Category Archives: Colorado

For Whom the Bell Curves (i found this phrase at a website of the same name.)

Fall                                                                                    Falling Leaves Moon

A bit more cleaning up, decluttering, then a walk through to agree on work we’re going to do tomorrow when Kate’s sister Anne comes up.  This is outside work, harvesting the last of the vegetables, cleaning up the beds and putting down the broadcast fertilizer. There’s pruning and hose retrieving, wheel barrows and garden art to come in for the move.

Dehn’s landscaping comes on Monday at 8 a.m. to do front yard work. This is for curb appeal for the most part.

Then on Wednesday the realtor’s and the stager come. Once we settle on what we need to do inside, we’ll figure out when to do it, probably as late as possible, then find someone.

We’re definitely on the downward slope of the curve, but even as we near the bottom there are still many tasks that remain. It’s important now to recall all we’ve done to get to this point. And how daunting the move would look if we had done nothing.

This illustration shows the true nature of the task. The darker orange curve represents packing, arranging details like a second mortgage and movers, all those things that are Minnesota focused and aimed at getting our portable items from here to Colorado. That’s the curve on which we’ve reached the downward slope.

The lighter orange curve represents finding a new home in Colorado, moving in, getting our life altogether shifted from Minnesota to Colorado: buying, updating and moving into a new home, health insurance, driver’s license, estate plan plus all the smaller things like identifying a car dealership, a pharmacy, a grocery store, utilities. On that curve we’ve barely begun to climb the upward slope.

My guess is that the time it takes to extricate ourselves from Andover will match the amount of time it will take us to get the new life begun. How long it will take to have a new, Colorado life? Years, I imagine.

 

 

 

Surreal

Fall                                                                                  Falling Leaves Moon

Kate said this morning that she had surreal moments with the move. Me, too. We both work along, packing, getting other matters taken care of but the move itself feels unreal, as if a mirage. Why did I pack all of my books in boxes? Why did she clear out the guest room, let all the bedroom furniture be carted away? We’re going to do all this and still be living here.

The present, with its weight of 20 years, has far more heft than an imagined place in the mountains, far across the plains. Impossible to see, even in the mind’s eye. So there is only this illusion, this planned, hoped for thing over against the 20 winters, the 20 growing seasons, the 20 birthdays and anniversaries. Against the bringing in of groceries, of feeding the dogs, of doing laundry and writing novels. All here. In this place. Where we still are.

Though I’ve said before that the move makes me feel both here and there, here has more power, the now has more power, than the not yet, the there. Which is good. I want to be here until I’m not, just as I want to live until I die.

Yet we have to have the not yet to pull us forward, to give meaning to those stacks of boxes, the plastic bins, the discarded furniture, all the work we’re having done. Without the not yet our actions, though still surreal, would also be mad. Just as without death, it seems to me, life would lose its uniqueness and become merely being.

We cannot outwait the move. That is, we cannot do nothing and expect to end up living in Colorado next year. No, we have to take action now, find our Conestoga, pack up the hoop skirts, the anvil and plow. Get the oxen ready.

And so we are. But I imagine those pioneers probably looked at the wagon and felt as we do. We’re still here in Pennsylvania or Ohio or Virginia and though we’ve got our goods packed and ready to load, we remain here. As we always have. And always will.

Until wood on wood begins to creak and cry out, until the whip cracks over broad shoulders and with a lurch the wagon is no longer still, until then, we live here.

 

Obey

Fall                                                                                      Falling Leaves Moon

 

Students in Jefferson County, Colorado and Hong Kong reacted strongly against authoritarian regimes that would limit the teaching of history and studies focused on the homeland. This is no accident. Children and teens are acutely aware of the BS factor in adult pronouncements. They learn some of that at home no doubt, matching parents words with their deeds, but school authorities often say one thing and do another. Kids always notice. Sometimes, like reasonable human beings, they dismiss it, probably saying something like, adults will be adults, but sometimes they notice a danger to their future, perhaps even to the adult’s future.

Especially when governments, the schoolboard in the instance of Jefferson County and Beijing in the instance of Hong Kong, try to shape teaching to conform to their own ends. In Jefferson County the schoolboard wanted a more “patriotic” curriculum that emphasized the values of free enterprise and loyalty. They also wanted a curriculum that downplayed the role of protest and other civil disobedience in the shaping of American history. In Hong Kong the movement led by Joshua Wong wanted public decision making in who would be chief executive of Hong Kong. They also opposed a moral and national educational program* that had critics among Hong Kong teachers, just like Jefferson County.

Children know that their birthright is a world in which they have a voice, in which their decisions and choices matter, in which the information on which they make those choices is as unbiased as possible. In particular they oppose bias by so called “authorities.” Why? Because children instinctively know that authority shapes reality for its own purposes.

As we grow older, we become that authority. If we are wise and can remember our own youth, we will listen to the voice of the young when they say, “I’m calling bullshit on that.”

 

*”The “China Model National Conditions Teaching Manual”, published by the National Education Services Centre under government fundings, was found to be biased towards the Communist Party of China and the so-called “China model“. The teaching manual called the Communist Party an “advanced, selfless and united ruling group” (進步、無私與團結的執政集團), while denouncing Democratic and Republican Parties of the United States as a “fierce inter-party rivalry [that] makes the people suffer”” analysis by teachers, from Wikipedia

Liminal consciousness

Fall                                                                               Falling Leaves Moon

Carlsbad Entrance from the twilight zone. Beyond this point there is no natural light.
Carlsbad Entrance from the twilight zone. Beyond this point there is no natural light.

Stood tonight, arms on our mantel place, a fire crackling below me, wondering. What will I lean against this time next year? Will I hear wind coming down the mountain, the bugling of elks, the cough of a mountain lion? There might be frost on the plants outside and a chilly night ahead.

This is not I wish I would still be here kind of wondering, nor is it I wish I knew where we’ll be next year. It’s just curiosity, a sort of advance scouting. If all goes well, by this time next year-in the Great Wheel season of Mabon, a bit more than a week after the fall equinox-we should have been in our new place for over half a year. Strange to consider that.

Liminal consciousness. It arises when we know a transition is upon us, a time when we are no longer where we were, nor are we where we’re going. The weeks before a marriage. The summer after graduating from high school. Pregnancy. Interviewing for a new job. Getting ready to move to another place. In the broadest and most ultimate sense of course life is a liminal moment between birth and death. Liminal consciousness arises when we wake up to our condition.

Tonight, on our fire place mantel, I woke up again to the physical sense of moving and of

Angled window close up Chaco Canyon
Angled window close up
Chaco Canyon

having been moved. That awareness gripped me and I lived in it fully, not for long, not in a wistful way, but I was in it. Now that moment is in the past and I’m in Minnesota, with moving tasks and daily life here capturing and holding my attention. As is appropriate.

But stay aware for those moments of liminal consciousness. When they come, they have learnings for you.

 

Oh, Yeah, Can You See

Fall                                                                                              Falling Leaves Moon

The temperature, the political temperature, of Colorado can be taken in the gubernatorial race between Democrat John Hickenlooper and conservative Republican Bob Beauprez, scrambling over who will control fracking in western Colorado counties, but my favorite is Jefferson County high school students protesting against a conservative school board.

Here’s a couple of paragraphs from the Denver Post that show what the students are mad about. Denver Post, 9/25/2014

The curriculum proposal, crafted by board member Julie Williams, calls for a nine-member panel to “review curricular choices for conformity to JeffCo academic standards, accuracy and omissions,” and present information accurately and objectively.

Williams’ proposal calls for instructional material presenting “positive aspects” of U.S. heritage that “promote citizenship, patriotism, essentials and benefits of the free enterprise system, respect for authority and respect for individual rights.”

Materials should not, it says, “encourage or condone civil disorder, social strife or disregard of the law.””

Interesting definition of accuracy and objectivity.

Jefferson County is a western suburban county that runs from near Boulder in the north through western, affluent suburbs of Denver to an area not far north of Colorado Springs.

Jefferson County’s electorate is Colorado in miniature, with roughly equal parts registered Democrats, Republicans and unaffiliated voters.  The geography ranges from close-in suburbs with many students poor enough to qualify for discounted lunches to wealthier areas and mountain towns. Jefferson County is more than 90 percent white but has a growing Hispanic population.” Denver Post, 9/28/2014

I love it that these student have taken the essence of U.S. outsider politics like civil disorder and social strife, utilizing the mildest of these strategies, peaceful protest, and flung it back in the face of a school board attempting to rewrite history. My kinda people.

Jefferson County borders both Clear Creek County and Boulder County. We’ll almost surely land in one of those or even Jefferson County itself. I’ll unpack ready to help.

Got gas?

Fall                                                                             Falling Leaves Moon

 

Propane, propane, gotta get me some a’ that good propane.  Propane, propane, winding through my heart and winding through my veins, gotta get me some a’ that good propane. I think those were the lyrics I heard, right?

In the mountains, in addition to water and septic, we’ll also likely have propane. I’m trying to learn about propane prices, purchasing and propane tanks. This is a different arena than the handy gas pipe-line with which I’m familiar.

The issue caught my attention due to propane shortages last winter and rapidly increasing per gallon prices. It’s something I know nothing about. When I lived on the Peaceable Kingdom outside Nevis, Minnesota in 1974, we had fuel oil. Which was cheap. Until the winter of 1974. Remember the Arab oil embargo? That produced my introduction to efficient wood-burning stoves, chain saws and splitting axes. In this case the price leaped from below a dollar to over two in a matter of weeks. Ah, the memories. And it hit 50 below wind chill several times that winter.

 

 

Time to Exhale

Fall                                                                                Falling Leaves Moon

Two campers here glad to see the last week in the rear view. Kate’s got a headache and I’ve got a large dose of avoidance to around the house work.

We went off for our family business meeting at Key’s Cafe. Coffee good. Food good. The bustle and energy of folks waking up, the wait staff fully engaged, dishes and silver ware clanking and clicking good.

Planning some museum immersion this next week, to fill in a spot left empty with all the hithering and thithering. Some time with old favorites like Blind Man’s Buff, the Chinese collection and the ukiyo-e prints. Then some time at the Walker, the art of the present and recent past.

Time to exhale for a bit.

A Big Hand to Kate

Fall                                                                         Falling Leaves Moon

Our second SortTossPack day is done. Our walls and shelves are bare of art, which now rests in plastic tublike containers or in narrow boxes designed for the safe transport of framed works. They work hard. Removed two chest of drawers, a desk, a file cabinet and two bookshelves, plus the second and last large pile of red-tape book boxes.

The steps we’re taking now seem to cover more ground, move us closer to the reality. We’re going to take a rest the next couple days, maybe more, then do another round of decluttering and packing on our own. Next week the landscape contractors.

On October 8 the realtors and the stager comes. After them the movers for bids. Still a lot of work to go, but we’ve done the bulk of the move readiness part.

A big hand today to Kate, who managed the process while I was away being a political animal.

Sorting

Fall                                                                         New (Falling Leaves) Moon

Weather warms up over the next few days, more summerly temperatures, but with a welcome lower dewpoint. Today is art sort day for me. Kate’s taking a rest. And a well-deserved one.

(my stone sculpture from artisans d’angkor will go to Colorado)

I’m looking forward to deciding what gets sold and what goes to Colorado. Not sure why, but I am. Over the course of diminishing my library I came to enjoy the process of deciding what was important to me now and what to let go.

Tomorrow, instead of being here with the SortTossPack folks, I’m going in to work on the Sierra Club’s independent expenditure campaign for the November elections. The staffer who has these responsibilities had Friday morning open.

Weary

Fall                                                                                New (Falling Leaves) Moon

A weariness has affected both Kate and me. I think I know its source: the move. We’ve pushed in several directions: decluttering, packing, fixing up the house, choosing two realtors, one here and one in Colorado, securing financing. Visiting financial advisers. Corralling cash for the expenses. Changing our budget to conform to a possible two mortgage situation for as much as six months or so.

(not to mention that G.I. bug we’ve both been hosting.)

Yes, we’ve chosen this. And, yes, perhaps even more important, we’re trying to pace ourselves. Which, btw, I think we’ve done pretty well. But the pace has been constant. Add in the growing season and four dogs. You get the picture. Not to mention that we both have had our medicare cards for more than a year.

So. Tired. Need to rest, refocus, change course for a while. Will do next week after SortTossPack is done.