* * The endless walk of David Mullins

Many people like to walk, for exercise, adventure, and fun. Some people REALLY like to walk. Then there’s David Mullins.

Dave has successfully completed the “Triple Crown” of American trails, hiking the 2200 mile Appalachian Trail, the 2,663 mile Pacific Crest Trail and the 3100 mile Continental Divide Trail. Recently, he did a two-day hike from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, replicating the Civil Rights march of 50 years ago. Fittingly, “Super Dave” and I got together to talk about his walking life while we walked the Huckleberry Trail.

“Twenty years ago I decided I wanted to walk the sections of the Appalachian Trail in Virginia,” the 61-year old lawyer told me, as we picked up the pace on a post-thunderstorm evening. “Virginia has over 500 miles, more than any other state. I did ten or twenty miles at a time. I have always been an outdoors guy. I wanted to do the whole thing.”

Two events shook his life in 2001. One of his best friends from law school died from cancer. Another dropped dead from an apparent heart attack. “It dawned on me that if you’ve got a goal and you want to do something, you need to do it.”

So he set the plan in place to through-hike the Appalachian Trail. In 2002 he began, had to return home for a family emergency, and finished in 2003. He was hooked. “It’s adventure. (You) push yourself and accomplish something. Back then, nobody I knew had done (the entirety). Can you keep your head in the game? Everybody thinks the ‘q’ word: ‘quit,’ from time to time. When you walk ten, fifteen days in a row in the rain and put on wet clothes every morning, it makes you dispirited. I was lucky; I had great weather.

“When hiking, you’re surrounded by natural beauty. But the common thread from my journals is how wonderful the people were, the other hikers and the ‘trail angels’ (who leave food and refreshments for the hikers). I can recount a million stories.”

He talked about a woman in Seattle who thought he was homeless and wanted to buy him a sandwich. He talked about a man in New Hampshire, the AT’s toughest area, who fed him and gave him a place to stay and let him rest. He talked about a man who gave him indoor shelter in Maine. He hiked consistent mileages in the upper teens each day.

“I never had an intention of doing the other two trails of the Triple Crown. In 2008 I wanted to explore Alaska, but its huge size was dispiriting.” So he settled on the Pacific Crest Trail. On May 2, 2009, he symbolically put a foot under the border fence in southern California into Mexico and headed north to Canada. He did 1700 miles in California and another 500 in Oregon and 500 more in Washington. “I hit my stride as a hiker. I did 17 days of 30-plus miles. Quitting never came into my head because I was so far from home.”

When I asked about the Continental Divide Trail, he chuckled, “Once you’ve done two, you’ve got to do three.” It was by far the most remote of the three. Often there was no trail, only signposts. Even though he carried a GPS app on his cell phone, he got momentarily lost almost every day.

His recent adventure of walking from Selma to Montgomery was spawned by the movie Selma that he saw this winter. “I had really never been in Alabama before. I researched it and found the story so compelling. ” The marchers tried three times to walk the 54-mile highway. They were turned back twice by armed troopers, but finally they were successful. It was March 25, 1965, fifty years ago. “The damage was inflicted by the local law enforcement folks. They started on the Selma side of the Edmund Pettus Bridge. The bridge has a rise in the center and you can’t see what’s on the other side until you reach the crest. The marchers didn’t know what awaited them.”

Dave was apprehensive about the reaction he might find from the local people, having some stereotypes in mind. But he found nothing but friendliness. After two days of walking, he and two companions ascended the steps to the Alabama State Capitol, just like the marchers before them. “We climbed the fifty steps. It was pretty emotional.

“If somebody wants to do hiking like this, train some, do research, and get good gear. Then put it on the calendar. When it’s on the calendar, it’s real. (When you have a goal,) you can’t wait; you don’t know how much time you’ve got.”

* * Speed cameras anyone?

I took a trip recently that had me on Interstate 81, our area’s primary transportation arterial, for over 100 miles. There are lots of cops out there! I’m not sure I have ever driven a highway in the world that had an equal concentration of patrol men and women.

It got me thinking about the efficacy of the continuing cat-and-mouse game our officers play with our motoring public. In this day and age, it seems anachronistic and largely futile. Why are we doing this?

Seems to me a more efficient system would be to install a series of radar-equipped speed cameras at routine intervals (e.g. every mile) that would monitor everybody and mail fines to the speeders. Here’s an example of a potential fine structure. Everybody gets a 5-mph leeway, for example if you inadvertently speed up going down the mountain. Then for each additional mph, you pay a fine of $3. Say you’re going past a camera at 81-mph in a 70 zone. The leeway lets you go up to 75. Then you pay $3 each for the 6 more mph over, thus $18. The citation comes in the mail with a photo of you and your car, with a time- and location-stamp, which you mail back with payment (or pay on-line). Cumulative, if you are more than 25-mph over in a month your additional fines double. If you’re more than 100 over in consecutive months, you lose your license.

There is no traffic court unless you request it (and likely if you go, you’ll lose, as the evidence is solid), no lawyers, and no court costs. If it isn’t you behind the wheel, the ticket goes to the car’s owner. Everybody who speeds is ticketed, so it’s fairer and no longer arbitrary. Simple. Efficient. Effective. It is used in several European countries I’ve driven.

Furthermore, it frees our great law enforcement people to apprehend criminals, attend to accidents, and perform the other vital work they do.

Being of the bifocal set, my observance of speed limits is generally governed by the idea that 1) I don’t want the hassle and expense of a ticket, and 2) most of the time, I’m not in a hurry because it doesn’t matter when I get there, and when it does, I typically allow extra time.

Obviously my proposed system has some potential problems, many of which were pointed out to me when I floated this trial balloon on social media. For example:

It’s too Big Brotherish. We have too many cameras watching us already. The system has potential for fraud and abuse by the contractor who the state uses to manage it.

Okay, I get it. Still…

In our world today, almost nothing is private any more. Do you know the Internet knows where you live? Whenever you make a cell phone call, computers are tracking the origination location. Your GPS knows where you are, where you’ve been, and likely even whether you’ve been naughty or nice. Especially in public places, we have no expectation of privacy.

And our cops routinely do completely random license checks, stopping everybody, checking sobriety, asking whatever questions come to mind. Why are we acquiescent in that, and in having a hand-held radar gun pointed at us, but unwilling to have a fixed machine assess our speed?

Yes, there would be lots of initial expense in the installation of the cameras. But they’d likely pay for themselves quickly in fines.

Which brings me to the topic of revenue generation. According to this website, http://www.statisticbrain.com/driving-citation-statistics/, over 112,000 people PER DAY get a speeding ticket, over 20% of all drivers will get a ticket this year, and over $6 BILLION is collected annually. These staggering statistics beg several questions. Are drivers being ticketed to encourage them through the anticipation of punishment to drive at posted speeds? Are we perpetuating the system because the cops enjoy the adrenaline rush? Are our law enforcement agencies, lawyers, and courts gorging themselves on revenue? Is the current system more directly motivated by revenue generation than public safety? If indeed the system is primarily a source of revenue, it would expand exponentially if every speeder was fined, rather than the tiny percentage the cops actually catch now.

What’s more, speed limits are by nature arbitrary anyway. Sure, the faster we’re all going, the greater the likelihood of accident and of the severity of accidents. But while 90-mph might be more than safe on a straight, level, lightly traveled road, 45-mph might be too much if it’s foggy, 30F, and snowing faster than the plows can move it.

When I’ve floated this trial balloon, it has been shot down by a thousand bullets. In spite of the current system’s ineffectiveness and inefficiency, people seem to like it. What do you think?

* * Passover in Mom's dining room

On Good Friday evening, my family got together at my parents’ house for our annual observance of Passover. For me, it has always been Mom’s special event.

Doris Sara Tatarsky Abraham was born and raised in Richmond. Descendants of eastern European Jews, they were part of a group of people who found freedom from persecution in the late 19^th Century unique in the world. I spoke with Mom about her recollections.

“My earliest memories of Passover were from Seder at my grandmother’s house on Stuart Avenue, near the Boulevard in the Near West End. She was my paternal grandmother. In the era of my ancestors, Jews had already been in Richmond for generations.”

Richmond’s Reform Congregation Beth Ahabah was founded in 1789 by immigrants from Spain and Portugal and is one of the oldest synagogues in the nation. From the earliest days of America, our nation was seen as a refuge from Jews who had largely been discriminated against for centuries around the world.

The following year, new President George Washington wrote a letter to the Hebrew Congregations of Newport, Rhode Island telling them essentially that in this nascent republic, the Jews were not to be “tolerated” as a minority but in fact as full and complete citizens. Washington wrote, “…happily the Government of the United States gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.” This was unique and marvelous, quickly establishing the United States of America as the New Jerusalem.

Mom’s people came in later migrations from Russia, Poland, Ukraine, and other eastern European nations in the mid- to late-1800s. Richmond, along with Baltimore, New York, Atlanta, and several other cities, became vital enclaves.

“My grandparents,” Mom continued, “were all born around the time of the end of the Civil War. All my grandparents were from Poland and the Ukraine. I think they came as young adults.

“My Daddy was one of eight (children). All but two lived in Richmond. It was the largest event for the family. Grandma had a big house. The adults all sat in the dining room. My two first cousins, my sister Gladys, and I sat around a card table in the living room. My dad’s brother, Uncle Nat, conducted the service.” The service involves a series of recitations and prayers, sprinkled with mandatory cups of wine.

The Seder is a rich celebration involving a feast, commemorating the Jew’s escape from bondage under the Egyptians. Moses parted the Red Sea in the first Great Escape! The Jews escaped in such haste as to not have time to bake bread. They ate their grain in unleavened bread, the matzoh, which is the primary food even at contemporary Seders. Jesus’ Last Supper is thought to have been a Seder celebration, as he and his disciples were Jewish. 

Mom said that with her father’s five sisters, the event was matriarchal. The women spent considerable time in the procurement and preparation of the feast. A typical grocery list, for both the ceremony and the meal itself, might include a bitter herb like horseradish root, parsley, eggs, lamb bones, charoses (apple, nuts, wine, and cinnamon), and celery, all with symbolism.

Nowadays, in addition to the aforementioned ingredients, mom’s shopping list for the meal includes chicken, asparagus, new potatoes, matzoh meal, carrots, gefilte fish, lettuce, onions, horseradish, tomatoes, and radishes. It’s a full four-course meal that mom takes days to prepare, and nobody leaves the table hungry. Mom uses her best silverware and china. 

This year’s guest list included my older brother and his lady, my wife, daughter, and me, my sister and her husband and daughter, my parents, and one of Mom’s friends.

“My memories are family get-togethers. That’s what makes it nice for me now, to be able to share it with my family. If nobody was going to be here, I wouldn’t do it. Passover is the only major Jewish holiday that is celebrated in the home rather than in the synagogue. Having family is what makes it special. A couple of years, we’ve had close Christian friends to have Seder with us. We’ve enjoyed having them as much as they seem to enjoy being with us. You can share with your friends even if they worship different than you do.”

Mom recently celebrated the 47^th anniversary of her 39^th birthday. Age weighs on us all. No telling how much longer she’ll be able to do this, but every year is a new blessing.

“Passover is the story of the liberation of our people from slavery, from the tyranny of the Egyptian Pharaoh,” Mom said. “It is a sad irony that prior to the Civil War, some southern Jews owned black slaves. How can a people who have been enslaved ever enslave others?”

* * Kathy Stone enters retirement

Please join me in congratulating Kathy Stone on her retirement from VASAP (Virginia Alcohol Safety Action Program) where she where she served as Chief Case Manager for 30 of her 31 years. Reacting to her new-found time freedom, the Christiansburg native told me, “All these years I’ve been driven to being early and working late. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

VASAP is the program established in the 1970s by the state legislature to deal with drug and alcohol offenses and to decrease the incidence of driving under the influence. If you are convicted of a Driving under the influence (DUI) offense, you’ll meet somebody like Kathy. She started working at the New River Valley VASAP 31 years ago. It is user-funded, meaning that the offenders are charged fees that pay for VASAP. There are 24 locations statewide.

“I fell into it. I am from here, but I lived in Tennessee for a short time. When I came back, I applied and got the job. Most of the time, I was a supervisor. The courts were my main arena, the area I got most of my joy.” She dealt with judges, law enforcement officers, clerks, lawyers, and defendants, and found joy in working with all of them in one respect or another.

“I enjoyed every second of it. It is a high-stress environment. It isn’t just stressful for the defendants; it’s stressful for the judges, the clerks, and everybody. The stress provides a lot of camaraderie. I have to know the judge supports me and I support him.”

She said defendants come from every aspect of life, but the day they came into her office, it was “not their best day.” Some were teary, some defiant, and most were contrite. If a defendant was convicted of a DUI, the court imposed a Restricted License, a fine to the state, and a fee to VASAP. The Restricted License gave them only limited mobility rights, including things like driving to and from work, to and from VASAP, and child care responsibilities, but no joy riding or even grocery runs.

“Getting a DUI is expensive. It will cost a first-time defendant from $500 to $1000 or more, if there are legal fees. We see lots of infractions on Restricted Licenses, people driving where they are not allowed.

“This is a small community. If a policeman sees someone they know to be on a Restricted License somewhere they shouldn’t be, they will stop them again. If they violate their license or get arrested for anything else, or generally don’t stay on good behavior, VASAP takes them back again on probation violations. If you get caught driving outside your restricted license, DMV will administratively suspend your license for a year. It is a big deal.”

I asked her about the aspects of her personality that allowed her to flourish in an environment where almost all defendants she worked with were unhappy.

“I have a candy dish,” she laughed. “I tell them to have a piece of candy and then we’ll talk!”

Throughout her tenure, she stayed non-judgmental, admitting that everybody makes mistakes. She maintained that helpfulness was a big part of her career. The defendants were in crisis. She knew some of them and had seen many of them multiple times.

Her worst days were the same as those for so many of the rest of us. Police deaths make everyone mourn and grieve together. But, “There really weren’t many bad days.

“My defendants were so amazing! I saw all walks of life. I had a rough guy who didn’t have a lot, a lot of education or resources. We made a mistake, a typo on his restricted license. He left, but when he saw it, he came back to have it corrected. He said, ‘My mother told me the character of a person is not made when people are watching, but when they’re not.’ He had personal integrity. It came from the most unlikely source. The mistake, if left wrong, could have worked in his favor. But he chose to take the high road; he came up with something pretty deep.”

She was always impressed by the legal system here. “It is filled with good people, people who want to do the right thing by the defendants and society. Judges face hard decisions. There are so many factors to be considered. They take their jobs seriously. It has been an honor to work with them.”

Working in the criminal justice system for most of her life, she swept past retirement day with thankfulness and gratitude.

“(Our local court system) is stellar. Many other places have lost the personal touch that the courts around here have maintained. There is a personal element to every single thing. Nobody loses sight of that. Everybody wants to do the right thing.”

* * Helping to catch some vandals

I am an inveterate walker of the Huckleberry Trail, typically cranking out three to six miles before dinner. Most of these excursions are mundane events, perfect for cardiovascular fitness and fleshing out my day’s events. One evening last week contained a bit more excitement.

It was a cold evening, but that’s nothing new this season. While I’m not impervious to weather, I generally go anyway and simply deal with it. Because of the 20F air, I had the trail pretty much to myself.

My default walk is from the Trail’s intersection at Mabry Lane near the entrance to Warm Hearth southbound towards the New River Valley Mall. My plan was to turn around at the abutment to the trestle over the railroad tracks, given that there was still plenty of snow on the ground and I knew it wouldn’t be plowed.

I crossed Hightop and Merrimac Roads without incident, and made my way past the Coal Heritage Park, where the reclaimed coal mining cart and winch sit. I noticed that there were several basketball-sized snowballs in the middle of the previously plowed trail, obviously placed there on purpose by someone creating some mischief. Rounding the corner towards the south end of the Heritage Park, I saw two male figures some 100 yards ahead, appearing to be playing on and beside the trail. I heard something snap like a tree limb. As I continued, they walked away and vanished up a hollow beside the trail. At that point, I noticed that one of the nice signs for the Park had multiple footprints around it and then saw that it had been destroyed. Hmmm.

At this point, I was wracked with uncertainty, acrimony, and fear. What should I do? Did the men see me, and did they know I saw them and what they’d evidently done? Finally, I convinced myself to call 911. “I don't know if vandalism is an emergency, but…” The dispatcher took my name and location. He said there were no deputies nearby (It was in the County) but would try to find someone. It would have been a 100-to-one chance an officer would be able to find them.

Meanwhile, I walked on. I reached my turn-around point and headed back. Near the mid-park area, I saw the two young men again, this time frolicking at the park area near the coal cart and winch. I kept my head down and kept walking. Then I called 911 again. Dispatch said, “We have someone on his way.”

I met a deputy (who happens to be my neighbor) at the intersection of Merrimac Road and told him where they were. I offered to help, but he sent me on my way as he walked the trail towards them.
Twenty minutes later, as I reached my car, my cell phone rang. “I got 'em!” he said, excitedly. He told me they were walking towards him, and he confronted them. He said the conversation went something like this:

“Hi guys,” said the deputy.

“Hi officer,” they replied.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Just hanging out.”

“How long you been out here?” the officer asked.

“A while now…”

“Then you must be the ones that did the vandalism.”

“Oh, no. We haven’t done anything.”

“Boys, you were seen by a witness destroying public property. You’re out here, and it’s dark and the park is closed. So I can charge you with trespassing. If I have to call back the witness, I’ll find lots of other things to charge you with.”

At that point, they confessed.

He was kind to call and tell me, saying that it is quite unusual to catch someone committing a crime and that help from citizens like me is crucial. “Most of the bad guys get away,” he admitted ruefully.

When the time came for me to make the call, I equivocated, with vandalism being scarcely an emergency. But now I’m reassured that I did the right thing. He reassured me that as vandalism is a crime, it was legitimate and appropriate for me to call 911.

What drove me to make the call was my anger! Nothing drives me to despair like vandalism and they really made me mad. This is MY park, OUR park, I care about it, and they were damaging it!

The deputy went on to say that the two men, ages 19 and 20, had no arrest record. So they will probably face nothing more than a repair invoice and perhaps some community service. But still... Perhaps next time they’ll think twice about destroying things.

Please, if you see something, say something. Don’t let crimes go unpunished!