csmonitor--2020-09-04--Travels with Maybell: Looking for ‘normal’ in an RV

“ We wanted normal , but got more , ” Michael writes .
“ We got beauty .
We got solace .
What we did on our summer road trip was what a lot of Americans sought to do on theirs : For a small time , we got peace.
” Over five days during the pandemic summer of 2020 , correspondent Michael S. Hopkins and his wife , Monitor photographer Melanie Stetson Freeman , traveled through four states in the western United States aboard a rented RV , aka Maybell .
Their editorial mission was to see what freedom @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what their fellow travelers were doing , seeing , sensing , seeking .
To meet people like the Woodwards .
The three oldest children eagerly share their favorite camping destinations across Utah .
They ’ ve done this camping thing before .
“ But not as much as now !
” says Mr. Woodward .
“ It ’ s not normal back home , ” he says .
“ But this ” – he gestures at the activity all around us – “ this is normal.
” At Ashley National Forest ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Justin Woodward have a 32-foot RV .
Their campsite is festooned with the right camp chairs for each family member , which includes their four children .
There ’ s also Tiger , a Chihuahua mix who appears to own the forest .
Call her “ Maybell , ” which is just dowdy enough .
She is 22 feet long , and looks like a box stapled on a U-Haul truck .
Bed in rear ( queen ! )
, another over the cab , “ full ” bath , stove-top , banquette @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of space planning on a platform so jangly you wonder whether rivets will pop on the highway .
True , she is not the Instagram-ready little camper van we ’ d sought to rent .
( Cool , Maybell isn ’ t .
Cool , however , is an extra $ 100 a night . )
But she is ours .
And she is about to ferry me – with my wife , Monitor photographer Melanie Stetson Freeman – through four states in five days during our pandemic summer of 2020 .
We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Denver , and now are relieved when our little recreational vehicle is handed to us smelling of disinfectant and open windows .
Without fanfare we are given a manual , some pointers , and solitude .
We ’ ll have to sort out our relationship with Maybell on our own .
So we wrangle her through surface streets to a supermarket for provisions , then turn west .
Which means over the Continental Divide .
Which means climbing .
Not , it turns out , Maybell ’ s favorite pastime .
“ Can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” asks Melanie as we crawl upward , traffic pooling around us .
I pin the accelerator to the floor .
Maybell ’ s engine roars .
Maybell ’ s speedometer stands still .
We crawl on .
But that gives us more time to look , which is everything .
In just hours we pass through four kinds of landscape – from blond foothills to rock-strewn canyons to spruce-blackened mountainsides , and finally , cresting at 11,000 feet , to tender alpine meadows , where streams curl through stands of aspen , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ When we emerge from the Eisenhower Tunnel on Interstate 70 an hour west of Denver the world falls away in front of us , the highway clinging to a parapet while far below spreads a vast valley , its grasses lemon-green in the slanting late-day light .
Melanie and I just look at each other .
After all our sheltered-in-place months in the COVID-19-battered Northeast , we are , finally , somewhere else .
As evening falls , we pull into the Kampgrounds of America ( KOA ) site in Craig , Colorado @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Good thing , because the sites are full with everything from pop-up trailers to RVs the size and sheen of Beyoncé ’ s tour bus .
I go to check in and find a smiling , can-do man behind the counter – but none of the acrylic barriers or this-is-what-6-feet-looks-like signs I ’ d grown used to in Massachusetts .
From the doorway I gesture with my mask in hand and raise my eyebrows .
“ Nah , ” he says .
“ Not here .
Not required in our county .
Come @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , owner of the campground with his wife , Kristi .
Three years ago he ’ d been running a poultry farm in Wisconsin ( “ tough world , agriculture ” ) when he traded that life for this one .
I ask him how business is .
“ Hard , when the lockdowns came , ” he says .
Reservations were canceled .
New ones didn ’ t appear .
“ Then it changed , ” he notes .
“ August reservations are up 15 % , and people are staying longer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fours and fives.
” He looks at our registration form .
“ Massachusetts !
What brings you ?
” The RV explosion , I tell him .
Doubtless he knows about the motor home sales backlogs and waiting lists , the 49 % increase in Airstream deliveries , how rental reservations through RVshare had risen 1,000 % between early April and late May .
Americans have decided to hit the road , virus or no virus , with RVs their mobile safe harbor .
Our editorial mission , I explain , is to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feels like after confinement .
Learn what our fellow travelers are doing , seeing , sensing , seeking .
Not to mention , I add , part of our trip overlaps with a camping itinerary I ’ d experienced 40 years ago as a child .
What would that feel like ?
“ You ’ ve come to the right place , ” Mr. Hodnefield says .
He is eager to talk .
“ We ’ re seeing all that.
” I wonder how the guests feel .
“ Grateful !
” he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ waiting to be asked .
“ Relieved .
It ’ s like , ‘ Phew , thank you for not going overboard [ with COVID-19 measures ] .
’ I hear stuff like , ‘ We ’ ve been here only a few days and it ’ s like it ’ s not happening.
’ ” He grins and shrugs .
“ Isn ’ t that what we all want ?
” We meet fellow campers Deborah and Richard Lamkin , from Cisco , Texas , with their 40-foot diesel coach and its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of which emerge an off-road buggy complete with roll bars and a matching pair of electric bikes .
“ I mean , if you have to isolate ... ” says Ms. Lamkin , waving at her transportable homestead .
John and Sue Pack are isolating , too – but en masse .
They and their extended family of children and grandchildren are in adjacent sites , having chosen Craig as the midpoint among various homes around Greater Salt Lake City and Castle Rock , Colorado .
After months of distancing , this is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ decided : in the open air , around a cookstove .
They are post-meal and pre-cleanup when we catch them – a dozen friendly people splayed on benches and camp chairs , teasing and laughing , kids appearing from nowhere to jump in someone ’ s lap and then disappearing just as fast .
A regular family , cherishing a regular time .
“ This is our bubble , ” says Mr .
Pack .
That night the temperature drops from 90 degrees to 50 .
The air is delicious .
We keep @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she is snug .
The campground is full but quiet .
There are drifts of woodsmoke , notes of laughter that come and go , sometimes the sound of a far-off truck .
The night is starry .
We are aware of unseen people gathered all around us , poking at embers , whispering , looking at the sky , tucking into bed .
It feels magnificent .
On the way to Utah , before passing the town of Dinosaur , Colorado , we are stopped by a cattle drive .
A mixed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ two men ) , on horseback and an ATV , keep the long stream of lowing cows moving across the road .
At the general store in Maybell , Colorado ( no relation ) , we stop for gas – so much gas .
The proprietor tells us about her daughter , a teacher who is worried about returning to school .
“ I told her , ‘ You got ta have schools open ; kids suffer without school .
You can ’ t live in fear.
’ ” In Utah the land @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ ve grown used to Maybell or she ’ s grown used to us .
The rattles aren ’ t as noticeable , and we let the hills slow us as they choose .
We pull in and take the last available site in Ashley National Forest ’ s Lodgepole Campground .
Unlike the cheek-by-jowl arrangements at the KOA and other private campsites , here on national forest land we are isolated among tall thin pines , the other sites scattered out of view along an access loop .
No hookups , though @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sewer connections .
No problem , says Maybell .
I ’ m self-sufficient .
We walk the loop , greeting communities of campers in every kind of rig .
Among them are Angie and Justin Woodward in a 32-foot RV with their four children plus Tiger , a Chihuahua mix who appears to own the forest .
Their site is festooned with the right camp chairs for each family member .
Everyone has bikes .
On their cloth-covered picnic table lie games , a stove , a cooler , and containers of craft @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Melanie and me for s ’ mores , and the three oldest children eagerly regale us with their favorite camping destinations across Utah .
They ’ ve done this camping thing before .
“ But not as much as now !
” says Mr. Woodward .
The school shutdowns mean schedule flexibility , even if some educating has to take place in the wild .
“ It ’ s not normal back home , ” he says .
“ But this ” – he gestures at the activity all around us – “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ two observations that were inescapable throughout our trip .
One : The campers we meet are pros .
For all the evidence of the pandemic-prompted RV surge , it ’ s still the aficionados , not the newbies , who dominate the road – and everyone we talk to claims , like the Woodwards , to be camping more than before .
And two : There may be no impulse more unstoppable than the human desire for “ normal.
” On the Fourth of July From the Lodgepole Campground , we journey north @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over bald mountains and broad canyons .
We drive with Maybell ’ s windows down , the breeze blowing her curtains , our skin smooth and papery in the high dry air .
It is the Fourth of July .
We ’ ve reserved another KOA campground – getting reservations anywhere has been difficult – this one in Montpelier , Idaho , a town on a high plain edged by hills to the north .
But before reaching the campground we idle through the community of 2,500 people itself , only to find @ @ @ @ @ @ @ vehicles rolling in both directions on the main street .
Puzzled , we pull Maybell to the curb and watch .
The vehicles are of every kind : pickups , convertibles , dirt bikes , jalopies .
Some new , some old , some seemingly reserved for this purpose only .
All are jammed with people – adults , teenagers , children – and most are decorated with flags or banners or signs .
Sometimes the drivers themselves are decorated .
We see a shirtless Uncle Sam pop a wheelie .
Loudspeakers wail @ @ @ @ @ @ @ official July Fourth parade has been canceled due to virus precautions , so residents have taken it upon themselves , explains a local , to spend the afternoon cruising up and down the main street .
Later the Montpelier News-Examiner would report it as the revival of a time-honored tradition : “ drag [ ging ] main as in the olden days.
” But back at the campground we learn from Brenda Reno that the revival has sadder origins .
In late April , Montpelier suffered a tragic spate of five suicides in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ possibles ” being investigated , according to police ) .
Though Idaho had experienced very few COVID-19 cases up to that point , the economic slowdowns had hit places like Montpelier hard .
When a resident launched an ad hoc Facebook campaign proposing people “ drag main ” to show support for the victims ’ families , hundreds of cars showed up .
“ It helped people , ” says Ms. Reno , who is closing the campground snack bar .
“ Anything to get out finally , to be together even if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to feel normal.
” Two weeks later they would drag main again .
As Ms. Reno speaks , twilight is falling .
The campground pool that had been thick with splashing children has grown calm .
The rooftop air conditioners of the giant motor homes hum in the heat .
Gradually we notice people emerging from rigs and cabins and shower huts , calling to one another , passing instructions , getting in cars .
“ What ’ s happening ?
” we ask Ms. Reno .
“ Oh , fireworks , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ going to the fireworks .
All my kids are .
Not sure if I ’ m going or not.
” In coming days the News-Examiner would testify that “ the fireworks were as good or better than ever , and everyone had fun.
” From Montpelier to Lander , Wyoming , would be our trip ’ s longest leg .
Also its most beautiful .
We zigzag northeast , gaining altitude .
Tawny ravines give way to fir-dotted slopes , then granite cliffs .
At the town of Alpine , Wyoming , we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and chalky in the sunshine , and follow it – the already fresh air now tasting fresher .
We spill through the mountain town of Jackson , then straight up Route 89 with the Grand Tetons rising on our left , their serrated profile more heart-stopping than any mountains west of the Matterhorn .
We pull into a roadside overlook , park , and eat lunch .
We have sandwiches and some fruit , and we settle in Maybell ’ s little banquette and look at the mountains filling our wide-open windows .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ don ’ t talk .
Underway again , we haven ’ t traveled far when we come upon cars and campers and bus-sized RVs inexplicably pulling off the shoulderless road .
Then we see why .
Spread before us , from as near as 50 yards to as far as you can see , are bison .
A thousand bison .
They flood the entire valley , their mammoth heads and forequarters tapering to their laughable billy-goat behinds .
A preposterous animal , preposterously beautiful .
And maybe we can be forgiven right @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
How did we get here ?
Just a few days earlier we ’ d been stuck in our New England home , weary of confinement .
And now : this .
The next day , outside Lander in the Shoshone National Forest , we sit by a stream with forest rangers Bill Lee and Del Nelson .
They have been working in the area for 41 and 45 years , respectively , and are still coiled with energy .
We describe what we ’ ve seen on the trip so far , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ secret they want to share but can ’ t ; they know we have to learn it for ourselves .
Finally Mr. Nelson ventures : “ It ’ s therapeutic , being in nature , isn ’ t it ?
It ’ s medicinal , if you will.
” Yes , it is medicinal .
It is for Melanie and me , at least .
Maybe for anyone .
The two men do everything that operating the Shoshone requires – “ tickets to toilets , ” as Mr. Lee puts it .
When @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Mr. Lee bought $ 3,000 worth of disinfectant gear and cleaned bathrooms in a hazmat suit .
Now , their wives worry more than they do , though the men still don masks around people and keep safely separate .
Visitation at the national forest is up .
At trailheads , the rangers are encountering more people “ who don ’ t know their way around.
” Which is a good thing , they say .
More people getting the medicine .
We stay two nights in Lander – the first in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just a couple of miles farther up the road in the Shoshone .
That last night we park between canyon walls that frame the steeply falling Popo Agie River , its crystalline waters just 20 steps from Maybell ’ s door .
All night we can hear the river tumbling in the dark .
Our trip is coming to an end , but I ’ ve left something out .
Sometime on the third morning , Melanie and I catch up with my past .
We are herding Maybell up Route 89 through @ @ @ @ @ @ @ highway transforms into the main street of the town of Afton .
Suddenly , through the gaps in buildings , we see a paved field full of airplanes – tiny planes , open cockpits , painted like a circus .
And I remember : I ’ ve been here before .
Forty years ago as a kid with my brother , sister , and parents I ’ d spent an overcast afternoon in this same place during a family trip that took us from our New Jersey home to California .
The journey @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the country ’ s size , a summons to imagine lives nothing like mine in places nothing like my own .
I remember lying unseen in the “ way back ” of our station wagon outside a Minot , North Dakota , supermarket overhearing two teenage girls talk about the boys they ’ d see at the state fair that night .
I remember shooting baskets on a dirt court with a cowhand at a dude ranch in Chugwater , Wyoming .
I remember a campground where I met an old man @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who sat with me under a tree and explained which kind of rod worked for which kind of fish .
Most vividly , though , I remember seeing an air show in Afton – I ’ d forgotten the name of the place until stumbling on it .
A tinny loudspeaker introduced successive “ acts ” : a hammering old World War II Mustang , a wing-walking woman ( who was tethered to a strut but appeared no less daring for it ) , and little biplanes that climbed straight up before sliding @ @ @ @ @ @ @ then racing past us upside down just beyond our chain-link fence .
I remember everything about the show , but mostly I remember the rapt face of my father , who had learned to fly small planes himself .
And now here Melanie and I are , walking among those planes , taking pictures of them on a quiet , diamond-bright morning .
I send the pictures to my dad .
So little has changed , is the point .
And maybe that is what we ’ ve learned as we have finally @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and traveled through landscapes dismissive of a pandemic , among people undaunted by it .
We wanted what everyone wants and what so many we met have at least for a moment achieved : Like it ’ s not happening .
We wanted normal , but got more .
We got beauty .
We got solace .
What we did on our summer road trip was what a lot of Americans sought to do on theirs : For a small time , we got peace .
We did not , alas , get @ @ @ @ @ @ @ give her back .
“ But don ’ t worry , ” we said to her at the depot .
“ We ’ ll return for you.
” And it may have been my imagination , but I think she was glad .
She wants to go again .

“We wanted normal, but got more,” Michael writes. “We got beauty. We got solace. What we did on our summer road trip was what a lot of Americans sought to do on theirs: For a small time, we got peace.”
Over five days during the pandemic summer of 2020, correspondent Michael S. Hopkins and his wife, Monitor photographer Melanie Stetson Freeman, traveled through four states in the western United States aboard a rented RV, aka Maybell. Their editorial mission was to see what freedom feels like after confinement. To learn what their fellow travelers were doing, seeing, sensing, seeking. To meet people like the Woodwards.
For many Americans who longed to vacation this summer, motor homes served as mobile safe harbors. Such travels yielded beauty, solitude, camaraderie, and a sense, if just for a moment, that the pandemic isn’t happening.
The three oldest children eagerly share their favorite camping destinations across Utah. They’ve done this camping thing before. “But not as much as now!” says Mr. Woodward. “It’s not normal back home,” he says. “But this” – he gestures at the activity all around us – “this is normal.”
At Ashley National Forest’s Lodgepole Campground in Utah, Angie and Justin Woodward have a 32-foot RV. Their campsite is festooned with the right camp chairs for each family member, which includes their four children. There’s also Tiger, a Chihuahua mix who appears to own the forest.
Call her “Maybell,” which is just dowdy enough. She is 22 feet long, and looks like a box stapled on a U-Haul truck. Bed in rear (queen!), another over the cab, “full” bath, stove-top, banquette table, fridge. A sailboat-style miracle of space planning on a platform so jangly you wonder whether rivets will pop on the highway.
True, she is not the Instagram-ready little camper van we’d sought to rent. (Cool, Maybell isn’t. Cool, however, is an extra $100 a night.) But she is ours. And she is about to ferry me – with my wife, Monitor photographer Melanie Stetson Freeman – through four states in five days during our pandemic summer of 2020. We have flown at dawn from Boston to Denver, and now are relieved when our little recreational vehicle is handed to us smelling of disinfectant and open windows. Without fanfare we are given a manual, some pointers, and solitude. We’ll have to sort out our relationship with Maybell on our own. So we wrangle her through surface streets to a supermarket for provisions, then turn west. Which means over the Continental Divide. Which means climbing. Not, it turns out, Maybell’s favorite pastime.
“Can’t we go any faster?” asks Melanie as we crawl upward, traffic pooling around us. I pin the accelerator to the floor. Maybell’s engine roars. Maybell’s speedometer stands still. We crawl on.
Why We Wrote This For many Americans who longed to vacation this summer, motor homes served as mobile safe harbors. Such travels yielded beauty, solitude, camaraderie, and a sense, if just for a moment, that the pandemic isn’t happening.
But that gives us more time to look, which is everything. In just hours we pass through four kinds of landscape – from blond foothills to rock-strewn canyons to spruce-blackened mountainsides, and finally, cresting at 11,000 feet, to tender alpine meadows, where streams curl through stands of aspen, their tiny leaves shimmering like sequins. When we emerge from the Eisenhower Tunnel on Interstate 70 an hour west of Denver the world falls away in front of us, the highway clinging to a parapet while far below spreads a vast valley, its grasses lemon-green in the slanting late-day light.
Melanie and I just look at each other. After all our sheltered-in-place months in the COVID-19-battered Northeast, we are, finally, somewhere else.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption Writer Michael Hopkins walks toward his rented RV, aka Maybell, at the Lodgepole Campground in Ashley National Forest near Dutch John, Utah.
A warm welcome
As evening falls, we pull into the Kampgrounds of America (KOA) site in Craig, Colorado, where we have a reservation. Good thing, because the sites are full with everything from pop-up trailers to RVs the size and sheen of Beyoncé’s tour bus. I go to check in and find a smiling, can-do man behind the counter – but none of the acrylic barriers or this-is-what-6-feet-looks-like signs I’d grown used to in Massachusetts. From the doorway I gesture with my mask in hand and raise my eyebrows. “Nah,” he says. “Not here. Not required in our county. Come in!”
This is Chad Hodnefield, owner of the campground with his wife, Kristi. Three years ago he’d been running a poultry farm in Wisconsin (“tough world, agriculture”) when he traded that life for this one. I ask him how business is. “Hard, when the lockdowns came,” he says. Reservations were canceled. New ones didn’t appear.
“Then it changed,” he notes. “August reservations are up 15%, and people are staying longer. Not so many one-nighters, more fours and fives.”
He looks at our registration form. “Massachusetts! What brings you?”
The RV explosion, I tell him. Doubtless he knows about the motor home sales backlogs and waiting lists, the 49% increase in Airstream deliveries, how rental reservations through RVshare had risen 1,000% between early April and late May. Americans have decided to hit the road, virus or no virus, with RVs their mobile safe harbor.
Our editorial mission, I explain, is to join the tribe. See what freedom feels like after confinement. Learn what our fellow travelers are doing, seeing, sensing, seeking. Not to mention, I add, part of our trip overlaps with a camping itinerary I’d experienced 40 years ago as a child. What would that feel like?
“You’ve come to the right place,” Mr. Hodnefield says. He is eager to talk. “We’re seeing all that.”
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption “I hear stuff like, ‘We’ve been here only a few days and it’s like it’s not happening.’ Isn’t that what we all want?” says Chad Hodnefield, owner of a KOA campground in Colorado, referring to how people feel being free of their COVID-19 quarantines.
I wonder how the guests feel. “Grateful!” he says, like he’d been waiting to be asked. “Relieved. It’s like, ‘Phew, thank you for not going overboard [with COVID-19 measures].’ I hear stuff like, ‘We’ve been here only a few days and it’s like it’s not happening.’”
He grins and shrugs. “Isn’t that what we all want?”
We meet fellow campers Deborah and Richard Lamkin, from Cisco, Texas, with their 40-foot diesel coach and its additional “toy-hauler” trailer, out of which emerge an off-road buggy complete with roll bars and a matching pair of electric bikes. “I mean, if you have to isolate ...” says Ms. Lamkin, waving at her transportable homestead.
John and Sue Pack are isolating, too – but en masse. They and their extended family of children and grandchildren are in adjacent sites, having chosen Craig as the midpoint among various homes around Greater Salt Lake City and Castle Rock, Colorado. After months of distancing, this is how to convene, they’ve decided: in the open air, around a cookstove. They are post-meal and pre-cleanup when we catch them – a dozen friendly people splayed on benches and camp chairs, teasing and laughing, kids appearing from nowhere to jump in someone’s lap and then disappearing just as fast. A regular family, cherishing a regular time. “This is our bubble,” says Mr. Pack.
That night the temperature drops from 90 degrees to 50. The air is delicious. We keep Maybell’s windows open and still she is snug.
The campground is full but quiet. There are drifts of woodsmoke, notes of laughter that come and go, sometimes the sound of a far-off truck. The night is starry.
We are aware of unseen people gathered all around us, poking at embers, whispering, looking at the sky, tucking into bed. It feels magnificent.
Like it’s not happening.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption John and Sue Pack (center) enjoy time with extended family at a campground in Craig, Colorado, that is midway between family members’ homes.
Cows on the road
On the way to Utah, before passing the town of Dinosaur, Colorado, we are stopped by a cattle drive. A mixed posse of wranglers (one woman, two men), on horseback and an ATV, keep the long stream of lowing cows moving across the road.
At the general store in Maybell, Colorado (no relation), we stop for gas – so much gas. The proprietor tells us about her daughter, a teacher who is worried about returning to school. “I told her, ‘You gotta have schools open; kids suffer without school. You can’t live in fear.’”
In Utah the land is rising again, but either we’ve grown used to Maybell or she’s grown used to us. The rattles aren’t as noticeable, and we let the hills slow us as they choose. We pull in and take the last available site in Ashley National Forest’s Lodgepole Campground. Unlike the cheek-by-jowl arrangements at the KOA and other private campsites, here on national forest land we are isolated among tall thin pines, the other sites scattered out of view along an access loop. No hookups, though – no electricity, water, or sewer connections. No problem, says Maybell. I’m self-sufficient.
We walk the loop, greeting communities of campers in every kind of rig. Among them are Angie and Justin Woodward in a 32-foot RV with their four children plus Tiger, a Chihuahua mix who appears to own the forest. Their site is festooned with the right camp chairs for each family member. Everyone has bikes. On their cloth-covered picnic table lie games, a stove, a cooler, and containers of craft materials and teaching supplies. They invite Melanie and me for s’mores, and the three oldest children eagerly regale us with their favorite camping destinations across Utah. They’ve done this camping thing before.
“But not as much as now!” says Mr. Woodward. The school shutdowns mean schedule flexibility, even if some educating has to take place in the wild. “It’s not normal back home,” he says. “But this” – he gestures at the activity all around us – “this is normal.”
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption Angie Woodward blows bubbles for daughters Lillie (center) and Lucie, while her husband, Justin, watches at a campground in the Ashley National Forest in Utah.
The Woodwards represent two observations that were inescapable throughout our trip. One: The campers we meet are pros. For all the evidence of the pandemic-prompted RV surge, it’s still the aficionados, not the newbies, who dominate the road – and everyone we talk to claims, like the Woodwards, to be camping more than before.
And two: There may be no impulse more unstoppable than the human desire for “normal.”
On the Fourth of July
From the Lodgepole Campground, we journey north, gliding gradually lower from 8,000 feet over bald mountains and broad canyons. We drive with Maybell’s windows down, the breeze blowing her curtains, our skin smooth and papery in the high dry air. It is the Fourth of July.
We’ve reserved another KOA campground – getting reservations anywhere has been difficult – this one in Montpelier, Idaho, a town on a high plain edged by hills to the north. But before reaching the campground we idle through the community of 2,500 people itself, only to find ourselves suddenly inserted into a stream of vehicles rolling in both directions on the main street. Puzzled, we pull Maybell to the curb and watch.
The vehicles are of every kind: pickups, convertibles, dirt bikes, jalopies. Some new, some old, some seemingly reserved for this purpose only. All are jammed with people – adults, teenagers, children – and most are decorated with flags or banners or signs. Sometimes the drivers themselves are decorated. We see a shirtless Uncle Sam pop a wheelie. Loudspeakers wail.
It seems the town’s official July Fourth parade has been canceled due to virus precautions, so residents have taken it upon themselves, explains a local, to spend the afternoon cruising up and down the main street. Later the Montpelier News-Examiner would report it as the revival of a time-honored tradition: “drag[ging] main as in the olden days.”
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption Residents in all kinds of vehicles and costumes participate in an unofficial Fourth of July parade in Montpelier, Idaho.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption Businesses line the main street of Montpelier, Idaho, whose residents spontaneously staged a parade to come together after a spate of suicides.
But back at the campground we learn from Brenda Reno that the revival has sadder origins. In late April, Montpelier suffered a tragic spate of five suicides in three weeks (with two more “possibles” being investigated, according to police). Though Idaho had experienced very few COVID-19 cases up to that point, the economic slowdowns had hit places like Montpelier hard. When a resident launched an ad hoc Facebook campaign proposing people “drag main” to show support for the victims’ families, hundreds of cars showed up. “It helped people,” says Ms. Reno, who is closing the campground snack bar. “Anything to get out finally, to be together even if we couldn’t be. Anything to feel normal.” Two weeks later they would drag main again.
As Ms. Reno speaks, twilight is falling. The campground pool that had been thick with splashing children has grown calm. The rooftop air conditioners of the giant motor homes hum in the heat.
Gradually we notice people emerging from rigs and cabins and shower huts, calling to one another, passing instructions, getting in cars. “What’s happening?” we ask Ms. Reno. “Oh, fireworks,” she says. “Everybody’s going to the fireworks. All my kids are. Not sure if I’m going or not.”
In coming days the News-Examiner would testify that “the fireworks were as good or better than ever, and everyone had fun.”
Inside Maybell, we didn’t hear them.
From ravines to granite cliffs
From Montpelier to Lander, Wyoming, would be our trip’s longest leg. Also its most beautiful.
We zigzag northeast, gaining altitude. Tawny ravines give way to fir-dotted slopes, then granite cliffs. At the town of Alpine, Wyoming, we pick up the Snake River, swift and chalky in the sunshine, and follow it – the already fresh air now tasting fresher.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption Visitors stop at a turnout to admire the serrated peaks of Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption A herd of bison grazes in Grand Teton National Park outside Jackson, Wyoming.
We spill through the mountain town of Jackson, then straight up Route 89 with the Grand Tetons rising on our left, their serrated profile more heart-stopping than any mountains west of the Matterhorn. We pull into a roadside overlook, park, and eat lunch. We have sandwiches and some fruit, and we settle in Maybell’s little banquette and look at the mountains filling our wide-open windows. We sit a long time. We don’t talk.
Underway again, we haven’t traveled far when we come upon cars and campers and bus-sized RVs inexplicably pulling off the shoulderless road. Then we see why.
Spread before us, from as near as 50 yards to as far as you can see, are bison. A thousand bison. They flood the entire valley, their mammoth heads and forequarters tapering to their laughable billy-goat behinds. A preposterous animal, preposterously beautiful.
And maybe we can be forgiven right then for wondering, Where are we? How did we get here? Just a few days earlier we’d been stuck in our New England home, weary of confinement. And now: this.
The next day, outside Lander in the Shoshone National Forest, we sit by a stream with forest rangers Bill Lee and Del Nelson. They have been working in the area for 41 and 45 years, respectively, and are still coiled with energy. We describe what we’ve seen on the trip so far, and they grin like there is a secret they want to share but can’t; they know we have to learn it for ourselves. Finally Mr. Nelson ventures: “It’s therapeutic, being in nature, isn’t it? It’s medicinal, if you will.”
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption “It’s therapeutic, being in nature, isn’t it? It’s medicinal, if you will,” says Del Nelson (left), who along with Bill Lee has been working as a forest ranger for more than 40 years. Most of that time has been in the Shoshone National Forest in Wyoming.
Yes, it is medicinal. It is for Melanie and me, at least. Maybe for anyone.
The two men do everything that operating the Shoshone requires – “tickets to toilets,” as Mr. Lee puts it. When they started opening campgrounds on May 20, Mr. Lee bought $3,000 worth of disinfectant gear and cleaned bathrooms in a hazmat suit. Now, their wives worry more than they do, though the men still don masks around people and keep safely separate. Visitation at the national forest is up. At trailheads, the rangers are encountering more people “who don’t know their way around.” Which is a good thing, they say. More people getting the medicine.
We stay two nights in Lander – the first in Sinks Canyon State Park, the second just a couple of miles farther up the road in the Shoshone. That last night we park between canyon walls that frame the steeply falling Popo Agie River, its crystalline waters just 20 steps from Maybell’s door. All night we can hear the river tumbling in the dark.
Remembering an air show
Our trip is coming to an end, but I’ve left something out. Sometime on the third morning, Melanie and I catch up with my past.
We are herding Maybell up Route 89 through Wyoming’s Star Valley when the highway transforms into the main street of the town of Afton. Suddenly, through the gaps in buildings, we see a paved field full of airplanes – tiny planes, open cockpits, painted like a circus. And I remember: I’ve been here before.
Forty years ago as a kid with my brother, sister, and parents I’d spent an overcast afternoon in this same place during a family trip that took us from our New Jersey home to California. The journey was an awakening – a sudden confrontation with the country’s size, a summons to imagine lives nothing like mine in places nothing like my own.
I remember lying unseen in the “way back” of our station wagon outside a Minot, North Dakota, supermarket overhearing two teenage girls talk about the boys they’d see at the state fair that night. I remember shooting baskets on a dirt court with a cowhand at a dude ranch in Chugwater, Wyoming. I remember a campground where I met an old man traveling solo in a makeshift van, who sat with me under a tree and explained which kind of rod worked for which kind of fish.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption An arch of elk antlers – the “world’s largest” – welcomes visitors to the downtown district of Afton, Wyoming.
Most vividly, though, I remember seeing an air show in Afton – I’d forgotten the name of the place until stumbling on it. A tinny loudspeaker introduced successive “acts”: a hammering old World War II Mustang, a wing-walking woman (who was tethered to a strut but appeared no less daring for it), and little biplanes that climbed straight up before sliding impossibly backward into tumbles and loops and then racing past us upside down just beyond our chain-link fence. I remember everything about the show, but mostly I remember the rapt face of my father, who had learned to fly small planes himself.
And now here Melanie and I are, walking among those planes, taking pictures of them on a quiet, diamond-bright morning. I send the pictures to my dad.
So little has changed, is the point. And maybe that is what we’ve learned as we have finally gotten out, and gotten away, and traveled through landscapes dismissive of a pandemic, among people undaunted by it. We wanted what everyone wants and what so many we met have at least for a moment achieved: Like it’s not happening. We wanted normal, but got more. We got beauty. We got solace. What we did on our summer road trip was what a lot of Americans sought to do on theirs: For a small time, we got peace.
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We did not, alas, get to keep Maybell. We had to give her back. “But don’t worry,” we said to her at the depot. “We’ll return for you.” And it may have been my imagination, but I think she was glad.
She wants to go again.


csmonitor--2020-09-04--Vistas of the heart and soul

Vistas of the heart and soul

This week ’ s cover story proves that you can say something important and still have some fun along the way .
In it , the married couple of correspondent Michael S. Hopkins and staff photographer Melanie Stetson Freeman set out in search of something that seems to have been in conspicuously short supply for much of 2020 : some sense of normalcy .
Their quest takes them to the Rocky Mountains and an adorable RV whose curtains yearn to flutter when the windows are rolled down .
The idea is to see if you can take your bubble with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ world today , travel can seem a daunting or even reckless prospect .
Quarantines , social distancing , and industrial-sized containers of hand sanitizer do not scream “ relaxing vacation.
” But what if you take your world with you in a 22-foot-long mobile lockdown unit ?
What if your living room window could look out on alpine meadows one day and the Grand Tetons the next ?
What Michael and Melanie found is that these grand spaces offer some sense of vacation not just from work , but from the pandemic .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ and poplar forests , normalcy comes through the sheer expanse of space .
It is not hard to socially distance when you are surrounded by only shaggy-shouldered bison .
But there ’ s a deeper lesson here , too .
Normalcy is not all such landscapes offer .
They also offer a sense of peace – a glimpse of a world where fear begins to fade into some larger picture .
And the fact is , mountain highways are not the only route to those vistas .
Again and again , Monitor reporters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the time of the coronavirus : that our bonds of fellowship , selflessness , and kindness make us more resilient .
I can remember the story of the woman and her 90-something mother who threw socially distanced dance parties to find joy .
Or of the countless neighbors who have driven by a child ’ s house on a birthday .
Michael ’ s story tells of the people of Montpelier , Idaho , holding a parade of cars down its main street to heal and show solidarity after a spate of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ make us all toxic to one another .
And the coronavirus is not alone in this .
The politics of today would make us distrustful and fearful of one another .
Racial divisions would seek to prey upon prejudices and prevent true equality .
In so many ways , the tendency of today is to see peace only in separation – to put ourselves in all manner of bubbles .
But just as an RV can reveal the largeness in a Rocky Mountain vacation , a pandemic can also reveal the largeness of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ human vistas in the densest Bronx neighborhood or the tidiest Dallas suburb .
The irony of the pandemic is that it has confirmed that peace comes not just amid the silence of whispering pines , but in the connections we share with one another – regardless of masks or 6-foot distancing .
And that lesson will continue to offer resilience and healing well after the pandemic has passed .

This week’s cover story proves that you can say something important and still have some fun along the way. In it, the married couple of correspondent Michael S. Hopkins and staff photographer Melanie Stetson Freeman set out in search of something that seems to have been in conspicuously short supply for much of 2020: some sense of normalcy.
Their quest takes them to the Rocky Mountains and an adorable RV whose curtains yearn to flutter when the windows are rolled down. The idea is to see if you can take your bubble with you. For so many around the world today, travel can seem a daunting or even reckless prospect. Quarantines, social distancing, and industrial-sized containers of hand sanitizer do not scream “relaxing vacation.” But what if you take your world with you in a 22-foot-long mobile lockdown unit? What if your living room window could look out on alpine meadows one day and the Grand Tetons the next?
What Michael and Melanie found is that these grand spaces offer some sense of vacation not just from work, but from the pandemic. Where the world widens into snowcapped peaks and poplar forests, normalcy comes through the sheer expanse of space. It is not hard to socially distance when you are surrounded by only shaggy-shouldered bison.
But there’s a deeper lesson here, too. Normalcy is not all such landscapes offer. They also offer a sense of peace – a glimpse of a world where fear begins to fade into some larger picture. And the fact is, mountain highways are not the only route to those vistas.
Again and again, Monitor reporters and columnists have chronicled one clear takeaway from the time of the coronavirus: that our bonds of fellowship, selflessness, and kindness make us more resilient. I can remember the story of the woman and her 90-something mother who threw socially distanced dance parties to find joy. Or of the countless neighbors who have driven by a child’s house on a birthday. Michael’s story tells of the people of Montpelier, Idaho, holding a parade of cars down its main street to heal and show solidarity after a spate of suicides.
The virus would seek to make us all toxic to one another. And the coronavirus is not alone in this. The politics of today would make us distrustful and fearful of one another. Racial divisions would seek to prey upon prejudices and prevent true equality.
In so many ways, the tendency of today is to see peace only in separation – to put ourselves in all manner of bubbles.
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empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
But just as an RV can reveal the largeness in a Rocky Mountain vacation, a pandemic can also reveal the largeness of the human spirit. There are infinite human vistas in the densest Bronx neighborhood or the tidiest Dallas suburb.
The irony of the pandemic is that it has confirmed that peace comes not just amid the silence of whispering pines, but in the connections we share with one another – regardless of masks or 6-foot distancing. And that lesson will continue to offer resilience and healing well after the pandemic has passed.


csmonitor--2020-09-04--Why the US federal budget deficit could reach $3.3 trillion

The federal budget deficit is projected to hit a record $ 3.3 trillion as huge government expenditures to fight the coronavirus and to prop up the economy have added more than $ 2 trillion to the federal ledger , the Congressional Budget Office said .
The spike in the deficit means that federal debt will exceed annual gross domestic product next year – a milestone that would put the United States where it was in the aftermath of World War II , when accumulated debt exceeded the size of the economy .
The $ 3.3 trillion figure released Wednesday is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more than double the levels experienced after the market meltdown and Great Recession of 2008-09 .
Government spending , fueled by four coronavirus response measures , would register at $ 6.6 trillion , $ 2 trillion-plus more than 2019 .
The recession has caused a drop in tax revenues have fallen , but the changes are not as dramatic as seen on the spending side , with individual income tax collections running 11 % behind last year .
Corporate tax collections are down 34 % .
The economy shut down in the spring @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a failed national attempt to defeat the pandemic .
That shutdown led lawmakers and President Donald Trump to pump money into business subsidies , larger unemployment benefits , $ 1,200 direct payments and other stimulus steps that have helped the economy in the short term .
Most economists are untroubled by such huge borrowing when the economy is in peril , and the debt was barely a concern when a cornerstone $ 2 trillion coronavirus relief bill passed almost unanimously in March .
But now that lawmakers and the White House are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a fifth virus relief bill , Republicans are growing skittish at the enormous costs of battling the pandemic .
The Democratic-controlled House passed a $ 3.5 trillion measure in May , though House Speaker Nancy Pelosi , D-Calif. , says she is willing to cut that figure to $ 2.2 trillion .
Caseloads remain unacceptably elevated , however , as the virus exacts a painful , lingering toll on the economy and sentiment remains high for a fifth virus rescue package that would include money to reopen schools , patch state budgets , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ kept families afloat .
Among Republicans , there seems to be less ardor for a deal – at least at what they see as unfavorable terms .
GOP leaders had been pressing for a package in the $ 1 trillion range , but party talks during August have focused on a smaller package .
The enormous deficit is bringing the federal debt , as measured by the size of the economy , near levels not experienced since the end of World War II , when explosive borrowing to finance the war effort caused @ @ @ @ @ @ @ quickly receded during the postwar boom – something that won ’ t happen now , since federal spending is now dominated by retirement programs like Medicare and Social Security , whose costs increase automatically with inflation and the ongoing retirement of the Baby Boom generation .
Deficit scolds have long warned that rising levels of debt will serve as a drag on the economy in the coming years .
If interest rates rise too high , servicing the debt will put significant strain on the budget .
The Federal Reserve has stepped in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rates low for years as debt levels have risen .
“ At a certain point , Washington ’ s insatiable borrowing needs will crowd out other investments and harm growth , ” said Brian Riedl , a senior fellow at the conservative Manhatten Institute .
“ Washington should help end the pandemic and rescue the economy , yet must also address these unsustainable long-term deficits.
” By year ’ s end , the publicly held national debt will total 98 % of the U.S. gross domestic product , the total output of goods @ @ @ @ @ @ @ % of GDP at the end of 2019 and 35 % back in 2007 .
The CBO projected that the debt would exceed 100 % of GDP in 2021 and set a new record high of 107 % in 2021 .
CBO , the nonpartisan economic and research arm of Congress , predicts that deficit will total $ 13 trillion over the coming decade .
This story was reported by The Associated Press .

The federal budget deficit is projected to hit a record $3.3 trillion as huge government expenditures to fight the coronavirus and to prop up the economy have added more than $2 trillion to the federal ledger, the Congressional Budget Office said.
The spike in the deficit means that federal debt will exceed annual gross domestic product next year – a milestone that would put the United States where it was in the aftermath of World War II, when accumulated debt exceeded the size of the economy.
The $3.3 trillion figure released Wednesday is more than triple the 2019 shortfall and more than double the levels experienced after the market meltdown and Great Recession of 2008-09. Government spending, fueled by four coronavirus response measures, would register at $6.6 trillion, $2 trillion-plus more than 2019.
The recession has caused a drop in tax revenues have fallen, but the changes are not as dramatic as seen on the spending side, with individual income tax collections running 11% behind last year. Corporate tax collections are down 34%.
The economy shut down in the spring so people could be in isolation, in a failed national attempt to defeat the pandemic. That shutdown led lawmakers and President Donald Trump to pump money into business subsidies, larger unemployment benefits, $1,200 direct payments and other stimulus steps that have helped the economy in the short term.
Most economists are untroubled by such huge borrowing when the economy is in peril, and the debt was barely a concern when a cornerstone $2 trillion coronavirus relief bill passed almost unanimously in March.
But now that lawmakers and the White House are quarreling over the size and scope of a fifth virus relief bill, Republicans are growing skittish at the enormous costs of battling the pandemic. The Democratic-controlled House passed a $3.5 trillion measure in May, though House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., says she is willing to cut that figure to $2.2 trillion.
Caseloads remain unacceptably elevated, however, as the virus exacts a painful, lingering toll on the economy and sentiment remains high for a fifth virus rescue package that would include money to reopen schools, patch state budgets, and continue enhanced jobless benefits that have kept families afloat.
Among Republicans, there seems to be less ardor for a deal – at least at what they see as unfavorable terms. GOP leaders had been pressing for a package in the $1 trillion range, but party talks during August have focused on a smaller package.
The enormous deficit is bringing the federal debt, as measured by the size of the economy, near levels not experienced since the end of World War II, when explosive borrowing to finance the war effort caused a historic spike. But those levels quickly receded during the postwar boom – something that won’t happen now, since federal spending is now dominated by retirement programs like Medicare and Social Security, whose costs increase automatically with inflation and the ongoing retirement of the Baby Boom generation.
Deficit scolds have long warned that rising levels of debt will serve as a drag on the economy in the coming years. If interest rates rise too high, servicing the debt will put significant strain on the budget. The Federal Reserve has stepped in to keep credit markets stable and interest rates low for years as debt levels have risen.
“At a certain point, Washington’s insatiable borrowing needs will crowd out other investments and harm growth,” said Brian Riedl, a senior fellow at the conservative Manhatten Institute. “Washington should help end the pandemic and rescue the economy, yet must also address these unsustainable long-term deficits.”
By year’s end, the publicly held national debt will total 98% of the U.S. gross domestic product, the total output of goods and services. That compares with 79% of GDP at the end of 2019 and 35% back in 2007.
The CBO projected that the debt would exceed 100% of GDP in 2021 and set a new record high of 107% in 2021.
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CBO, the nonpartisan economic and research arm of Congress, predicts that deficit will total $13 trillion over the coming decade.
This story was reported by The Associated Press.


csmonitor--2020-09-04--Man who allegedly shot Portland Trump supporter killed in arrest

The man believed to have fatally shot a supporter of President Donald Trump following skirmishes between Black Lives Matter protesters and a pro-Trump caravan in Portland , Oregon , was a regular at the demonstrations that have roiled the Northwest city for months .
Michael Forest Reinoehl , 48 , had described himself in a social media post as “ 100 % ANTIFA , ” and suggested the tactics of counter-protesters amounted to “ warfare.
” He had been shot at one protest and cited for having a gun at another .
Mr. Reinoehl was himself killed Thursday when he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ force attempted to apprehend him near Lacey , Washington , the U.S .
Marshals Service said in a statement .
The arrest attempt came shortly after Mr. Reinoehl gave an interview to VICE News in which he appeared to acknowledge having killed Aaron “ Jay ” Danielson on Saturday .
In the interview , Mr. Reinoehl said he “ had no choice ” but to do what he did because he thought he and his friend were about to be stabbed .
“ You know , lots of lawyers suggest that I shouldn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but I feel it ’ s important that the world at least gets a little bit of what ’ s really going on , ” Mr. Reinoehl told the TV news program .
“ I had no choice .
I mean , I , I had a choice .
I could have sat there and watched them kill a friend of mine of color .
But I wasn ’ t going to do that.
” His sister said in a text message to AP that she told police he appeared to be a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ scene of the fatal shooting .
She provided the statement on the condition of anonymity , citing dozens of threats her family had received since people online identified him from a video of the shooting .
Mr. Danielson was fatally shot in the chest Aug. 29 after some participants in a caravan of Trump supporters , estimated at about 600 cars , drove downtown and encountered Black Lives Matter protesters .
Skirmishes broke out , with people in the caravan firing paintball weapons at people in the street .
Video taken by a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a member of the right-wing group Patriot Prayer , spraying pepper spray just before he was shot .
Earlier , on July 5 , police cited Mr. Reinoehl on allegations of possessing a loaded gun in a public place , resisting arrest , and interfering with police .
On July 26 , Mr. Reinoehl was shot near his elbow after he got involved in a scuffle between an armed white man and a group of young people of color .
The man who was carrying that gun , Aaron Scott Collins , told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had just left a bar when they saw the group harassing an older Black man .
His friend began filming them with a phone , and the group confronted them , calling them Nazis , he said .
In the ensuing scuffle , Mr. Collins said , he was struck in the head with a skateboard and fell down .
He felt people trying to grab his gun from its holster , and he decided to pull it out to get control of it .
Mr. Reinoehl , whom he did not know @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Mr. Collins said .
Mr. Reinoehl later that day spoke to an AP videographer .
His arm was wrapped in a bloody bandage ; he said he was on his way to meet protest medics so they could change it .
He said he didn ’ t know what had started the altercation between Mr. Collins and the group , but that several people had decided to intervene when they saw Mr. Collins fighting with minors .
“ As soon as the adults jumped in , he pulled out a gun , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ jumped in there and pulled the gun away from people ’ s heads , avoided being shot in the stomach and I got shot in the arm.
” He added : “ It ’ s escalating to a point where they ’ re trying to disrupt us in every way that ’ s illegal .
They ’ re shooting at us , they ’ re sending people in who are starting fights .
It ’ s terrible .
...
It ’ s warfare.
” Mr. Reinoehl was also wanted on a warrant out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ where court records show he skipped a hearing related to a June case in which he has been charged with driving under the influence of controlled substances , reckless driving , reckless endangerment , and unlawful possession of a firearm .
Police said he drove on an interstate at up to 111 mph , with his daughter in the car , while racing his teenage son , who was in a different vehicle .
His daughter also has attended protests with him ; at one , she was photographed carrying a baseball bat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ give her an education , ” he told the AP .
“ She ’ s going to be contributing to running this new country that we ’ re fighting for.
” Mr. Reinoehl wrote on his Facebook page that he was a professional snowboarder for Deviation , a Portland ski and snowboard company , and he posted several videos of himself and his son snowboarding .
But in a statement Monday , Deviation said Mr. Reinoehl had never been an employee or sponsored athlete of the company .
One friend who knows Mr. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sponsored by various companies over the years and had sometimes won “ big air ” competitions – to the point that his nickname became “ Big Mike.
” The friend described him as “ a really nice guy , a gentle giant ” who sometimes fashioned himself into “ a defender role.
” The friend spoke on the condition of anonymity , citing threats he had received online .
He sent Mr. Reinoehl a message recently to ask if he was all right ; Mr. Reinoehl hadn ’ t responded , he said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Reinoehl ’ s sister said they were never close and she had been estranged from him for the past three years .
She said she learned about his potential involvement in the shooting when she received a threatening phone call Sunday – the first of 60 that day .
“ Violence and hate are never acceptable , ” she added .
“ When people use violence to fight for peace and equality , all we get is more violence , and the cause suffers.
” This story was reported by The Associated Press @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , D.C. contributed to this report .

The man believed to have fatally shot a supporter of President Donald Trump following skirmishes between Black Lives Matter protesters and a pro-Trump caravan in Portland, Oregon, was a regular at the demonstrations that have roiled the Northwest city for months.
Michael Forest Reinoehl, 48, had described himself in a social media post as “100% ANTIFA,” and suggested the tactics of counter-protesters amounted to “warfare.” He had been shot at one protest and cited for having a gun at another.
Mr. Reinoehl was himself killed Thursday when he pulled a gun as a federal task force attempted to apprehend him near Lacey, Washington, the U.S. Marshals Service said in a statement.
The arrest attempt came shortly after Mr. Reinoehl gave an interview to VICE News in which he appeared to acknowledge having killed Aaron “Jay” Danielson on Saturday. In the interview, Mr. Reinoehl said he “had no choice” but to do what he did because he thought he and his friend were about to be stabbed.
“You know, lots of lawyers suggest that I shouldn’t even be saying anything, but I feel it’s important that the world at least gets a little bit of what’s really going on,” Mr. Reinoehl told the TV news program. “I had no choice. I mean, I, I had a choice. I could have sat there and watched them kill a friend of mine of color. But I wasn’t going to do that.”
His sister said in a text message to AP that she told police he appeared to be a person caught on video running from the scene of the fatal shooting. She provided the statement on the condition of anonymity, citing dozens of threats her family had received since people online identified him from a video of the shooting.
Mr. Danielson was fatally shot in the chest Aug. 29 after some participants in a caravan of Trump supporters, estimated at about 600 cars, drove downtown and encountered Black Lives Matter protesters. Skirmishes broke out, with people in the caravan firing paintball weapons at people in the street. Video taken by a live-streamer appeared to show Mr. Danielson, a member of the right-wing group Patriot Prayer, spraying pepper spray just before he was shot.
Earlier, on July 5, police cited Mr. Reinoehl on allegations of possessing a loaded gun in a public place, resisting arrest, and interfering with police.
On July 26, Mr. Reinoehl was shot near his elbow after he got involved in a scuffle between an armed white man and a group of young people of color. The man who was carrying that gun, Aaron Scott Collins, told The Oregonian/OregonLive that he and a friend had just left a bar when they saw the group harassing an older Black man. His friend began filming them with a phone, and the group confronted them, calling them Nazis, he said.
In the ensuing scuffle, Mr. Collins said, he was struck in the head with a skateboard and fell down. He felt people trying to grab his gun from its holster, and he decided to pull it out to get control of it. Mr. Reinoehl, whom he did not know, then began grabbing at the slide, Mr. Collins said.
Mr. Reinoehl later that day spoke to an AP videographer. His arm was wrapped in a bloody bandage; he said he was on his way to meet protest medics so they could change it.
He said he didn’t know what had started the altercation between Mr. Collins and the group, but that several people had decided to intervene when they saw Mr. Collins fighting with minors.
“As soon as the adults jumped in, he pulled out a gun,” Mr. Reinoehl said. “I jumped in there and pulled the gun away from people’s heads, avoided being shot in the stomach and I got shot in the arm.”
He added: “It’s escalating to a point where they’re trying to disrupt us in every way that’s illegal. They’re shooting at us, they’re sending people in who are starting fights. It’s terrible. ... It’s warfare.”
Mr. Reinoehl was also wanted on a warrant out of Baker County in eastern Oregon, where court records show he skipped a hearing related to a June case in which he has been charged with driving under the influence of controlled substances, reckless driving, reckless endangerment, and unlawful possession of a firearm.
Police said he drove on an interstate at up to 111 mph, with his daughter in the car, while racing his teenage son, who was in a different vehicle. His daughter also has attended protests with him; at one, she was photographed carrying a baseball bat.
“I’m trying to give her an education,” he told the AP. “She’s going to be contributing to running this new country that we’re fighting for.”
Mr. Reinoehl wrote on his Facebook page that he was a professional snowboarder for Deviation, a Portland ski and snowboard company, and he posted several videos of himself and his son snowboarding. But in a statement Monday, Deviation said Mr. Reinoehl had never been an employee or sponsored athlete of the company.
One friend who knows Mr. Reinoehl through snowboarding said he had been sponsored by various companies over the years and had sometimes won “big air” competitions – to the point that his nickname became “Big Mike.” The friend described him as “a really nice guy, a gentle giant” who sometimes fashioned himself into “a defender role.” The friend spoke on the condition of anonymity, citing threats he had received online. He sent Mr. Reinoehl a message recently to ask if he was all right; Mr. Reinoehl hadn’t responded, he said.
In her text message, Mr. Reinoehl’s sister said they were never close and she had been estranged from him for the past three years.
She said she learned about his potential involvement in the shooting when she received a threatening phone call Sunday – the first of 60 that day.
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“Violence and hate are never acceptable,” she added. “When people use violence to fight for peace and equality, all we get is more violence, and the cause suffers.”
This story was reported by The Associated Press. AP writer Michael Balsamo in Washington, D.C. contributed to this report.


csmonitor--2020-09-04--EPA to focus on clean-ups, economic growth

Environmental Protection Agency chief Andrew Wheeler on Thursday defended the Trump administration ’ s record on protecting the nation ’ s air and water and said a second term would bring a greater focus on pollution cleanups in disadvantaged communities and less emphasis on climate change .
In a speech commemorating the 50th anniversary of the EPA ’ s founding , Mr. Wheeler said the agency was moving back toward an approach that had long promoted economic growth as well as a healthy environment and drawn bipartisan support .
“ Unfortunately , in the past decade or so , some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Congress have elevated single issue advocacy – in many cases focused just on climate change – to virtue-signal to foreign capitals , over the interests of communities within their own country , ” he said .
Environmental groups and former EPA chiefs from both parties have accused Mr. Wheeler and his predecessor , Scott Pruitt , of undermining the agency ’ s mission by weakening or eliminating dozens of regulations intended to protect air and water quality , reduce climate change , and protect endangered species .
“ EPA was founded to protect @ @ @ @ @ @ @ families – but the Trump administration has turned it into an agency to protect polluters.
” said Gina McCarthy , who led the agency during the Obama administration and now is president of the NRDC Action Fund , the political arm of the Natural Resources Defense Council .
Under President Donald Trump , EPA has raised the bar for requiring environmental reviews of highway and pipeline construction ; reduced limits and reporting requirements for methane emissions ; rolled back vehicle fuel economy and emissions standards ; slashed the number of protected streams and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ carbon emissions from power plants .
Courts have blocked some of the changes , but others have taken effect .
In his remarks , Mr. Wheeler said that if Mr. Trump is re-elected EPA would support “ community-driven environmentalism ” that emphasizes on-the-ground results such as faster cleanup of Superfund toxic waste dumps and abandoned industrial sites that could be used for new businesses .
He pledged to require cost-benefit analyses for proposed rules and to make public the scientific justification for regulations , saying it would “ bring much needed sunlight into @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ want decisions to be made behind closed doors.
” Critics say a science “ transparency ” policy EPA is considering would hamper development of health and safety regulations by preventing consideration of studies with confidential information about patients and businesses .
Mr. Wheeler spoke at the Richard Nixon library in Yorba Linda , California .
The Republican president established the EPA in 1970 amid public revulsion over smog-choked skies and waterways so laced with toxins they were unfit for swimming or fishing .
Some of the nation ’ s bedrock environmental laws @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and the Clean Water Act , were enacted during his administration .
Mr. Wheeler , an EPA and Senate staffer in the 1990s and a former coal industry lobbyist , said the agency had accomplished much .
Lead gasoline , paint , asbestos and dioxins , and hundreds of hazardous chemicals and compounds have been banned , he said .
“ America ’ s environment today is cleaner than it ’ s ever been in our lifetimes , ” he said , adding that during the Trump administration , air pollution has fallen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ programs have pumped $ 40 billion into clean-water infrastructure upgrades .
But the agency has become too bureaucratic and confrontational , he said – delaying permits needlessly , issuing conflicting orders to businesses and communities , and backing policies that worsen some environmental problems to solve others .
East Coast governors have blocked natural gas pipelines in the name of fighting climate change but the result has been more gas imports from Russia , Mr. Wheeler said .
He blamed California ’ s support of greater reliance on renewable energy and less on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ resulted in sewage spills .
“ Instead of confusing words with actions , and choosing empty symbolism over doing a good job , we can focus our attention and resources on helping communities help themselves , ” Mr. Wheeler said .
Ms. McCarthy and five other former EPA chiefs whose terms date as far back as the Reagan administration issued a statement this month saying Mr. Trump had abandoned the agency ’ s “ core mission of protecting human health and the environment.
” “ Actions during the Trump administration have further decreased @ @ @ @ @ @ @ credibility , undercut its historic dedication to high ethical standards , and affected employee morale , ” they said in a joint statement .
This story was reported by The Associated Press .

Environmental Protection Agency chief Andrew Wheeler on Thursday defended the Trump administration’s record on protecting the nation’s air and water and said a second term would bring a greater focus on pollution cleanups in disadvantaged communities and less emphasis on climate change.
In a speech commemorating the 50th anniversary of the EPA’s founding, Mr. Wheeler said the agency was moving back toward an approach that had long promoted economic growth as well as a healthy environment and drawn bipartisan support.
“Unfortunately, in the past decade or so, some members of former administrations and progressives in Congress have elevated single issue advocacy – in many cases focused just on climate change – to virtue-signal to foreign capitals, over the interests of communities within their own country,” he said.
Environmental groups and former EPA chiefs from both parties have accused Mr. Wheeler and his predecessor, Scott Pruitt, of undermining the agency’s mission by weakening or eliminating dozens of regulations intended to protect air and water quality, reduce climate change, and protect endangered species.
“EPA was founded to protect people – you, me and our families – but the Trump administration has turned it into an agency to protect polluters.” said Gina McCarthy, who led the agency during the Obama administration and now is president of the NRDC Action Fund, the political arm of the Natural Resources Defense Council.
Under President Donald Trump, EPA has raised the bar for requiring environmental reviews of highway and pipeline construction; reduced limits and reporting requirements for methane emissions; rolled back vehicle fuel economy and emissions standards; slashed the number of protected streams and wetlands; and repealed federal limits on carbon emissions from power plants.
Courts have blocked some of the changes, but others have taken effect.
In his remarks, Mr. Wheeler said that if Mr. Trump is re-elected EPA would support “community-driven environmentalism” that emphasizes on-the-ground results such as faster cleanup of Superfund toxic waste dumps and abandoned industrial sites that could be used for new businesses.
He pledged to require cost-benefit analyses for proposed rules and to make public the scientific justification for regulations, saying it would “bring much needed sunlight into our regulatory process” and saying opponents “want decisions to be made behind closed doors.”
Critics say a science “transparency” policy EPA is considering would hamper development of health and safety regulations by preventing consideration of studies with confidential information about patients and businesses.
Mr. Wheeler spoke at the Richard Nixon library in Yorba Linda, California. The Republican president established the EPA in 1970 amid public revulsion over smog-choked skies and waterways so laced with toxins they were unfit for swimming or fishing. Some of the nation’s bedrock environmental laws, such as the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act, were enacted during his administration.
Mr. Wheeler, an EPA and Senate staffer in the 1990s and a former coal industry lobbyist, said the agency had accomplished much. Lead gasoline, paint, asbestos and dioxins, and hundreds of hazardous chemicals and compounds have been banned, he said.
“America’s environment today is cleaner than it’s ever been in our lifetimes,” he said, adding that during the Trump administration, air pollution has fallen while Superfund cleanups have accelerated and EPA programs have pumped $40 billion into clean-water infrastructure upgrades.
But the agency has become too bureaucratic and confrontational, he said – delaying permits needlessly, issuing conflicting orders to businesses and communities, and backing policies that worsen some environmental problems to solve others.
East Coast governors have blocked natural gas pipelines in the name of fighting climate change but the result has been more gas imports from Russia, Mr. Wheeler said. He blamed California’s support of greater reliance on renewable energy and less on gas for rolling power blackouts that had resulted in sewage spills.
“Instead of confusing words with actions, and choosing empty symbolism over doing a good job, we can focus our attention and resources on helping communities help themselves,” Mr. Wheeler said.
Ms. McCarthy and five other former EPA chiefs whose terms date as far back as the Reagan administration issued a statement this month saying Mr. Trump had abandoned the agency’s “core mission of protecting human health and the environment.”
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“Actions during the Trump administration have further decreased public confidence in the agency’s credibility, undercut its historic dedication to high ethical standards, and affected employee morale,” they said in a joint statement.
This story was reported by The Associated Press.


csmonitor--2020-09-04--'He's still Chad': Actor's hometown remembers Chadwick Boseman

Chadwick Boseman was remembered as a hometown hero who brought a sense of pride to his native Anderson , South Carolina .
The city paid tribute to Mr. Boseman in a public memorial on Thursday evening .
The actor , who became widely popular through “ Black Panther , ” was honored after he shockingly died last week at the age of 43 following a private four-year battle with colon cancer .
A viewing of “ Black Panther ” was held at an outdoor amphitheater where people practiced social distancing .
Most attendees wore masks , while others – mostly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ costumes .
Some artwork of Mr. Boseman was displayed onstage during the tribute .
“ He is the epitome of black excellence , ” said Deanna Brown-Thomas , the daughter of legendary singer James Brown and president of her father ’ s family foundation .
She remembered when Mr. Boseman visited her family in Augusta , Georgia , before the actor portrayed her father in the 2014 film “ Get on Up.
” Mr. Boseman was a playwright who acted and directed in theater before playing the Marvel Comics character King T ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ which became one of the top-grossing films in history .
He also wowed audiences in his portrayal of other Black icons , including Jackie Robinson in “ 42 ” and Thurgood Marshall in “ Marshall , ” and shined in other films such as Spike Lee ’ s “ Da 5 Bloods.
” Ms. Brown-Thomas joked about how her family teased Mr. Boseman for being too tall to play her father .
But she said Mr. Boseman was perfect for the role , admiring his humility as a high-profile actor .
“ He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s what I loved about him , ” she said .
Anderson mayor Terence Roberts said people around town always knew Mr. Boseman would be special .
“ You know , he was always reading and always trying to get better , ” Mr. Roberts said .
“ So from a work ethic point of view , it just doesn ’ t happen overnight .
He showed us that we ’ ve got to hone our skills and just persevere.
” In Anderson , a city of about 28,000 people , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but it has a bounce out of it that is such inspiration , ” city spokeswoman Beth Batson said .
That ’ s because Mr. Boseman inspired so many people in the community , she said .
“ It has been amazing to watch the grief , so to speak , blossom , ” she said .
“ Now young people say ‘ what can I do , what can I be.
’ ” Pastor Samuel Neely said Mr. Boseman was active in church , speech , and debate .
The pastor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ also praised Mr. Boseman for having high character .
“ Even though he plays these different people , I still see the person I knew as a child , ” said Mr. Neely , who was Mr. Boseman ’ s childhood pastor .
“ When I see him , it ’ s almost like seeing my own child .
He ’ s still Chad.
” Thursday ’ s tribute was not a funeral , and members of Mr. Boseman ’ s immediate family did not plan to be in attendance , Mr. Boseman @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said in a statement .
“ On behalf of the Boseman Family , we appreciate the community ’ s outpouring of love and admiration for Chadwick , ” Ms. Fioravante said .
This story was reported by The Associated Press .
AP writer Jonathan Landrum Jr. in Los Angeles contributed to this report .

Chadwick Boseman was remembered as a hometown hero who brought a sense of pride to his native Anderson, South Carolina.
The city paid tribute to Mr. Boseman in a public memorial on Thursday evening. The actor, who became widely popular through “Black Panther,” was honored after he shockingly died last week at the age of 43 following a private four-year battle with colon cancer.
A viewing of “Black Panther” was held at an outdoor amphitheater where people practiced social distancing. Most attendees wore masks, while others – mostly kids – dressed up in Black Panther costumes.
Some artwork of Mr. Boseman was displayed onstage during the tribute.
“He is the epitome of black excellence,” said Deanna Brown-Thomas, the daughter of legendary singer James Brown and president of her father’s family foundation. She remembered when Mr. Boseman visited her family in Augusta, Georgia, before the actor portrayed her father in the 2014 film “Get on Up.”
Mr. Boseman was a playwright who acted and directed in theater before playing the Marvel Comics character King T’Challa in “Black Panther,” which became one of the top-grossing films in history. He also wowed audiences in his portrayal of other Black icons, including Jackie Robinson in “42” and Thurgood Marshall in “Marshall,” and shined in other films such as Spike Lee’s “Da 5 Bloods.”
Ms. Brown-Thomas joked about how her family teased Mr. Boseman for being too tall to play her father. But she said Mr. Boseman was perfect for the role, admiring his humility as a high-profile actor.
“He wasn’t Hollywood, and that’s what I loved about him,” she said.
Anderson mayor Terence Roberts said people around town always knew Mr. Boseman would be special.
“You know, he was always reading and always trying to get better,” Mr. Roberts said. “So from a work ethic point of view, it just doesn’t happen overnight. He showed us that we’ve got to hone our skills and just persevere.”
In Anderson, a city of about 28,000 people, “there’s deep sadness and grief, but it has a bounce out of it that is such inspiration,” city spokeswoman Beth Batson said. That’s because Mr. Boseman inspired so many people in the community, she said.
“It has been amazing to watch the grief, so to speak, blossom,” she said. “Now young people say ‘what can I do, what can I be.’”
Pastor Samuel Neely said Mr. Boseman was active in church, speech, and debate. The pastor said he baptized Mr. Boseman. He also praised Mr. Boseman for having high character.
“Even though he plays these different people, I still see the person I knew as a child,” said Mr. Neely, who was Mr. Boseman’s childhood pastor. “When I see him, it’s almost like seeing my own child. He’s still Chad.”
Thursday’s tribute was not a funeral, and members of Mr. Boseman’s immediate family did not plan to be in attendance, Mr. Boseman’s publicist, Nicki Fioravante, said in a statement.
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“On behalf of the Boseman Family, we appreciate the community’s outpouring of love and admiration for Chadwick,” Ms. Fioravante said.
This story was reported by The Associated Press. AP writer Jonathan Landrum Jr. in Los Angeles contributed to this report.


csmonitor--2020-09-07--Indians collect water and a paycheck in aquifer program

Basant Ahirwar worked as an expert mason in India ’ s northern Uttar Pradesh state before the country ’ s coronavirus lockdown shut down business and forced him to return , jobless and largely on foot , to his home in central India ’ s Madhya Pradesh state .
Now , however , he has found new work : Digging water capture pits into the hillsides of his drought-hit home district , a project aimed at restoring depleting aquifers and providing an income to thousands of unemployed workers .
About 7,000 returning migrant workers and other unemployed people have been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 50,000 pits dug since April on more than 40 hills around Sagar district , authorities said .
“ This work has become a means of sustenance for us , ” said Mr. Ahirwar , who said he was being paid about 190 rupees ( $ 2.50 ) a day for the work – a third of what he used to get as a mason but welcome in a time when few other jobs are available .
He said rainwater was already collecting in the trenches and “ the hills , which were earlier @ @ @ @ @ @ @ green , ” raising the prospect that farming in the district , slammed by drought , could become more successful again .
The work , which had been carried out earlier on a smaller scale , is being done under the Mahatma Gandhi Rural Employment Guarantee Act , which aims to offer at least 100 days of paid employment a year per family in need of work .
Ichchhit Garhpale , the head of Sagar district ’ s panchayat , or local council , said the effort aims to improve groundwater levels in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the hills , it is trapped in the trenches , he said , and percolates slowly into the soil , rather than rushing away and causing erosion .
He said the pit system could help capture as much as 60 million liters of additional water in the course of a year .
Similar pits are planned on 20 to 25 more hills owned by the state government in the district , he said , as the project pushes ahead .
The work has come as a relief to thousands of migrant workers who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Minister Narendra Modi declared a nationwide lockdown as cases of the coronavirus began rising .
The shutdown left millions without prospects for work – but efforts like that in Sagar have helped shore up families and raised the prospect that some may remain in their home districts .
Rohit Vishwakarma , who used to work in Nagpur , almost 250 miles from Sagar , said he saw the project providing better long-term prospects at home .
“ The area faces acute drinking water shortages .
One has to cover long distances to fetch @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wells and hand-pumps run dry due to the fast-depleting groundwater , ” he said .
“ If we are able to solve the water problem , there is nothing better than that , ” he said .
And “ if we continue to get this kind of work , we will not have to return to big cities to work.
” Sagar district sits in India ’ s Bundelkhand region , which is famous for its problems with drought .
Erratic rain often leads to crop losses and joblessness , and the region @ @ @ @ @ @ @ illiteracy to inadequate healthcare .
Over the past decade , even normally erratic rains have been in decline , with the region seeing just half what is considered “ normal ” rainfall for the last six years , according to data from the India Meteorological Department .
But local officials said the trench digging – with trees in some cases planted on the soil removed , and grass beginning to sprout as well – may help turn around a bad situation .
“ Grass and plants grow on it naturally , and thus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and grazing animals , ” said Mr. Garhpale , head of the local council .
He said that water levels in wells in the area also had shown signs of rising as a result of the work , and that problems with flooding downstream when heavy rain falls had been reduced .
This story was reported by the Thomson Reuters Foundation .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

Basant Ahirwar worked as an expert mason in India’s northern Uttar Pradesh state before the country’s coronavirus lockdown shut down business and forced him to return, jobless and largely on foot, to his home in central India’s Madhya Pradesh state.
Now, however, he has found new work: Digging water capture pits into the hillsides of his drought-hit home district, a project aimed at restoring depleting aquifers and providing an income to thousands of unemployed workers.
About 7,000 returning migrant workers and other unemployed people have been hired to do the work, with 50,000 pits dug since April on more than 40 hills around Sagar district, authorities said.
“This work has become a means of sustenance for us,” said Mr. Ahirwar, who said he was being paid about 190 rupees ($2.50) a day for the work – a third of what he used to get as a mason but welcome in a time when few other jobs are available.
He said rainwater was already collecting in the trenches and “the hills, which were earlier barren, have now become lush and green,” raising the prospect that farming in the district, slammed by drought, could become more successful again.
The work, which had been carried out earlier on a smaller scale, is being done under the Mahatma Gandhi Rural Employment Guarantee Act, which aims to offer at least 100 days of paid employment a year per family in need of work.
Ichchhit Garhpale, the head of Sagar district’s panchayat, or local council, said the effort aims to improve groundwater levels in the district.
As rainwater flows down the hills, it is trapped in the trenches, he said, and percolates slowly into the soil, rather than rushing away and causing erosion.
He said the pit system could help capture as much as 60 million liters of additional water in the course of a year.
Similar pits are planned on 20 to 25 more hills owned by the state government in the district, he said, as the project pushes ahead.
The work has come as a relief to thousands of migrant workers who rushed home in March after Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi declared a nationwide lockdown as cases of the coronavirus began rising.
The shutdown left millions without prospects for work – but efforts like that in Sagar have helped shore up families and raised the prospect that some may remain in their home districts.
‘Nothing better’
Rohit Vishwakarma, who used to work in Nagpur, almost 250 miles from Sagar, said he saw the project providing better long-term prospects at home.
“The area faces acute drinking water shortages. One has to cover long distances to fetch water during the summer season. The wells and hand-pumps run dry due to the fast-depleting groundwater,” he said.
“If we are able to solve the water problem, there is nothing better than that,” he said. And “if we continue to get this kind of work, we will not have to return to big cities to work.”
Sagar district sits in India’s Bundelkhand region, which is famous for its problems with drought. Erratic rain often leads to crop losses and joblessness, and the region struggles with other problems, from widespread illiteracy to inadequate healthcare.
Over the past decade, even normally erratic rains have been in decline, with the region seeing just half what is considered “normal” rainfall for the last six years, according to data from the India Meteorological Department.
But local officials said the trench digging – with trees in some cases planted on the soil removed, and grass beginning to sprout as well – may help turn around a bad situation.
“Grass and plants grow on it naturally, and thus food becomes available for villagers’ cattle and grazing animals,” said Mr. Garhpale, head of the local council.
He said that water levels in wells in the area also had shown signs of rising as a result of the work, and that problems with flooding downstream when heavy rain falls had been reduced.
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empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
This story was reported by the Thomson Reuters Foundation.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.


csmonitor--2020-09-07--Which laborers were hardest hit by the pandemic? Women, says UN.

The coronavirus pandemic will widen the poverty gap between women and men , pushing 47 million more women and girls into impoverished lives by next year , and undoing progress made in recent decades , the United Nations said on Wednesday .
Worldwide more women than men will be made poor by the economic fallout and massive job losses caused by COVID-19 , with informal workers worst hit in sub-Saharan Africa and Latin America , according to new U.N. estimates .
“ The increases in women ’ s extreme poverty ... are a stark indictment of deep flaws in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ economies , ” Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka , the head of U.N. Women , said in a statement .
During the pandemic , women have lost their jobs at a faster rate than men have , as they are more likely to be employed in the sectors hardest hit by long lockdowns such as retail , restaurants , and hotels , it said .
Women are also more likely to work in the informal economy , typically in jobs as domestic workers and cleaners that often come with little or no health care , unemployment @ @ @ @ @ @ @ We know that women take most of the responsibility for caring for the family ; they earn less , save less , and hold much less secure jobs , ” Ms. Mlambo-Ngcuka said .
According to the U.N. ’ s International Labour Organization ( ILO ) , about 70 % of domestic workers globally had lost their jobs as a result of COVID-19 by June this year .
Overall , the pandemic will push an additional 96 million people into extreme poverty by next year , of whom nearly half are women and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Women and the U.N ’ s Development Programme ( UNDP ) .
This will bring the total number of women and girls worldwide living in extreme poverty to 435 million – defined as a person living on $ 1.90 a day or less – and it is expected that this figure will not revert to pre-pandemic levels until 2030 .
By 2021 , for every 100 men aged 25 to 34 living in extreme poverty , there will be 118 women – a gap expected to increase to 121 women per 100 men @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Governments could adopt measures to help women in low-paid and informal jobs , said Achim Steiner , a UNDP administrator .
“ More than 100 million women and girls could be lifted out of poverty if governments implement a comprehensive strategy aimed at improving access to education and family planning , fair and equal wages , and expanding social transfers , ” Mr. Steiner said .
Nearly 3 in every 5 of the world ’ s poor women live in sub-Saharan Africa , and the region will continue to be home to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s poorest after the pandemic .
Recent gains made in reducing poverty rates in South Asia are threatened as the region is set to face a “ resurgence ” in extreme poverty , with women worst affected , the U.N. said .
This story was reported by the Thomson Reuters Foundation .

The coronavirus pandemic will widen the poverty gap between women and men, pushing 47 million more women and girls into impoverished lives by next year, and undoing progress made in recent decades, the United Nations said on Wednesday.
Worldwide more women than men will be made poor by the economic fallout and massive job losses caused by COVID-19, with informal workers worst hit in sub-Saharan Africa and Latin America, according to new U.N. estimates.
“The increases in women’s extreme poverty ... are a stark indictment of deep flaws in the ways we have constructed our societies and economies,” Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, the head of U.N. Women, said in a statement.
During the pandemic, women have lost their jobs at a faster rate than men have, as they are more likely to be employed in the sectors hardest hit by long lockdowns such as retail, restaurants, and hotels, it said.
Women are also more likely to work in the informal economy, typically in jobs as domestic workers and cleaners that often come with little or no health care, unemployment benefits, or other protections.
“We know that women take most of the responsibility for caring for the family; they earn less, save less, and hold much less secure jobs,” Ms. Mlambo-Ngcuka said.
According to the U.N.’s International Labour Organization (ILO), about 70% of domestic workers globally had lost their jobs as a result of COVID-19 by June this year.
Overall, the pandemic will push an additional 96 million people into extreme poverty by next year, of whom nearly half are women and girls, according to estimates by U.N. Women and the U.N’s Development Programme (UNDP).
This will bring the total number of women and girls worldwide living in extreme poverty to 435 million – defined as a person living on $1.90 a day or less – and it is expected that this figure will not revert to pre-pandemic levels until 2030.
By 2021, for every 100 men aged 25 to 34 living in extreme poverty, there will be 118 women – a gap expected to increase to 121 women per 100 men by 2030, according to U.N. estimates.
Governments could adopt measures to help women in low-paid and informal jobs, said Achim Steiner, a UNDP administrator.
“More than 100 million women and girls could be lifted out of poverty if governments implement a comprehensive strategy aimed at improving access to education and family planning, fair and equal wages, and expanding social transfers,” Mr. Steiner said.
Nearly 3 in every 5 of the world’s poor women live in sub-Saharan Africa, and the region will continue to be home to the highest number of the world’s poorest after the pandemic.
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Recent gains made in reducing poverty rates in South Asia are threatened as the region is set to face a “resurgence” in extreme poverty, with women worst affected, the U.N. said.
This story was reported by the Thomson Reuters Foundation.