And so the story begins...

It doesn't fit in a letter or a word or a sentence or a paragraph or an essay. It doesn't fit in a picture frame or a souvenir. It won't fit in this blog, either. But I suppose we will do our best. Our experience in Tennessee was an intangible flow of people and thier stories, places and their histories that will forever be ingrained in how each one of the ASB Tennesseee Alt Breakers identifies himself or herself. I have tried to break this down into "work" and "play" but these two were so often intertwined that these ideas may carry overlapping stories.

We arrived on day one at Once Upon a Time Breakaway in Maryville, Tennessee. We travelled up the windy gravel road to arrive at a place we would call our home for the next week. Ed, Arleen, and Ian the intern welcomed us with Little Blue, the chubby beagle mutt, and Queeny, the cuddly cat, close behind them. After short introductions we were led into the bunkhouse, "The Backpacker's Inn" Our bunkhouse was perfect. We had a wood burning stove to keep us warm at night, a kitchen (where countless pots of coffee were made) and a back deck that had a breathtaking view of the mountains. We were even close to the outhouse.

We later learned that the entire compound, including Ed and Arleen's house, the outhouse, shower house, bunkhouse, bunks, workshop, etc. had been built by Ed himself. A humble man, Ed left his honor up to Ian, who rattled off all of Ed's accomplishments-- including the commision by President Reagan and his wife to build furniture for the White House, and the record-setting three hundred pound boar he took down on his own (it hung triumphantly inside the house).

After a peaceful dinner and further introductions and greetings with Colorado State University, Winthrup University and Southern Methodist University, we piled back into our bunkhouse to prepare for Day 2 (or Day 1 of actual volunteer work). We were told to bring two extra changes of clothes to change into after the Fish Game. Ian warned us all, "You will definitely want to change after the Fish Game-- trust me." We giggled as we prepared for the next day, unaware of just how rocked our senses would be twenty-four hours later.