Thanks to all of you who participated in this memorial,
Susan
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Reflections on the Deborah Budwig Memorial Bike Ride
While I never met Deborah Budwig, like the rest of the Palouse
community, my heart ached when I learned of her untimely and tragic
death.
Although I often commute 1 1/2 miles each way to and from work, I am
not a serious cyclist. Observers can tell by looking. My bicycle is a low-
budget women's-style mountain bike with baskets in the rear and a disk
protector (which is the nerd cyclist's version of a pocket protector)
covering the chain. Twenty years ago, I used to bicycle 9 miles each way
to and from work in Washington, D.C., but I have not pedaled that
distance since then.
I am fortunate to be a member of a "virtual" community on the Moscow
Vision 2020 listserver. It was there that I read Lois Melina's post, the
brainchild for a unique memorial, a Deborah Budwig Memorial Bike
Ride. The high speed and heavy traffic between Moscow and Pullman had
prevented me from ever bicycling between these two communities previously.
To participate in the Deborah Budwig Memorial Bike Ride on Mother's Day,
I had to face my own fear.
Across the computer screen over the next several days, I watched the
cooperative, creative, heartfelt cultivation of plans for the memorial ride.
Tom Lamar, executive director of the Palouse-Clearwater Environmental
Institute took the initiative to make this happen. Nancy Mack, the
persistent force behind the Chipman Trail, and Miles Moore of the
Palouse Bicycle Touring Club were soon pitching in. Finally, in
conjunction with the Budwig family, the memorial bike ride became a
reality, appropriately scheduled for Mother's Day. The variety of
constituencies who would take part would become apparent on that
Sunday, a diverse and community-centered collection of citizens.
Mother's Day afternoon, I rode alone from home to the Ernst parking lot.
I felt a little awkward, among the first to arrive, since I hardly knew
anyone. Bicyclists of all ages and calibers were accumulating. There were
mothers, fathers, children and siblings. Loners, couples, groups, and
families all arrived. The menagerie included road bikes, mountain bikes,
tandems, and bike trailers. A woman named Ryan thoughtfully provided
many of us with our symbolic red arm bands to express our mourning, as
well as Deborah Budwig's commitment to donating blood. Following
safety instructions, we observed a moment of silence. That was the
moment I felt deeply connected to all these strangers around me and to
Deborah Budwig. There was nothing I could do to refrain from getting
choked up, albeit privately.
One by one, we pedaled out, single file onto the Moscow-Pullman
Highway. The cloudless sky allowed the warmth of the sun to escort us
the entire way. I hugged the shoulder as far to the right as I could, since I
was still apprehensive about the traffic. The more well-conditioned
cyclists seemed appreciative as they politely passed by me. Some cars
observed the call to shine their headlights, and I couldn't help nodding
to those motorists to acknowledge my appreciation for their participation in
this ceremonial sharing of the road.
As the cars flew by and my eyes absorbed our designated strip of
pavement on the side of the road, my mind inevitably returned over and
over again to thinking about Deborah Budwig, which consumed most of
my trip. When I reached Washington Water Power, I retrieved one of the
generously-donated fresh flowers awaiting us, paused for a break in the
traffic, crossed the highway, and pedaled back to the site of Deborah's
memorial cross. This quiet, yet congested gathering reunited all of us who
had ridden in a string along the highway. The lump in my throat
resurfaced. I laid my flower among the rest and observed another moment
of silence.
When I approached Moscow, I was surprised at how effortless the actual
bicycling seemed. In all, I expect that by the time I returned to my own
family, I had pedaled over 15 miles...and I had successfully faced my fear.
The sense of community and the shared grief I experienced during the
memorial ride was both comforting and reassuring. Late last year, I
pledged what I could afford to the Chipman Trail, whose construction
won't be a moment too soon. Should the idea of a memorial park along
its edge in Deborah Budwig's name come to fruition, I will be among those
community builders prepared to pledge whatever more I can afford to
make that vision a reality as well.
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Susan Palmer, M.A., (ABD) Phone: 208-885-6616
Education Programming Coordinator FAX: 208-885-6285
Women's Center susanp@uidaho.edu
[Lecturer, Sociology Dept.]
University of Idaho
Moscow, Idaho 83844-1064
"People convinced against their will,
hold the same opinion still."
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