Juneau, Alaska

“The most important decision you will ever make is to be in a good mood.”

— Voltaire

Long before Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) existed, French writer and philosopher François-Marie Arouet, better known by his pen name Voltaire, wrote these words.

I’d like to say I recall this quote from one of his manuscripts that I read in the original French—but the truth is, I came across this passage on Facebook just last night.

Today I reflected a lot on the R4P journey. What were the highlights? What did I learn? What did PeaceBridge achieve? And perhaps most importantly, did we accomplish our goals of raising awareness, stimulating dialogue, and encouraging North Americans to welcome their neighbors a little more warmly?

It would be too lofty a goal to expect that we love our neighbors. That’s not going to happen. I get it. And certainly, PeaceBridge cannot instill that conviction.

But PeaceBridge can encourage people not to hate others simply because of where they were born, what state they live in, what religion they follow, or their ethnicity, accent, or car. We should judge people by their actions—not their political views, lawn signs, hats, or Facebook posts.

So, did PeaceBridge make a difference?

Through a dozen or so radio segments, newspaper pieces, and online articles, we reached tens of thousands—possibly hundreds of thousands—of listeners and readers. I shook hands and discussed PeaceBridge’s mission with hundreds of people. I had deeper conversations with many individuals from diverse backgrounds and political beliefs. Nearly everyone I spoke with expressed gratitude that PeaceBridge was doing something.

“I’m glad someone gives a shit,” said one bike shop owner.

Many went further by donating: accommodations, bicycle repairs, transportation, cash—and one very special family meal.

But the real test of impact is what happens next. Will people treat their neighbors with more respect? Will they reveal their own humanity and seek out that of others?

For the big issues—probably not. Those who believe that Palestinian or Israeli women and children deserve death simply because of where they were born will likely continue to believe that. I get it.

But maybe a few people will pause to reflect. Maybe some of the hands I shook in the name of goodwill will shake others’ hands in the same spirit.

Maybe somewhere out there, someone who met me, read about the R4P, or heard it on the radio will initiate an act of community cohesion—something to help torn communities heal. Maybe they’ll say, “Let’s hear them out,” before passing judgment.

In the next six months, I’d love to receive an email from someone influenced by the R4P who shares how it impacted them. Maybe they no longer post barbed comments on social media. Maybe they’ve started volunteering at a shelter or tutoring students who were falling behind. Maybe they hosted a backyard BBQ and invited people they once thought they’d never welcome. Or maybe they turned around on a busy highway to check on a cyclist lying on the ground. Or handed a bottle of water to a lawn worker in the scorching sun. Maybe they started carrying water for just that purpose.

This morning, after my breakfast of yogurt and granola bars, I washed my clothes. After days of riding and sweating, sometimes wearing dirty clothes an extra day or two, I have to admit—clean clothes feel good.

Yesterday, I noticed several homeless people around the neighborhood. As I left a convenience store, a man about my age sitting on the curb asked me for five dollars.

I rarely give money, but I handed him two.

Just before noon today, I ordered a pizza and walked a few blocks to pick it up. I passed more homeless men—this time on the other side of the store.

While I waited inside, the worker told me he’d made a mistake. He used 12-inch dough for the 14-inch pizza I ordered. “You just stretch it,” he explained. He’d already put the correct pizza in the oven and offered to give me the 12-inch too.

“If you give it to me, I’ll give it to some of the homeless men out here,” I said.

But walking back, I couldn’t find a single one. So I took the extra pizza up to my floor and gave it to the housekeeper. She was overjoyed.

The rest of the day was uneventful. I ate my pizza, took a nap, streamed a couple of shows, downloaded some videos, walked to McDonald’s for a vanilla milkshake, and exchanged messages with loved ones.