The Big Picture –
By Glynn Wilson –

As the clock ticks down in the final quarter of 2020, the year of the “converging crisis” as some experts are now calling it, for millions of people survival feels like a daily ordeal either physically, economically or psychologically.

Of course I’m human. I feel it all too.

It’s hard to even imagine ever feeling as safe, healthy or prosperous as we were before this year kicked off with a disappointing vote on a presidential impeachment.

It’s too early to even think about writing a year in review column. We still have a tumultuous three months to go.

It’s already been a year when Murphy’s Law became more than a theory in public relations. It’s hard to think of anything else that could have gone as horribly wrong.

Hang on grim reaper. Nature may not be done testing us yet.

In taking a close look at the past year in my own experience, things began to go wrong about the time I made it back to Mobile, Alabama from Washington, D.C. at this time last year. In November my good friend and business partner David Underhill died at 78. In December, my 93-year-old mom died. Then my dog died on Christmas Day.

Since I was already mentally prepared for those occurences, I did not fall apart. I made it to the Conecuh National Forest to ride out the winter along the Florida line. Then in late February and early March while we were scouting a new winter camp for our Southern Bureau in Pensacola Florida, the coronavirus hit like a tsunami.

Like millions of other people, we had to scramble to figure out what to do and where to go to escape it. I ended up in a log cabin in the woods in April on Lookout Mountain, and then in rural North Carolina in May. For a time it seemed easy to hide out in the mountains and stay away from people for the most part, with a view of Mount Mitchell no less.

Carrying out a plan I had for some time to migrate away from the worst impacts of climate change toward organic farming in the mountains of the East, this seemed like a workable solution. We planted a garden and ate fresh vegetables all summer.

But as the election grew closer, the stress from the coronavirus pandemic and economic slowdown and the partisan divide crept back into the equation.

A mechanical problem further exacerbated the situation. As of today, Sunday, Oct. 4, we have been stuck in Western North Carolina for going on six weeks due to a tricky issue with the media camper van. I should have been on the way north through Virginia and Maryland to Washington, D.C. by now.

Everything that can go wrong probably will.

Meanwhile the budget is dwindling to support honest journalism just as it is needed the most. With any luck, and about $1500, it’s possible that the van will be fixed on Monday and we can get on down the road. The plan is to head back up to DC at least for a few days before the election, weather permitting.

I also have my heart set on spending a few more days in the Loft Mountain campground in Shenandoah National Park before the campgrounds close for the winter by November.

Shenandoah One More Time in the Summer of Our Discontent

Then dog willing, I will be spending the winter in an undisclosed location in the mountains of North Carolina. We are looking at cabins with a view.

To be totally transparent with all our longtime followers here, and all the new fans coming to us from Google and Facebook, we had secured the budget to make it through the winter no problem. But the mechanical issues have cost us dearly, on van repairs and having to pay for a motel room for a couple of weeks.

So if you are interested in seeing this experiment in new journalism continue, and for me to stay alive, safe and in this fight, I need your help like never before. Please consider making a contribution through PayPal or GoFundMe.

I don’t know what else can go wrong, but we should do everything we can to prepare for the worst, while hoping for the best.