was only four years older than I when I was born.  Both of my parents were still young and struggled with their own issues with addiction, which made them incapable of providing any form of discipline or reasoning for the decisions I had made.
            That was the beginning of a destructive vortex that would destroy anything that meant something to me.  I had an obsession of the mind that put me on a twenty six year rollercoaster ride, and I eventually flew off its track from a crash that had the potential to kill.
 Insanity can be defined as the act of repeating the same destructive behavior and expecting different results.  Obsession of the mind is greater than willpower.
  My father was an abusive and unpredictable man who was almost always chemically altered.  The passion I had for playing ball was an avenue to forget about what was waiting for me at home.  Every time I came home I felt like I lost a little more of myself until one day, I couldn’t face it anymore.  I was thirteen years old when I swallowed a bottle of Bayer aspirin.  The next thing I remember is lying in Lower Bucks Hospital Emergency Department with a tube down my throat.  I refer to myself as a garbage pail because I would consume anything, even without knowing what it was, to have that warm, fuzzy, calm feeling I experienced with my first drink.  In 10th grade, I was expelled from high school for drinking in class.  My license was suspended before I even received it.  Shortly after that event, I found myself on a train running away from home.  I briefly lived on the streets of Philadelphia.  I had seen and done things a fifteen year old girl ought never to do.
 By the time I was seventeen, I was living in Florida, working as a shift manager for Friendly’s restaurant and living with three girlfriends.  Impetuously, I displayed a pattern of self-sabotage behavior that never allowed me to stay in one place long, because somewhere in my sick alcoholic mind, I wasn’t worthy of anything good.  I feared people in my life would eventually see through the façade I falsely portrayed and unveil the past and present despair that I was concealing.  In 1995, the mountainous terrain of Pennsylvania, once again called my name. Today, I find it interesting that it was in the Keystone state that I met a man I thought could save me from myself.  We married one year later.
  I found my escape from reality through the use of drugs and alcohol as a young girl.  As I grew up my addiction grew deeper.  Over the years, evidence would compile and validate the concerns many had for my well-being.  The one thing I had been searching for I found in a bottle when I was twelve years old.  I remember while I was in school, I was assigned a counselor who used to tell me I had a beautiful smile and she wanted to help me smile again.
When I was in the second grade my little brother and I lost something we never knew we had.  We were given a new identity. The second most vivid memory of my young life was when I was eight years old.  This morning was just like every other day of the school year.  My brother and I woke up and got ready for school.  We ate a bowl of cheerios for breakfast before leaving our three bedroom home located in a small residential community.  School was no different than the day before except for the quiz I had in religion class.  At the end of the school day, our bus dropped us off at the end of our street just where it had picked us up almost seven hours earlier.  We lived halfway up the street.  As my brother and I walked toward our home, adorned in our tacky green private school uniforms, I noticed something out of the ordinary.  I squinted my eyes and saw red and blue flashing lights in front of our home.  There were cars surrounding my house.  I held my brother’s hand and stopped walking.  I saw my Father in handcuffs.  His hair was messy and there was blood dripping from his nose.  A police officer had him by the arm and pushed his head down to assist him into the backseat of a police car.  My father had been arrested for cooking drugs in our home.  I didn’t know when I would see that man again.  Nor did I care.  What I did know, is that word would travel like wild fire and I would have to put on the ‘tough girl’ act to thwart any taunting from my peers.  Life as I knew it would never be the same.  Not only did we lose the man we called our father that day, for however long that was going to be, but our mother left us emotionally stranded.  All we had was each other.
  My love for alcohol was not only my sole purpose in life, it was an instinctive need for my survival; my solution to this thing called life.  My problem was when the worm was gone, insanity took over because I could not live a sober breath.  I developed two main fears that fueled my desirous need to keep drinking.  I feared that the young girl I was before I had my first drink would reappear and I feared the day I may run out of the only thing in this world that made it ok to be me.
Insanity can be defined as the act of repeating the same destructive behavior and expecting different results.  Obsession of the mind is greater than willpower.
My love for alcohol ran much deeper than my devotion to my family.  I was very loyal to it, but it showed no loyalty in return.  I found myself defending it while paying harsh consequences for loving it.  In the end, the one thing that I loved the most left me with nothing except a loneliness like no other.  To sum it up simply, I was a drug-dealing, pill-popping, adrenaline junky alcoholic whose life was spiraling out of control quicker than I could spiral upward.  I was on this insane merry-go-round ride that was spinning faster and faster out of control until I flew off and landed in the lowest place of my life.
From a suicidal teenager, homeless on the streets- to a wife with a secret- a mother who abandoned her child without ever leaving- to relishing a game of Russian roulette with the undertaker, I found myself at the age of thirty-eight struggling to recognize the woman I saw looking at me through my bedroom mirror on a cold, wintry night in January 2014.  There was a woman sitting on a chair before me, on the dresser was an empty cocktail glass and a needle sticking out of her arm.  As I gazed at my reflection that evening, I realized I had become everything I ever hated in life.  I was the drug-dealing father that my father was.  I was the alcoholic mother that my mother was.  I had done things I swore I would never do.  I put things in my body that I swore I never would.  In that moment in time I was stripped of all human dignity.  I was nothing and I had nothing left to give.
 I was surrounded by friends and family who were about to wash their hands of me while I already washed my hands of God.  I made myself a victim not worth saving.  The insanity was I became content with the idea of living that way, even dying that way.  Then something happened that changed it all.  Something miraculous.  Something called Grace.  I have learned that Grace or forgiveness is not far from any of us.  It is when we stop pushing it away that we can become and do great things.
The greatest single moment in my life happened early in 2014 when the bottle stopped loving me back.  My carelessness put my family in danger.  My husband feared for their lives.  I was given a final ultimatum.  Fifteen years early, my husband and I experienced a miracle when the doctor confirmed we were having a baby.  Faced with the fact that I would lose the two people who meant the most to me was the motivating force that shattered my will to fight.  The bottle beat me.  I raised my hands in defeat.  That willingness, as small as it was, sparked a spectacular chain of events  that marked the beginning of the most powerful journey of my life.  I stopped fighting against the laws of neurochemistry but most importantly, myself.  It was as if I put on a pair of prescription glasses and saw the world clearly for the first time.  There were no longer obstacles preventing me from seeing the truth, from feeling the truth and eventually from living the truth.  
For an undisciplined alcoholic like me, I needed every sip of that survival kit that I discovered in the baseball fields in October 1987.  I needed to experience the heartache and moral degradation of my human existence; a painful existence that continued to pull back the layers of my soul, mind, and emotions to the point where I was raw, naked, and vulnerable enough to accept a power that could satisfy what distilled spirits no longer could.
I now believe, a form of insanity is the act of repeating the same behavior and expecting different results.  I now understand that the obsession of the mind is more powerful than will willpower alone.  I now know Grace is the miracle that restores the spirit to a peaceful state of mind.  Without suffering, Grace is hard to see. 
The words of St. Francis of Assisi continuously sound in my ears- Start by doing what is necessary; then do what is possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible-.  The biggest step is having the willingness to try.  
This love story ended in the gutters of humanity, seeping deeper into the earth with the hope to never be resurrected again.  This love story gave birth to a new life-never imagined, a new dream-never dreamed of, a new world-never lived in and a new love that has no ending.
Early on a brisk Tuesday morning, on the nineteenth day, in the year 2014, I was separated from my family and my vices.  I was broken, vulnerable, completely defeated.  My world as I knew it was over.  Little did I know, that was the day my life began.




An Instruction Manual for MSA Patients and Caregivers: Learning to Navigate Life Changes

Do you remember the moment your life changed; the moment when the doctor sat you down and gently and honestly said, " I'm very sorr...