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A Life Lived Apart
Just Rocks, Or Do You Want to Know The Period From Which They came like Precambrian?
Do You Have Answers?
I remember wanting to play Little League. A summer sport denied me by my mom I suppose. I loved and wanted to hang out with buddies at the Marshal Recreation center. It also was denied me by my mom. Being in the Flagstaff ditch with super Mustang bikes was denied me. I reckon I have some resentment. I was made a social person and that was cut to the quick. I suppose I kind of grew up as the odd duck with my friends. Maybe my hand me downs were laughable. My shaved head was not cool in the sixties. On the other hand it was very cooling ‘-)
I showed up at a sock hop with holes in my socks. I flubbered when talking to gals I liked. My brother was nothing less than a local hero. He was the most valuable athlete in my town. Ray was also. I was just a scrapper.
I actually rode a bunch of horses with Ben Miller and Mark Weaver. But our local cowboy click thought me a hippy. I marched down San Francisco street twice. Once against the Vietnam Conflict and once for Civil rights. But I was way too white privileged which we really did not label in them good old days. It was weird to play Basketball and football but still be a member of the band and chess club. I swear I was the worst Clarinet player this side of Tejas. But Gilbert Wong had a hard time beating me and Beefy Lopez at chess.
Sure I got a full on letter of intent to play for NAU football but gave it up to live in Paris France and work for an oil trader. Believe me with my crappy French and cowboy hat I did not fit in there. I reckon clearly I was another odd duck in my life of being an odd duck. I think I did well there in Pugilism, Ramming and Futball. But they all knew I was only there long enough to get my knickers cleaned once or twice. I did not fit in.
So there was Boy Scouts. I was so crappy at it. Sure I had the merit badges and activities to go with Paul and get my doctorate of scouting, the Eagle, but I hung out with Youth Conservation Corps and Order of the Arrow and First Aid teaching. I was so stupid to not have that Eagle on my resume’. I just did not fit in. I really wanted to but God sometimes put’s his foot down and redirects us.
My Big Sister Made Me Learn This Song. She is Still a Hippie as it Seems
I Do Not Know
If You Got Answers Let Us Know
Just a week ago we were going up Old Indian Trail. A road/trail/path about 4 miles up the Oak Creek from Sedona Arizona. The ground was dusty as no rain had fell for weeks. The track we saw was non distinct. My elder son of thirty something and my younger of seven called out Javelina. I called BS. It was White Tailed Deer. There is a curvature and spacing of the hoof print that is so similar that even a veteran tracker has issues with it. There I was with two of the finest trackers I know. Debating a hoof print in a land that knew more tracks than highways. They teamed together and out voted me. I taught the little dognosed sons of …..’s and here they were putting me as the odd man out. Do not worry the scat bore out my theory. White Tailed Deer for sure, no Prickly Pear in the remnants.
OK, call me weird but I was in my element. My sons seemed to like my element and that brings me great joy. Early the next morning brought me to the Glenn. Putrid smelling black moist mud. Close to a stream fed by a spring. Tiny little hand prints and a smoothing wiggle like thing behind. Strange it is as though a worm was chasing a totally small child crawling along it’s belly. Lighten up now friends that is a turtle being hunted down by an Arizona Diamondback Rattler. How more exciting does it get. I found the turtle and I found a curled up ready to strike Rattler. A stick makes the Rattler strike and a quick scoop gets the turtle up in one hand and off to the stream. Somebody pinch me and shake me and tell me that life gets better than that. Whahoo!!
So that takes me back to my horrible mom that planted me and made me live in an acreage that deprived me of social interaction. I got up in the morning and primed a pump. I followed my grandpa around as we gardened and took care of tools. I chased Rattle snakes and actually caught a few squirrels. At age 8 I caught enough Trout to feed the family, under my Grandpas tutelage of course. He taught me how to pick out good watercress and pull the exact right leaves off a dandelion for our salad. I dug ditches to irrigate our fruit trees.
Maybe one of the best things I did was a jig. Sure or sure I learned the Tennessee Waltz with my sisters and I know a Debutants sashes’. I was taught the Rambha and Salsa before I could pronounce them. I was stuck with a kerosene lamp reading and studying Plato. When I had done some chores and the crickets and frogs and cicada sung together I could go to bed.
And by golly the next day held clearing branches and streams and sweeping and straightening nails for grandpa. I made one of those fancy Argentinian flutes out of Horse Grass and played it for a week, until my good brother gave me an harmonica, which to this day both my sons can play but not I.
Nope We Had No Cottom Fields, But It Would Stand to Reason I Would Have Picked Some,
Now Would Ya'll Do Me A Solid and Love One another.'
I do declare that was the long way around a barrel of horse pucky. So I grew up in the woods. So I called a crow my friend instead of a classmate. Big deal. Or maybe is it a big deal. I went ahead and got a fancy doctorate. I spent a whole bunch of time studying crazy people – including myself. I found humans like my tracking of creatures. They leave a trail that once understood leads you to be able to beat them to where they go next. I did not fit in. I figure I never will. I look at you as an animal to be tracked. My point of reference is the Bobcat or the bear. I work of notions of drought and rain. I figure your abundance of food and your intolerance thereof or lack thereof.
I am a walking and breathing profiler. I read your track and decide what you will do next. What will you feed on? What path will you take to water? What and who is your next victim? Apply it to a jury pool and you get me. Not good, not bad just one of those “it is what it is”.
Maybe mom should have made me more normal. I think she thought I was “slow” because a rock would entertain me for hours. Somehow I have connected with others like my siblings, wife and children. Or maybe I only think I do.