Category Archives: Colorado

Asia, Colorado, Family, Feelings, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The West, Travel

Culture

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Monday gratefuls: Appa and Umma. Oon and his very tall father. Seoah’s sister, Min yun his wife. Their daughter. Seoah’s brother. My son. Seoah. Air BnB. Aspen Perks. Korea in Colorado. Nathan. John Wayne. Westerns. The American West and its cinematic distortions. Rivers. Elevation. Farming.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son

Year kavannah: Wu Wei

Week kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The Pole Star, #19

One brief shining: In the midst of the Jangs at Aspen Perks I tried to follow Appa’s eager questions, his weathered Korean face alight with curiosity about John Wayne, rivers like the Colorado and the Mississippi, mechanized farm equipment harvesting, yet the languages we spoke landed in each other’s ears with little meaning save tone and willingness.

 

The Jangs: My son and Seoah came to Shadow Mountain around 8:30 am after having spent the night in the Air BnB with rest of Seoah’s family.

Seoah sniffed the air, said, “I remember this smell.” A smile on her face. She’s spent a lot of time here over the years, especially during Covid when she couldn’t get back into Singapore for three months.

We all hugged. This time with surprising force, missing each other in ways only the body knows how to say. Tactile spirituality, love. My son’s muscled back and arms, Seoah’s eagerness. Her affection. No zoom equivalent possible. Only sorry I couldn’t run my hand through Murdoch’s ruff.

Later, after my son got some work done and Seoah had done laundry, we drove over to the Air BnB. A nice space with four bedrooms, an updated kitchen, and a Mountain view to the south.

When I walked in, various pairs of shoes lay next to each other against the wall and Seoah’s sister came over, bent down, and helped me slip on the slippers they had brought for me. Culture reigns.

They had locked all the windows because of Bears and a television/movie driven sense of the American propensity for violence. Away from home in a strange, yet strangely familiar place.

The language barrier rose right away when I tried to explain the Continental Divide to Seoah’s brother, a mechanical engineer for Samsung. I did not succeed. Appa (father in Korean) motioned me into a chair and sat next to me on the couch. We rested while everyone got ready.

Appa and I met for the first time in 2016 when Kate and I went to Okgwa for my son and Seoah’s pre-wedding feast prepared by his and Umma’s neighbors. Served at a low to the ground table I’m not sure I could have gotten up from today.

They wanted to thank me for my contribution to the trip so Appa paid for the meal. Ten of us. Expensive with the conversion from wons to dollars.

After the meal, the party moved over to Shadow Mountain so every one could see my house, meet Shadow. Nathan was here, working on the greenhouse and my son recruited him to take a family picture in front of the house, similar to one we took during our 2016 visit.

Not sure whether it was  lack of sleep or my introverted battery drained dry by trying to communicate, but after everyone left to go to H-mart, I sat back exhausted. Really exhausted.

Colorado, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains

249 Years

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

4th of July gratefuls: Cousin Donald. Hyper Masculinity. The Commander’s Cup. Seoah. Murdoch. Songtan. The United (?) States of America. Oklahoma. Indiana. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Colorado. Judy. Raeone. Kate, always. Shadow. Her chewed leash. Work yet to do. Planting. Seat cushion for Ruby. CBE Men’s group. Suffering. Luke. Rebecca. Leo. Tara. Eleanor.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Long time friends

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei. Find the flow of life’s force, follow it

Week Kavannah: Savlanut. Patience.

One brief shining: Walked up the slight rise past the wonderful Ponderosa and the jagged Granite Boulder, pre-schooler rendered chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and pressed the doorbell necessitated by the oldest hatred to join my friends discussing the mussar virtue of self-confidence.

The 4th of July. On the 249th birthday of this country I sit on Shadow Mountain, in purple Mountain majesty above the fruited plains. Somewhere below amber waves of Grain ripple in a morning Breeze.

Meanwhile, faraway in the land of broken toys a mean-spirited tyrant and his too loyal minions prepare concentration camps for immigrants who came here seeking a better life: ICE prepares detention blitz with historic $45 billion in funding.

The Elk Cow and her Calf that crossed the road in front of me Wednesday night do not know this. Their world continues, following a thread of ongoing life rooted millions of years in the past, honed to the ways of Mountain life, to seasonal change, to knowing the ways of predators.

Nor does Shadow know. As we work out our life together, a struggle and a joy for both of us, she too follows a path begun thousands of years ago when friendly Wolves joined human encampments for shelter, food, and joint protection.

How I wish I could be a non-human animal, wild or domesticated. I could live according to the ancient rules of nature. Eat. Reproduce. Play. Rest. Die. Not live according to the cruel rules of human society, the unnatural ways of my often thoughtful, loving, compassionate species.

The Elk do not shun their own, round them up and move them out. Sure, animals may contend over territory for survival, but we humans contend over territory for power and for purposes driven by fear and hatred.

This fourth of July I join many Americans who no longer find great pride in their country. National Pride in the U.S. Sees Dramatic Decline. Or maybe not quite.

The Mountains and the Plains. The fertile fields of the Midwest. The great Boreal Forests. The Atlantic Coast and the Pacific Coast. Redwoods. Sequoias. Bristle Cone Pine. Wolves and Grizzlies. Wolverines and Lynx. Squirrels and Marmots. Fishers and Pine Martens. Rabbits and Chipmunks. All the Wild Neighbors. I take great joy and, yes, pride in living among and with all of these. America the Beautiful.

I also stand with all the humans, all of them, who live here with love, justice, and compassion in their hearts. Who know that the word neighbor has no color, no gender, no religion, no national origin. Who know that the warm and beating heart of this historic experiment in self-governance cannot be stilled by the cold dead hands of those without mercy.

Colorado, Dogs, Greenhouse, Health, Politics, US History, World History

IMHO

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Tom. Paul. Shadow, early riser. Halle, the teacher. Back pain and leg pain better. The Jangs. Coming to America. Morning service. Morning darkness. Great Sol waiting to be revealed yet again. Heat returning. Along with Wildfire risk. Ginny and Janice, Annie and Luna.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The 25 brightest Stars of the night Sky.

Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence.  “A feeling of self-assurance arising from one’s appreciation of one’s abilities or qualities.”

One brief shining: Stopped again at Taco Yazi’s, the new place cohabiting with the Wicked Whisk Bakery, this time for a tortas, or the beautiful mess, a sandwich with lots of vegetables and meat and a drippy sauce, a meal before my next delivery from Cookunity.

 

Dog journal: Colorado has a distinctive culture around Dogs. Many restaurants have Dog friendly dining spots, will even bring out bowls of water, maybe a treat.

If a Dog escapes their yard up here in the Mountains, folks take them in if found, post notice on Next Door, or take them to a vet to read the chip. If the Dog won’t come, we post photos.

When a Dog is in crisis, like Takota, it’s not unusual for their human companions to talk about it, show their feelings. Abraham Lincoln, Rich Levine’s long time companion, went everywhere with him, even in his last days of mobility.

It did not feel unusual at all for Nathan to take two days off from building the greenhouse. His old Dog and his Dad were both hurting. Needed him. More than I did. Fit right in with Colorado culture.

Shadow woke up today at 4:15 am. Oh, joy. I mean, I’m an early riser by nature, but… Gives me plenty of time for the Shema, the Morning Service, checking my e-mails, writing Ancientrails. And, since it’s Wednesday, putting out the trash.

I don’t mind. I now go to bed around 7:30 pm so I can get all my sleep.

 

Just a moment: IMHO. Trump will not be able to resist dropping a big, beautiful bomb or two. Only the U.S. (see, only) has the MOP, or Massive Ordnance Penetrator, and a plane, the B2, that can deliver it.

Trump’s narcissism, with which he also conflates white supremacy and the U.S. government, will not allow him to deny a moment when he, read the United States, holds the only weapon capable of exploding Iran’s Fordow bunker where its main nuclear enrichment facility resides deep underground. The only weapon. Only the U.S. Only Trump can fix it. Today or tomorrow I’d guess.

 

Back and leg pain: Turns out getting up every hour, doing something for five minutes or so, even longer, has helped the pain a lot.

My mobility remains pretty limited and I still can’t stand long enough to cook, but I have made strength gains. Yesterday was evaluation day and Halle put me through the same exam she gave when we first started working together.

I took a full second off my five squats time, for example. Slowly, slowly. Digging myself out of a hole partially of my own making.

Asia, Colorado, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Travel

A Dog. A Family.

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Monday gratefuls: Less back pain. Morning darkness. A Shadow next to me when I woke up. Tara and Eleanor. Alan. Ginny and Janice. Luke. My son. Seoah. The Jangs. Colorado. The Rockies. The Shaggy Sheep. Guanella Pass. Georgetown. Georgetown Loop Rail Road. Pikes Peak Cog Railway. A world class location.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family

Week Kavannah: Gratitude. Hakarot Hatov. (recognizing the good)    “Who is rich? Those who rejoice in their own portion.” Perkei Avot: 4:1

One brief shining: The Rocky Mountains rise in Southern Colorado, extending north well into Canada, a spinal column for the American West, filled with Mountains and Valleys, hotsprings and wild neighbors, remnants of indigenous peoples, ski towns and mining towns, rugged wilderness, high Mountain Lakes, and Glaciers all near to my home here on Shadow Mountain.

 

Dog Journal: Woke up this morning to find Shadow curled up next to my head. Don’t know when she got up there, but it made my heart go pit a pat. Another bit of good news in a half year that has needed some.

The whole Shadow experience has been an exercise in humility. There were times when I didn’t think I could handle her. That I’d made a mistake. Perhaps been unethical. Adopting a puppy at 78? With cancer and a bad back. What was I thinking?

Yet now. Now that she played all afternoon with Tara’s Eleanor. Now that twice unbidden she has chosen to sleep in my bed. Now that she’s close to accepting the leash. Now. So sweet.

The ethical question. Competing goods. Little Shadow needed a home where she could be loved. I needed a companion, or at least badly wanted one.

However. Shadow will live into her teens most likely. I don’t know how much time I’ve got, but I imagine it’s less than that. Cattle dogs bond to one person. Also, her energy level far, far exceeds my own. Does she get enough stimulation here?

It was not, all in all, a perfect decision. It may have been, may be a selfish decision. I hope our mutual journey towards and with each other will compensate. Most relationships are imperfect in some way. I do have that codicil in my will that ensures her care in a new home if that becomes necessary.

 

The Jangs: The plane tickets have been purchased. An air BnB booked. Plans for excursions being tossed about. Between August 1st and 7th Seoah’s mom and dad, her brother, her sister and her husband, and their two kids will join my son and Seoah on a trip to the Colorado Rockies.

The air BnB is in Evergreen. I haven’t seen it. My son and Seoah chose it. I’m looking forward to their visit especially since I haven’t seen my son since his promotion or in person since February.

Also, I’ve been to the Jang’s home in Okgwa twice. Returning the favor is a family thing. I’m happy to help make it happen.

 

Boulder, Colorado, Family, Judaism, Politics, US History, World History

It’s Personal

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Monday gratefuls: Buphati. MRI results. The Ancient Brothers. Shadow. Water. Food. Natalie. Tom. The Happy Camper. Driving, painful. Ruth in Alaska. Mary in Seoul. Guru in K.L. Me on Shadow Mountain. Great Sol. The bird of morning. BJ. Pammy. Gabe. Family, flung far.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Books

Week Kavannah: Wholeness and Peacefulness. Shleimut. Integrating pain into my daily life.

One brief shining: The greenhouse has more than plants and memories; it will be therapy and prayer, too, an everyday exercise in tactile spirituality, joining with the evolved life of plants in an act of co-creating abundance: Lettuce in a bowl with dark red Brandywine heirloom Tomatoes, rings of Red Onion, a diced orange Nantes Carrot, not yet, no, but soon.

 

Judaism in trouble:

Front page news from Boulder. A fiery assault on demonstrators bringing attention to hostages still held by Hamas. This apparently not Nazi nostalgia, but Palestinian weariness with the long, long war and its murderous execution.

Not only Boulder, but the home of UC-Boulder, Ruth’s university.

You may recall that my conversion was to have taken place in Jerusalem, October 31st if I recall correctly. That pleased me because it married my pagan observance of Samain with my immersion in an ancient mikveh in the holy city.

You do recall, I’m sure, why it didn’t happen. On October 7th, Hamas attacked kibbutzim near the border with Gaza, killing and raping as they went. A horrific act of terror. Really, a brazen pull on the nose-ring of militant Israelis.

For many dark reasons, Israel stepped into the trap Hamas had made. Netanyahu needed to avoid corruption charges. A never-to-be-realized war aim of eliminating Hamas. Frustration with continued anti-semitic activity by Iranian supported actors like Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis. The out of proportion political influence of the Jewish ultra-right in Israel that wants genocide. The perilous location of Israel.

The Israeli Defense Force (IDF) continues to pound Gaza, killing civilians, civilians, because Hamas hides among them. Many (most?) of us who love Israel as a needed safe place for Jews long ago stepped away from support of this “war.”

The immorality of bombing starving women and children. Using up whatever goodwill Israel had accumulated. Being tone deaf to the world’s critique. Bad, sad days for all.

No wonder the anger and frustration has spilled over into the U.S. No wonder, too, that this same anger and frustration has served as fuel for the alt-right with its white supremacist views, its Hitlerian hagiographies, and not only them, but American Muslims, college students who see an asymmetrical war, politicians who want any lever they can find to bring the East Coast elites to heel.

In the same ugly way that testosterone feeds prostate cancer, the war over Gaza feeds hatred and bigotry all over the world. We will all be poorer when it ends.

Boulder is an hour from Shadow Mountain. I’ve been there many times over the last year plus for breakfast or lunch with Ruth. She’s a Jewish student in a time when Jews, again, are persona non grata.

This attack was not something I read about. It’s personal.

 

Colorado, Friends, GeekWorld, Mountains, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

The Last Roundup

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Rich. Doncye. Ruth. Ginny and Janice. Dogs. Annie. Luna. Leo. Gracie. Findlay. Rufus. Tom and the finding of the phone. My phone, back home. Ruby. New computer. Granby. Going on a short trip. Parsha Bo. A mussar approach to parsha’s. MVP tomorrow night.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dogs

Kavannah this week: Curiosity   Sakranut

One brief shining: Why don’t you turn off your hearing aid, Tom suggested, and I did; he kept calling and I walked slowly through the house until, finally, in the newly set up downstairs exercise room, on the black top tray of my treadmill, my all black phone bleated at me, wanting to come home.

 

And so it ended. A day without my phone. Revealed an Achilles heel. My phone is at the hub of communications in my life. Without it I couldn’t reach out to ask for help. I couldn’t change anything on my computer that required two-step authentication. I felt strange, as if a necessary part of me had been amputated.

After going all Taoist on it, the phone will reveal itself when it’s ready, Tom called. Thought later I’d given up on the Taoist idea, then realized that no, I’d decided to be calm until the situation resolved and it did. Thanks to Tom and a dash of wu wei.

 

Vince and Levi came over on Sunday and moved my treadmill, weight bench, weights, stall mats, and kettlebells down to Kate’s old sewing room. Levi was a big guy. Professional football player sized. Vince, on the other hand, is my height, but wiry, strong.

Levi brought all of my kettlebells down at once, gripping them in two hands, and carrying them like they were a children’s flower basket. As he said, I’m good at picking things up and setting them down.

He told a story about the Black Mountain Roundup. This Black Mountain is near McCoy, Colorado, north of I-70 and beyond Vail. He and his buddies once a year go to a ranch near Black Mountain. On Friday night they put their stuff in a bunk house, get drunk, and go shooting at the firing range. The ranch chef cooks meals for them. On Saturday they get on Horses to drive in the last of the ranch’s Cattle, then there’s a big meal. And more drinking. Then, he said, the women come because they know Levi and his crew get rowdy.

He lifted his shirt to display a large rodeo sized belt buckle with Gitt’s Last Roundup on it. it was Gitt’s ranch. He died of cancer a few years back. Colorado, eh?

 

Just a moment: Even Heather has started calling this a coup. In her Letters From an American today, she said:

“The replacement of our constitutional system of government with the whims of an unelected private citizen is a coup. The U.S. president has no authority to cut programs created and funded by Congress, and a private citizen tapped by a president has even less standing to try anything so radical.”

 

 

 

Colorado, Politics, US History

Boom!

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Rabbi Jamie. Barb, dead. Gabe. Leo, his sore left front foot. Luke, hunting for work. Annie and Luna, two sweet dogs. Toby in Granby. A possible trip up there. Ginny and Janice. The Wren. Kittredge. Bagels and lox. Mandarin oranges. Ruby’s clean inside! Jon Bailey.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Wren

Kavannah this week: Curiosity.   Sakranut

One brief shining: After the Bagel Table where we focused on midrash, I drove over to Kittredge, a little town east of Evergreen, but this time instead of passing through I went up into Kittredge itself, the residential part across Bear Creek, and visited Ginny and Janice in the Wren, one of the earliest homes built there, many of which have names even though modest, the Wren for example was 600 square feet when first built, but now has 850 square feet.

 

Janice’s family goes back to the founding of Kittredge. Her grandfather dug out the basement in this rocky soil.  Across the street in the home where Janice grew up he also dug out a basement, but came upon a huge boulder. It was under the tiny house.

Janice remembers him going down there with dynamite. Her mother scurried her and her siblings over to the Wren, then, as Janice said, “Boom!” A pretty confident guy, and strong, her grandfather. Also a boxer.

Terry, whom, I also know, grew up in Evergreen. He’s my age. In his youth there were only dirt roads around Evergreen, and surprisingly to me, he claims, few Wild Neighbors. Gotta run that down at some point.

Saw a picture from those days which showed a large Meadow where Evergreen Lake now is. Before the damming of Upper Bear Creek.

As you can tell from these stories, Janice’s grandfather and grandmother as founders of Kittredge, we live out West. The storylines for us white folk don’t go too far back. Up here Evergreen and Conifer were part of the Ute tribal lands though I don’t think there was much settlement right here. But, I really don’t know. In the area where Denver is now was Arapahoe Tribal land and south of them lived the Jicarilla Apache.

When we first moved here, I read a history of Colorado, but I don’t remember much of it. Since then, I’ve focused more on the Mountains and Wild Neighbors, the Mountain Streams and plant life. Could be interesting to revisit that history, especially that fraught time as the “frontier” for Eastern white folk pushed into the Rockies. Not a frontier for those already here. Of course.

 

Just a moment: Back in Oligarch World. Strongman Trump pushes his Bully America vision through tariffs, his anger and revenge over being held legally accountable ignited firings and criminal investigations against his “enemies”, and his let the dogs out way of exposing government inefficiency has granted Elon Musk the keys to disbursements from the Federal Treasury.

I’ve seen headlines asking if this is a coup. Well, sorta. Except for that election thingy. Yet it is the way fascism and dictators often gain power. They win an election, then forget about them later. Remember that Trump promise to far-right Christians, “You only need to come out and vote this once.”

 

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Friends, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The Move

Ten Years ago on a cold dark Night

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Friday gratefuls: Winter Solstice at 2:21 am tomorrow. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Robert Frost. Walt Whitman. Jim Harrison. Billy Collins. John Berryman. Marge Piercy. Mary Oliver. Louise Gluck. Amanda Gorman. Langston Hughes. Emily Dickinson. Maya Angelou. Wallace Stevens. “Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction”

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Poet’s Lev

Kavannah: Chesed

One brief shining: Ten years ago a long ride through the day, then well into the night, sleeping dogs huddled in the back of the white Rav4, Tom at the wheel, Snow already coming down, several inches, welcome to Shadow Mountain.

 

Here’s a memory sliver from that day:

OK. Now can we go back home, please?

“The moving moon has waned, a sliver this early. It will go dark tomorrow, the Winter Solstice. Our first full day and night here at Black Mountain Drive. Tom Crane, Rigel, Vega, Kepler and I pulled into the garage about 12:15 am this morning. We drove in over several inches of snow, so a first task will be getting the driveway clear for the moving which comes on Monday.

The three dogs slept or rested quietly the whole way. I gave them a trazidone dose at the kennel at 8:30 am yesterday. That calmed them for the first few hours and after that the buzzing of the tires and the constant motion lullabyed them. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one.

Tom drove the whole way, 14 hours in one whack, stopping only briefly for food and gas. It was a great treat to be able to watch the miles roll away.

When I left Anoka after getting the dogs yesterday morning, I crossed the Mississippi at 9 am, realizing as I did that this time I would be not crossing back over it for some months. The Mississippi was now a dividing line between my former homelands east of it and my new one west of it. An American narrative, for sure.

                                 Where’s Gertie?

We passed over the Minnesota state line at approximately noon. The state sign, which reads Thank you for visiting made us laugh. Yeah, a forty year visit. But it is now over.

Kate stopped for the night in Lincoln, finding a place where she and Gertie could sleep. She’ll be getting in later this afternoon. Then, the unloading of the cargo van. New tasks in a new place but tasks which, with the exception of clearing the driveway can wait until we’re ready. We have the next several years to get settled here on Shadow Mountain.”

Colorado, Commentary on the news, Family, GeekWorld, Literature, Science, Sport

Fun with our AI future overlords

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Monday gratefuls: Google calendar. Computers. NVidia. AI. Catastrophizing. Equalizing. Leveling. Great Britain. Scotland. England. Wales. Ireland. Brittany. Galicia. The Gaeltach. The Celtic Faery Faith. Wassailing. Yule logs. Evergreen Boughs and Trees. Singing and Feasting.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Echocardiograms

Kavannah: Perseverance and Love

One Brief Shining: The bigger and harder and more important project, supporting the liberal democratic vision of Lincoln, Teddy and Franklin Delano Roosevelt, which, as Heather Richardson said, means having a government big enough and strong enough to fight off not only foreign foes, but especially domestic ones: the haters, the oligarchs, religious extremists like the Christian nationalists.

Another chatbot image

Having fun with chatbot and image creation. It often doesn’t spell too well and can approach the cartoonish rather than the beautiful. Still. I can get an image I know I have the right to post and that’s original. I’ll get better with my prompts and chatbotgpt will improve over time, too. I’m also using chatbot as a resource for the work I’m doing on the Great Wheel holidays.

Working with the idea from a couple of days ago. Write Ancientrails. Eat breakfast. Write five hundred to a thousand words on the Great Wheel. Workout. I like this rhythm and it gets my candle lit. A key reinforcer.

 

Brother Mark has flown back to Bangkok, awaiting January 1 and a flight to his old stomping grounds in Hafar, Saudi Arabia. He’s also figuring out what he needs to do to retire. A task all of us have faced or will face.

I admire his ability to live what he himself calls his unconventional lifestyle. Not many have seen as much of the world as he has. Not many Americans know Saudi Arabia and its citizens as well as he does. Mark shows  what it is to be an American by traveling to spots where our kind is not common. An important role and one he does well.

 

Just a moment: My heart goes out to Colorado skier Mikaela Shiffrin. Puncture wound from the gate at the top of her run. Having had Kate with a feeding tube I know how troublesome these kind of wounds can be. Often requiring expert management. She’s a phenom not only while skiing at speed, but in her mental toughness, yet her public vulnerability, too. This last noticeable after her father’s untimely death a couple of years ago. She’ll come back and snag that 100th victory. I’ll be skiing with her when she does.

As long I’m writing about young women I admire, let me add, again, Zöe Schlanger. Her sensitivity to the Plant world, her depth of research, and her own inquisitive intellect. You go, Zöe.

 

I understand Joe. You had the power. You love your son. 45/47 will do the same for so many, too. Not sure what I’d do. An ethical/emotional vice I hope never to encounter. My take? It’s holiseason. With an emphasis on light and family and the warmth of human community. In the spirit of the season, I’ll say.

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Friends, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The Move, The West

The Doggie Drive

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Samain and the Full Moon of Growing Darkness

Shabbat gratefuls: Tom. Conversation with him. His kindness. The Truth. A CBD ointment for aching joints, pain. Worked on my trigger fingers. Happy Camper. Evoke 1923. Mt. Rosalie covered in Snow. 13,575′. Long tie guy and his in your face appointments.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

Kavannah: Perserverance

One brief shining: Sitting at the table where I found my pearl, in what is no longer the long time Bistro now the Evoke 1923, Rebecca took our orders, delivered a tasty filet mignon tartare, a beet salad, and our entrees: duck for Tom and filet mignon for me while we struggled to hear, especially after the piano player started up, two old guys trying to parse the future of A.I. largely overwhelmed by the clink of silverware on porcelain, happy chatter from the table of six, the limits of hearing aids reached and exceeded.

 

It’s nearing 10 years since the long doggie drive of December 2014. Tom and I together with Rigel, Vega, and Kepler on I-90, then I-76, finally 285 to Shadow Mountain. 15 hours or so of conversation, attention to dogs and the eventual end of the Great Plains where they wash up against the hogbacks of a precursor Mountain Range to the Rockies. That was the first phase of the actual move, Kate arriving later with Gertie and that van we had packed in Andover.

On the Winter Solstice of that year our moving van came and promptly got stuck in a ditch. Eduardo and friends pulled it out. Snow fell and the temperatures hovered around zero. Not willing to try again the van driver took the whole load off Shadow Mountain to a more level spot, rented two u-haul trucks and shuttled the whole truckload from some spot on Hwy. 73. This lasted far into the night with dogs and movers crossing and intersecting.

From that day until the day she died Kate said she felt like she was on vacation living up here. Six and a half years of vacation. A good retirement for her. Glad she didn’t see the MAGmA overflow decency and justice. She would have been angry and disappointed.

Over the course of those years I’ve become Harari, a man of the mountains, now wedded to this place through location and intense experiences. Many, many memories. Some difficult, sure, but also many more intimate, fun, bound up with the wild nature of this place, with Judaism, Kate’s final gift to me.

Mountains. If I have my way-Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise-I’ll live out my final days here, too.

 

Just a moment: A life lived from, say mid-20th century to the first quarter or so of the 21st, has already passed, as few lives ever do, from one millennium to the next, the second to the third. We’ve also seen what may be the end of a political era begun under FDR. I’d call it whiplash, but the change has been more gradual than the crack of a whip. A new world is being born, but despite long tie guy’s next fast-food adventure on Pennsylvania Avenue, neither he nor his minions will define it.

This new world will emerge from the tension between the mindless governance of, as Kamala Harris rightly said, an unserious man, and cultures political, artistic, and economic which my generation assumed to be stable. Oh, my.