All in your perspective.

I'm adamant about not talking politics, and when pinned down on religious views I would rather walk away than answer. But apparently there is one social taboo that I am absolutely confident expressing an opinion on.  Discrimination.  Why the hell do some people choose to base their whole association with the world on the color of someone's skin or hair, the shape of their eyes or nose, the way they vote, or where they go to church?  It's absolutely terrifying to me that some folks are that short sighted.

So I'm up on my soap box, beating my war drum and opening the flood gates of dispute.  Well for the 3 people that read this blog I am anyhow.

Yes I grew up more sheltered than most folks I know. It was a small town and I don't remember too many kids at the school being any demographic other than the one I came from...but I like to think that it wouldn't have mattered to me.  It certainly doesn't matter now.  I mean if I see an Asian guy rob a store with a switchblade I'm gonna put that in the police report just like I'd tell them what color car he drove.  We can't help seeing our differences, but we don't have to let them be boundaries. 

Earlier today I had a wonderful conversation with a colleague who started in Columbia and for entirely unknown reasons now lives in Utah & fixes computers in my office.  We discussed books, the weather and several other topics while waiting for the machines to do their thing.  During this conversation she expressed delight that I could understand her (her accent was strong, but with a bit of patience on both sides we had no problem communicating).

While talking books she asked if I ever read anything in Spanish...I had to remind myself that months ago when we first met (she was headed to a job interview and I gave directions) She asked in Spanish I answered in English.  I explained to her that I've only had basic Latin from high school which allows me to guess at the meaning but I'm not able to speak or read Spanish.  She laughed at this and told me that's the same problem she has reading books in English, there are just too many details that don't come through when you don't think in that language.

I have had similar conversations with folks from many cultures (my collection of personalities is expanding delightfully).  Far too often I see these same people being ignored, talked down to, or criticized as unintelligent by folks who aught to look to them as examples.  It takes bravery to move into and try to learn (I will not defend those who move to Utah and then throw me an attitude when I don't greet them in their native tongue) all the social customs of an entirely new society.

So that's one perspective I admire, appreciate, and love.  I probably ought to stop there...if I wander into politics and religion I may just alienate what few readers I have and I love you all too much to do that.

Rant over.

Peace, love, and laughter.
~m

The Smoke in the Willows...

The great annual tree hunting expedition of 2012 will forever be connected in my mind with the acrid smell of damp willow wood reluctantly catching fire. 

Oh how I have missed this tradition, without really being able to pin down what I was missing.  I can now emphatically say "IT WAS THIS!"  After Dad died I was a bit heart sick and reluctant to attend, knowing that it would just not be the same without him hollering "OOOOHHHHLLLLLOOOOUUUUU" and employing his famous tree tarping technique.

 Then I wasn't physically up for the project.  Oh bother. Enough said. Glad that's over.

  Thankfully my HFUN family has been keeping up and adding to the tradition all these years and welcomed me to return to the festivities.  They've modified the techniques a bit.  It's WeeeeeeeeeRt instead of Oh Lou (though most of them would still recognize it and call back, some with tears in their eyes) and with so many pickups in the family and a much shorter haul to home the tarp bundle is optional. When possible a campfire is included to keep the non hikers busy and provide a warm rest before the trip home.  But the intent is still the same.
      
We arrived a touch late to the party having planned on Hillyard standard time, but were able to follow Eric's ford in...thank goodness.  While I am roughly familiar with the back roads and canyons of cache valley I would probably not have found this exact spot without GPS directions.  Sorta reminded me of the spots Uncle Jim used to guide us in to for those first oh so memorable tree hunting trips.

Jamie and Dallas had the beginnings of a fire going and I was glad to add the few sticks of hardwood I'd brought from our back yard to the mix.  The tree hunters took off in groups (each with a saw) and the rest of us settled in to enjoy the mild sunny day.  It was some time after this that I realized the deadwood we were pulling our firewood from was willow.  I am not fond of willow.

While hosting Willows campground I learned that while it is possible to burn willow wood, it's not fun and it  NEVER smells good.  Add to that frozen sometimes damp wood conditions and...well you can imagine the smoke plumes.   If they couldn't hear us they could certainly smell their way back to the trucks.

But even when I was cowering form the circling smoke it was fun.  After all if every fire was perfect and every day was sunny we'd never know how lucky we were to enjoy the nice ones.

Once the trees were all gathered in we all stood around fire and enjoyed what was finally an awesome coal bed.  I suppose that the star valley tree hunts had this portion of the tradition during the night before when we would stay at the Keeleys'  and then after when we would stop on the way home for a burger.  But it's just as much a part of the tradition as Mum and I counting the homes with their lights on on the way home in order to meet Dad's selected goal number in order to turn our own house lights on.  Like I said before, these are some of the best and brightest memories of my childhood.  The group moved on to Big J's in Richmond.  Underwhelmed by the food, but the ice cream was worth a visit.  I had a Banana Caramel shake and stole a taste of Mum's  Strawberry Marshmallow.  From there a few of us stopped in at the Christensen Ranchette for a brief visit.  I love my visits out there and always feel reluctant to leave.

At the end of this day I find myself full of satisfaction.  I NEEDED that.  Didn't know it, but it's part of who I am.  Gonna go find some twinkle lights to plug in.  Thanks family.

Y'all enjoy the season, whatever your reason.
~m

Phat Jack's