My name is Miles McKenna. I’m an American citizen who has been living abroad almost exclusively since graduating from the University of Colorado at Boulder in late 2005. From a skinny kid growing up in a cabin in the New Hampshire backwoods, to a young professional working in the megalopolis of Shanghai– before, between, and since– I like to think I make for a good dinner guest. So keep that in mind next time you have a seat open at the table… no, seriously. I’m hungry.
For those of you who might be looking for advice on living or relocating to China or Taiwan, as well as working abroad, feel free to contact me. I will give it to you as straight as I can. Skype: miles.mckenna
And, as always, sincere thanks for taking the time to stop by the blog.
一路平安！
Blog Background:
The photo you currently see set as the backdrop to the site is from Silver Lake, outside of Harrisville, New Hampshire. I was born not far from here, and I owe a great deal of gratitude to this area. It was here that my father’s parents bought a small cabin on a pond ages and ages ago. Later, his summer vacations inspired him to move to the nearby city and enroll in college– where he met my mother.
You can still find my grandparents mowing the lawn each summer at their same spot on Harrisville Pond. Some of my friends still live in town, and my mom’s house is a short drive away.
This particular picture was taken in mid-summer 2010, on a kayak excursion with my good friend Troy. It was an unbeatable day, in a breathtakingly beautiful place. I miss it.
It’s All in a Name:
This blog owes its title to an older friend of mine from way back in my halcyon high school days. My best friend and I simply called him “Juddah with the Buddha,” and for good reason. This young man enjoyed sitting back and pontificating the finer points of life. It happened to be one bright 4th of July when he dropped the “Roll, roll, run” gem on us.
Juddah had been a snowcat operator at our local ski resort. He and his colleagues (a reach of a word for this derelict bunch) were privy to near-unlimited access to the mountain terrain. On occasion, Juddah would grab a 12-pack of beer, hop in his cat, and try to climb the steepest vertical bowls along the ridge. You know, for kicks. Not quite as often, he assured us, he would lose control and the cat would flip over, careening back down hill, forcibly ejecting him from the cockpit. Flying into the moonlit darkness, all he could hear was snow giving way to the machine as it cartwheeled toward him, sliding down the slope, fingers crossed.
“Now this,” he told us, grin flashing, “is what you dudes should remember: Roll, roll, run. No matter what. Roll, roll, run.”
From that day on, I have failed to find a situation in life in which the mantra could not be adopted. So, Juddah, wherever you are, thank you for your transcendental words of wisdom… though you might not remember mentioning them.
