The Bike Elevator

Madison is a great city for biking. For most of my commute to work, I take off-road bike paths. Past community gardens. To the path along the lake. Where there is a bike elevator. To take up the hill to the Capitol.

You'd think that only the out of shape. The new. The wimpy. Bikers. Would be on that elevator. But every morning. I roll in. With muscled women and men. In biking clothes. Who take the elevator.

I roll in to the right. And am joined by another 2 or 3 bikers. The elevator is just the right length. For bikes. Sometimes. Someone who wants to get on when it's full. Pulls up their front tire. And rolls in vertically. And up we go. I ask, "4 and 5?" And press the buttons. And we ride up. Together.

Dreams

One of the questions. We asked often. Was "What are your dreams?" Asking about dreams. Is a way of defining. What people would like to happen. Between here. And there. These are the dreams. Of olive wood carvers. And women who make couscous. Of mother-of-pearl artisans. And olive farmers. Of mothers. And grandmothers. Of fathers. And sons.

"I have many dreams. The simplest is that the situation would get better."

"I want to buy a house and get married."

"We all have the same dreams. Peace. Dignity."

"I want my children to finish school, and then come back to be olive farmers."

"Stability and peace."

"That my children can go to university."

"I would like a house by the sea."

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Food!

No time to write. But I'll leave you with some food.