Chapter 6: The Indirect Path

Saturday morning brought heavy rain to the Bay Area. Heavy rain in the Bay Area means snow in the mountains. Snow in the mountains means good luck getting to Reno. If we were to go, we’d be in for a hell of a drive, and making it across the state line into the Battleground State of Nevada was not a guarantee.

My two friends were still part of the email list the student leaders were sending to volunteers. Remember that desperation plan I had for reaching out to our own volunteers for large donations? Late in the week, after the student leaders had severed their ties with me, people started answering the call. Donors emerged and began offering volunteers round trip flights for a small donation in return. I was forwarded the email and after two phone calls, I was put in direct touch with a donor.

I asked her for three round trip flights to Denver. When she asked me my name, I told her. There was a pause at the other end. She recognized me. She was very kind but informed me she would have to call me back. Less than two minutes later, I received a phone call from another volunteer asking me not to participate in this program. He feared that the organizers in Denver would not receive me warmly because I had promised them a hundred volunteers and had not delivered. I told him I just wanted to do everything I could to help and suggested they didn’t have to station us in Denver proper. They could fly us to Colorado and station us in the middle of nowhere - “Just let us go out there and work. Let us talk to people, we’re Civics teachers for chrissake, we’re good at this!” He paused, breathed heavy into the phone, took a look at a map, and said, “OK, you can go to Greeley.” I agreed, hung up the phone, and – in what may be the most enthusiastic response on record by a human being to travel thirteen hundred miles just to go to Greeley, Colorado – I jumped out of my seat, clapped my hands, and gave a hell yes.

Less than three hours later, my two friends and I were on a flight out of Oakland International Airport to Denver International Airport.

I remember them walking up to me in the terminal. When I saw them smiling, the weight of the last four weeks completely disappeared. I should have been exhausted, but instead once again, I felt a growing sense of excitement. This time it was coupled with a fleeting sense of fulfillment. My masterpiece had melted, but in a bizarre, unchartered sort of way, even after everything that had happened, I was about to come full circle and accomplish the exact task I had originally set out to do. Things were suddenly simple and beautiful. The final, most important task was about to begin.

I was returning to Denver, and this time I was bringing friends with me.

Continue To Chapter 7