Week 28 - Joe’s Place
This week, we landed in Grants Pass and Cave Junction, Oregon, but the story of how we got here starts in Susanville, California. We stopped in Susanville for a meal and a night of rest, and stuck around for church the next morning at Susanville Community Church. At church, we got talking with a few locals who, upon hearing our story and knowing our general direction of "North," highly recommended that we check out Joe's Place in Grants Pass, Oregon. Joe'sPlace is an organization that began with the mission of feeding homeless youth in the community and has since evolved into an established youth center where any kid can show up and feel that they belong. We liked their mission, and with the contact of Daren Williams in hand, we hit the road. Our target now honed in from the obscure "North" to the more tangible location of Grants Pass, Oregon.
Joe's Place opened at 1:00 pm on Monday, and as we still had no response from Daren, we abandoned technology and embraced traditional social networking by knocking on their door. First encounters with people who have not been granted the opportunity of a "soft introduction" (viewing our website, talking on the phone, or hearing from a mutual connection to learn what we are about) are usually rather entertaining. "Hi, we live on that big blue school bus, and we are here to see if we can help you in any way." On the receiving end of those words, there is usually an ample amount of confused skepticism blended with curiosity that knocks people off guard so hard you can almost see their thoughts as they process it all. A gal back in Texas described one of these introductions by saying, "I feel like I'm in a fever dream." We plowed through the customary confusion and skepticism with Daren until he embraced the fever dream and told us we were more than welcome to tag along with Roger (Cave Junction Outreach Director) and Lacey (Joe’s Place superstar), who were about to head to Cave Junction, where they set up a satellite after-school youth center for that community. We eagerly joined along, spending the afternoon playing games, sharing a meal, and laughing with the students. Upon seeing our bus not one but two students mentioned that they have lived, or are currently living, in a school bus - I suspect out of necessity rather than for a fun adventure. This was eye opening for us. We had not considered people moving their family into a school bus to make ends meet, in our mind “Skoolies” have always been loosely attached to adventure. Going to Cave Junction was not only a fun and enlightening experience, but made good sense logisticaly - we already had a friend to stay with just outside of town. In fact, she was expecting us that evening.
Card games with Crystal and Elizabeth
Later that night, while reflecting in the shower, I realized how strange it was that I felt so comfortable, and dare I say ordinary, given the current circumstances. Allow me to set the scene. I was standing in an outdoor shower in the snow on a five-acre property just outside of Cave Junction, Oregon - an area known for the communes that settled there during the hippie movement in the '60s and '70s. From the outdoor shower, I studied the massive garden, just past the outhouse, and thought that this property wasn't that far off from being considered a self-sustaining commune itself. The land belonged to our friend Leanna, who I consider an old friend only because we had met her once before - in January at Skooliepalooza in Arizona. As a fellow Skoolie owner and enthusiast, Leanna had written her phone number down on a piece of cardboard, telling us to give her a call if we ended up in Southwest Oregon. I chuckled, considering how at ease I felt, not the least bit vulnerable or on edge. I realized this tempo of life, a tempo that has no traceable cadence or rhythm, has become my new normal, and despite how strange it might look from the outside, I have learned to dance to it with grace. Conclusion: life is a weird ride, you might as well dance along with it.
In addition to offering us her thought-provoking and contemplative outdoor shower, Leanna also served us some delicious chicken soup for supper. In the morning, we enjoyed our time conversing over sipped coffee with Leanna, her husband, and son, Craig and Jeremiah.
Jeremiah, Leanna, and Craig
In the meantime, Daren from Joe’s Place thought of some projects he had on his to-do list that we could tackle for him. All of the work revolved around their facility in Grants Pass: painting the walls of a conference room, installing a wall-mounted cabinet, painting the floor of a bathroom, and clearing a bramble of blackberry bushes in a small outdoor space they hope to put to better use as summer encroaches. The work was gratifying and peaceful, a simple and tangible way to bless Joe's Place and take care of a few things that could get in the way of their main goal - feeding and loving kids in their community and making sure they know they have a place where they belong.
Painting professionals
The Bramble - Before
The Bramble - After
We didn’t actually let him drive, but the power of imagination is incredible.
When we were not working, we had plenty of time to hang out with the employees, volunteers, and kids at Joe's Place. We shared meals, played games, and laughed our way through the week, enjoying good company. One person, in particular, was a huge blessing to get to know and spend time with throughout the week - a fella named Josh. Not our own Josh Haddad (although he is also a huge blessing in my life), but Josh Wilson - son of Roger Wilson, who works at Joe's Place. And just so everybody knows, there was no competitiveness about who was the better Josh. Both Josh Wilson (Josh 1) and Josh Haddad (Josh 2) became fast friends, and Josh 1's favorite bus boy from the start was definitely Josh 2.
Left to right: Josh 2, Josh 1
Josh (1) has Down syndrome and, as a result, spends most of his days with his father, Roger. The father-son duo rides motorcycles together, cooks together, and travels together. (Check out their YouTube channel, where they document some of their adventures). Roger and Josh also work together at Joe's Place. I believe Roger is so good at his job of making sure kids are fed, feel accepted, and feel loved because he takes good notes from Josh. Josh is a great cook, but he is the KING of making everyone feel loved and accepted. During the week, we spent lots of time with Josh - sharing meals, watching wrestling, and doing laundry together (Josh helped with ours). As a man of adventure himself, Josh would often ask, "Will you tell me a story from the bus?" then show his contagious excitement by wiggling his fingers behind his head and letting out a little squeal of jubilation. In just the right moments, Josh would look you in the eyes and, in an exhaled breath of tenderness, say, "I just love you guys." Every time I heard these sincere and simple words, I was reminded of how much value they hold, how welcoming it is to receive them, and how infrequently I chose to use them myself. On Friday, when we were about to leave town, Josh hit me with some departing words of wisdom, saying, "It sucks getting old." I laughed and told him he seems to be doing a great job with it.
Josh 1 on the bus
Roger cooking up some breakfast
Post showers - feeling clean AND happy
Looking good!
In other news, it is with a heavy heart that I must update our readers that on Monday, we parted ways with Ludwig, our adopted German hitchhiker, for the third (and I suspect final) time. Little did we know that the cheerful-looking traveler on the side of Highway 1 in Pismo Beach would become such an integral part of the LOST Bus experience. Living, working, and exploring alongside us for a little more than three weeks, we laugh at the prospect that Ludwig spent nearly one-twelfth of our year-long journey with us. Apart from Davis, Josh, and myself, Ludwig has the clearest picture of what life on the Bus is like. We wish him safe travels back to Germany, where he will finish up his education, and we look forward to seeing our friend again… someday.
Roland and Ludwig’s final photo with the Bus