“We Americans have so many grave problems to solve, many threatening evils to fight, and many deeds to do, if, as we hope and believe, we have the wisdom, the strength, and the courage and the virtue to do them. But we must face facts as they are. We must neither surrender ourselves to a foolish optimism, nor succumb to a timid and ignoble pessimism…” Forum, 1894 “What Americanism Means.” Theodore Roosevelt. In, EM 480.

After giving my copy of Atlas Shrugged to Zach a while back, I stole his copy of The Rise and Fall of Theodore Roosevelt. The biography, by Edmund Morris, is wonderful, accessible and eloquent. In the context of PTP, Teddy Roosevelt was a wanderer, answering the call to adventure constantly throughout his distinguished life.

He was also an egomaniac, but seemingly selfless in his contributions to society and his family. It is that selflessness that has struck a chord. This trip, driven by its characters, would not have succeeded save for selfless acts by all parties involved. Zach sleeps anywhere. Brett is a flexible scheduler. Jay is incredibly generous.

In the building of fraternal relationships it is important not to lose sight of man’s individualist tendencies. For four months, with varying complexity, individualism has been all but abandoned, replaced by a collective mind, happiness and sense of accomplishment. This is something Teddy never grasped.

For a man who considers himself independent, I have come to rely entirely on the three men around me. I see myself in the reflection of their eyes. I hear my thoughts in the context of what they say. I live my life only as they live theirs, sharing in success, failure, elation and sadness. In understanding my companions, I have lived this trip four times, infinitely more than a man-as-an-island could.

Recently, someone noticed that I have yet to drive the RV. In my own defense, I consider myself entirely too crazy to spend long hours under any kind of stress; I have what some call delicate sensibilities. Driving hunched, white-knuckled and blind in a New Jersey thunderstorm is best left to a person of stronger mental fortitude, more competent during six-hour, nervous, self-assessment.

But Zach and Brett (Puppy and the Captain) have become entirely comfortable behind the wheel, carrying our crew through Oregon, Delaware, Georgia, Texas and now, home. I am so grateful to them, for ensuring our safety and for taking the responsibility so willingly. Without drivers, we’d be in Phoenix. Whatever my contribution to PTP, it holds not a candle to what they have done.

I write this without pretense of humor to say just how much I have come to love and respect my fellow travelers. Brett, Zach and Jay have made this trip a once in a lifetime experience, that no one can ever take away from me. I appreciate them so earnestly, for everything they are and are not, and for everything they’ve allowed me to be.

Cheers, to wisdom, strength, courage and virtue, and the defeat of ignoble pessimism. Cheers to the fate that brought me here, and to those with whom I have been brought.

xo
Noah Pollock

by Noah Pollock

Although our journey across the nation comes to an end, in Tucson in 5 days, our most difficult journey has only just begun. In collecting the information we have collected, in experiencing what we have experienced, we learned to take things for what they are. In examining the trees throughout the forest, and minding not the forest itself, we learned to leave over-analysis behind.

It was not always so. Pursue the Passion set out to find what makes people passionate. Perhaps youthful arrogance led us to believe ourselves capable of distilling conversations to their passionate roots. The first leg of the trip, through mid-August, we faithfully executed our original plan. As we continued, our insecurity in the project’s simplicity grew. In retrospect, to believe that we could meet someone for an hour, cut their passion into a two-minute video, then progress to our next meeting, was a serious overestimation of our own abilities.

Dreaming big is always an overestimation. As feelings of doubt in the project mounted, we surveyed more honestly both the task before us, and our own abilities. It was difficult to come to grips with, watching our initial ideal exposed as somewhat frivolous, but we found comfort in several things. We found camaraderie, on the trip, with each other and those we met along the way. We received emails from readers who found genuine inspiration in what we offered. We found an incredible life experience being lived everyday.

What we have found is broken monotony. We departed as overly serious, business minded adventurers, and return humbled by our experiences. As a group, we have grown to support and nurture each other in a way none of us have ever known. What we have to offer is an honest interpretation of our travels, without presumptions of conclusions, which can help to avoid, or break, the mundane working existence. There is no singular, universal passion. Rather, there is an open-mindedness, fortitude and confidence shared among all we have found that is passionate.

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.

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

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.

Ten thousand, five hundred and twenty-two miles after leaving Phoenix, Arizona on July 2nd, we arrived in New York City on 9/11. The surreal experience we had at Ground Zero, coupled with the journey from Chicago to the Big Apple have made the past two weeks among the most memorable on the tour.

The Highlights

On Thursday, August 30th, PTP went to jail…voluntarily. Driving from Chicago to a small town called Sheridan, three of us marched into the penitentiary chapel and joined a hundred inmates adorned in prison blues to be a part of an AA meeting. We interviewed the speaker afterwards over milkshakes. It was a humbling experience.

The first Saturday of September put PTP in the Notre Dame press box to watch the worst home opening loss in Fighting Irish football history. We picked grass blades from the field, took pictures with the Leprechaun, and attended the Charlie Weis post-game press conference.

In Akron we stayed with a guy named Stephen Hopson. Born deaf, Stephen has gone on to make motivational speaking his professional career after an illustrious career on Wall Street. His story shows what confidence can do.

The RV had it’s first major mechanical problem on the trek from Buffalo to Syracuse…we ended up sleeping at an auto service center parking lot in the middle of nowhere New York. We got the problem fixed the next day, and ended up turning a lemon into lemonade by interviewing the owner and barbequing with the mechanics.

After fixing the RV we escaped to Cape Cod for the weekend to stay at a beach house. It was beautiful. We ended up being treated to our first lobster dinner of our life. Hardly roughing it on the road.

We are now in my favorite city on earth, New York City. This morning we shook hands with Al Roker of the Today Show and even got some air time. We’ll be here until Tuesday morning, interviewing passionate New Yorkers and taking in the sights. Then it’s off to Philly, D.C., and Atlanta.

Cheers to the journey.

I was talking with Joe Cockrell, director of PR for Jobing.com, yesterday in New York City as we walked around Ground Zero looking for Big Al’s Pizza. Given the circumstances of the day, the mood of the city was as somber as the gray, overcast skies looming above.

As we detoured around the closed off streets of the financial district, Joe shared a thought he had conjured in a leadership class. It’s a simple, scary thought for all of us, but one that will come to define us all.

We will one day have a headstone that includes the year of birth, the year of death, and one big, fat dash. This dash says nothing and everything about us all at once.

I saw lots of dashes yesterday as our crew visited Ground Zero. Pictures of fallen firefighters were everywhere. Roses rested beneath names circled by families who had made the pilgrimage to pay last respect. 2,976 names and faces…2,976 dashes.

The dash is forgiving because it does not discriminate. A person barely living life will have the same dash as the person who has lived every moment to the fullest.

But look deeper, and you’ll see that the dash is there as a reminder to us. It is a reminder that although the dash will be unable to define us on the headstone, it defines us as we live on.

Which leads me to the question…what are we doing between the dash?

Going to the mechanic is like going to the dentist. Or paying taxes. It’s just something you don’t want to do, but have to.

So yesterday when our serpentine belt snapped and we had to make an emergency pit stop at Mark’s Service Center in a small town called Central Square, NY, I was dreading it. Especially when we had to sleep in the parking lot so we could be the first customer in the shop…with outside hopes of being the first one out.

At 8am the RV was moved from parking spot to parking garage. A mechanic looked at the engine, made a judgment, and called in for a part. The diagnosis was that we would be there for awhile. A long while.

I called to cancel the lunch I had planned with an entrepreneur named Sean, and then cancelled the campus event at Syracuse University. The day was blocked off to getting this problem resolved.

What transpired during the remainder of the day was a true bonding between mechanics and PTP. We hung out with these guys, remembered their names, even made their weekly college football picks. They barbequed and fed us delicious pork chops and mechanic salad. They opened up their break room allowed us to use it as our home office. Not once did we ask when the RV was going to be ready to hit the road.

Come 4:30pm it was time to write a check for the damage. We had quite a day. We made a radio appearance that a few customers had heard in the early morning, where we gave shots out to Mark’s Service Center and asked the radio audience where the nearest shower was. We interviewed the owner of Mark’s in front of a Post-Standard reporter, and had our pictures taken for tomorrow’s Syracuse newspaper. But the moment had come that I feared most.

It was time to get a tooth pulled. It was time to write the check to the IRS. It was time to pay.

But something happened during the day. We had a good time. We carried a positive attitude. And we had given Mark’s Service Center a feeling of importance with media appearances. It was a special experience.

The bill was astronomical. But it could have worse. Mark, the owner, who had taken us in like his own employees, had given us a discount. A significant discount. He had charged us $10 in labor, and fair value for the parts.

There is still good in this world, even at the auto repair shop.

It would have been nice to have been writing this blog post from the picturesque Thousand Islands in Central New York, camping next to Jay’s uncle with full hookups and showers.

Instead, we are sleeping in the parking lot of an auto repair shop in between the cities of Hastings and Cicero, waiting for the shop to open so we can get the A/C compressor fixed.

You see, the A/C compressor snapped the serpentine belt, which then caused us to lose our power steering and severely affected our brakes. We essentially became a moving, six ton, 30 foot danger to all motorists and pedestrians around us.

So that’s why we are in this parking lot, waiting for this shop to open so we might have an outside chance at still having a campus day at Syracuse University.

Wish us luck.

Yesterday we officially had our first campus day at the University of Buffalo, where we parked in a reserved, highly visible spot with a ton of student traffic. Upon arrival, we promptly set up a table adorned with Kronik Energy drinks, a newsletter sign up sheet, a fistful of business cards, a laptop with our website, and of course, speakers blaring music that would attract the young college minds our way.

Our liaison Leslie gave us the introduction to the Buffalo campus to Noah while Zach and I answered questions from a couple reporters. I had placed a couple calls to the local newspaper and the student newspaper about what we were doing, and both of them showed up for interviews. The day couldn’t have started out better.

From noon to two o’clock Zach attracted about ten to fifteen people over for a brief interview to ask questions like:

“What are the obstacles students face when trying to land a job they can be passionate about after school?”

“If you were cruising around in this RV, what would be the one question you would ask?”

“How would you go about using that geography major to find a job?”

The majority of the responses were unanimous…the students had no clue about how to go about finding the job that they really wanted after graduation. Some didn’t know why they had chosen the major they had decided upon. Others just wanted free energy drinks.

It was exactly the kind of response I was looking for. Hundreds of students gawked at the RV. It got our team rejuvenated with a new experience. And we got some great footage.

Next on the list is Syracuse, Duke, Virginia Tech, and hopefully a couple others. I look forward to using these days for new documentary footage, to learn more about the college market, and to connect the students who talk with us to career opportunities and possibilities.