When I approached South Pass, something happened to me. I think that was "The Transition", near the Continental Divide...the only place on this planet that could conjure emotions deep within me. They say that time travel is impossible. I beg to differ; some things just never change. There is something majestic about the mountain ranges of Wyoming that cause me to cower. They have some sort of authority...a greatness that inspires and scares me. Driving up and around Red Rock Canyon was downright religious. No mere church of brick and mortar could contain the vastness of geography that was laid before me...nor prepare me for what would be ahead.
Approaching Riverton, I noticed several things: The CWC water tower. Road construction. Casino on the left. "Rez racers" in front of me and behind, but always a lot of Ford/Chevy trucks, very few hybrids. Old and new businesses, People doing the "left hand wave" off of the steering wheel, as if they know you. The smell of sagebrush. Thunderclouds in the distance. Always a little bit of wind...
As I turned left onto Main Street, I suppressed the urge to stop at every block, and drove slower than I had in years. Travel-weary, I landed home to the outstretched arms of my father, Charles Starks, and his elegant, beautiful wife, Marilyn, and knew without a doubt that my journey home was worth the drive. You can't get that in an airplane. Way too fast...
The week went by way too fast. Friends and family wanting to visit. Lunch with my sister, Kim, and a few of her kids/grand-kids..spent a crazy Wednesday evening and into the early morning hours with my crazy brother, Mike...had a nostalgic dinner with the Starks' side of the family...a few hours here and there with high school buddies and school teachers...watched the balloons fire up at the Balloon Rally...spent a few hours with my adorable Auntie Carol and Uncle Jim...and of course, my 30th High School Reunion. With all that went on, every day I would visit my mother's grave at Mountain View Cemetery. The "alone time" with her was priceless...lots of tears, yet I could hear her voice in my head which would make me laugh out loud: "Have you done your chores?...Why in hell do you STILL care about what people think? I don't give a damn about what people think...When there's a will, there's a way...Quit feeling sorry for yourself, I'm gonna slap you silly...Work comes before play...No one is going to do it for you, you're going to have to do it yourself...Let's go fly a kite...Every generation needs to do it better than the one before...Will you just rinse it out and get on with it?"
(Okay, that last comment is a part of a story: My mother and I were pruning roses, and she had sustained a very, VERY deep cut in her hand with the pruning sheers. We went into the house, she was bleeding profusely into the kitchen sink. She turned on the cold water faucet and was flushing it out...I was trying to find the first aid kit for bandaids or whatever I could find. I came over to the sink and saw the flap of skin jiggling where the cold water was going into the deep wound, and she said to rinse it out, and...I fainted. She woke me up, laughing. I'll never forget her face. I had to sit there and watch as she stitched the wound herself. Yeah. Burnt the needle, no local anesthesia. She really wasn't a fan of hospitals/clinics).
Sunday came around all too soon, and I was on the road again. To tell the truth, I didn't want to go. If you can imagine a great magnet pulling you towards what feels so right, and the energy it takes to break away from such a power, you might relate. I stopped by a few places along the way back to CA. Stayed in Wendover, on the UT/NV border, I was hungry (when I travel, I often forget to eat), so I went out and saw the usual chain fast food or casino buffet offerings. Meh. Spotted a food truck on my way back to the hotel and got some delicious carne asadas and a torta, took them back to the hotel, and watched the local cable until I fell asleep.
Coming home to busy Sacramento was a major culture shock. I felt like I had been removed from a far away planet to some rock in the Universe that didn't have respect for good life, good medicine, good anything. People drive way too fast here. Everyone is busy going "somewhere"...where? Bigger, better, faster? Chain stores and restaurants? Corporate everything?
I have the great privilege of driving into Amador County twice a week, and I get a little bit of that "feeling" again. It starts somewhere after Ione Road, off of Highway 16. I see cows grazing...the Davis Ranch market...one stop light in Rancho Murieta. My destination is a little Episcopal church in Sutter Creek; a congregation that gives me that ol' hometown feeling of everyone being welcome, no matter what. That ol' left hand wave off the steering wheel! I get to see my grand-daughter grow up in a small town. I get emails and Facebook messages from folks who simply want a voice in Amador County, and I'm happy to oblige.
Amador County is my California home away from home. Yes, there are chain stores. Heck, there's a Super Walmart in Riverton, WY...felt like walking a mile from one end to another. There's a Family Dollar store. There's Verizon Wireless, Game Stop, Wendy's, DQ. Riverton, WY had changed a lot, but you know what? There was plenty that stayed the same, and that was enough for me. The mountains and rivers were still there. The prairies of sagebrush, still there. The Wind River Reservation hadn't changed much, despite the Casino's filled parking lot.
If we could all just slow down a little, maybe we could all see that everything is still here. Those who fight for the preservation of rivers, country and mountain life...don't give up the fight. Those who fight for the preservation of human society and culture, don't give up the fight. Perhaps where we could come together is where we ALL slow down to 30 miles per hour and realize that RESPECT for the past, present and future of our beautiful planet is very much worth the drive.
Carol Harper
As I turned left onto Main Street, I suppressed the urge to stop at every block, and drove slower than I had in years. Travel-weary, I landed home to the outstretched arms of my father, Charles Starks, and his elegant, beautiful wife, Marilyn, and knew without a doubt that my journey home was worth the drive. You can't get that in an airplane. Way too fast...
The week went by way too fast. Friends and family wanting to visit. Lunch with my sister, Kim, and a few of her kids/grand-kids..spent a crazy Wednesday evening and into the early morning hours with my crazy brother, Mike...had a nostalgic dinner with the Starks' side of the family...a few hours here and there with high school buddies and school teachers...watched the balloons fire up at the Balloon Rally...spent a few hours with my adorable Auntie Carol and Uncle Jim...and of course, my 30th High School Reunion. With all that went on, every day I would visit my mother's grave at Mountain View Cemetery. The "alone time" with her was priceless...lots of tears, yet I could hear her voice in my head which would make me laugh out loud: "Have you done your chores?...Why in hell do you STILL care about what people think? I don't give a damn about what people think...When there's a will, there's a way...Quit feeling sorry for yourself, I'm gonna slap you silly...Work comes before play...No one is going to do it for you, you're going to have to do it yourself...Let's go fly a kite...Every generation needs to do it better than the one before...Will you just rinse it out and get on with it?"
(Okay, that last comment is a part of a story: My mother and I were pruning roses, and she had sustained a very, VERY deep cut in her hand with the pruning sheers. We went into the house, she was bleeding profusely into the kitchen sink. She turned on the cold water faucet and was flushing it out...I was trying to find the first aid kit for bandaids or whatever I could find. I came over to the sink and saw the flap of skin jiggling where the cold water was going into the deep wound, and she said to rinse it out, and...I fainted. She woke me up, laughing. I'll never forget her face. I had to sit there and watch as she stitched the wound herself. Yeah. Burnt the needle, no local anesthesia. She really wasn't a fan of hospitals/clinics).
Sunday came around all too soon, and I was on the road again. To tell the truth, I didn't want to go. If you can imagine a great magnet pulling you towards what feels so right, and the energy it takes to break away from such a power, you might relate. I stopped by a few places along the way back to CA. Stayed in Wendover, on the UT/NV border, I was hungry (when I travel, I often forget to eat), so I went out and saw the usual chain fast food or casino buffet offerings. Meh. Spotted a food truck on my way back to the hotel and got some delicious carne asadas and a torta, took them back to the hotel, and watched the local cable until I fell asleep.
Coming home to busy Sacramento was a major culture shock. I felt like I had been removed from a far away planet to some rock in the Universe that didn't have respect for good life, good medicine, good anything. People drive way too fast here. Everyone is busy going "somewhere"...where? Bigger, better, faster? Chain stores and restaurants? Corporate everything?
I have the great privilege of driving into Amador County twice a week, and I get a little bit of that "feeling" again. It starts somewhere after Ione Road, off of Highway 16. I see cows grazing...the Davis Ranch market...one stop light in Rancho Murieta. My destination is a little Episcopal church in Sutter Creek; a congregation that gives me that ol' hometown feeling of everyone being welcome, no matter what. That ol' left hand wave off the steering wheel! I get to see my grand-daughter grow up in a small town. I get emails and Facebook messages from folks who simply want a voice in Amador County, and I'm happy to oblige.
Amador County is my California home away from home. Yes, there are chain stores. Heck, there's a Super Walmart in Riverton, WY...felt like walking a mile from one end to another. There's a Family Dollar store. There's Verizon Wireless, Game Stop, Wendy's, DQ. Riverton, WY had changed a lot, but you know what? There was plenty that stayed the same, and that was enough for me. The mountains and rivers were still there. The prairies of sagebrush, still there. The Wind River Reservation hadn't changed much, despite the Casino's filled parking lot.
If we could all just slow down a little, maybe we could all see that everything is still here. Those who fight for the preservation of rivers, country and mountain life...don't give up the fight. Those who fight for the preservation of human society and culture, don't give up the fight. Perhaps where we could come together is where we ALL slow down to 30 miles per hour and realize that RESPECT for the past, present and future of our beautiful planet is very much worth the drive.
Carol Harper
this is a Really Good Read!
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