Showering. Something you probably take for granted on a daily basis. But after spending close to four months on the road, we consider the act of showering somewhere between an enjoyable experience and something you would sell your soul for.

We started off this journey comfortably. We showered at my mom’s house. We showered at the house Jay grew up in during our stay in Los Angeles. Things got a little more out of the ordinary in the northwest when we showered and stayed at my stepdad’s great aunt Pinky’s house. But we definitely weren’t roughing it when we were being hit with the naked, dual headed shower sensation in Cape Cod, or in a cleanly kept condo located thirty-eight floors up in Chicago.

We have roughed it, showering at a dirty truck stop in Hastings, NY while paying eight dollars a shower to do so. We’ve had showering situations some would consider humorous, like when we showered in Jay’s cousin Tony’s artsy house in Portland. His shower was located in a room that was like a melting pot. The shower was next to the kitchen stove which was under a bedroom loft, where Tony and his girlfriend Stephanie slept. That time when we stayed with five girls in Delaware was pretty good too. The PTP crew upped the total shower hungry twenty somethings to nine that Wednesday morning, with only one ill-pressured shower available for use.

And oh, we’ve gone showerless. But let me tell you something. Showerless in Spokane is nothing compared to showerless in Mobile. It is humid and sticky in the south. If you don’t shower, you don’t survive.

Our most recent escapade to find a shower involved meeting girls at a bar on Beale Street in Memphis and latching on to them like they were the fountain of youth. Yesterday, Zach managed to finagle four showers from the attractive blonde working the counter of Hard Rock casino’s health and spa in Biloxi, MS. Today in New Orleans, we shower in a tub surrounded by rubber ducky curtains belonging to Ben, a friend of Brian Conley, who we briefly interviewed in Philly.

Despite the uncertainty of where and when we will shower next, there are two things you can count on.

There is no such thing as a group shower for the sake of conservation. And we will always use your shower products.

This morning, as I lay in the RV on Dauphin Street in Mobile, Alabama, I read a few signatures sketched on the ceiling in Sharpie.

“Good job enhancing the power to thrive”- Coach Valerie, Los Angeles

“Thanks for the inspiration!”- Kelly Faulk, Jobing.com, San Diego

“Keep spreading the joy.”- David Kravetz, Founder of Fairytale Brownies

I include all of these signatures because they were within the first week of us being on tour. We hadn’t done anything with the tour, yet, these individuals felt that need to write something regarding our accomplishments.

Ever since we started the roadtrip, I’ve been struggling to put a finger on why people are excited about what we are doing with Pursue the Passion. I have emails each day saying what we are doing is amazing. We have press coverage all the time. And sometimes I just wonder why.

Right now I’m reading Atlas Shrugged, the 1,069 page book written by Ayn Rand. Throughout the book I have been intrigued by her writing style, but when I read a passage on page 216, I had found an answer as to why people are excited about Pursue the Passion.

Below is the passage.

“In the summer days and in the heavy stillness of the evenings of the city, there were moments when a lonely man or woman- on a park bench, on a street corner, at an open window- would see in a newspaper a brief mention of the progress of the John Galt Line, and would look at the city with a sudden stab of love. They were the very young, who felt that it was the kind of event they longed to see happening in the world- or the very old, who had seen a world in which such events did happen. They did not care about railroads, they knew nothing about business, they knew only that someone was fighting against great odds and winning. They did not admire the fighters’ purpose, they believed the voices of public opinion- and yet, when they read that the Line was growing, they had a moment’s sparkle and wondered why it made their own problems seem easier.”

Listening to NPR, on the drive from Boston to New York, we were introduced to the ‘Jena Six.’ The year-old story had not yet been brought to its current level of media frenzy, and hearing it told as it was, I saw something seriously wrong going on. With a flexible southern schedule, Pursue the Passion, under my suggestion, scheduled a stop in Jena, to interview activists, and see what’s really going on.

It has been a month since we arrived in New York City. National media coverage has been revelatory, and none more than a September 26th OP-ED in the New York Times, by Reed Walters, the district attorney of LaSalle Parish. In the story as I knew it, Mr. Walters played the villain, the government thug. Yet as the initial outrage subsided, replaced by a more informed outrage, I came to believe that legally, Mr. Walters faithfully executed his post. In a hasty rush to oversimplified judgment, I placed the world’s racial woes squarely on the shoulders of Mr. Walters.

It was both ignorant and wrong of me.

Although Jena appears to enjoy a rich history of racial inequality, it neither exists within a vacuum, nor without tacit American approval. My family taught me that prejudice, in all its forms, is repulsive. But this case reminded me that bigotry continues to be my problem, as it was of my mother’s generation, and the one before that. Although I applaud those working in Jena, for bringing the issue to international attention, I do not see how we can help there. We will, therefore, not be going to Jena, instead visiting Mobile, AL and Biloxi, MS.

This is not to say that what is happening in Jena is unimportant, but with Pursue the Passion in mind, I see not how our visit there would help the situation. I’ve always wanted to visit Mobile, home of the Arnold family from Red Sky at Morning, one of my favorite books. From there we are afforded the opportunity to drive the southern coast of the United States, something we are all excited about, stopping in Biloxi, and then on to New Orleans.

Much of this trip is about personal growth. I see our visiting Alabama and Mississippi as greater opportunities for growth than visiting the already overwhelmed Jena. In Mobile and Biloxi, we will continue to do what we do: meet people, hear their stories and see how they live. Education through experience is incredibly powerful, and I am proud of our seeing the country. In seeing the states for all their uniqueness, we see how similar they are; we see people, regardless of color or locale, and learn that kindness is a universal trait. With each stop we make, our ignorance, no matter how benign, subsides.

I have been wrestling with this decision for some time. I invite, and would greatly appreciate, commentary, whether positive or negative. Feel free to comment on this BLOG, or contact me at: noah@pursuethepassion.com

One of the benefits of touring the country is having the opportunity to see how people live life. Through the hosts we politely impose upon, the professionals we meet in interviews, and people we randomly come across, we’ve been able to make a few observations.

One is that residents of a city or state rarely have been to what that city or state is known for. For example, how many New Yorkers have been to the Statue of Liberty? Memphians in Graceland? How many people from the Bay Area have walked across the Golden Gate bridge?

I’m guilty. I’ve lived in Arizona for the last five years and have never been to the Grand Canyon. Or the red rocks of Sedona, which to my surprise, is a nationally sought after destination. I guess we take it for granted because the opportunity will always be there.

We can always go, but we never do. Why not?

Today is our 100th day on tour. And we’ve been active since the last newsletter update two weeks ago.

Skeet shooting in the south was a highlight. As was speaking to a capacity crowd at Belmont University. We had unexpectedly cool interviews at the world’s largest aquarium in Atlanta, and at a goat farm in rural Tennessee. I celebrated my 23rd birthday 2,354 miles from home. We found a place to stay in Nashville when we befriended Zach’s friend’s ex-girlfriend’s friend to spend five wonderful days with the vivacious voice of CMT radio. My girlfriend flew to Atlanta for a visit. Jay and Noah flew from Nashville to Tucson, Phoenix to St. Louis to conduct a Class Project concert.

If you use this summary as a sample size and forecast it like this was a statistics study, then you can draw some sort of inference on how crazy this journey has been.

We have three weeks left on the 2007 Pursue the Passion tour after spending a hundred days and thirteen thousand miles in a RV. Somehow we have conducted a hundred and forty-nine interviews this summer while traveling to thirty-three states.

Now the real question…does anyone know someone we can stay with in Memphis this weekend?

There are days when it all just makes sense. Today was one of those days.

We started off the day by heading to a rural part of Tennessee to interview a goat farmer, who, after fifteen years of accounting, just wanted to find something where she could be outside. Zach and I toured the farm, seeing as many as sixty goats, but none caught our eye more the fainting goat. The fainting goat actually faints, although the babies do not. The adults freeze up because of a sudden boost of adrenaline caused by fear. So when the Puppy (aka Zach) wildly chased a goat, it was no surprise that the goat helplessly fell to the dirt with legs stretched skyward.

Back in the city after our country experience, our next interview was with an articulate, environmentally conscious entrepreneur, who at twenty-seven year, just moved to Nashville from L.A. with his banjo playing fiancé. With eyes as green as his cause, this first time entrepreneur and former male model explained how he planned to put “sexy” into the worldwide green movement through the means of bamboo underwear. In stage one and a quarter of his business plan, his company will be called “Bambooty.”

Over beers that night we interviewed Chris Pandolfi, a banjo player with the Infamous Stringdusters bluegrass band. The Stringdusters have recently received worldwide recognition, taking home three IBMA awards this week in Nashville. Now 28, Chris has been playing the banjo since he enrolled in Dartmouth for environmental studies several years ago.

The thing that interested me the most about the interview with Chris was that when asked “what would be the one thing he would tell his twenty-three year old self,” he thoughtfully replied that he would like to hear what the younger Chris would have to tell him today. The reason for the answer was that the younger Chris played the banjo for fun. Today’s Chris plays professionally. With the territory has come pressure. Pressure to perform. To live up to expectations. To deliver. It’s a completely different feeling Chris derives from playing now compared to ten years ago, so much so that he has begun to play the drums on the side to regain the innocent sensation he once had when he first picked the strings of the banjo.

The number one answer interviewees respond with when asked the question we posed to Chris is to “take risks.” Or “believe in yourself.” As interviewers, we’ve made the connection that although the question asks what an interviewee would tell their twenty-three year old self, the answer we receive applies to their current situation. So the question subconsciously reads, “what would you tell yourself?” And more often than not, their answer revolves around fear, and going back to the optimism of their twenty-three year old self.

Today we were exposed to experience and inexperience. We saw how fear, drawn from experience, can literally paralyze, like the fainting goat on its back with its legs stuck in the sky. Or how a lack of knowledge, like a first time entrepreneur, a baby fainting goat, or picking up drumsticks can afford that innocent sensation that the world is a clean slated canvas.

I’m writing about banjo players because they are the definition of what pursuing a passion is all about. They are risk takers. They understand that they are making lifestyle sacrifices to pursue their dream. And they love what they do more than anyone.

I’ve met more banjo players in the last five days than I have met in my whole twenty-three years of existence. In fact, as I write this at the kitchen table of Emilee Warner, who is our delightful Nashville host and voice of CMT radio, there is a banjo resting on the floor to the right of me.

One of the banjo players I met graduated from Dartmouth, which is a private, four-year liberal arts institution that has been at the forefront of American higher education since 1769. Graduates from Dartmouth become investment bankers, not banjo players. But this guy who I met, Chris, went against the grain and moved to Nashville to play in a bluegrass band.

Two years after making the decision to play professionally, Chris and his group of Infamous Stringdusters took home three IBMA awards (the Grammy’s of Bluegrass) this week, one for emerging artist, two for best song, and third for best album. Chris’s story is full of sacrifice, risk, and going against expectations, and is one interview that we hope to get today during our final day in Nashville.

Yesterday Zach and I found ourselves eating breakfast with two girls who play the banjo. One does it for fun, the other professionally. The professional, Grace, had driven down from Asheville, NC with a caravan of other bluegrass musicians for the festive IBMA week. Contrary to Chris, who rose to unexpected stardom in two years, Grace had been at the banjo with her bluegrass band for a little longer, supporting herself by serving “yuppies cappuccino” in addition to taking paying gigs on the side.

Then there is Todd, a convivial, bearded Dobro player who didn’t start playing the instrument until he was twenty-five. Now thirty-three, he has found a host that is willing to put him with a free room while he plays music gigs all over the country, like the one he did this weekend in San Francisco.

Nashville is a melting pot of ambitious, open minded people who are passionate about music. It’s heartbeat is the upright bass. And it’s the best place to be if you play the banjo.

Yesterday I dropped off Jay and Noah, aka “the talent”, off at the Nashville International Airport to board a plane to Tucson. The reason?

Jay and Noah are in pursuit of a dream to live as professional rappers.

On Saturday they will perform in front of 600 fraternity brothers and sorority girls. All in attendance will be enjoying Tucson temperatures in the pool while listening to a littleClass Project (Jay and Noah’s group name).
Class Project will perform twenty-six songs, including every song on their new album “Rough Draft.”

And to make things even better, the advice that we so frequently receive, the one that says “pursue your dream and the money will follow,” has finally rung true for these two. They’re getting paid to rap for blondes in bikinis.

Meanwhile, Zach and I are about to hop in the RV to head over to Belmont University, where we will be talking about what we’ve learned on the trip to business students. We will be showing the Lucky-I-Am video, where he talks about not building up dreams for others on a hourly wage, and Gerard Nebesky, who cooks paella for us on camera.

So as our group is divided, one in Arizona, the other in Nashville, we are still united in our own pursuits.

Our time in Atlanta was a great introduction to the south. Skeet shooting was the obvious highlight, while our host Will, with his fine, distinguished laugh, was a big bright spot in our Georgia stay.

We are now gathered in the RV, ready to roll on out of Georgia and into Nashville, where we will be staying with Zach’s friend’s ex-girlfriend’s friend. Should be interesting.

Here is a video CBS filmed as soon as we stepped foot in Atlanta. We were tired and haggard from a six hour drive from Greensboro, NC, so take it easy on us.

A common response we often receive when we tell strangers about our project is that it sounds like we are a band on tour. And you know what? Sometimes we do feel like some badass rock stars. But we are more like HBO’s show Entourage.

Yesterday was one of those episode like days.

We started off the day by conducting an interview with Dr. Helene Gayle, the first woman and the first African American to oversee the world’s leading humanitarian organization. Not so rock star like, but cool nonetheless.

Our original plan was to shoot some skeet in the south at eleven, but we found out they didn’t open until one. So it was time to improvise.

Now if you watch the Entourage show, picture E. E is the guy that makes stuff happen. He is the details guy. I am E.

I picked up the phone and starting dialing cool spots in Atlanta to fill up our open 11-1 time slot. The victor of the flurry of cold calls went to the Georgia Aquarium, the largest aquarium in the world. Within a half hour we were interviewing the director of communications in front of four whale sharks.

After cruising around the aquarium for a hour, where I even got to pet a shark, we headed to Fatt Matt’s for a lunch with our Atlanta liaison. The waitress, who had much more southern hospitality than teeth, served up a great pulled pork sandwich and lemonade.

Then it was off to shoot guns. And there’s something to be said about shooting skeet in the south. When we pulled the RV into Fulton County’s Skeet and Trap Shooting Range, it was a scene unlike any other. The scene resembled that of a golf range. At least to a city boy from California.

The collection of shooters appeared to have just gotten off of work, and had gone to the range to practice their favorite hobby. They unveiled guns from its cases like a golfer would a driver. They chatted amongst themselves about the latest skeet news while Zach, Noah, and I received an ongoing tutorial about how to shoot a rifle.

At the end of the day, Zach had hit 16 targets in a round of trap. Noah hit 16 targets in skeet. And I hit 3. “You were a lil’ stiff,” my girlfriend, who flew out from Phoenix to join us in ATL, explained to me of my meager performance.

The sun was slowly setting as we transitioned from backroads to highway, country to city. We stopped at 950 Peachtree, a bar of which I don’t remember the name of, and had an interview with Nika, a chef who quickly turned into one of the favorites on the trip.
Noah has always teased me about the rigorous corporate scheduling I’ve inadvertently adopted, scheduling interviews as early as 8:30am and no later than 6pm. But over beers at 9:30pm, we found out we could conduct interviews in bars.

The night ended by grabbing fast food and unexpectedly crashing the couch, again, at the house belonging to a girl we met upon arrival in Atlanta.