Best Things

Emerson asked ' can anybody remember when the times were not hard and the money was not scarce?'.

Not me, not at least for the last several years, with maintaining this big house and helping my daughter as much as I can.

I could probably get by with less of a house, but I love all the trees in my yard, and it feels like home, for me and Amy who sometimes visits. I keep Amy's two cats here, and her border collie Ben.

When Ben first came here he was in the habit of looking earnestly after every diesel engine that passed by, remembering Amy's Mom's pickup that he used to ride in. He retained the the hope that Amy and Mom were coming to see him. He has stopped doing that now, and is comfortable in the refuge of my home. Ben has become my good friend, from travelling beside me on countless morning walks and scores of backpacking journeys.

Yes, it is a good thing that I am able to hang on to his old house with all the oaks and ashes and apple trees and garden out back, for my sake and the sake of all of Amy's rabbits and guinea pigs and birds and cats that end up here.

I have mixed feelings about wanting more than this, about having more money and all that it can buy. I can think of some things I would do with extra, but I seem to get by just fine. At least I always am able to pay my bills.

It is my good fortune that the activities I enjoy most do not require a lot. Anything outside is good - Hiking, backpacking, riding my bike, walking the dogs in the morning, sitting at a bus stop drinking hot chocolate in winter while watching the sunrise. For 5 dollars and a few beers I have the most fun dancing on Saturday night that anyone could ever have.

I am sure that to many people the life I have would be just too damn boring, but I try to keep it in perspective. I know how many others in this world would be thrilled to change places with me - people with not enough to eat, with inadequate shelter, without even clean drinking water.

And knowing that, I make sure some goes to charities, right off the top, before it gets into my checking account, and I start thinking what I need or want. I do that because I am certain it is my responsibility. I know enough of the New Testament that over and over again we are warned about getting caught up in what too much money can buy.

Probably the best lesson about money and what is important is for me to remember the best things in my life in the past thirty years or so. When I look back far enough that the sting of financial struggles are forgotten, what remains is what I loved, and what brought simple and real happiness.

An example is back when things were tight for my family, twenty some years ago. We kept a budget written into a looseleaf notebook, where we tracked of all our income and expenses. Nearly every penny that passed through our hands was tallied in that notebook. The strongest memories from that time, however, have nothing to do with scarce money. They are of our precious little girl, who we would take on walks around the city, to the park, to play on the swings and the slides and the carousel.

And in later years, after my kids were teenagers, I don't think of all the horses my wife eventually acquired. I remember when we had our first and only horse Dolly, and how thrilled my wife and daughters were with just her.

I would take the dogs and meet Janet and Alyssa and Amy in the large field on Indiana street, where they would take turns riding Dolly. At times we would walk together with our dogs from the stables to the field. Occasionally we would all go out on a trail together, with me walking in front to comfort Dolly on an unfamiliar path.

On a strenous hike to the top of North Table Mountain Dolly and I ended up side by side, both breathing hard as we worked to make the summit. That smart horse turned its head to watch me in the last stretch to the top, as if I was a companion in this tough climb.

After Dolly had a colt I would load up my dogs into 71 Plymouth Duster and drive out to the barn on Sunday mornings to see them. Hardly anybody else was around early on Sundays, and I would sit in the corral on the step leading to their stall, and play peaceful tunes on my harmonica. Mom and colt would lean over me, wanting some treats that I always had in my pockets for them. Years later, I visited the nearly grown colt and he didn't recognize me, until I played a harmonica tune. He came walking over, wanting his treat now.

Some of the best memories of being married to Janet all those years was going dancing with her on Saturday Nights. I think of it as romantic that I would take my wife out dancing every week, even after 25 years of marriage. The timing and skill we acquired from years of dancing together on those familiar hardwood floors was not a common thing. Our favorite songs were fast double-time twosteps, like "Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way", or "Folsom Prison Blues". My feeling about how we came so good at dancing was the love we shared for music, and celebration and feeling alive, on those Saturday nights. It is not something that is easily forgotten.

Which brings me back to what I started talking about, that the peak experiences in life center around what you love, and simple gifts having to do with health and acknowledging that it is a blessing to wake up for another day on this earth.

I know I am a lucky man, in coming to this realization about what is important, and also in having a lifetime of rich memories from 26 years of having a family and being a husband.



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All I do is miss you and the way we used to be
All I do is keep the beat and the bad company . . .

from Romeo and Juliet, Dire Straits

I've had it to here being where love's a small world
A part time thing A paper ring
I know it's been done havin' one girl who loves you
Right or wrong weak or strong

from solitary man - neil diamond

Missing Out

I know there is plenty of things I miss out on, like we all do;

but rather I concentrate on what I do have, which is a life that is rife
with inspiration and joy,

which comes from things as simple as music, that I have always loved;
melodies and songs haunting and beautiful

and I think there must be some unknown parallel from music and the walks
out in nature that I take so often this time of year,

where the yellow leaves are soaring down from the tall cottonwoods,

and ice is appearing on the pond in the mornings,

and I stand and listen to rustling leaves and the song sparrow and chickadee

Deja Vu (cleaning the house)

Have you ever had a relative walk right in and point out the places in your house that you have overlooked in your cleaning? Or they might be quiet when they come in and just as you are beginning to appreciate their politeness, they insist on grabbing a broom or some rags and paper towels to help you straighten up.

I am not blameless though. I am sure I bring this on myself some. All my hobbies and activities put keeping a model-home type clean house down near the bottom of my to do list (last).

Lately though I have been trying to be a more responsible homeowner. I have been staying home more and working to shape up the place. This first involves rearranging the basement so more of my books can go down there. That will get a lot of the upstairs uncluttered.

I am embarrassed to say when I started this project. So I won't.

Which brings me to last week, when I again had to make a decision to make on how I would spend my late season vacation. To do anything other than staying at home and keep cleaning would confirm me as being a lazy procastinator.

I thought about my plan of action real hard, and after careful analysis I came up with two points:

1. I am not expecting any visitors in the foreseeable future.

2. The condition of my house in the short term only matters to me and Ben and Maggie (my border collies).

Those two are pretty forgiving house companions. As long as I take them on walks, throw the frisbee for them in the backyard, and feed them on time, everything else is ok. As it is with me.

You can probably tell where this was headed. (deja vu). But then something else happened which signed the deal. As I was reading 'The Art of the Possible' by A. Stoddard, I came across this quote:

"A warm heart is more important than a clean house."

That was all I needed.

Saturday found me and Ben and Maggie headed over the Continental Divide, on the way to Ridgway Colorado by way of Grand Junction and a night in the BookCliffs. I knew my heart was going to be darn sure warmed by once again seeing those Colorado Aspen in their fall colors, beneath the snow-covered San Juan Mountains.

Well the Aspens were at their peak, just as I had imagined. The San Juans had been dumped on by an early snowfall the week before, making for a awful pretty landscape of yellow and white.

I had a few surprises, like the middle of the night thunderstorm that rolled in. It was so perfectly quiet, when the dark was broken hard by a flash of light that brightened the whole mountain range, followed by a tremendous boom a few seconds later. More than once the thunder was so powerful I could feel it shaking the mountain beneath me.

After the lightning and thunder rolled down the valley to the north and east, I once again picked up the sound of a distance elk bugle, among the rustling of the aspen leaves overhead.

Then there was the pack of coyotes that yipped at the bottom of the hill. I whispered to Ben and Maggie what was out there: "coyotes.", just so they would know. (When you are around border collies enough you learn they are as intelligent as most people).

And there was the very fresh bear track in mud a few hundred yards from camp, whiched added some mystery to my stay.

Well my decision was the same one I have made before, and probably will again. I cannot help but turn to those things that have always warmed my heart, enriched my life. Give me cold clear mountain mornings, high trails to explore with my wild-hearted dogs, ferocious mountain storms on some nights, bright stars in a peaceful black sky on others, where I can lie and study the constellations, and that is enough. What more could a man want?

I drove home a few days later with two tired and happy dogs, asleep on the seat beside me. Like me, they were glad when we pulled up the drive to our house. It was good to be back to our beloved and comfortable home, no matter that it was not perfectly neat and spotless.