March 29...
Time marks its inexorable march in various ways. At times, the days and nights pass in a slow military march marked by the oh, so familiar: First-light coffee, morning rush hour traffic, a day’s job done, somehow, some errands run on the way home from work, a quickly thrown together dinner for the sake of eating, light banter with your spouse about the day’s boring events, checks written for bills due, some nightly news, hit the sack, lights out. Repeat.
Then, there are the days that become a series of life’s meaningful moments, locked into your memory like candles on a patio on a warm summer night with that slightly cool breeze rustling the leaves above and your soul below...so refreshing. You stare into the candle some distance away and reflect...reflect on that moment you hold dear in your heart. Candles flickering on the patio. Each one holding a memory you cherish. Burning slowly, giving light and warmth, dancing in the dark until… I wonder, where do these moments of life’s blessings go when you eventually move on? Are they part of the collective cosmos? Do we continue to live on inside of them when our bodies eventually fail? Do the candles continue to burn on into the night?
Diane and I carry many candles with us from our time here in Texas with our family as we leave for our next adventure in Arizona. We will be volunteering again in Tonto Basin along with our dear friends, Dusty and Cindy. We look so forward to that time as we drive down the road westward leaving Suni, Dane, Ella, and Jack. Yet, we have a new candle to light in Kerrville, TX. We are going to drop in on some more new friends that we met along the 50 Amp Vision Quest three years ago in Lajitas, right outside Big Bend National Park. We have kept in touch these three years and have followed our friend’s through Facebook and the occasional message back and forth to each other.
Tim and Holly Gerht are enlightened folks we so enjoy spending time with. Holly is a renowned painter/artist whose style, form, and technique remind me of the classic portrait artists you see hanging in museums that feature those famous artists from the Renaissance. Tim is a highly requested IT professional who has worked with Microsoft for decades and continues to receive requests for his help domestically as well as internationally. Additionally, Tim is a very accomplished professional drummer. He has shared the stage with many members of various top-flight Rock bands. Members from the band, Kansas, have been his musical peers and band mates for many years. Currently he is adding his unique and artful drum parts to an international assemblage of musicians who are recording albums together via the Internet. Tim played me some of the music and it was amazing to me that these artists, each playing in separate locations around the globe and at different times, could put together such a wonderful set of music.
Tim and Holly have built a brand new home on a limestone hilltop in Kerrville, TX that both excites and soothes the senses simultaneously. It’s a beautiful home in a beautiful setting. Holly has a studio building off to the east of the main house and Tim has a studio for his music within the house proper. We dropped in for the night, parking our motor home in their driveway. Holly and Time prepared a fabulous dinner of Salmon and assorted vegetable treats and we caught up with each other’s lives since our last time together in Lajitas, TX those three years ago. Warm laughter and great conversation were the order of the evening.
Later, we took to Tim’s studio and I was treated to Tim’s accompanying percussion to my guitar playing and singing. I have to say that I have never in all my years jammed with only a percussionist. It was so much fun that I wished the evening would not end. Perhaps, down the road, and at Tim’s invitation, I can send him some tracks that he can lay percussion to and he and I can work together digitally at long distance as he does already with his European counterparts. I would be thrilled at being able to do that.
Eventually, the night’s camaraderie ended but not without bright “candles” of memories being lit against the starlit late night sky. They burn brightly yet.
March 30-April 26…..
It’s one of those most rare days, one of those moments when you scream, “hallelujah !” out loud...which we did. We got our 2nd Vaccination for Covid-19. Finally, at long last, we got out shots. What a long process it has been to get here. We drove from Tim and Holly’s home in Kerrville to San Angelo, TX to get it at a CVS pharmacy. Making the trip to this particular CVS was the only way for us to get the shots, but we were glad to drive the distance. We found a state park, San Angelo State Park, where we could spend the night prior to getting vaccinated. We wanted to do this so that we could hit the road as early as possible for the long, long drive across Texas and Arizona to reach Tonto Basin. San Angelo State park is a nice place to stop for an evening or two, located on a small lake. It is clean and well maintained. This part of Texas, the Llano Estacado, is a fairly flat and huge swath of land that is borderline desert. It is not that interesting to us as a place to explore, though to some there may be hidden gems of discovery. We didn’t hang around to find out. The most notable aspect of this park is the helpfulness of the folks who work here. They are wonderful hosts.
I had a minor head cold when I got the shot. I have to report that I had side effects. This was the Moderna Vaccine. I had what I would call a mild case of the flu for about a week after getting the shot. To me, not a big price to pay for inoculating me against the Covid.
We drove west on a two-lane blacktop for over 100 miles passing a few fading small towns characterized by several boarded up and leaning buildings, a few homes scattered around a couple of streets with all manor of detritus from the late 20th and early 21st century lingering in the yards, a gas station with usually one lonely clerk minding the house, a few random dogs wandering around, and the nagging question in our minds, “ What do these people do here? Why here?” Perhaps it’s as I suspect...they can’t live anywhere else...for a variety of reasons, each one particular and plotted to each individual, like a personal and human novel.
We intersected with 1-10 and continued our westward push towards our eventual meeting with Cindy and Dusty at Tonto Basin where we will volunteer for a short while until we head to Colorado for the summer. Finally, it began to get late in the day and not wanting to violate rule #1 ( never, ever look for a campsite after dark) we found Mountain View RV Park in Van Horn, TX. This is a great little spot to spend the night whilst driving across the west Texas desert on your way to wherever. It’s relatively inexpensive, has full hookups on nice level sites, has a massive dog run, and is run by very engaging, friendly folks.
The next morning we set off north down an empty two-lane blacktop that ventured through some really interesting if not stridently beautiful desert back country. Our destination for the next two days was going to be Hueco Tanks State Park. We stayed there two years ago during Christmas and now we were going to stay there through the Easter weekend. Hueco is an historically important and fascinating place. Out in the desert, just east of El Paso, rises a solid granite outcropping of 4 small mountains. Interlaced within the granite are depressions called tanks. The “tanks” hold water and so when the rest of the surrounding desert is drier than bleached bone folks could usually find water here. Groups would travel here for the precious sustenance and linger, but never stay to live here. Perhaps it was an unwritten law that no tribe rules the water...regardless of being at war or not, everyone gets access. There was a time, however, when one of the Apache tribes chose the granite to defend themselves against the Mexican Army who was seeking retribution for countless raids the Apaches mounted into Mexico.
Early North American peoples, nomadic hunters, Apaches, white folks on their way west, they all stopped here. Some left their marks, and their thoughts, and their gratitude to the deities on the walls of the granite. Stage coach passengers left names and dates. Apaches told battle stories in pictographs. Hunter/gatherer groups worshiped. They all told their stories here with pictographs and sometimes etchings and carvings. And so, Easter was a special time to be here. Spirit is easy to discover here at Heuco Tanks.
After replenishing our own thirst for two days we pushed on to Tonto Basin. Still more desert to cross in Nell, our trusted motor “home”. Leaving near day break we drove all day to arrive in Tonto Basin hours later. Dusty and Cindy invited us to a delicious dinner that they preprepared for us as a welcoming gesture, only outdone by the evening’s laughter and story telling. It is so good to see friends again, to meet on the road, as we did when we first serendipitously crossed paths in California. How enriched our lives have been by that chance meeting with our compadres. We feel as if we’ve known Cindy and Dusty all our lives, though we’ve “known” each other for just two years. We’re cut from the same cloth most assuredly.
The next morning we met up with Matt, our Ranger supervisor, to go over our responsibilities as well as get settled into our new home. Since we’re only here for a month we are to fill in for others and pick up trash. “Picking up trash” may sound like a supercilious job, but in reality it is quite the undertaking. It must be done on foot covering miles of roads and miles of desert. The wind here is strong most days so the trash gets blown under cactus and bush and ends up everywhere. Arizonians on the whole are not a litter-conscious group of people. They may not litter on purpose, but they surely don’t pick it up very often when it blows off their picnic table or out of the back of their pick up truck. I theorize (and while you’re walking around picking up trash you have the opportunity to theorize a lot) that 95%+ of all litter is accidental. It is blown off a table that wasn’t cleared that evening before bed. It blows out of the bed of your pick up truck. Critters come steal food off your table where you left it and carry it off into the bush leaving the wrappers. One thing is certain we have decided. If an area is already littered up with trash people will have no compunction regarding leaving a mess before they leave. If you can keep an area neat and clean they will actually think twice about being messy themselves. Call it, “Jump’s Law of Prior Littterization”. Ha!
Since we were here for 5 months last year and I entered several missives in this journal about the history and uniqueness of this area I won’t re-enter the same material, but rather, I’ll stick to new developments and perhaps a few observations of changes we notice since last year. One such change is the condition of the desert. Where last year plants and grasses grew abundantly, almost to excess (since I was weed-whacking most of my working hours here), this year the desert and the campgrounds are dry, dry, dry. The 20 year drought that the West has been enduring is back on track after a brief interruption during the winter of 2019-2020. Roosevelt Lake was at 100% capacity when we left for Colorado last Memorial Day. Currently it sits at about 70% and is dropping rather quickly. A thirsty metro Phoenix, three impoundments downstream, demands water regardless of rain and snowfall accumulations. The local Ranger staff is very worried about wildfires this summer. There is still a lot of dried vegetation from last year’s plentiful moisture that will quickly ignite if this summer’s lightening storms oblige, and, they probably will.
It seems windier here now than it was last April. It may be because we’re perched high on a hilltop overlooking the lake whereas last year we were tucked into a mesa lower on the horizon. Every afternoon the wind picks up quite a bit and anything light that is not secured quickly blows into the cactus dens around the area. Prickly Pear snag windblown paper as if April 26…on a mission to impale any passing material.
The Palo Verde trees are in full bloom in an explosion of bright yellow flowers. The contrast the flowers provide to the gleaming, waxy green trunks and branches is a show-stopper. The local bees have never been busier or more numerous in my opinion. You hear their collective buzz nearly everywhere you walk around here. The Rangers tell us that the bees here are “Africanized” RE: Killer Bees. Therefore, I do not antagonize them in any manner. I don’t draw too close to their swarms, I do not make loud noises, (which I’m told will set them off in a stinging frenzy) and I give them plenty of space. The other day were picking up trash in one of the campgrounds and, of course, a good portion of that trash would blow into the Palo Verde trees where the bees are busy. As I would walk away from the tree after picking up my targeted trash a segment of the tree’s bees would follow me, a little too close for comfort. Diane posited that it was because I was wearing a bright orange T-shirt that the bees mistook for yet another flowering plant, albeit a walking host. So, add another caution to the Africanized bee list. Don’t wear bright, floral colors around them.
Talking about picking up trash so much I may tend to sound a tad bored, or maybe a man of simple to no thoughts, but the venture does have its adventurous sides. For instance, one fine day we were doing our duty along the main road through the park. Since a lot of the litter ends up in the desert off the road I am the elected official who gets to go get the “deep trash”, Diane focusing intently on cleaning the roadside to perfection. Not even a cigarette butt eludes her grasping tool. Anyway, I was walking among the cactus and thorny bushes when the electric pulse of a very large rattler broke through the air like an air raid siren, loud as all get out. I jumped about a foot into the air, which is my current physical limit on jumping, and I’m certain all the hair on my body stood up straight as an arrow. Rattlers know how to get your attention, and thank God they do. There, but for a few precious feet, was my litter nemesis, Mr Diamondback. My current target of litter was quickly abandoned.
Often one finds odd treasure. The other day we found a nearly brand new pair of sneakers, size 7. Typically we find change on the ground. We keep track. I think we’re up to about $4.57 for the month. In the desert some things don’t deteriorate quickly. Steel cans, for instance. The finding of an old, rusted steel can with the now ancient twin can-opener punctures on the lid makes your mind wander to a time forgotten. Who opened this can? What was in it? What were they doing out here before there were roads? (Roads weren’t built in this area until the 70’s when the campground was built) Were they miners? Is their skeleton out there a little further by the next Saguaro? Well, maybe I’m getting a little overly imaginative here, but such are the thoughts of a retired guy picking up trash in the desert.
April 26....
There has been a cloud over my desert this year. My dear friend and band mate, Bob Lawder, has been heroically battling cancer now for some 4-5 years. It breaks my heart to see him suffer so much. Bob is the best bass player I ever had the good fortune to have played music with. He is a soulful singer, and wonderful songwriter, a multi-instrumentalist, one of the funniest men I ever met, and a great human being. I’ve always looked up to him in many ways. The music we made together in the Road Apples, along with Bob Breidenbach and Blake Travis was the best of any band I ever played in. Bob demanded we be the best we could be and I liked that a lot. We rehearsed with purpose and we performed with our hearts. We laughed all the time and became brothers in arms. A few days ago Bob Breidenbach and I spoke with Bob on shared phone lines for about an hour. Bob Lawder was in and out of the conversation, but fully lucid and cracking jokes when he was awake. Our last words to each other were “I love you”. I’m so grateful we had that phone call together.
Yesterday, I was walking the dogs away from the motor home on a hill overlooking the Tonto Basin and Roosevelt Lake below, not thinking of anything in particular, just taking in the beautiful desert scenery. Suddenly, a little wind blew up. It was a gentle, cool wind. I was struck at that moment with the strongest feeling that Bob had passed on. The emotions I felt were immediate and overwhelming, a rush through my entire body. Tears uncontrollably filled my eyes and my heart was so heavy. I knelt down on one knee and simply prayed. I prayed for Bob and Julie, his adoring wife and partner. I prayed for his two sons, now grown but dedicated to their dad. I lingered there alone for a good while inattentive to the dogs or anything else save the feelings I had and the sky above me which seemed more alive than usual. I quietly cried for a while alone.
We received a notice later that day that Bob had slipped away, passed onward to his maker’s house. Reflecting on that morning when I was so overcome with emotion and felt that cool and subtle breeze I cannot help but feel that Bob passed by on his way home, giving me a final farewell for now. I imagine him in sweet reunion with all those he loves who have gone on before. I think of his mom and Blake Travis in particular.
Then, there are the days that become a series of life’s meaningful moments, locked into your memory like candles on a patio on a warm summer night, with that slightly cool breeze rustling the leaves above and your soul below. You stare into the candle some distance away and reflect...reflect on that moment you hold dear in your heart. Candles flickering on the patio. Each one holding a memory you cherish. Burning slowly, giving light and warmth, dancing in the dark.