<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173</id><updated>2011-07-08T10:19:18.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stumbling Towards Redemption</title><subtitle type='html'>Thoughts and observations on the road during the making of  'The Partial Redemption of Richard Kuchera'</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7886618373837796099</id><published>2009-05-27T03:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T16:07:42.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LAS -&gt; LAX -&gt; LDN</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Josh and I are up early. On the way to the airport to catch our flights home, Richard calls. He wants to come and have a coffee and say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When are you two going to see each other again?” he asks as we divide up the excess baggage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh probably not for a very a long time” I say, jokingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he takes a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and rips it in two, handing us half each.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This is so you can meet up sometime, and have a dinner on me”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a nice touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can’t quite believe this journey really is almost over, and the three of us wont be spending every waking moment together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we embrace and part ways Richard’s already on the phone. He’s heard Obama is in Vegas tonight and wants to hustle up some tickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been inspiring and frustrating and exhausting and remarkable and we’ve definitely got a film on our hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has, as Richard would say, been real. And now we’re heading home.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjWCZtw9AGI/AAAAAAAAAJY/tAskzXf1VSU/s1600-h/P1030459.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjWCZtw9AGI/AAAAAAAAAJY/tAskzXf1VSU/s320/P1030459.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347323510865592418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7886618373837796099?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7886618373837796099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/las-lax-ldn.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7886618373837796099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7886618373837796099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/las-lax-ldn.html' title='LAS -&amp;gt; LAX -&amp;gt; LDN'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjWCZtw9AGI/AAAAAAAAAJY/tAskzXf1VSU/s72-c/P1030459.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7480191965578379281</id><published>2009-05-25T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T15:42:37.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The End?</title><content type='html'>Day 65 of the shoot. Richard is prevented from leaving Vegas by a burning car in the rental lot. It’s not over yet. He laughingly accepts the extra two days they will have to wait until the next Allegiant plane out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7480191965578379281?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7480191965578379281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7480191965578379281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7480191965578379281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/end.html' title='The End?'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-5544462753519141172</id><published>2009-05-24T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T09:25:19.524-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Proud to be an American</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIlK8lvEXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/pnU5kW3TbTY/s1600-h/P1040658.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV9zFNMkYI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Eo14rYivAFE/s1600-h/P1040777.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV9zFNMkYI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Eo14rYivAFE/s320/P1040777.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347318449096659330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We drive back from Williams, dodging Memorial Day traffic cops the whole way. Quick pit stop beside the Colorado river for a picnic, which sounds a lot more idyllic than the jet-ski infested riverside dust bowl it turned out to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recipe for an argument: lack of sleep, too many people sharing a room, large “unappreciated” financial outlay, family dinner (mostly meat).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recipe for a make up (or temporary cease fire): more expensive Cirque du Soleil show tickets and ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The water show outside the Bellagio is impressive and inspiring when accompanied by Sinatra or Puccini, but plain nauseating when “Proud To Be An American” is playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV9y_6cWGI/AAAAAAAAAIw/XxAew1WUpy0/s1600-h/P1040781.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV9y_6cWGI/AAAAAAAAAIw/XxAew1WUpy0/s320/P1040781.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347318447675824226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The family walk together along the strip. There are smiles and laughter. Josh takes a quick break from filming to acquaint himself with some local ladies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIlK8lvEXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/pnU5kW3TbTY/s320/P1040658.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355383776890261874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-5544462753519141172?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/5544462753519141172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/proud-to-be-american.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5544462753519141172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5544462753519141172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/proud-to-be-american.html' title='Proud to be an American'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV9zFNMkYI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Eo14rYivAFE/s72-c/P1040777.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7630328459692754082</id><published>2009-05-23T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T09:33:04.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Grand Don't Come for Free</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlInFxqLtrI/AAAAAAAAAKY/TZ9VGDyQkTM/s1600-h/P1040727.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV-z796EGI/AAAAAAAAAJA/qfklwNQZTMc/s1600-h/P1040721.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV-z796EGI/AAAAAAAAAJA/qfklwNQZTMc/s320/P1040721.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347319563308109922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Amongst hordes of tourists, the troops are finally gathered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Next time you want to go on a family holiday why don’t you all come to mine and we can spend three days bitching on the front drive” says Greg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually everyone has used the bathroom, bought more water and/or a plastic poncho, eaten energy bars, changed socks, taken photos, run back to the car one last time, and we’re ready to head off. We hire a mule train to carry all of the camera gear:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIl4qnXKRI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/KVyQU5kFSq8/s320/P1040722.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355384562339227922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the morning mist lifts the Grand Canyon reveals itself to be every bit as spectacular as any photo we have ever seen. We hike down into its vastness. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV-0d1fmyI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Nl0j1kuPmog/s1600-h/P1040751.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV-0d1fmyI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Nl0j1kuPmog/s320/P1040751.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347319572399627042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;Richard  yodels. The youngsters forge ahead. People talk. Bonds are formed. Richard lies down every 50 minutes, and makes friends with strangers. Scenes are shot. Amends with Lynn. Sweat and sunscreen and water flow. Previously unacknowledged muscles become vocal as the day unfolds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Josh completes a full health and safety risk assessment, and then films the circling condors from an outcrop.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlInFxqLtrI/AAAAAAAAAKY/TZ9VGDyQkTM/s320/P1040727.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355385887080036018" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(1,0,0);"&gt;As we toil back up after a flash thunderstorm Richard and Barb spend some time alone together on the trail. “Is the going up worth the coming down?” Barb asks, refering to Richard favourite Kris Kristofferson song The Pilgrim. It’s the right question to ask on so many levels.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.bigbbrenner.com"&gt;Barry Big B Brenner &lt;/a&gt;is playing in the bar at the top afterwards. A pint of Fat Tire never tasted so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Round the fire later the 3 siblings - Zac, Kelli, Greg - and the new kid on the block - JP - share stories about growing up with Richard. There are amazing tales of cars balancing off the edge of cliffs and guns and police and arguments and life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7630328459692754082?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7630328459692754082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/grand-don-come-for-free.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7630328459692754082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7630328459692754082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/grand-don-come-for-free.html' title='A Grand Don&amp;#39;t Come for Free'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV-z796EGI/AAAAAAAAAJA/qfklwNQZTMc/s72-c/P1040721.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-5145417772573624863</id><published>2009-05-21T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T02:34:07.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Route 66</title><content type='html'>We saddle up and head out of town. We’re heading for the Grand Canyon via Williams, a small town on Route 66 where we’ve booked rooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We crawl across the Hoover Dam and pull in to the only gas station we’ve seen for hours. It’s impossible to make a quick pit stop. The coolers come out. Food is microwaved inside the store. Richard upsets the owners first by spilling last night’s doggy bag everywhere, and then by sitting in a ‘restricted area’. We finally manage to leave two hours later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opposite the Motel in Williams there’s a rowdy band playing in a bar that’s built around a Wild West-style courtyard with a bonfire roaring so we join the fun. Beers are a dollar and there’s a special on fish tacos. The news is all good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-5145417772573624863?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/5145417772573624863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/route-66.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5145417772573624863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5145417772573624863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/route-66.html' title='Route 66'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-511203887024708961</id><published>2009-05-21T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T15:54:50.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Early Rising</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV_qVTtrCI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/c4lOcWj-u_s/s1600-h/P1040606.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV_qVTtrCI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/c4lOcWj-u_s/s320/P1040606.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347320497823394850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I made the mistake last night of asking Richard to call when he wakes up. The phone rings at 5.20am. He’s just calling to say he’s shaving. This is not a good sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh grabs the camera and heads out. The sunrise is amazing behind the Vegas skyline. Richard makes for a 7am recovery meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the afternoon Lynn, Richard’s second wife, arrives. She’s come all the way from Vancouver. She’s the real reason we’re here - so that Richard can make amends. Everything else came later, when the plan expanded in a flurry of enthusiastic conversations and emails to become a reunion of all Richard’s significants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and Barb hit it off immediately. The dinner goes well. They compare notes, they both have horror stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg and Michelle arrive today too and meet the rest of the crowd outside the Cirque Du Soleil show Richard has bought everyone tickets to see. It’s a full house. Afterwards the family wander round the old part of Vegas. Spirits are high.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-511203887024708961?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/511203887024708961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/early-rising.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/511203887024708961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/511203887024708961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/early-rising.html' title='Early Rising'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV_qVTtrCI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/c4lOcWj-u_s/s72-c/P1040606.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7435132805662276625</id><published>2009-05-20T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T15:37:17.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hustle Town</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV7h0pWI1I/AAAAAAAAAIo/5jEAe5JwUQw/s1600-h/P1040597.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV7h0pWI1I/AAAAAAAAAIo/5jEAe5JwUQw/s320/P1040597.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347315953570292562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;JP hasn’t slept. He was locked out of Richard’s room last night so ended up wandering around until 6am, via McDonalds, an illegal swim in the pool, Subway, and about 10 cups of coffee. He’s pretty wired, and very pissed off. He spends most of the day staring into space on various sofas around the hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evening Josh and I head out of the city to try and film the skyline at night. A few miles out we climb a hill on foot to get a view. The earth is dusty and dry - this really is a desert. It brings home just how artificial the whole city is, shimmering gracefully in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, an epic dinner in an Asian restaurant at which Richard insists he wants to eat “the whole fish - head and eyeballs and all” and then spends an eternity immersed in a series of convoluted transactions involving discount coupons, new friends, and ordering entrees only instead of mains. Meanwhile he is also trying to hustle up someone local to book tickets to tomorrow night’s show at the MGM Grand. Locals get big discounts apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a hustler’s town, and Richard is loving the hustle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son Zac and his girlfriend arrive later in the evening and the family catch a comedy show while we recce other locations on the strip for the family dinner tomorrow. We settle on the Mad Greek Cafe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7435132805662276625?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7435132805662276625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/hustle-town.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7435132805662276625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7435132805662276625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/hustle-town.html' title='Hustle Town'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV7h0pWI1I/AAAAAAAAAIo/5jEAe5JwUQw/s72-c/P1040597.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-563624265624918998</id><published>2009-05-19T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T15:33:54.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All you can eat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6taPN22I/AAAAAAAAAIg/YCg3tdaflVs/s1600-h/P1040600.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6taPN22I/AAAAAAAAAIg/YCg3tdaflVs/s320/P1040600.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347315053128178530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;First  day in Vegas. Richard takes us to the legendary buffet at The Orleans, where we’re staying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know of a single place in the world where two people can eat for less.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He’s got a point. It’s two-for-one on tuesdays so for $5 a head we have the run of an enormous food hall, and free drinks. There are hundreds of calorifically challenged peeps at the troughs, chowing down on steaks and ribs for breakfast. It’s a spectacular sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the afternoon we waddle out onto the strip for a wander, filming until we get told to stop and then moving on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The city really comes alive as night falls. We’re booked in to the Stratosphere for dinner, where we get some shots of the city. The restaurant is 107 floors up and revolving gently so we get the full panorama. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6tKEXB6I/AAAAAAAAAIY/o_bIjlDzRHQ/s1600-h/P1040628.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6tKEXB6I/AAAAAAAAAIY/o_bIjlDzRHQ/s320/P1040628.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347315048787675042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Richard clicks with the manager, Robert, who is old school Vegas. He used to hang with the Rat Pack. He worked with the Beach Boys. He’s met Buster Keaton for goodness sake. He and Richard flip it around. He’s right on the money. “Richard, you need to forgive yourself”. It’s a great encounter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-563624265624918998?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/563624265624918998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/all-you-can-eat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/563624265624918998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/563624265624918998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/all-you-can-eat.html' title='All you can eat'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6taPN22I/AAAAAAAAAIg/YCg3tdaflVs/s72-c/P1040600.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-407231998797957722</id><published>2009-05-18T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T15:31:25.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Furthur</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6MhEz1LI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/TrFmPpBsH8U/s1600-h/P1040686.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6MhEz1LI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/TrFmPpBsH8U/s320/P1040686.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347314488027894962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Back on the bus. I fly in from Toronto, Josh and Barb and JP and Richard come from Fargo, where Richard’s 4 hiking sticks and breathing machine cause some hold ups but somehow he makes it on (last on last off of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find them at the car hire desk, where Richard is bribing an employee with slices of cheese and pieces of sausage which he’s slicing off on one of the laminated brochures with a big pocketknife. There’s a big queue gathering behind but eventually we depart with two vehicles and a pretty good deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bright lights of the strip are only about 15 minutes away. A few detours later and we’re at the hotel, where as soon as you come through the front door you hit rows of slots and dead-eyed punters feeding them relentlessly. It’s a barrage of noise and light and air conditioning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh looks slightly shell shocked by the over stimulation of every sense after after the simplicity and slow pace of North Dakota.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-407231998797957722?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/407231998797957722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/furthur.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/407231998797957722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/407231998797957722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/furthur.html' title='Furthur'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjV6MhEz1LI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/TrFmPpBsH8U/s72-c/P1040686.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-8965126693488381245</id><published>2009-05-08T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T03:22:52.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And then there were two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTPbzpoziI/AAAAAAAAAII/ZlM5xGoLJdk/s1600-h/P1040475.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTPbzpoziI/AAAAAAAAAII/ZlM5xGoLJdk/s320/P1040475.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347126734223887906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It’s Day 50 of shooting. I’m up at 4.45am to catch a plane from Omaha to Houston, and then on to Toronto for the last couple of days of Hot Docs. Hopefully the film will be screening there next year. Josh stays behind to shoot with Richard’s first wife Nola.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like Vegas is on, but who knows what might happen in the next 10 days. Last night Richard suggested Greg and his wife Michelle come along too. What began as a way to entice Lynn to a neutral place where Richard could make amends has grown into a full blown family get-together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels strange to leave Josh and Richard - in some ways the journey is almost over, but there’s a process underway which feels like it’s only really beginning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-8965126693488381245?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/8965126693488381245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-then-there-were-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8965126693488381245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8965126693488381245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-then-there-were-two.html' title='And then there were two'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTPbzpoziI/AAAAAAAAAII/ZlM5xGoLJdk/s72-c/P1040475.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-5944646762007736015</id><published>2009-05-07T05:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T03:20:47.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tao of Richard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTO3cmzW2I/AAAAAAAAAIA/6legiwlAENY/s1600-h/P1040471.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTO3cmzW2I/AAAAAAAAAIA/6legiwlAENY/s320/P1040471.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347126109562690402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Notes from a Breakfast Diplomacy Meeting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard: “We need a system for resolving conflict and making decisions. When traveling with Mike in the 60s we used to flip a coin to decide where to go next, or who was paying. Why can’t we adopt that system?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This journey has already been the most significant growth in my twenty years of recovery and has set in motion a process that if kept on track can only have the most positive results of my life.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I am grateful to have been an instrument in your spiritual growth“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We all like to hike. The summit we reach is not a destination it’s a rest point until we see the next valley and ridge to hike. We need time to rest up as we look at the valley ahead.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The thousand words are sometimes worth more than the pictures.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I am now more centred and calmly looking forward to the trip to Omaha and engaging with the people there. If we had not had this conversation I would have allowed my buttons to be pushed to total uncentredness”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great, lets get back on the road then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrive in Omaha Richard insists on finding a place he can buy bbq ribs. This is where he watched Obama’s inauguration and he wants to show us how down with the coloured folk he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Is that an African accent?” he asks in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No, I was born in Omaha”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They don’t have ribs, so we head to Bill’s which is next to a gas station in a fairly rough looking part of town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Akuna Matata brother” he says through a heavily fortified window, before placing his order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s a procession of people buying cheap liquor, and Richard banters merrily with them all. Anyone else would have taken a beating but he’s all smiles as he walks out with a big bag of ribs 10 minutes later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son Greg is the eldest of his 3 children. They eat the ribs together in Greg’s back yard and chew the fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard presses him to get the skeletons out. Greg starts cleaning a rifle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When I was very young you paid a lot more attention to your friends than to me. Most of the time you were making a lot of promises and then not keeping them.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What could i do to be a better father from here on in”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(long pause)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pay attention to me. I’ve got something important to show you all the time. You’re my dad, I want to impress you. I’m proud of what I’ve done, and I want you to be proud of what I’ve done.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-5944646762007736015?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/5944646762007736015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/tao-of-richard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5944646762007736015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5944646762007736015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/tao-of-richard.html' title='The Tao of Richard'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTO3cmzW2I/AAAAAAAAAIA/6legiwlAENY/s72-c/P1040471.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-8056144285023937167</id><published>2009-05-06T06:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T09:21:08.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When The Student Is Ready The Teacher Will Arrive</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIkVHhdDmI/AAAAAAAAAKA/2wxuGvLvGIU/s1600-h/DSC_0141.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjYa8spmFQI/AAAAAAAAAJg/9QQ1WigbY2U/s1600-h/P1040456.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjYa8spmFQI/AAAAAAAAAJg/9QQ1WigbY2U/s320/P1040456.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347491237629138178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After a night in Mission and some ringing around we’ve managed to find Sylvan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Many winters have passed since we last met” he says on the phone when Richard speaks to him. He and Richard used to run together, and sobered up together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sylvan lives out in a newly built house with a creek running through the bottom of his land. He has a room full of trophies for horseshoe throwing. He lights wild sage as we sit down to break bread. He speaks slowly, deliberately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They pray together to the Great Spirit to give Richard strength in this search for a new way of living. Sylvan shares stories of his own amends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIkVHhdDmI/AAAAAAAAAKA/2wxuGvLvGIU/s320/DSC_0141.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355382852112158306" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;“You forgot your Treaty Paper“ he shouts, waving a toilet roll at Richard as we set off for Omaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-8056144285023937167?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/8056144285023937167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-student-is-ready-teacher-will.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8056144285023937167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8056144285023937167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-student-is-ready-teacher-will.html' title='When The Student Is Ready The Teacher Will Arrive'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjYa8spmFQI/AAAAAAAAAJg/9QQ1WigbY2U/s72-c/P1040456.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-4280945996167459767</id><published>2009-05-05T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T09:13:59.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Manic Tuesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIikOULBgI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/ivyHpkeDahg/s1600-h/DSC_0097.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIiMI33eyI/AAAAAAAAAJo/WcGbeDARon4/s1600-h/DSC_0095.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIiMI33eyI/AAAAAAAAAJo/WcGbeDARon4/s320/DSC_0095.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355380498832522018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Last night we ended up at the North Star, which is closed on Mondays and run by a fellow whogoes by the name “The Living Legend”. He and Richad go back some, and they talk into the night in the empty bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We slept in a town called Gregory. In the morning &lt;span style="color: rgb(3,3,3);"&gt;Richard seems strangely hyper, and as he drives through town he suddenly pulls over and has a mock altercation with 12 foot gorilla (A statue of the town’s sports teams mascot). It seems we are beginning to see the ‘high’ side of a growing manic state. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We run in to a cowboy and his wife on an old pony trap. Richard lifts his shirt and asks the wife to whip him. It’s a good opener, and soon he’s riding alongside them. The cowboy turns out to be an old hand from California and treats us to an hour of fire and brimstone while his pretty (and much younger) wife looks on. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIikOULBgI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/ivyHpkeDahg/s320/DSC_0097.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355380912610280962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;Richard can’t resist a theological showdown with the right wing Baptist and an argument ensues. After getting kicked off the trap, Richard makes a a hasty amends (‘peace be with you brother!’) before the cowboy rides off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard’s high is escalating and when we hit the cafe for lunch. He walks in  with a scarf over his face holding a shotgun and demands to see the manager. The old ladies inside barely bat an eyelid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over lunch he gets a call. He loves to banter with salespeople, but as we listen (he’s sitting on another table of course) he starts to give out personal details. Card numbers. Security numbers. We try to stop him but he waves us away. Eventually he hands the phone to me, but the damage is done. I speak to the guy on the other end and question him but i can almost hear the money leaving richard’s account the longer we stay on the line. He calls his bank five minutes later, and a transaction for $995 has already gone through. Oh dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard comes back to earth with a bump and sets to work on the phone. Once again he has created a whole world of drama which needs to be unravelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way to Mission we couldn’t drive past this picture, so we lost Richard.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTOdmTchkI/AAAAAAAAAH4/ln5CxjA9y2Q/s1600-h/P1040439.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTOdmTchkI/AAAAAAAAAH4/ln5CxjA9y2Q/s320/P1040439.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347125665489258050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we arrive he’s at the Native American University in the office of an Indian named Hollow Horn who has a photo of himself meeting the Pope on the wall. We’re trying to track down his old buddy Sylvan White Hat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-4280945996167459767?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/4280945996167459767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/manic-tuesday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4280945996167459767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4280945996167459767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/manic-tuesday.html' title='Manic Tuesday'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SlIiMI33eyI/AAAAAAAAAJo/WcGbeDARon4/s72-c/DSC_0095.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7043935339187135841</id><published>2009-05-04T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T03:16:44.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crawlers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The room is alive with ticks. Well, two of them. JP spies one on Josh’s shirt, and I find one on my jeans. Then Richard comes in for a meeting, and he’s got one attached to the back of his neck. Josh does the honours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We check out of the Siesta and hit the road. Richard has seen a storm brewing and wants to get his car hailed on so he can claim on the insurance. He speeds towards it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTN5y2DU_I/AAAAAAAAAHw/QX30FY0ESjc/s1600-h/P1040397.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTN5y2DU_I/AAAAAAAAAHw/QX30FY0ESjc/s320/P1040397.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347125050380342258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The sky is a golden yellow, but soon we’re right in it. The rain falls so hard I can’t see more than about three metres ahead. It closes right in until I’m crawling. Then suddenly we’re out the other side, past a sign that reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“God does not keep us from life’s storms...He walks us through them”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sunset is spectacular. We cross the Missouri as night falls and pause on the other side. As we film in the dusk, coyotes begin to howl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7043935339187135841?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7043935339187135841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/crawlers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7043935339187135841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7043935339187135841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/crawlers.html' title='Crawlers'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTN5y2DU_I/AAAAAAAAAHw/QX30FY0ESjc/s72-c/P1040397.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-585865831661151696</id><published>2009-05-03T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T03:15:23.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday by the lake</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTNlo-SufI/AAAAAAAAAHg/cjm-up27dTY/s1600-h/P1040236.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTNlo-SufI/AAAAAAAAAHg/cjm-up27dTY/s320/P1040236.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347124704133167602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A new day. Somehow Richard manages to patch things up with Barb after an altercation at the Kongo and they head off to brother Mike’s place by the lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a peaceful afternoon and after the tour Mike and Richard sit down and look through an album of photos which Richard has brought, with all the pictures from their global adventures together back in the 60s. These two used to be incredibly close. Now, it’s an amazing thing to witness them spending these few hours together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drive out see some of Mike’s land, and he shows us how he’s been planting to create the ideal habitat for wild pheasant to thrive. There’s real science at work, and years of preparation to ensure the birds can survive the harsh winters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Debs has their six hunting dogs out. I’ve never seen happier or better trained dogs. They’re quite a sight.&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTNl8dQPkI/AAAAAAAAAHo/gYm15wwR3EQ/s1600-h/P1040357.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTNl8dQPkI/AAAAAAAAAHo/gYm15wwR3EQ/s320/P1040357.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347124709363301954" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As night falls and ticks start appearing on people’s legs, we head to Ruby Tuesday for dinner. Today was a good one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-585865831661151696?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/585865831661151696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/sunday-by-lake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/585865831661151696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/585865831661151696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/sunday-by-lake.html' title='Sunday by the lake'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjTNlo-SufI/AAAAAAAAAHg/cjm-up27dTY/s72-c/P1040236.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7356082135805460546</id><published>2009-05-02T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T03:12:55.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kristofferson to Kongo</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;Richard’s birthday! We give him a book and his favourite Kristofferson album on cd. He apologises for having encouraged me to eat ‘Prairie Oysters’ which he later revealed were really pieces of deep fried bull’s testicles. I had not seen the funny side, but it’s a day for forgiveness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barb and JP drive down from Lidgerwood for a birthday dinner which turns out to be remarkably unremarkable - no arguments, no embarrassing scenes, nobody storms out. In fact it all goes very well. Bob Trusty, one of the original Robin Hood posse is here, so is brother Mike and his wife Debs and Barb and JP. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards as Josh films him in the car outside the Corn Palace, Richard is approached by a police officer who has spotted him parked illegally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Officer, in case you hadn’t noticed we’re making a movie”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, I can see that“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then after checking his id Officer Badgood (really) proceeds to stop the traffic so Richard can pull a u-turn and go on his way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night ends at the Kongo Klub, a ‘legendary’ establishment where Richard misspent much of his youth. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7356082135805460546?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7356082135805460546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/kristofferson-to-kongo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7356082135805460546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7356082135805460546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/kristofferson-to-kongo.html' title='Kristofferson to Kongo'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6806450167173202557</id><published>2009-05-01T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:47:00.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mike? check</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjQCJmcBZsI/AAAAAAAAAHY/-yKPlPSiGtw/s1600-h/P1040306.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjQCJmcBZsI/AAAAAAAAAHY/-yKPlPSiGtw/s320/P1040306.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346901021555779266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We’re back in Mitchell. Brother Mike has agreed to be interviewed. We meet at his office. The walls are covered in hunting photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hear stories from the 70’s. Early days of Robin Hood, the hunting service that Mike and Richard ran together with some friends. Weeks of hunting and drinking. There were some wild times. Good times. In the 20 plus years since, they’ve grown apart and led very separate lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes he can make amends. Anything’s possible. But the clock is ticking and time is running out. He’s 69 years old now. Will he make them? That’s the $64,000 question. We’ll have to see”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we’re having lunch with Mike and his wife Richard calls to say he’s heading over to a recovery meeting and why don’t we film it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh speaks to the assembled and they vote to allow us to film as long as we don’t reveal anyone’s identity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stories of loss and tragedy and broken relationships are heartbreakingly mundane but no less powerful for their familiarity. People shunned by their families, troubled by lifetimes of drinking and battling alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels a real privilege that they are willing to share their stories with us, and we leave humbled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day’s not over yet. Richard heads off to make amends with an old neighbor who he owed money to for some building work back when he lived here. The man is now in his eighties but when Richard called up to arrange to meet, his first words were “So are you going to pay me the money you owe?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn’t say much during the encounter, but Richard pays the first instalment, and then we head over to his old house by the lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He’s in reflective mood as the sun goes down, talking about how people here celebrated when he left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6806450167173202557?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/6806450167173202557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/mike-check.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6806450167173202557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6806450167173202557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/05/mike-check.html' title='Mike? check'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjQCJmcBZsI/AAAAAAAAAHY/-yKPlPSiGtw/s72-c/P1040306.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6757177009526362044</id><published>2009-04-30T04:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:42:10.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One last song with Lenny</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjQA6Zr6WaI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/86MouRUrRzk/s1600-h/P1040312.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjQA6Zr6WaI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/86MouRUrRzk/s320/P1040312.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346899660923099554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We learnt enough last time to keep out of the way during the packing and departure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a stretch of empty road we drive alongside Richard to film him driving. He has a ziploc bag full of hard boiled eggs which he munches in between phone calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we arrive in Mitchell, Richard pulls off onto the dirt track that leads to Lenny’s place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This could be one of the last times they meet. Lenny is close to checking out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’ve been a good friend Dick, and I like the journey you’re on. But I have to say in front of God and everyone, you’re absolutely nuts”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say their farewells.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6757177009526362044?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/6757177009526362044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-last-song-with-lenny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6757177009526362044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6757177009526362044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-last-song-with-lenny.html' title='One last song with Lenny'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjQA6Zr6WaI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/86MouRUrRzk/s72-c/P1040312.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-8706930346951910577</id><published>2009-04-29T04:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:29:40.237-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Plot</title><content type='html'>Before we head off on the next leg Richard wants to visit the family grave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the light fades he talks about his parents, how his father never really recovered from his wife’s early death. The sadness at brother Bob’s refusal to see him as he lay dying, or even allow Richard at his funeral. How bad must things have got for Bob to not want to see his brother before he died?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard points out where he will be buried. It’s a strange thing to know where your final resting place will be. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-8706930346951910577?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/8706930346951910577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/family-plot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8706930346951910577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8706930346951910577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/family-plot.html' title='Family Plot'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-2609824567764379422</id><published>2009-04-28T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:27:55.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP9r_UgcqI/AAAAAAAAAHI/QqscIezsG_0/s1600-h/P1040247.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP9r_UgcqI/AAAAAAAAAHI/QqscIezsG_0/s320/P1040247.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346896114792559266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Shooting with Richard as he searches out old photos in the attic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-2609824567764379422?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/2609824567764379422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/memories.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2609824567764379422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2609824567764379422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/memories.html' title='Memories'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP9r_UgcqI/AAAAAAAAAHI/QqscIezsG_0/s72-c/P1040247.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-849502121430511986</id><published>2009-04-26T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:23:58.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>North Dakota Game and Fish</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP8xQoTqCI/AAAAAAAAAHA/qBZ0kjgdw20/s1600-h/P1040084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP8xQoTqCI/AAAAAAAAAHA/qBZ0kjgdw20/s320/P1040084.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346895105826727970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;“Today, I will not hunt  illegally”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until today Richard was an avowed poacher. His nemesis was the state Game Warden. They’ve played cat and mouse for years. Richard has very strong views on hunting, and his freedom to kill stuff on other people’s land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the Warden is on the Amends list, so after church Richard arranges to meet him out by one of the lakes. He doesn’t explain why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s drizzling as he pulls up in his jeep, and they take a walk together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The high of killing and hunting is something Richard has been chasing (and finding) since he could run and hold a gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to be one of the toughest ones for Richard to accept. There’s no recovery program for poaching.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-849502121430511986?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/849502121430511986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/north-dakota-game-and-fish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/849502121430511986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/849502121430511986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/north-dakota-game-and-fish.html' title='North Dakota Game and Fish'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP8xQoTqCI/AAAAAAAAAHA/qBZ0kjgdw20/s72-c/P1040084.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-5728710340133815203</id><published>2009-04-25T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:21:23.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ransom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP8G05t9KI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4Gr5IBTx5qQ/s1600-h/P1040166.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP8G05t9KI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4Gr5IBTx5qQ/s320/P1040166.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346894376829056162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On the spur of the moment we drive with Jim and Sandy out to their place near Fort Ransom. It has been tricky for Richard to get time alone with his brother Jim and say his piece - he has to apologise for almost allowing his brother to drown when a boat they were in together sank. He’s tried a couple of times already on the ranch. He tries again in the car. He finally succeeds by the flooded river which runs at the bottom of Jim’s property.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over steaks from the bbq, Richard recounts the story of how we all come to be around the table.  It all begins with a travel agent in Mitchell in the early 60s, a trip to New Zealand, a meeting (in Fiji?) with Lynn who went on to become his second wife, the child they had - Kelli - who thirty years later came to London and Josh met, a trip to Mt Kilimanjaro by Josh, Kelli and Richard, the seeds of a film. You know the rest. If any detail had been different, this journey, these moments, wouldn’t be happening like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-5728710340133815203?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/5728710340133815203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/ransom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5728710340133815203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5728710340133815203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/ransom.html' title='Ransom'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP8G05t9KI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4Gr5IBTx5qQ/s72-c/P1040166.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6623950209772144818</id><published>2009-04-24T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:15:37.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tex</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP6zc7jbLI/AAAAAAAAAGw/soHpPtriKWA/s1600-h/P1040131.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 162px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP6zc7jbLI/AAAAAAAAAGw/soHpPtriKWA/s320/P1040131.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346892944465161394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Richard drives out to a ranch on the outskirts of Wyndmere. He’s here to make Amends with his oldest friend Tex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they sit down to speak, Richard is overcome with emotion. Tex is a hugely dignified man. He waits silently for Richard to compose himself. They talk. Well, mainly Richard talks. He circles and dives and circles again. He brings it round. He opens old wounds, and “kicks the crust off old turds to smell them one last time before we bury them”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The repercussions of some of the harm he has caused in the past, and the loyalty of his friend, are brought home. They made bonds when they were young men which have lasted to this day, but they’ve been seriously stretched by some of Richard’s behaviour over the decades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he gets up to leave over two hours later, Richard looks about a stone lighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The last time we spoke as long and as deep as this was fifty one years ago up in the Sand Hills, in a lean-to with a jug of Seagram Seven” says Tex, smiling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6623950209772144818?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/6623950209772144818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/tex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6623950209772144818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6623950209772144818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/tex.html' title='Tex'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP6zc7jbLI/AAAAAAAAAGw/soHpPtriKWA/s72-c/P1040131.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-2123463532156862387</id><published>2009-04-23T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:09:53.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thriller</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP5eDY3reI/AAAAAAAAAGo/w1DRfFeyAEs/s1600-h/P1040078.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP5eDY3reI/AAAAAAAAAGo/w1DRfFeyAEs/s320/P1040078.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346891477319921122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The days in Lidgerwood begin to blend in to each other. We’re still in The Motel where we’ve switched to a weekly rate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have pretty much exhausted the food options. Naked Juices from the gas station are the only reliable source of vitamins. It’s proving a challenge to get Richard back on the road, he’s got himself tied up in insurance deals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start telling people Michael Jackson is moving to town when they ask why we’re filming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-2123463532156862387?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/2123463532156862387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/thriller.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2123463532156862387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2123463532156862387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/thriller.html' title='Thriller'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjP5eDY3reI/AAAAAAAAAGo/w1DRfFeyAEs/s72-c/P1040078.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-8383594044386165611</id><published>2009-04-21T02:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:00:22.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dash Dot Dot Dot</title><content type='html'>“One of the last times he was here, broad daylight, all of a sudden he jumps up and proceeds to go over to the tree on the corner of the driveway and just relieves himself right on the tree there.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard’s sister lives in a nice suburban neighborhood. She’s on the front lawn, surrounded by Easter decorations. She’s explaining why her husband Larry doesn’t like Richard coming over to visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the course of our conversations she adds more pieces to the jigsaw. She has the same energy as the other Kuchera’s we’ve met. It’s fascinating to see the overlaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her infectious enthusiasm for life is born out of a serious illness ten years ago which she survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s a lifelong journey to figure out why am I here, what am I supposed to be doing? The greatest gift that I received was the illness of cancer 10 years ago. I think of it as a privilege to be chosen by God to go through this adversity - in going through that you realise what we are really here for”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Towards the end of the interview, she tells us the story of a reading at a recent funeral,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Your tombstone has the year you were born, and the year you died, and then in the middle will be the dash. And in the end it isn’t important what year you were born and what year you died, but what you did with the dash, what did you do with your life in between”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bodily functions to death, via family and the church. It’s classic Richard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-8383594044386165611?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/8383594044386165611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/dash-dot-dot-dot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8383594044386165611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/8383594044386165611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/dash-dot-dot-dot.html' title='Dash Dot Dot Dot'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-4956243792300304222</id><published>2009-04-20T02:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:35:59.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Biting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPxYX4hXSI/AAAAAAAAAGg/xkZDbFYlAY4/s1600-h/P1040272.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPxYX4hXSI/AAAAAAAAAGg/xkZDbFYlAY4/s320/P1040272.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346882583649148194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;An early morning drive to a secret fishing location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Dead by the side of the road: raccoon, skunk, pheasant, badger, squirrel, various unidentified birds.&lt;br /&gt;Alive: pheasant, duck, deer, pelicans.&lt;br /&gt;Fish caught: 0.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-4956243792300304222?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/4956243792300304222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-biting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4956243792300304222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4956243792300304222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-biting.html' title='Not Biting'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPxYX4hXSI/AAAAAAAAAGg/xkZDbFYlAY4/s72-c/P1040272.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6920527594493241852</id><published>2009-04-19T13:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:26:23.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Dog's Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"I’ve found Bodie!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"I don’t believe it, where was he?"&lt;br /&gt;"In the kennel, come take a look"&lt;br /&gt;We walk around to the back of the house. The dog cage is empty.&lt;br /&gt;"Where is he?"&lt;br /&gt;"Inside, go take a look"&lt;br /&gt;"Bodie! Here boy!"&lt;br /&gt;Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;"Look inside!"&lt;br /&gt;Richard goes down on all fours. His head disappears inside.&lt;br /&gt;"Bodie!"&lt;br /&gt;He reaches in. As he reverses out, we see he’s holding a dog’s front legs.&lt;br /&gt;Bodie slowly emerges from the kennel. There are strange liquids oozing from him.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Bodie"&lt;br /&gt;"He must have died in the winter"&lt;br /&gt;Bodie has been missing for months. In the meantime Richard’s current dog Pepsi has been sharing her sleeping quarters.&lt;br /&gt;Richard calls over a young girl who has been playing next door.&lt;br /&gt;"Watch how well trained my dog is"&lt;br /&gt;He points at the lifeless creature.&lt;br /&gt;"Play dead Bodie! Play dead!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPut7b-YwI/AAAAAAAAAGY/PZt4UfzWdvg/s1600-h/P1040046.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPut7b-YwI/AAAAAAAAAGY/PZt4UfzWdvg/s320/P1040046.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346879655435461378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6920527594493241852?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/6920527594493241852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/dog-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6920527594493241852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6920527594493241852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/dog-life.html' title='A Dog&amp;#39;s Life'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPut7b-YwI/AAAAAAAAAGY/PZt4UfzWdvg/s72-c/P1040046.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7599238790780819789</id><published>2009-04-18T02:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:37:15.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lidgerwood</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPtWvjquQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/6nB8FCEky_g/s1600-h/P1040115.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPtWvjquQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/6nB8FCEky_g/s320/P1040115.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346878157597882626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Time starts to slip down a gear in Lidgerwood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On old boy drops off some fishing rods. JP and Richard butt heads over domestic arrangements. Richard composes a letter to the sister who refuses to see him. The dog gets walked a lot by the lake. Insurance deals are set up and meetings arranged.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPtWRnvIFI/AAAAAAAAAGI/Yfw2Ng7T6hM/s1600-h/P1040111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPtWRnvIFI/AAAAAAAAAGI/Yfw2Ng7T6hM/s320/P1040111.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346878149561884754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Meanwhile we’re making friends. Mrs Bohnenstingl who runs the Lidgerwood Cafe (we resolve after a few beers to open a business back in London called Bohnenstingl’s), DayDay who is janitor at the local school, member of the volunteer fire squad, throws his darts underarm and says “It don’t matter” a lot, which swiftly becomes a catch phrase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s Richard’s hunting partner Randy and his oversexed dog Bud, who Randy assists in impregnating any bitch in town who’s in heat. Across the road is wise old Eli, who served in Korea and flies the Stars and Stripes in the front yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much to do here but it’s strange, we’re not tempted to turn the television on once. TV here is rubbish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7599238790780819789?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7599238790780819789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/lidgerwood.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7599238790780819789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7599238790780819789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/lidgerwood.html' title='Lidgerwood'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPtWvjquQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/6nB8FCEky_g/s72-c/P1040115.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-1202194652895920413</id><published>2009-04-16T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:20:57.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brother Jim</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPrM4mpiAI/AAAAAAAAAF4/GCURuZOL_N4/s1600-h/P1030996.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPrM4mpiAI/AAAAAAAAAF4/GCURuZOL_N4/s320/P1030996.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346875789204359170" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wyndmere, ND. Richard’s home town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard’s brother Jim lives here out on his farm. He’s got the family handlebar tash and a fast talking no-nonsense delivery peppered with jokes and expletives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We film with him out on the ranch as he feeds the cows. We drive in his pickup over to collect hay on the site of what used to be the largest turkey farm in the US. The whole complex is deserted after the place went bankrupt and there are row after row of empty corrugated barns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cows are friendly, but it’s one of the horses that gets up close and personal with Josh and gives the camera a lick.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPrNDuQBbI/AAAAAAAAAGA/xMvr1VoAHGw/s1600-h/P1040032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPrNDuQBbI/AAAAAAAAAGA/xMvr1VoAHGw/s320/P1040032.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346875792189031858" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at their place his wife Sandy shares her just-out-of-the-oven rice krispie cakes and we sit down for a chat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards we make it to the local bar just in time for happy hour. Richard joins us and as Jim tucks in to beers, it’s clear he’s got things to say. Talk turns to an upcoming family reunion in June and he warns Richard that “there will be none of that healing talk shit”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For supper we eat a goose that Richard acquired under dubious circumstances and has had roasting all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-1202194652895920413?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/1202194652895920413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/jim.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/1202194652895920413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/1202194652895920413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/jim.html' title='Brother Jim'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SjPrM4mpiAI/AAAAAAAAAF4/GCURuZOL_N4/s72-c/P1030996.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-499805992704027361</id><published>2009-04-15T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T12:10:05.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remote</title><content type='html'>A tumbleweed blows across the main street in Hankinson, North Dakota, as we search for a different place to stay. I’ve never seen a tumbleweed in real life before. I guess it’s not a good sign. We feel properly in the sticks here - the only decent bar in Lidgerwood burnt down a few weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SepCapvQP6I/AAAAAAAAAEw/wJ3PPhRU3qc/s1600-h/P1030991.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SepCapvQP6I/AAAAAAAAAEw/wJ3PPhRU3qc/s320/P1030991.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326142534967115682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We join Richard, Barb and JP to film on a walk outside the town. There’s a small graveyard full of tombstones written in German. It’s sparse and austere countryside and the lakes still have ice on. Somehow even out here Richard finds someone to talk to and before long we have met a landowner who has a license to shoot turkeys and a son in law who knows how to call them. They’re in season so there may be some hunting on the cards. I’ve always wanted to meet someone who can imitate a female turkey and summon male turkeys the their death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we break bread later, Richard realises he’s left his shotgun out on the back porch at the Portable Ranch House, along with a bag which contains his tape recorder and all the notes for his Amends. He puts in a call to the local bar and manages to convince someone to drive out there and rescue the stuff from the rain. This man was born to hustle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-499805992704027361?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/499805992704027361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/tumbleweed-blows-across-main-street-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/499805992704027361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/499805992704027361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/tumbleweed-blows-across-main-street-in.html' title='Remote'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SepCapvQP6I/AAAAAAAAAEw/wJ3PPhRU3qc/s72-c/P1030991.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6687927073780817845</id><published>2009-04-14T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T12:13:52.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pow Wow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo9FvF9ZZI/AAAAAAAAAEg/s_4Dl9QVUP4/s1600-h/P1030954.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo9FvF9ZZI/AAAAAAAAAEg/s_4Dl9QVUP4/s320/P1030954.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326136678069134738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are woken by the sound of four rotund elderly ladies bouncing in the pool outside the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a late night by the time we had taken all the footage in and called it a day so it’s a bleary start.  Breakfast overlooking the Missouri. Josh asks for HP sauce, then Marmite. The waitress is confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back up on the reservation Richard calls a ‘meeting’ and passes around his ‘meeting stick’. It’s a very un-British approach to problems - talking about them - but it seems to yield results. Grievances and tensions which have been building for the past few days are aired. The filming process inevitably puts strain on everyone, and this seems to be a way of dealing with the issues quickly. The main one seems to be power lines and Richard’s pathological insistence that they shouldn’t be in any shots.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo9F0ncTqI/AAAAAAAAAEo/JaaW_KimgR8/s1600-h/P1030936.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo9F0ncTqI/AAAAAAAAAEo/JaaW_KimgR8/s320/P1030936.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326136679551749794" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard  gets very emotional when one of the Native American security ladies he has been buttering up gives him the phone number of the tribe’s medicine man as we are leaving. He tries to call but there's no reply. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drive out to &lt;a href="http://www.sittingbullmonument.com/"&gt;Sitting Bull’s memorial&lt;/a&gt; and he picks up a couple of young squaws on the way. It’s a beautiful location but they have surprisingly little to say about &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sitting_Bull"&gt;Sitting Bull&lt;/a&gt;. He was a Sioux holy man who&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; “had i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;ntense spirituality that pervaded his entire being in his adult years and that fueled a constant quest for an understanding of the universe and of the ways in which he personally could bring its infinite powers to the benefit of his people". Sounds like our kind of guy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo9FTAKmoI/AAAAAAAAAEY/DIWv1j628ik/s1600-h/P1030964.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo9FTAKmoI/AAAAAAAAAEY/DIWv1j628ik/s320/P1030964.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326136670528641666" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A full day of driving, and stopping to shoot scenery or airborne wildlife. At one point there's a flock of cranes riding thermals above us - We finally roll in to Lidgerwood for $1 burgers at the Genoseo Grill. Richard carries his own meat everywhere. Tonight he brings a full spread in Zip-Lock plastic bags and we commandeer an empty basketball court to eat in. I’ve never been so glad to see a bag of salad in my life. We drink the only four Fat Tire beers in the bar then retire exhausted to The Motel (there’s only one in Lidgerwood).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6687927073780817845?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/6687927073780817845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-are-woken-by-sound-of-four-rotund.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6687927073780817845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6687927073780817845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-are-woken-by-sound-of-four-rotund.html' title='Pow Wow'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo9FvF9ZZI/AAAAAAAAAEg/s_4Dl9QVUP4/s72-c/P1030954.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-3954186623412013428</id><published>2009-04-13T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T13:28:51.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Delayed Departures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo3H-j7A6I/AAAAAAAAAEA/7u14mw5XNuU/s1600-h/P1030911.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo3H-j7A6I/AAAAAAAAAEA/7u14mw5XNuU/s320/P1030911.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326130119511311266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It’s goodbye Spearfish, hello North Dakota. We’re ready to head North. We arrive atthe Portable Ranch House at 10am - in plenty of time for the scheduled midday departure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As time begins to pass it gradually dawns on us that there are a mountain of ‘tasks’ to be completed before we leave. We wash up. We make beds. We carry cases out. We stow skis in the shed. Richard decides to hoover. Then he decides to spend a long time picking things up, moving them, and putting them down somewhere else. His ADD is in full effect - he tells me in the car later that his nickname used to be ‘Lightning’ for this very reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few skuffles later we finally roll out at 5, with an 8 hour journey ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a massive relief to be moving at last. We’re travelling in two cars so we keep changing the configuration. Richard keeps up a constant stream of conversation. He has bags of cheese and meat and olives on the dash. The club soda is flowing. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo3H2CI0jI/AAAAAAAAAEI/l7ywVyxi-LE/s1600-h/P1030931.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo3H2CI0jI/AAAAAAAAAEI/l7ywVyxi-LE/s320/P1030931.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326130117222126130" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We see wild turkeys right in the middle of the road. We see buffalo. We see beautiful sunset.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo3iYCvC2I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/m_S9L_gGYK0/s1600-h/P1030950.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo3iYCvC2I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/m_S9L_gGYK0/s320/P1030950.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326130573028035426" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we reach the halfway point - a place just over the Missouri called Mobridge - it’s getting late and Richard decides to overnight. The Mo’Rest is full. The Wrangler Inn is expensive. We head to the casino a couple of miles out of town where Richard works the comp system by telling them we’re here making a documentary about Native American culture and wangles a free room. It’s the last empty one in the place - they’ve got 20 Indian families staying here after their village flooded. Josh and I head back to the Wrangler and collapse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-3954186623412013428?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/3954186623412013428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/delayed-departures.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/3954186623412013428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/3954186623412013428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/delayed-departures.html' title='Delayed Departures'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seo3H-j7A6I/AAAAAAAAAEA/7u14mw5XNuU/s72-c/P1030911.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7090637470869336162</id><published>2009-04-12T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T14:22:56.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rushmore</title><content type='html'>Easter Sunday. Apart from Christmas, this is the big one for the Catholic Church. There is a non-denominational event at Mount Rushmore at 7 so we head off at 4.30am to catch the sunrise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The monument looks impressive in the early morning mist.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoyvqwP1yI/AAAAAAAAADw/2QJj8a1fUXs/s1600-h/P1030905.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoyvqwP1yI/AAAAAAAAADw/2QJj8a1fUXs/s320/P1030905.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326125303830927138" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The service opens with sixty kids drumming on stage. It’s hands in the air. Their leader is a very enthusiastic and slightly camp middle-aged man who leads with gusto. He's holding a green mic. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seoyvz3MMJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0TCA8E82w_k/s1600-h/P1030908.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seoyvz3MMJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0TCA8E82w_k/s320/P1030908.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326125306275967122" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Richard is wearing about 10 layers of clothing. He’s in irreverent mood and cracks open a club soda during the sermon. He makes a beeline for the only black family in the congregation and tells them how proud he is to be an American now that Obama is in the White House. It’s all going well until he asks the father how it feels to be the token black man in the audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He insists on Josh filming him at Crazy Horse nearby, telling the camera how connected he is with the Native Americans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To Rapid City and the Cathedral. It’s a full house. The procession of people coming up to receive communion lasts for three hymns. They keep coming. Afterwards the priest spends a long time reading the location release but Richard is on fire and soon he’s charmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We share an Easter lunch with Richard at the Bay Leaf. He has a habit of getting up mid-mouthful, walking to another table, and starting a conversation. Soon he knows everyone in the place, including a musician who’s friends with Kristofferson and agrees to put us in touch. Result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7090637470869336162?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7090637470869336162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/easter-sunday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7090637470869336162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7090637470869336162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/easter-sunday.html' title='Rushmore'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoyvqwP1yI/AAAAAAAAADw/2QJj8a1fUXs/s72-c/P1030905.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6289072232681187488</id><published>2009-04-10T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T12:25:00.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Following the tracks</title><content type='html'>We’re trying to pick up the traces of someone who lived in this town over 20 years ago and in many cases the trail has run cold - people have died, others have moved away, some simply want to forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh speaks to Coyote, another original member of the Robin Hood hunting guide service that Richard ran with Mike back in the day. Coyote is in hospital so we arrange to film next time we pass through. He's a pilot and a craftsman and a hustler and a hunter. He's another fragment of the story we're beginning to piece together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have breakfast in somewhere purporting to be “The Greatest Coffee Shop in the World” which turns out to be anything but.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly we don’t have time to check in with the extraordinarily named Bonnie Bollock&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeomxXgGF8I/AAAAAAAAADY/VMq_kAYdDhg/s1600-h/P1030811.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeomxXgGF8I/AAAAAAAAADY/VMq_kAYdDhg/s320/P1030811.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326112138883110850" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After shooting some GVs around town we stop off in Cabela’s - an ‘outdoor supplies’ store on the outskirts of town which is a cathedral to hunting and killing stuff. They have an amazing display of stuffed animals which takes up the whole of the back wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seonv5Ss5zI/AAAAAAAAADo/bKAXjXqyXbo/s1600-h/P1030836.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Seonv5Ss5zI/AAAAAAAAADo/bKAXjXqyXbo/s320/P1030836.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326113213105628978" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also affords us the first sighting of beaver on the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeonvpUqJ-I/AAAAAAAAADg/3VIsEUB3iYM/s1600-h/P1030839.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeonvpUqJ-I/AAAAAAAAADg/3VIsEUB3iYM/s320/P1030839.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326113208818870242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We jump back in the car and make the 5 hour drive back from Mitchell - the snow has begun to melt and the countryside is brown and dry beneath the white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s Good Friday and we’ve arranged to film in the Catholic Church in Deadwood. Deadwood turns out to be a tourist trap - grannies feeding the slots and chowing down at the buffets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The service begins with the priest lying prostate in front of the altar and there’s a procession of people who come to the front to kiss the cross. Good hymns this time. We're becoming Catholics by proxy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6289072232681187488?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/6289072232681187488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/were-trying-to-pick-up-traces-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6289072232681187488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6289072232681187488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/were-trying-to-pick-up-traces-of.html' title='Following the tracks'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeomxXgGF8I/AAAAAAAAADY/VMq_kAYdDhg/s72-c/P1030811.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-5395169854200787057</id><published>2009-04-09T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T12:22:33.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mitchell Brother</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoeqcJ9tII/AAAAAAAAADQ/PLqF_t5JrJ4/s1600-h/P1030830.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoeqcJ9tII/AAAAAAAAADQ/PLqF_t5JrJ4/s320/P1030830.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326103223780357250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’ve arranged to meet Richard’s brother Mike in Mitchell. His participation in the film is crucial, but he’s understandably cautious. They travelled the world together as young men, but by all accounts things got pretty fraught over the years and Mike has been keeping his distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We meet in a coffee shop near his office. His wife joins us and we talk about hunting, training dogs, shooting in England. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike has given Richard plenty of chances over the years. He’s lived through the good times, and the bad, and suffered the consequences of Richard’s behaviour. We leave with the door open, but no guarantees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the afternoon we meet with Lenny, another old friend of Richard’s, who lives right out in the middle of nowhere. He’s still a bit high from a session with the dentist and then he takes a hit of some particularly strong weed before the interview, so it takes a while to slip in to gear. When he hits the marks there’s some great stuff in there, and his voice is resonant and full of history - he tells us “I’ve been knocked down and run over so many times I can tell the make of tyre that’s coming”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh asks him to write some songs for the film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoeqLg5MaI/AAAAAAAAADI/KKAxkJNhcEY/s1600-h/P1030832.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoeqLg5MaI/AAAAAAAAADI/KKAxkJNhcEY/s320/P1030832.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326103219313127842" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 154px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-5395169854200787057?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/5395169854200787057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/mitchell-brother.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5395169854200787057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5395169854200787057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/mitchell-brother.html' title='The Mitchell Brother'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoeqcJ9tII/AAAAAAAAADQ/PLqF_t5JrJ4/s72-c/P1030830.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-3140532615266922393</id><published>2009-04-06T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T12:16:59.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrities</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We come across Kate Bush’s place while out filming GVs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoXyzWppJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1xIvNA0cMME/s1600-h/P1030691.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoXyzWppJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1xIvNA0cMME/s320/P1030691.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326095670865142930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’s not the only celeb in town. Looks like Justin passed through, although I can’t help thinking a little less time dancing in the playground and a bit more time in handwriting class might have really set him up for life in the big time. I'm glad he like the food at Frenchie's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoXzI8N3II/AAAAAAAAADA/ZoSRB9zlkag/s1600-h/P1030717.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoXzI8N3II/AAAAAAAAADA/ZoSRB9zlkag/s320/P1030717.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326095676659850370" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-3140532615266922393?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/3140532615266922393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/celebrities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/3140532615266922393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/3140532615266922393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/celebrities.html' title='Celebrities'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoXyzWppJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1xIvNA0cMME/s72-c/P1030691.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-3290662662767559904</id><published>2009-04-05T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T10:34:37.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Offski</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoO6Ro4c3I/AAAAAAAAACw/7TQkmw-Lcvo/s1600-h/P1030694.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoO6Ro4c3I/AAAAAAAAACw/7TQkmw-Lcvo/s320/P1030694.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326085903649108850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sunday morning and Loren from next door hasn’t been to bed yet. I managed to escape at closing time. He bangs on the door at 11 and demands to be taken to the slopes. We’ve got a day off so we drive him and his buddy Jeff up there. When we’ve finished skiing/boarding we bring back two very different people. They sleep most of the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terry Peak is amazing. Josh flies down with the greatest of ease but this is only my fourth time. By the end he has switched to a board and i’m making the turns. It’s a fun day. There are loads of young parents on the slopes encouraging their progeny: “Good Job! Awesome Britney/Billy-Bob/Shayna, you can do it!”. With that amount of positivity pumped in to them from an early age its no wonder there’s so little cynicism in these hills. It’s nice to watch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-3290662662767559904?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/3290662662767559904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/offski.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/3290662662767559904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/3290662662767559904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/offski.html' title='Offski'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoO6Ro4c3I/AAAAAAAAACw/7TQkmw-Lcvo/s72-c/P1030694.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-7719495631490462109</id><published>2009-04-04T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T10:24:28.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimmingly</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoMhVRlPfI/AAAAAAAAACg/AWc-AEatJPw/s1600-h/P1030674.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoMhVRlPfI/AAAAAAAAACg/AWc-AEatJPw/s320/P1030674.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326083276105137650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up early for a swim, we check out The Black Hills State pool. Nearby is an indoor running track and a procession of unenthusiastic early risers are ‘speed walking’ slowly round it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The snow is coming in again. It starts just as we pick up another car (shout out to Kai from Enterprise in Spearfish for the SUV upgrade) and it’s falling pretty thick as we drive in to Rapid. A small situation has been brewing there since we dropped the last car off - there were some scratches in the paintwork from a cardboard box Richard put on the roof and trunk. Dennis, the owner of Casey’s, has been in the game long enough to know all the angles, so in spite of a good half hour of buffing with ‘product’ there’s no way those scratches are going to disappear. After much negotiation we leave a hundred dollars lighter and chalk it up to experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Wal-Mart I spot at least three people (including the Greeter) with breathing tubes coming out of their noses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way to Loretta’s we manage our first non-chain food experience at the Olde Worlde Cafe and Bookery in Sturgis (home of the world famous motorbike rally). The food is remarkably good for a place which calls itself a Bookery. Josh adds a pin to London on the world map at the owner’s insistence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loretta was Richard’s partner for 13 years, and knows him better than most. She’s very open and Josh shoots a great interview with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says the snow hasn’t been like this since she was a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoMhDIFqdI/AAAAAAAAACY/XanalOeRZ2A/s1600-h/P1030662.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoMhDIFqdI/AAAAAAAAACY/XanalOeRZ2A/s320/P1030662.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326083271233481170" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-7719495631490462109?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/7719495631490462109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/swimmingly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7719495631490462109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/7719495631490462109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/swimmingly.html' title='Swimmingly'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoMhVRlPfI/AAAAAAAAACg/AWc-AEatJPw/s72-c/P1030674.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-4650070293214066693</id><published>2009-04-03T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T12:28:25.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A life in images</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoIyqsoFMI/AAAAAAAAACA/7OUM-egfcns/s1600-h/P1030646.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoIyqsoFMI/AAAAAAAAACA/7OUM-egfcns/s320/P1030646.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326079175866979522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;In the afternoon we head over to the Portable Ranch House and spend several hours looking though Richard's amazing collection of personal photos. There’s a whole life in these ring binders - family gatherings, camping trips, hunting trips, weddings, bbqs, business trips - even some naked-in-the-mountains shots. Most of the pictures involve a dead animal, or a part of a dead animal. Even as someone who doesn’t eat a lot of meat, you’ve got to respect a man who hunts, kills, skins and cooks his own food. But boy has he killed some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saturated colours in the photos are amazing - they’re real 70s and 80s America. We film a selection, and Richard looking through them. Each one tells a story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoJcXCdxmI/AAAAAAAAACQ/SkABdzkBksc/s1600-h/P1030734.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoJcXCdxmI/AAAAAAAAACQ/SkABdzkBksc/s320/P1030734.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326079892144375394" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh suggested to Richard a few days ago that he records his thoughts on a dictaphone so he’s bought a cassette recorder. He uses his time on the mic to let off a little steam about us, which puts us in the picture when we listen back to it later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at our motel the welder from Texas in the next door room has left us a message on the door. We’re in 111 - how are we going to get out of this one?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoIy6MXUTI/AAAAAAAAACI/_F1UzO83MeU/s1600-h/P1030649.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoIy6MXUTI/AAAAAAAAACI/_F1UzO83MeU/s320/P1030649.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326079180026630450" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beer: Moose Drool again. Loren the welder was drinking JD this morning, but he’s working nights. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-4650070293214066693?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/4650070293214066693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/photos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4650070293214066693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4650070293214066693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/04/photos.html' title='A life in images'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoIyqsoFMI/AAAAAAAAACA/7OUM-egfcns/s72-c/P1030646.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-5545561409593587560</id><published>2009-03-30T16:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T12:29:16.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SdweV6YMZ7I/AAAAAAAAABc/9HD64FNSUdo/s1600-h/RoadTrip-11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SdweV6YMZ7I/AAAAAAAAABc/9HD64FNSUdo/s320/RoadTrip-11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322162221441902514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We’re snowed in. The car is hemmed in by drifts and the highways are closed. We venture out on foot, past huge trucks waiting with their engines on, to the Frontier Travel Centre for breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A microwaved chicken sandwich and a conversation with the staff later and we realise we’re not going anywhere today so we head back to the motel to catch up with logging, make some kit orders, and spend the day indoors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At lunchtime we return to the Frontier. Josh asks whether they have any vegetables and gets a blank look. “Nope” (pause) “Everything is breaded”. He goes for an order of deep fried breaded green beans, and then individually de-batters them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today’s beer: Moose Drool (from the Big Sky Brewing Co.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-5545561409593587560?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/5545561409593587560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/snow-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5545561409593587560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/5545561409593587560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/snow-go.html' title='Snow Go'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SdweV6YMZ7I/AAAAAAAAABc/9HD64FNSUdo/s72-c/RoadTrip-11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-4083714392189508237</id><published>2009-03-30T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T09:56:11.009-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angels</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoFaqJujhI/AAAAAAAAABo/bD_0aLDqJWI/s1600-h/P1030494.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoFaqJujhI/AAAAAAAAABo/bD_0aLDqJWI/s320/P1030494.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326075464868859410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The alarm didn’t go off, so the day starts with a call from Richard saying he’s coming round to pick us up for Mass. It’s 7.22am and he’s going to be here at 7.30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drive round to the front at 7.38, feeling mildly pleased with ourselves. Josh rides to Sturgis with Richard so I take the opportunity to tuck in to the Girl Scout Cookies Josh got suckered in to buying yesterday outside Wal-Mart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The church is already filling up for the 8.30 service when we arrive. Josh and Richard speak to the Father who is happy to let us film. We set up quietly at the back as he makes an announcement to the congregation who, to their credit, seem friendly and welcoming. Not many people between the ages of 10 and 50 I’d say. Unfortunately our position is next to someone with a mechanical breathing apparatus so it all gets a bit Blue Velvet for the first 5 minutes until we move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The service zips along, some praying some singing some sermon some more praying. Everyone offers each other a sign of the peace. We smile a little awkwardly. Richard takes communion. Then we’re back out into the cold for a little one-on-one time between Richard and the boss man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next up is a visit to D’s. He’s clearly lived many lives. He and Richard spend time talking about the upcoming journey. He’s got some wisdom from 28 years of sobriety and a spell of serious hell raising before that. He and Richard cover interesting ground together and we film the session.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch Special at Papa John’s in Wal-Mart then we get in some supplies for the trip we’ve got planned to meet Richard’s sister a “three hour” drive away up north.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoFanD7BDI/AAAAAAAAABw/1DB3cN8-XSc/s320/P1030499.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326075464039203890" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hit Highway 85 and the terrain opens out. Soon it’s just a straight road as far as the eye can see, and very little other traffic. It gets snowy on the road, then it starts to snow. It feels like we’re driving on clouds as the snow blows across the road like dry ice. Then visibility drops until we’re in a tunnel of white. That’s when we decide it’s probably wise to sit this one out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pull in to Bowman, North Dakota and find a place to stay. Dinner at Jabr’s Family restaurant, where Jenny the waitress has her brother and sister’s names tatooed on her wrists. She guesses we’re from New Zealand (?) and it’s not long until she has invited us for a “session” with her sister back at theirs. We explain we’re not musicians and politely decline for a night in with the beers at the Budget Host.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoFa5fZZqI/AAAAAAAAAB4/FJoWJG948_M/s320/P1030512.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326075468986279586" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Choice of beer: Avalanche (obviously).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-4083714392189508237?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/4083714392189508237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/angels.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4083714392189508237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4083714392189508237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/angels.html' title='Angels'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SeoFaqJujhI/AAAAAAAAABo/bD_0aLDqJWI/s72-c/P1030494.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-2120989584076871310</id><published>2009-03-28T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T09:46:39.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Impressions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SdwAxWSekpI/AAAAAAAAABM/XwKdbxVV1Lk/s1600-h/RoadTrip-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SdwAxWSekpI/AAAAAAAAABM/XwKdbxVV1Lk/s320/RoadTrip-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322129707441754770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a slightly strange night’s sleep at the Foothills Inn I wake up at 5.30am and can’t turn my brain off  so i skype and send emails and peer outside at the snowy tundra of Rapid City outskirts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 8 i head over to Wal-Mart and wander round endless aisles of stuff. Nothing comes in small packages, so i buy a huge shampoo and a king-size toothpaste. As I choose the toothpaste there is a TV nearby blaring out a seemingly endless looping ad for Dogzilla chicken flavoured dog toys. Scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave Wal-Mart feeling slightly grubby (compounded later by the motel receptionist who tells me she doesn’t shop there “because they use child labour”) and head to Perkins Family Restaurant for pancakes and syrup and all that stuff i would never normally eat for breakfast but somehow seems right surrounded by doughy-faced parents feeding up their dough-kids on a saturday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh arrives at 11 in a hired convertible. He’s been here for a week already filming with Richard and his daughter and staying with them out at Richard’s ‘Portable Ranch House’. He seems relieved the second unit has arrived. Richard is stocking up on supplies at a huge outlet called Sam’s Club so we use the time to trade the hire car in for something more practical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get to Sam’s Club Josh and I request an audience with the manager to check we can film, and it turns out Richard and ‘Dale’ have already had words, and it’s all good. Try that in ASDA in Weston-Super-Mare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I meet Richard for the first time at the checkout. He’s got a trolley piled high with meat and cheese, with a token bag of peppers thrown in for colour. He’s wearing a hat with a feather in and gives me a warm handshake and a big smile. We’ve spoken on the phone, but never actually met before. We’re going to be spending the next six weeks together on this journey so it’s fairly important that we get along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we film him leaving Richard keeps bumping in to people he knows. One guy - Frank - sporting a Vietnam Vet baseball cap (66-68 apparently) looks like he’s seen some action. Then Richard runs in to ‘D’ who he’s been trying to track down for a while, and they agree to do some work together the following day which we can film.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SdwAD6fyJvI/AAAAAAAAABE/7bPex3SEvu4/s320/RoadTrip-3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322128926887257842" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There’s so much protein in the trunk the car is wheezing on its axles. We trade it in again for some more space and get a beaten up old Buick then head to church for confession. The heater is broken so it’s full blast or nothing. Richard gets a load off his mind inside with the Father and we take off to drop the shopping at his place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The PRH is out in the sticks. There’s an ancient truck with a huge plastic vat on the back which is how Richard gets water out here. It has no brakes or lights. Josh picks up his stuff, and we head in to Spearfish to find a motel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Molly on the front desk of the Best Western wins us over. There’s a hunting show on the TV in our room. A breathless, camouflaged, man-of-the-forest is gushing after killing a deer with a high powered bow and arrow “If i got any more excited I think i’d explode!” he exclaims as he strokes the antlers of the unfortunate recently deceased beast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we’ve unpacked and sorted out the kit we’re both knackered so after a couple of beers it’s bedtime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-2120989584076871310?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/2120989584076871310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-meeting-with-richard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2120989584076871310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2120989584076871310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-meeting-with-richard.html' title='First Impressions'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SdwAxWSekpI/AAAAAAAAABM/XwKdbxVV1Lk/s72-c/RoadTrip-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-2562105033784891450</id><published>2009-03-28T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T09:47:50.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Travel To Travel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Sdv61_04ZkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/N4sgNZDUqT4/s1600-h/RoadTrip-0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Sdv61_04ZkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/N4sgNZDUqT4/s320/RoadTrip-0.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322123190241617474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Sdv61_04ZkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/N4sgNZDUqT4/s1600-h/RoadTrip-0.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;“Garbage! Garbage!” barks the air hostess as she works the Northwest Airlines aisles. Not quite the pale blue vision on KLM who apologised profusely for their lack of tomato juice. Northwest is full of American kids - a choir, it turns out -  chattering loudly and being extremely sociable with anyone who makes eye contact. I bury myself in Quantum of Solace, and then Sideways, which has had all the swearwords dubbed out - Laid becomes Loved (as in “I’m going to get LOVED and you’re not going to stop me”) but my favourite is “her husband caught me on the floor with my fingers in her COOKIE JAR”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Indian kid sitting next to me spends the flight watching cartoons and filling out exam papers. He’s part of the choir. It’s his birthday, and there’s an announcement by the captain, who says he’ll be easy to recognise because “he’s the one with the red face now”. Only of course he doesn’t have a red face at all. He rolls his eyes and enjoys the attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 3 hour stopover in Minnesota passes quickly. I wrestle with a payphone and book a room at Foothills Inn, where Josh stayed last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The air hostess for the final leg from Minnesota to Rapid City has to walk up and down the aisle in crab-like fashion, she’s just a bit too broad for the straight-up approach. She’s great - she makes small talk to everyone and works the crowd as she hands out soft drinks and snack boxes. When she gets to me, we talk about London, England. She went there once and had “crazy fun”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrive in Rapid City to the news that North Dakota is facing &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/7963490.stm"&gt;massive flooding&lt;/a&gt;, and residents of Fargo and Moorhead (both places we’re set to spend time in) are sandbagging furiously and preparing their defences. Not the welcome we were expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Sdv8bK7RXwI/AAAAAAAAAA8/P5Jx2eIWIV4/s320/RoadTrip-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322124928387997442" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-2562105033784891450?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/feeds/2562105033784891450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/floods.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2562105033784891450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/2562105033784891450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/floods.html' title='We Travel To Travel'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/Sdv61_04ZkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/N4sgNZDUqT4/s72-c/RoadTrip-0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6217782104670438596</id><published>2009-03-15T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T03:55:04.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Partial Redemption of Richard Kuchera</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfYBuWVAIzI/AAAAAAAAAFo/UvaDDe3QiHQ/s1600-h/P1030646.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfYBuWVAIzI/AAAAAAAAAFo/UvaDDe3QiHQ/s320/P1030646.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329449104818840370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: italic;font-family:Helvetica;"&gt; &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A feature length documentary following enigmatic rascal Richard Kuchera on a journey of self-discovery as he seeks to right the wrongs of his past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;69-year-old Dick, or Richard as he now prefers to be called, lives alone in a trailer in the Black Hills of Dakota, a rugged and charismatic country that seems to suit him down to the ground. Rude, Intelligent, witty, childish, loving, honest, deceitful, aggressive and yet charming Richard is, as the Kris Kristofferson song says ‘…a walking contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Richard has done some pretty despicable things in his life and over the years has pissed off and become estranged from many of those closest to him. Yet as the years catch up with him, Richard begins to question a life lived distinctly on his terms. His addiction recovery group says he should clean up his side of the street. His Catholic faith says repent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;We follow Richard as he makes a list of all those he has wronged and embarks on a life-changing journey to make amends to such people wherever possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;As Richard tracks down the friends, loved ones and business associates whose lives he has impacted on like a car crash, we learn more of this complex maverick as he takes us on an unpredictable road trip through America’s heartlands and back through his eventful life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6217782104670438596?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6217782104670438596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6217782104670438596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/partial-redemption-of-richard-kuchera.html' title='The Partial Redemption of Richard Kuchera'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfYBuWVAIzI/AAAAAAAAAFo/UvaDDe3QiHQ/s72-c/P1030646.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-6976378422236638474</id><published>2009-03-15T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T10:36:21.794-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Filmmakers</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Director Joshua Neale,&lt;/span&gt; has a diverse background in drama and documentary, including working alongside Pawel Pawlikowski on the Bafta winning film &lt;i&gt;My Summer of Love&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; and writing and directing the acclaimed short film &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Flowers and Coins&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;In 2006 Joshua directed his first broadcast documentary, the chilling and inventive, &lt;i&gt;The Boy who Killed his Best Friend&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;. Joshua’s distinctive voice as a filmmaker truly emerged with &lt;i&gt;Karaoke Soul&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;which mixes intimate observational documentary with musical performances from the central characters. This was followed&lt;i&gt; by Cotton Wool Kids&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;for Channel 4’s ‘Cutting Edge’ strand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Joshua aims to continue to make bold creative films with human stories at their heart. He is currently on the road looking for redemption, his central character’s or his own remains open to question. Time will tell. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Associate Producer Andrew Hinton&lt;/span&gt; is riding shotgun. He has worked in documentary for over a decade and was recently an artist in residence at Southbank Centre in London. He has seen the ocean.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Producer Sandra Whipham&lt;/span&gt; is a freelance executive producer and documentary consultant. Previously she worked at Channel 4 where she was Editor, More 4, and oversaw the True Stories international documentary strand.  She co-produced films including Burma VJ, Afghan Star and Jesus Politics and and acquired the best of international feature documentary, including Trouble the Water, No End In Sight, Shutka Book of Records,and Billy The Kid. She is a regular participant at international pitching forums and markets and was a guest industry tutor at the IDFA Summer School in 2008.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Sandra did not visit the Dakotas on this occasion but looks forward to attending the world premiere in Fargo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-6976378422236638474?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6976378422236638474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/6976378422236638474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/filmmakers.html' title='The Filmmakers'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-988650773513307173.post-4763922514310847718</id><published>2009-03-15T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T12:49:47.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Road Is Our Teacher</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfYMIV6iugI/AAAAAAAAAFw/jggOe8B-uWk/s1600-h/P1030634.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfYMIV6iugI/AAAAAAAAAFw/jggOe8B-uWk/s320/P1030634.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329460546500737538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;s a Great American may or may not have said once said ‘The Road is our Teacher.’ From Badlands to Easy Rider I’ve always been fascinated by the American road trip, the endless roads that touch the horizon, the truck stop encounters, the possibility of freedom (sometimes false) that the great land seems to promise. When I first heard tales of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;‘Dick’ from a former girlfriend Kelli (Richard’s daughter) he seemed liked a character from one of the great American novels or movies. Part Huck Finn, part I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;gnatius J. Reilly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Larger than life, hero and anti-hero, a fierce individual.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It was all there -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;women, guns, religion, drugs, booze, and the open road. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The road journey is at once personal and yet universal. As the landscapes fly past the open window, through dying small towns and flooded corn fields your story inevitably crosses and touches other’s stories and for a moment connects, before heading on to the next encounter. And maybe you learn something. Or at least have something new to think about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Richard’s journey I believe is going to be undeniably eventful, emotional, chaotic and transformative. And we are along for the ride. This blog is really a collection of our own thoughts and observations on the road as we stumble at the unpredictable heels of Richard. Not really a ‘making of’ as such, more of a road diary. As for what happens on Richard's journey? Well you’ll have to wait for the film for that one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Joshua Neale, Director&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/988650773513307173-4763922514310847718?l=partialredemption.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4763922514310847718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/988650773513307173/posts/default/4763922514310847718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://partialredemption.blogspot.com/2009/03/about-film.html' title='The Road Is Our Teacher'/><author><name>Andrew</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16274349003373352688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfX6_hxrQoI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iJeaP-PkuQg/S220/Andrew01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Kz_FawCYvgs/SfYMIV6iugI/AAAAAAAAAFw/jggOe8B-uWk/s72-c/P1030634.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
