(A recollection of a past experience before I went to China.)

       There are many people who believe that no one dies before their time, so what happens if a person gives up before their time is over?
They may be spared by outside intervention, or not lucky enough or whatever may be the reason for their life to end. Not everyone believes in
God, but if there truly was such a being, He/She would be so advanced beyond what any human being would be capable of thinking that
He/She could put whatever was necessary in place at the right time to give that lost soul just what he needed to keep going, whether in the
form of help of some kind from another human being, or a message in a movie or a book that touches him deeply and causes him to believe
that it was meant for him and inspires him to keep going.
       I don’t know why some people are not saved at the final moment before death comes, but that is one of many things I will probably
never be able to fully understand. There is not enough solid evidence to believe absolutely in anything, yet there is enough there for us to
live until the next day if we really want to. All we have is faith in something, our family, our career, money, a higher power, ourselves, or
whatever gives us strength and ambition and keeps us going. At certain times in our lives, our faith in those things is tested, and we will find
out what we are truly made of and can hopefully be reborn a stronger and wiser person.
       Soon after I had given up persevering through the Sandia Mountains and had lied down in the place I thought would be my final resting
place on this earth, the wind suddenly grew stronger and began to smack my face. The coldness of it was enough to disturb my eternal rest
and caused me to think about going on to avoid being tortured any further, not that the journey itself wasn’t torture. I opened up my eyes, got
up and continued to trudge through the knee-deep snow with new determination to get off the mountain, even though I thought I had nothing
left in the energy reserves. I gave up twice, but the wind pushed me to keep going both times. Where did those sudden gusts of wind come
from? I was like a zombie. There was not much life left in me, yet I was still animated and moving towards my goal, though I wasn’t trying to
eat brains. Actually, there wasn’t any food I could eat, but I put some snow into my mouth to keep hydrated and ignored the feeling of hunger
as best I could. I eventually blazed my own trail down the gradual sloping mountain back down towards the city. The path I was on before
wasn’t doing the job because it continued on across the top of the mountain with no apparent way down, and I needed a quick way down.
There were many trees I had to cut through, and after a while, I finally made it to the bottom. I walked along some private property fences
until I made it to the road and found a burger restaurant after walking down the road for a few minutes. I was so glad that I was still alive to be
enjoying another meal. Food never tastes as good as it does in times like those. I looked at the clock, and more than seven hours had passed
since I started my hike into the mountains. Seven hours may not sound like much, but under those conditions, it was definitely a struggle to
survive. I went to work at the Sara Lee bread-plant two hours later like nothing happened and worked a full eight-hour shift. Such an
occurrence is still no excuse to miss work. My workmate from El Paso, Texas named Greg simply shook his head and said, “You’re crazy.” after
I told him the full story in the break room. A while after my hike into the Sandia Mountains, someone that was very familiar with what is
happening in Albuquerque told me that people die up there all the time. If I had known, I would have been more careful.
       The train that I originally boarded in Victorville, California after the train-car collision pulled into the Albuquerque railway station and a
good number of the passengers disembarked, including me. I had the choice of leaving right away, but I wanted to stay in the city for a day
for the memories I had of the old place I used to live. I said goodbye to Henry and some of the others from the train and walked with my
suitcase rolling behind me to get a taxi. The place I wanted to go to was the Sandia Peak Motel on Central Avenue. Once I arrived there, I
immediately recognized the owner from the last time I stayed there. The woman was a bit old and looked like she was from India or Pakistan.
She asked me, “Why did you come here?” with a puzzled look on her face. You don’t remember me?” I asked. “I came here about two years
ago and stayed here for a couple of days.” Yeah, I remember you. That is why I asked why you came here. She said. “Oh, I’m just traveling
through the city on my way home to Wisconsin.” “I will give you one of our best rooms,” she said, as her puzzled look transformed into a smile
and she began to make the necessary preparations for the room. This motel was absolutely the perfect place for me to come to when I first
came to live in Albuquerque, which was another story in itself.
       In September of 2004, I went on a big road-trip around the United States alone. Just two months before I was going to leave, my blue
Toyota Tercel’s engine had blown up on my way to visit family in Milwaukee because of a crack in the engine, but in a stroke of inverse good
luck, I won a couple hundred at the Potawotami Casino there that same evening. My father gave me his old Ford Aerostar that I was always
very fond of, so it was still possible for me to take the trip. I’m not sure what exactly compelled me to make the trip, but I thought that now was
the time for it if ever there was a time. I had several planned stops, and my final destination was Albuquerque. First I went to Detroit to visit
some old friends for a couple of days. Then I went to Ohio to visit some family members and other friends. In Columbus, Ohio, I went to see
the first friend I ever made in my life, Khalidwe, after not seeing him for 10 years, but only his mother was still living there. She told me he
moved to New York City only several months earlier. That wasn’t a problem for me, because I was planning to go there anyways during my
trip. Some of my cousins also lived there in Columbus. We went to a Greek Orthodox Church to celebrate some kind of Greek festival one day
where I was able to taste some Greek food. My younger cousin Ryan and I had a great time watching “The Last Comic Standing” in the
evening. “…The man lost 70 pounds eating subs!! What was he eating before that?!? Cars?!??!?” And the next day, we went to visit another
cousin of mine in Dayton, Ohio. On the way back to Columbus from Dayton, the car we were in had a blowout. I’m not sure how capable my
second cousin Cynthia would have been changing the tire, but since I had experience with that, I was able to do it for them. I was glad I was
there to be able to help them.
       My next stop was New York City, a place I had always wanted to go to because when I was younger, I was attracted to the big cities that
seemed so different from the small city where I lived. It was the time when Florida got hit by two hurricanes in the same season, and one of
them dissipated and became a rainstorm that followed me all the way up to New York from Ohio, making driving treacherous. Once I got to
New York City, I was overwhelmed by the number of buildings there because I had previously never been to a city of that size. I found my old
friend, who was living in Harlem. I have heard a lot of things about Harlem, but it didn’t seem so rough like everyone else said. Some people
on the street there were actually quite friendly to me. That’s why I need to see things for myself. My friend and I saw the second “Resident
Evil” movie, and basically a riot got started in the movie theater because some people were acting crazy, but my friend and I left before the
real action got started. Khalidwe told me that New York was nice to visit, but that’s all, because everything was so expensive. I took the
subway for the first time, got to see the Statue of Liberty, and after a few days, I set off for Atlanta, Georgia to see my cousin Sean. After I
visited my cousin for a few days, I went back down to Lakeland, Florida and went back to my old workplace, Ryan’s Steakhouse. A few people
I used to work with were still there two years after I left, including the dishwasher named Bruno from Jamaica, who was quite an interesting
character. He was tall, had a bald head, and a mustache and goatee. Bruno was always talking to himself about slamming someone during
work in the dishwashing room, but I never knew who he was talking about. “I’ll f$@*@* slam his $*#!”He used to get in street fights for money
and was known for slamming people and throwing them across the land because of his incredible size. Back when I worked there, there were
a lot of interesting people working, but it seemed like the excitement had died down, not to mention the tension that was in the air, and Ryan’
s had become just an ordinary laid-back restaurant. There used to be a lot of people who worked there that had guns and often talked about
using them on other employees. Every day was like “Who’s going to threaten to kill me or start a vicious argument with me over nothing?”
Even one of the managers was doing the same thing. One guy named Pokey said he was going to shoot the manager just because he asked
him to stay a few extra minutes and cut some rotisserie chickens before he left. I said, “Pokey, just go home. I’ll do it. It’s not worth shooting
someone over that!” Though as it turned out in the end, I probably should have let him go ahead with it. After Florida, it was time to go to
Jackson, Mississippi to visit my grandmother, sister, and aunts and uncles. My next destination after that was Albuquerque, but I had to stay
overnight in Dallas, Texas. It seemed like that was an interesting place, but I didn’t stay long enough to find out. Some things just aren’t in the
plan. I finally zoomed into Albuquerque and found the Sandia Peak Motel right away. Starting with the money I won from the Potawatomi
Casino, and after everything I had done on the trip, buying food, gas, cigarettes, getting radiator repairs in New York City, paying for tickets for
the subway… Everything came down to the very last dollar. I asked for a room at the Sandia Peak Motel, and the motel owner said that one
room would cost 49 dollars. I had just 50 dollars left in my wallet. Before I left Madison, a wise old friend of mine gave me a hundred dollar
bill when he had never done anything like that before. Somehow, it was just enough to get me through. Luckily, I left some extra money in
my bank account in Madison, and had to take the train back to Wisconsin for a family wedding immediately anyways. I couldn’t have planned
a better trip for myself, which led me to believe I was just a piece of the puzzle because of how perfectly everything worked out. After
becoming familiar enough with the U.S. through a trip like that, along with all of the other trips in my life, it was only natural that a curious
person such as I would have to look abroad for more answers about life, which is what eventually set the stage for me to go to China.
Previous times were still alive inside my memory, but those good times had passed. I fell asleep in the Sandia Peak Motel, which was now
just a sad reminder that nothing lasts forever. But the next day, it was onward to Wisconsin aboard the Southwest Chief.
China Dispatch/Andrew Gramling
The will to not give up and an unseen
force that keeps us going