My chair was jolted… a well placed kick by his brother… and her pointy nose suddenly became a trunk…

A 6 year old pirate under my brush laughed with glee and ran off to his friends with his “Special Elephant Witch” … his parents looked on at first with “Oh No!” and then gentle laughter…

Not sure what to do at the turn of events I said ” Next” and a 5 year old Princess Mermaid took her place in front of me…

I have spent hours upon hours in my studio carefully painting specimens I have picked in town. Pencil drawing and layers of watercolor taking 2-3 days to produce a desired result.

When I offered to paint faces at a Halloween event outside at our Town Gazebo I had no idea what I had volunteered for…the temperature was in the high 50s but the sunlight was perfect at my folding table. I set up three or 4 pallets of newly bought Face Paint

and helped the mother of my son, dressed as a Witch herself, set up the glitter stand on the opposite side of our work area. A weekend before I had watched and learned a bit from a Face Painter at a Pumpkin Festival in the country… her most valuable advice…” Whatever you do don’t forget the Glitter”.

As the 4 o’clock hour approached the town’s children surrounded our area each wanting to be first. Parents help make the flow manageable. Over two hours we decorated between 30 and 40 children…a far cry time wise from my meticulous slow studio work…

New handicaps presented themselves with each child, a squirming round cheeky canvas here, fears of the brush close to the eyes there…much initial shyness turning to silly laughter goaded on by brothers sisters and friends over and over again…

New skills for me included applying pigment as another child hung around my neck adding constant commentary…50 lbs crawling up my back peering at pallets to choose which particular rainbow they wanted next…constant kicks to the feet of my chair…

But the most unique was turning to dip my brush anew only to find a half eaten melting Snickers bar in my red paint…

I looked up to see a 7 year old matching my eyes…

Matter of factly from him :” Is that your candy there?”

“No”

“It must be mine then” and dipped his finger into the red, scooped out his chocolate, popped it in his mouth and ran off to his friends painting Pumpkins at the next table…

Half way through the event I gave up on stencils and turned to rapid free style painting…improvisation was a must given the circumstances.

I would guess 99% of the children were absolutely delighted with my marginal results…but in all honesty I think it was the glitter applied by the Witch across from me that saved the day.

Earlier in the morning I had opened the paint kits and decided to practice on my two granddaughters. Much to my discomfort the results were awful and they let me know in no uncertain terms that I was a woeful failure at face painting. Only after two hours of practice on pencil drawn faces did I have a chance at success.

But…and there is always a But…The last child to approach my station was my 6 year old granddaughter…

“BaBa are you any better than you were this morning?”

“Yes much better! Would you like me to paint your face.”

A serious skeptical frown and then…” I think I’ll just take the glitter…” and off she went…

Many years earlier I sat for my first examination in Music Theory…an analysis of an Organ piece by JS Bach. Over an hour I diagrammed nearly 500 chords with thousands of notes. When I got my test back …a B- … I had mislabeled about 10 of the chords. I was shocked and immediately challenged the grade in class …out loud…brave but stupid of me…

“I got 98% of these chords correct…we are penalized for the wrong but given no equal credit for the right!”

From the Professor; “So Mr Patrone thinks I grade unfairly…too bad…I give the mark.”…the end.

As time went on there in Music School and eventually elsewhere I realized in many professional areas perfection is the expectation and small mistakes doom one to failure…look a a musical performance on stage… sour notes, wrong chords, loss of timing remembered… not the beautiful flowing melodies and harmonies across many minutes of time. Look at the Olympic Gymnasts who make a tiny mistake lowering their score… keeping them from Medals. Ponder a physician who treats thousands of patients making a single mistake … sued… ruining a stellar career…

Examples are everywhere. No wonder Stress is such a huge factor in Life…by nature we are not perfect beings…

Then I think back to the Children…delighted at very imperfect paintings that adorn their faces, arms, and legs…giving them Perfect Joy on a cool sunny late autumn afternoon…

Perhaps we adults have gotten it wrong and should refocus away from anticipated Perfections to daily Imperfections which gives us Joy.

Perhaps we need to watch and learn from Children…

For the Mouths of Babes…

• any photo of a child in this piece is fictional and not an actual child in my community. Cautiousness on my part…

6/20/26

He sits there looking at me wide eyed anxiety in the air…about to start his third year of medical school, but  can’t pass his exams. Dyslexia is such a hindrance it impedes progress at every turn. As his Clinical Professor I offer to help by tutoring several days a week . .. it makes no sense for him to stop having come this far over two years. Six weeks later, he passes the first part of his Boards and move on to his clinical years. He bestows thanks  on me in unending grace.

7 years later…

I sit with him one night while both of us on call in the ER of a rural NC hospital. He has successfully completed an orthopedic surgery residency and has decided to go it alone. We sit quietly in the middle of the night while he waits for x-rays to return. Tears come to his eyes and he tells me that the other orthopedic surgeons in town have isolated and black balled him …competition to be cut down. He’s decided however, to go it alone. 

Five years on, I’m taking care of his son who has developed juvenile rheumatoid arthritis..the outcome is quite good and again we all move on. 

5 years more and I am referring patients to him for surgical repairs . ..

10 years pass by now  both of us  starting white haired crowns…

on a trek from Bar Harbor to Seattle from 1500 miles away I call him for help with a rider who has  fallen with a swollen bloody knee…

all turns out well. 

12 years pass by and now to this ride …a swollen wrist in front of me … a crash on a mountain decline … I fear a fractured scaphoid bone…I again call him for advice…not to my liking I turn out to be right…

As I drive on to the next rest  stop, I ponder a circle of events and think about how I once helped a young man pass exams only to find myself years later with him holding my hand across 30 years of maturing  and 400 miles of land. The winding path goes on…

These rides are exhausting and sometimes it’s hard to write so for my dear readers I’ll make just a list of events from the past three days…

Leaving Charlottesville  ( where I bent the axle of the trailer … now fixed…) 

I ride to a marvelous orchard at the base of the climbs. 

There I pair up with a struggling rider to help her up to Skyline Drive

…4 hours on… with 40-50  resting stops…the two of us way back … she breathes a sigh of relief at what she thinks is the top. The view is stupendous. 

Unfortunately for her the climbs have just begun. 1 mile on she waves the white flag and her day is done. I call for the support van … it  comes back to ferry her forward for the rest of the day. 

2 hours later after a total of a 6900 foot climb I sail into camp down a steep mountain side… Vesuvius the most difficult climb and descent of the coast to coast ride..my hydraulic brakes smoking on the drop down.

Route Leader responsibilities let me ride each third day so I next drive to Troutville for the nights stay.

Upon arrival we set up camp as riders coast in. Two come to me to ask me to looks at someone’s wrist. 

A fall yesterday down the descent of Vesuvius ..he doesn’t tell me then not wanting to stop the trip …  riding 60 miles   with “moderate” pain…

I fear a fracture and switch into MD mode… make quick call to NC… see above…

I walk into town, find the local physicians office for an X-ray machine only to fine the closest is 15 miles ahead. I call  and they make an immediate spot for him…a scaphoid fracture on the films sends him packing to Texas back home. 

A powerful thunderstorm comes pounding through that night but we are all safely tucked into a church much to our delight. 

At sunrise we move on to Blacksburg where we have a rest day and service projects for the less fortunate suffering from the rages of MS … our discomforts are nothing compared to theirs. They will host us tonight for a celebration dinner to mark  400,000$ raised by these marvelous riders I am helping  each day.

We have now completed the first stage of the trip and tomorrow begin to cross the Eastern Divide…

Kentucky  and your dogs…here we come… 

 

6/16/26

Today is the third day of soul bending heat. There will be more…

Our first ride day … 95 degrees with a heat index of 99. Locals from Richmond have  enough sense to be off the bike paths… we have no choice…40 miles in  …sweltering heat  and as Sweep I coax three newbie riders as best I can .  When  it becomes clear that one is  not sweating I call a stop at an unoccupied historic farmhouse, get off my bike and find  a hidden spigot. I know  if it works the water temp will be 55F… it does  and much to their surprise I drench each head to foot… twice… one after shock and surprise asks for a third…

They make it to the end with smiles on their faces not knowing they have just tasted the Forge. 

Day two I drive support with two young women route leaders  riding sweep… 83 miles in heat. 

Arriving in camp they sit exhausted looking like deer in headlights. I walk into town to buy them sapodillas for desert…they need something to pull them from the Heat of their Forge. I get a surprise kiss on each cheek…

Today I fall  into the Forge  and get  my soul singed…

Driving the support van and trailer I arrive into town for our nights stay at a church. 

30 yards from the parking lot I am careful not to hit a parked car on the right only to hit a 2 ft stone wall on the left… popping a trailer tire, bending the wheel rim and possibly the axle to boot … final assessment pending as I type. 

An afternoon is  ruined as we search for a repair crew without success …the other six route leaders kindly leaving me to pout , sulk, hurt, want to crawl into a hole of embarrassment and even go home ( I call my  wife and in a kind way she says absolutely not )….the riders seem less concerned and approach me with joint pains, early saddle sore rashes and dietary concerns… I put on my professional MD face and do my work…why not it’s better than a pout…

The route leaders  are  gracious …finally daring  to approach me  to say anyone  could have hit that wall and that they are  glad  I am  on the ride. 

Finally with help of the Central MS Office a plan is formed and 4 of us drive  200 miles back  to Blacksburg to get another trailer for all the riders “stuff”. 

We will get back at midnight …in 7 hours I will put this all behind me  to join on a bike helping  riders on their first true mountain climb …while the wounded trailer makes its way to a  mechanic’s  shop. 

The Forge takes many forms… the trick is not to get burned , to have someone by your side to pull you from the flames…and to go on…and on…and on…

6/10/26

There is Something or Someone out there guiding our lives…

With age comes acceptance of the Unknown…

On my rides I have often had discomfort interacting and working with  younger generations.  Many Boomers have similar problems as priorities of successive lots are often at odds with each other…

For this ride I had  more than  mild discomfort at the age difference between me and the other six route leaders… I could easily be a grandfather to each…

But…after meeting them I feel an unusual instant bonding connection … and recognize what quality people they are…

Only later much to my surprise did I come to realize why…

A young British woman just graduated from University who lives in East Anglia , rural England where as a medical student I studied  neurology at Cambridge and worked extensively with MS patients…

A young midwestern woman who was born and raised 20 miles west of my paternal grandmother in Missouri…I spent many a summer there…

A  young woman from Portland Oregon… I’ve ridden with her grandfather twice…

A young man in the last year of pre med whose parents are a Retinal Surgeon and a Psychiatrist… my life long Yin and Yang of Medicine …love of Psychiatry and fear of Ophthalmology/  Eye Surgery … (eyeballs creep me out)…

A young bike mechanic from  Colorado Springs where I grew up as a child and fell in love with Mountains…

And finally a young man who will move to Australia soon to start a new life… a secret fantasy from my childhood.

Odd how I was supposed to get out of my comfort zone to trek across country only to have  fallen somehow into a different  kind of Comfort Zone… 6 people who mark various stages of my life …

 I know that I am supposed to be here… I feel that to the core…

I trust the Unknown just as I will trust these six over the next 11 weeks of my life…

Karma has enveloped me in Calm. 

Angel and Elsie are smiling from above … they have known all along…

6/2/26

Shivering with cold and fright, he lifts his binoculars and looks out over the starlight  night embracing  the cold North Atlantic Sea. 19 years old, the first time away from home…

Suddenly he sees it…a ripple in the water quickly approaching the merchant ship…a U boat torpedo ready to strike home!

Moments later an explosion… 

he is knocked to his feet and suddenly surrounded by freezing cold. 

Panic sets in, he flounders and sinks below the waves along with the rest of his crew …their bodies never found. Empty life rafts bob uselessly amongst the debris…

9/21/1940…a convoy 0f 42 merchant ships …11 sink and hundreds drown.

Their Guardian angels weep, tears turning to ice as they touch the waves below. 

The British Authorities realized that most of those perished could have they been saved if they had not panicked and floundered …death from paralyzing fear. 

And so was born the School of Outward Bound…an ocean survival training which markedly reduced the loss of human life in the next few years of the War to come.

After WW2 the educational Courses of Outward Bound grew and now are found all over the World. Their goal? To teach individuals how to recognize that inner fears and insecurities  limit and hold us all from moving forward in every walk of life. 

I have attended three such courses, through the mountains of North Carolina, a Winter survival in the wilderness of Maine and finally in open 30 foot pulling boats in the North Atlantic off the coast of Maine for 10 days…most terrifying for me a summer storm …no land in sight with 40 foot waves crashing around. 

As strengthening as Outward Bound is the experience is just an open window on one’s abilities to survive challenging unknown times. 

Years ago after my first ride for MS from Bar Harbor to Seattle I assured all that I’d never ride like that again. I was soon challenged to “get out of my comfort zone.” 

The more I thought about it the more I realized that Outward Bound showed the way but only by repeatedly “getting out of the comfort zone “ can one truly reach their potential…so I rode again and again.

In one week I will be riding from Norfolk Virgina to San Francisco California…again challenging myself.

A thousand years ago in Syria blacksmiths developed a near perfect metal called Damascus steel.  Harder than anything known at the time it still remains a metal worker’s miracle product…formed and pounded in forges so intense to challenge the human skills.

So too are these rides such forges which through time pound, push, mold  the soul towards its more perfect form. 

Each time I ride I become something more…

There will come a time when I will finally be too old to be further formed…that is a reality of life. 

And when I pass my Guardian Angel will drop a tear but not from grief but from joy at a life fulfilled. And the tears will turn not to North Atlantic Ice but rather nurture beautiful flowers below. 

4/27/26

The bus is late …
I am bored standing in the afternoon sun …
My granddaughters are probably enjoying more riding time with their friends….

Suddenly  She yells out. “‘Look to your feet! “

I never disobey Mother Nature  so I gaze down. 

“ These  beauties are about to take flight !” 

A puff of wind and five perfect creatures are gone. 

“ Boredom is a sin. Life goes on “

I look up to see the Yellow Albatross turning the corner, carrying my two beauties home.

3/8/26

Today we arrive in Key West. The journey ends successfully.
I hug a Wildflower I will probably never see again,

pose with the 4 other Route Leaders

and become part of yet another successful team.

Angel and Flossie look on smiling …

a photo essay…

3/7/26

long ago…

not so long ago…

now…

coming soon( Minion of Father Time)…

post Minion…

later on…

And the Keys go on…

3/5/26

Today I helped drive 63 miles to South Miami. Tomorrow I’ll start my three day trek west across the Florida Keys. We arrive early at church and decide to travel east by car about 5 miles to the Key Biscayne State Park. There I see a lighthouse that was created in the early 1820s and has since been reconstructed after having been destroyed first by the Seminole Indians in  a revolt and then after the South surrendered the Civil War. 

The keys have been habited for nearly 1000 years by local native Americans. The Seminoles were moved to Mississippi much against their will. There are archaeological digs near the lighthouse dating back to about 1000 AD.

I was curious about the word “key” so I decided to research it and share with you when I learned. Much of this is from Wikipedia. 

The Keys are a string of islands starting just east of Miami, extending to Key West and beyond ( un inhabited). They are formed on top of ancient coral reefs going back millennia now  covered by sand and soil with eventual vegetation and human habitation.

The islands lie along the Florida Straits, dividing the Atlantic Ocean to the east from the Gulf of Mexico to the northwest, and defining one edge of Florida Bay

The Keys were originally inhabited by the Calusa and Tequesta people and were later charted by Juan Ponce de León in 1513. De León named the islands Los Martires (“The Martyrs”), as they looked like suffering men from a distance. “Key” is derived from the Spanish word cayo, meaning small island.

The northern and central sections of the Florida Keys are the exposed portions of an ancient coral reef, the Key Largo Limestone. The northernmost island arising from the ancient reef formation is Elliott Key, in Biscayne National Park. North of Elliott Key are several small transitional keys, composed of sand built up around small areas of exposed ancient reef. Further north, Key Biscayne and places north are barrier islands, built up of sand. The islands in the southwestern part of the chain, from Big Pine Key to the Marquesas Keys, are exposed areas of Miami Limestone.

The Florida Keys have taken their present form as the result of the drastic changes in sea level associated with recent glaciations or ice ages. Beginning some 130,000 years ago the Sangamonian Stage raised sea levels about 25 feet (7.6 m) above the current level. All of southern Florida was covered by a shallow sea. Several parallel lines of reef formed along the edge of the submerged Florida Platform, stretching south and then west from the present Miami area to what is now the Dry Tortugas. This reef formed the Key Largo Limestone that is exposed on the surface from Soldier Key (midway between Key Biscayne and Elliott Key) to the southeast portion of Big Pine Keyand the Newfound Harbor Keys. The types of coral that formed Key Largo Limestone can be identified on the exposed surface of these keys. Minor fluctuations in sea level exposed parts of the reef, subjecting it to erosion. Acidic water, which can result from decaying vegetation, dissolves limestone. Some of the dissolved limestone redeposited as a denser cap rock, which can be seen as outcrops overlying the Key Largo and Miami limestones throughout the Keys. The limestone that eroded from the reef formed oolites in the shallow sea behind the reef, and together with the skeletal remains of bryozoans, formed the Miami Limestone that is the current surface bedrock of the lower Florida peninsula and the lower keys from Big Pine Key to Key West. To the west of Key West the ancient reef is covered by recent calcareous sand. While the islands of the upper and middle keys, consisting of Key Largo Limestone, form a long narrow arc, the islands of the lower keys are perpendicular to the line of that arc. This configuration arose from an ancient tidal-bar system, in which tidal channelscut through a submerged oolitic deposit. The bars lithified into Miami Limestone, and with changes in sea level are presently exposed as the islands, while the channels between the bars now separate the islands.

This is all rather “Greek scientific gibberish” to me but I’m sure some of you readers out there understand it. 

3/4/26

As a route leader the White Rabbit was supposed to stay asleep… but… today I ride 72 miles unexpectedly and there is another route leader to sweep. A transformation in the middle of the night

I awake and am ready to leave at 6:45. As the sun rises over the ocean I move South at a steady speed. I pull into the first rest stop 5 minutes ahead of the speedsters but leave soon after. No one sees me again until the end… I arrive 40 minutes ahead of them to get the yellow jersey. In fairness to them they are tired , achy, and concerned about saddle sores with little winter training. I worked hard to prevent these three but then I am a proactive turtle at heart.
As I cross bridges back and forth across the sound, locals pass me quickly riding one speeds!!! I don’t get it …but they are small pure muscle and natives.
I ponder my body frame… a little chunky and short… not exactly a model cyclist.

I ponder my age… not a youngster…

I ponder my speed… rather like this beast.

Here’s what I look like on the rides…

here’s what I wish looked like on these rides…

So why does the White Rabbit seem to end up with the yellow jersey so often?

I think it’s consistency, steadiness on the ride, perservierence ,avoiding long rests , and the monotony of “ grinding it out” . I’m not a glitzy ,fancy ,macho rider. I just get the job done…

Besides I always have an Angel blowing from behind…