Freddie Hoffman Has Peddled More Than 1.3 Million Miles
By HARI SREENIVASAN
Video of InterviewSept. 18, 2006 — - It doesn't take long to realize that there is something special about Freddie Hoffman. Whether it's his firm handshake, his intense stare when he meets someone, the cadence of his voice or the matter-of-fact nature of his words, it's clear that Hoffman will do whatever he sets his mind to.
Born with an oxygen deficiency to his brain, Hoffman entered the world with certain challenges most of us will never face. The sense of self-esteem, which might have been torn down by the cruelty of children on the playground, came back a pedal push at a time once Hoffman discovered the freedom he could have on two wheels.
"Other boys didn't accept me, so I turned to my bicycle as a brother, companion and even a playmate and counselor," said Hoffman. It was something I could do on my own without the help of others."
Inspired by watching astronauts land on the moon, Hoffman realized at a young age that his limitations would keep him from becoming an astronaut, in the literal sense. So he decided to ride the distance to the moon (approximately 238,856 miles) on his bicycle.
Now 48, Hoffman long ago reached that goal. He said he's totaled 1.3 million miles, far enough to make it to the moon and back -- twice.
"I actually have a lifetime average of 81.4 miles per day over the past 41 years. My diary has recorded about 24,700 days riding and approximately 1,500 days that I entered zero that I didn't ride," Hoffman said.
He has taken thousands of photographs of places he has been. His travels have taken him across the United States more than 20 times, over all 48 contiguous states -- across mountain passes and deserts, through the smallest towns and the biggest cities, sometimes to the most desolate corners of America. "I've been on roads that are not even published on maps where I could go all day. ... I had one instance in Nevada where I rode 200 miles, and not a car passed me on the highway," he said.
Hoffman rides not for himself but for his mother and the 19 other relatives he has lost to leukemia and lymphoma, as well as everyone else affected by these diseases. Almost every summer he raises thousands of dollars through pledges from neighbors in his native New Jersey and friends he has made all over the country. There are no fancy colored wristbands, no marketing campaigns, just Hoffman going door-to-door. Last year, he reached almost 5,000 people.
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Hoffman does admit to getting something out of it himself. "To go up on a mountain pass that is so high that I'm looking down on the clouds and know that I pedaled up that with my strength and determination -- there's just a special feeling of accomplishment," he said.
Hoffman has worked as a janitor at the same church for decades and spends most of his time taking care of his father, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease, but his burdens shift from his shoulders to his legs every day as he rides through life. Hoffman doesn't own a car, because he can't get a driver's license, but ironically enough, he has been nominated for an award recognizing outstanding human beings in the Volvo for Life program.
Hoffman's bicycle "rocket" that he built for himself is named after his mother, Ruth. He has worn through other rocket ships. He's on bike No. 4 now, and he rides so far and so hard that he wears through the teeth on the chain ring -- a collector's item that he gives to some of his longtime financial supporters. Hoffman has outfitted his bike with all sorts of gadgets, from altimeters to odometers to a radio. When he loads it with all his tools, supplies and gear, it weighs more than 100 pounds.
He rides with a confidence that slips past most of us. Hoffman continues to be a guiding star for those he inspires. He doesn't know where the end is yet, how many more miles he wants to ride or where he wants to go, but he credits some old-fashioned virtues that continue to propel him.
Hoffman said, "If you want to do something bad enough, even if it's improbably hard and very long, even if you have to do it one tiny piece at a time, stick with it. Don't worry about how long it takes and eventually you'll get there."
Witch Movie Opens This Weekend: Know Before You Go
REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK By HARI SREENIVASAN
Sept. 1, 2006 — - Nicholas Cage and Ellen Burstyn -- some serious star power for the remake of an odd, cultish (figuratively and literally) low-budget '70s British horror film -- but that is what's opening this weekend at theaters nationwide.
The rough plot of "The Wicker Man" is a very Christian policeman who investigates a missing girl on a very remote island.
The locals are very secretive, and practice a very twisted version of pagan rituals -- and I don't want to give away the end of the film, but suffice it to say that the policeman is in for a surprise.
The movie plays on a tension between Christianity and Paganism, throws in some sexually provocative scenes and, voila, you've got a "classic." Pagan, in Latin, means from the country or rural citizen, so before you get the idea that it is all about animal sacrifice and devil worship, realize that most indigenous religions are by definition pagan -- the word doesn't carry any of those stereotypes in its definition.
It is also important to keep in mind that while we look at paganism, our piece looked at one branch, Wicca -- and that there are several sub-branches of practices and faiths. One thing both the witches we spoke to in the piece strongly agree on is that there is no devil worship or human sacrifice in their craft, and that there never will be. Paganism flourished in the 1970s and '80s and according to a religious studies professor in California there could be anywhere from 50,000 to 100,000 people who practice the faith around the United States.
Pagan rituals like the burning of effigies to send a message to the powers that be are still practiced today -- take for example the annual Burning Man festival, which is currently under way in the Nevada desert.
Some branches of pagans are polytheistic, some aren't, some follow the Wicca tradition, some are Dianic, some are Gardnerian -- there are several flavors. I didn't know much, if anything, about witchcraft, except for the cheeky stereotypes I'd grown accustomed to from Halloween and caricatures of what a witch ought to look like from cartoons and movies.
So for the piece our crew wandered into the hills of upstate New York, to meet the Wiccan witch of Woodstock -- and as I say in the piece, the only thing wicked about her is her sense of humor. Susun Weed is a high priestess in the Dianic tradition, a branch that reveres the Goddess energy.
She says that the celebration of the female is something that draws young people to her practice, because it is at its very core, empowering women.
Weed said witches were women of power all through the ages and have always been scapegoated. From the inquisition to the Salem witch trials, they were targeted by organized religion and others who were interested in suppressing their power. Hundreds of years ago a man could mix chemicals and be considered a scientist, if a woman was to make potions with herbs she would be considered a witch.
Once condemned, a witch would have to pay for her jailor, her judge and even the wood that burned her at the stake.
It was a great scam for the state or the church in power to reclaim property that a woman might have owned. Another reason that witches suffered persecution, Weed said, was because of their seeming immortality.
Ever wonder why all the caricatures of witches include long noses, ears and chins? Susun said it is something that naturally happens when you reach very very old ages -- a buildup of extra cartilidge -- so these women in the Middle Ages who might have lived to be 90 or a 100 were more than anomolies, considering how short the life expectancy was for people of that era. Those who didn't understand how the witches were healing themselves, feared them. Weed is a green witch -- another way to think of a green witch is as an herbalist. She teaches her apprentices how to make magic potions and how to cast spells. She even taught me how to cast one. More on that later.
While she does have brooms, she told me that a witch's broom is only a staff of power in disguise. No, they don't fly -- I asked. Green witches are at home in the woods -- and Susun is certainly that.
We walked through her parcel of land, which used to be an old rock quarry, through what seemed like an enchanted forest. We got to the only flat mesa and stood on rock that had been carved out by the glaciers -- the heart center of her land, as she put it. It is her grand altar.
She showed me how dancing in a circle in opposite directions can loosen up the energy of a space and then taught me what she says is her most powerful spell. Now, before you think I've sold out of the correspondent gig and become a warlock like ones you see on "Bewitched," there is one simple thing you should understand about witchcraft -- karma. Several witches believe that any spell they cast will come back to them threefold. If you are truly interested in using your powers of witchcraft against something or someone instead of for the improvement of others, there is an inherent interest then in killing your enemy with kindness, not by wishing harm upon them.
So for example, if you really couldn't stand someone, you wouldn't try to inflict pain on them because you might feel that pain somewhere else in your life threefold. Instead, you might wish them a wonderful opportunity somewhere far away from you. So the spell she taught me to cast on a boss I might not get along with included the following words, "I (insert your full name) exist in the universe. My boss (insert name) exists in the universe. There exists a connection between my boss and I that brings about pleasure and beauty." Thats it, simple as that. Whatever the fate of my boss, it's probably not as bad as that of the wickerman.
