Desert Rock hearings draw hundreds

If Bureau of Indian Affairs officials truly expected only technical comments from the public regarding the draft environmental impact statement for the Desert Rock power plant, they must have been disappointed.

What they got was a little bit of technicality and a torrent of emotion.

Desert Rock has become the most contentious environmental issue in the Four Corners.

A joint project of Houston-based Sithe Global and the Navajos’ Diné Power Authority, it is to be built 25 miles southwest of Farmington, N.M., on Navajo land. But the project has met with concerted resistance from environmentalists who say there are enough power plants befouling the region’s air already.

SARAH WHITE OF DINE CITIZENS AGAINST RUINING OUR ENVIRONMENT MAKES ARGUMENTS AGAINST DESERT ROCK AT A HEARING JULY 24 ON THE BURNHAM, N.M. CHAPTERAnd recently Gov. Bill Richardson, said Desert Rock would be “a step backwards” in the state’s efforts to reduce greenhouse gases.

At 10 public hearings held around the Four Corners in July, area residents spoke passionately about possible impacts of the 1,500-megawatt coalfired plant – from increased pollution and worsening health, to prosperity and good jobs.

There were faltering voices, tears, angry denunciations, laughter and standing ovations.

What there wasn’t much of were technical comments about possible deficiencies in the 1,600-page EIS.

Conspiracy theory

Frank Maisano, a spokesman for the Desert Rock project, said by phone from Washington, D.C., that he didn’t learn anything from the hearings he hadn’t known before.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “For the most part, we don’t, and we expected that.”

But he said he was disappointed there were not more comments about ways to improve the project.

“Many just expressed their opinion, and that’s their right, but I was hopeful their comments would be more useful to the process.”

At initial scoping hearings regarding the project, Maisano said, Sithe officials heard so many comments about water scarcity, “it came to our attention that a water-cooled project was not going to work. So we came up with a drycooled one.”

The plant will use 4 million gallons a day, 85 percent less than a traditional power plant, he said.

“When our opponents were trying to run around making a big deal out of water [recently], it really rang hollow,” he said.

Foes of Desert Rock have been asking whether the project might seek water from the Northwestern New Mexico Rural Water Projects Act, a huge water-rights settlement pending before Congress. The settlement includes a pipeline through northwestern New Mexico to Gallup that would carry water from the San Juan River.

But drilling done at the plant site shows that there is enough water in a “very deep well aquifer that would never have been used anyway” to supply the plant, Maisano said. “We’re confident we have the water.”

He said the idea that Desert Rock is seeking San Juan River water is “pure environmental conspiracy theory.”

“There is no grassy knoll in the Four Corners,” Maisano said.

‘The smell of money’

Facilitators at the hearings said the public-comment process is not intended to be a “vote” for or against the project.

But if it were a vote, the verdict would be thumbs-down. The vast majority of speakers at the hearings voiced opposition to Desert Rock.

The power plant would be the third in San Juan County, N.M., and the two old plants – the San Juan Generating Station and Four Corners Power Plant – are big polluters, although the San Juan plant is spending $270 million to reduce emissions.

A l t h o u g h Desert Rock would be much cleaner than the existing power plants, it would still put 3,500 tons each of sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxide (the precursors to acid rain) into the air every year, along with particulates, 120 pounds of mercury and 10 million to 12 million tons of carbon dioxide annually.

Not adding to the region’s pollution was a message emphasized by many who spoke at the hearings.

More than 100 turned out for a July 18 hearing at the Ute Mountain Casino south of Cortez, Colo. Of the 44 who spoke, not a single person voiced support for Desert Rock.

Health concerns stemming from additional pollutants topped the list of objections.

Barbara Westmoreland of Montezuma County, a member of the Southwest Colorado Growers, said mercury contamination is permanent – once present, mercury doesn’t leave. She noted that there are already mercury- related fish-consumption warnings at Narraguinnep, Totten and Vallecito reservoirs in Southwest Colorado.

“Who wants to buy food and hay from the little red dot on the map that represents high mercury contamination?” she asked.

“Some say the smell of industry is the smell of money,” agreed her husband, Nelson Westmoreland. “I do sympathize with needing jobs and economic development, but that smell also smells like emphysema and asthma.”

He said Desert Rock should not be built until emissions at the other two plants have been cleaned up – a sentiment echoed by other speakers.

“Until the Four Corners Power Plant meets standards, we are adamantly opposed to another power plant in the Four Corners region,” said Cortez City Manager Hal Shepherd, who presented a resolution by the city council opposing the plant.

Bill Teetzel of Cortez said the cost of residents’ deteriorating health would amount to an “unfair tax” on people in the region.

Jodi Foran of Mancos said people’s bodies already work harder to breathe at the altitudes in Southwest Colorado, and the draft EIS does not address that factor.

Others said the beauty of the Four Corners is being destroyed.

“I left here in ’65 to go east,” said Harry Jones. “I left behind beauty – nice clean streams, fish. I used to eat snow. I used to drink water on top of rocks…. When I came back home it brought tears to my eyes the first time I seen the fog [from the power plants] down in the valleys.”

Many also said the draft EIS did not present enough alternatives. Julia Hesse of Mancos called the three alternatives – the planned plant, a smaller coal-fired plant, or none at all – “laughable.”

“California has cut its [power] use by 20 percent just by using less and we’re not even looking at conservation here,” she said.

DAVID CHARLEY SPEAKS OUT AGAINST THE DESERT ROCK PLANT AT A HEARING JULY 24 IN BURNHAM, N.M. FACILITATOR FELICITY BRENNAN LOOKS ON.Ned Harper of Mancos questioned claims about the economic boon the plant would provide. The draft EIS says about the plant will create about 200 full-time permanent jobs (at least 50 of which will likely not go to Navajos) for plant operations.

Although there will be a Navajo preference in hiring, Harper said, “that is no guarantee that jobs will go to Navajos.”

But even if 150 Navajos are hired long-term, he said, that would only represent 0.085 percent of the onreservation tribal members, who number about 174,000. “The claims that the project is an important step to job creation is absurd,” he said. “I think this is such a thoroughly shoddy document that it should be rejected entirely.”

$50,000 for rings

The sentiment was the same at a hearing July 24 at the Burnham Chapter House on the Navajo reservation. Burnham Chapter is the site for the proposed plant, and approximately 80 citizens — not counting officials and facilitators — crowded into the small room.

Many were Navajo elders – women in traditional flowing blouses, long skirts, and scarves; men in bright shirts and big hats. The majority of speakers used Navajo rather than English; all remarks were translated into the other language.

Sarah White of Diné Citizens Against Ruining our Environment said she worries about the cumulative effects of carbon dioxide and toxic pollutants as well as the mounds of fly ash produced by coal-burning.

“I’ve seen the fly ash at the San Juan and Four Corners power plants,” she said. “They are dumped into a pond and I know it’s seeping into the groundwater as well as the vegeta tion.” She said Burnham locals have received no financial benefits from the vast Navajo Mine on their chapter that supplies coal to the Four Corners plant and would feed Desert Rock.

Betty Dixon spoke about water and health. “What if we deplete our water? Where will we go? Will you be killing us with thirst?”

She also asked why the speakers were limited to three minutes apiece. “If we want to do something that will better the good of the world why are we given three minutes to speak?”

Others also questioned how much economic benefit they would see from the project.

“It’s money to go for the tribal council, so they can buy more rings and Navajo Nation license plates and more discretionary money for the Navajo Nation president and the speaker of the tribal council,” said Barbara Billie to loud applause.

The Navajo tribal council recently authorized spending $50,000 for commemorative rings for its members and $800,000 for the license plates.

Bringing prosperity

But Ivan Bryant argued for the plant, saying it would bring prosperity so that Navajos could join the middle class and drive to the ocean on a whim or buy a boat. Bryant works for PNM, which operates the San Juan Generating Station, but said he was not representing the company.

He also said if the Diné were serious about conservation and global warming, they would give up their “dualies and pickups” and buy hybrids.

“If you want an immediate impact, close down that old dinosaur Four Corners [Power Plant],” he added.

But his view was in the minority.

“There’s no such thing as clean coal,” said Sylvia Fleitz of Mancos.

She said company illustrations of the plant site were misleading because the “after” picture was so pristine.

“No roads, no power lines, no big trucks, no dust or particulates, no brown or yellow clouds, and the same blue sky as before the plant,” Fleitz said.

She told the audience, “What you will get [economically] is a teeny, tiny fraction of what they will get” and called for development of renewable energy on the reservation instead.

“You could be on the cutting edge of the future instead of dragging through the toxic waste of the past,” Fleitz said.

‘Cleanest power plant’

Many speakers also called for an extension of the 60-day public-comment period, which ends Aug. 20, so citizens could digest the lengthy EIS. But Maisano told the Free Press that is not needed. “Many people commented at every meeting,” he said. “When a person is making comments at 10 of the 10 meetings, they certainly have had time to review [the document].

“Guys like Mike Eisenfeld [of the San Juan Citizens Alliance] and the Energy Minerals Law Center have been through this report from the day it hit the Internet,” he added.

The EIS was on the Internet May 15 although it wasn’t in the Federal Register until June 22. “There has been more than 95 days by the time the comment period closes,” Maisano said.

He said opponents are just seeking to delay the project. “Sithe Global is not hurt by delays. The people that are really hurt are the Navajo Nation, the workers ready to go to work when we start building, the Navajo Nation folks who will reap the benefits of the $50 million a year in revenues [from taxes and royalties on the coal used by the plant].”

He said Sithe hopes to start construction in 2008 and may return to the New Mexico legislature to seek an $85 million tax break that was rejected last session.

“That’s $500 to $600 million we would pay the state for purchasing $3 billion of equipment,” he said “You hope when you’re buying $3 billion of equipment the state will see it worthy of giving a small percent back because of the size of the project.”

Maisano said he believes citizens opposing Desert Rock are really concerned about the old plants. “Many of those folks have legacy issues with the other power plants that we have nothing to do with,” he said.

“By us proposing the cleanest power plant that’s ever been built in the U.S. we’ve given them a forum to highlight the concerns they have had for many years, but we don’t get credit for that.”

Published in -August 2007

Cortez, county may be headed to court

Relations between Montezuma County and the city of Cortez — which have been strained for years — may be headed for an all-time low.

The city is planning to sue the county over $48,000 city officials believe they are owed; in return, the county has given up for now working to develop a broad intergovernmental agreement with Cortez.

On July 18, a strongly worded letter from Cortez City Attorney Jim Hatter accused the county of acting “in bad faith” concerning the proposed use of road-impact fees the city had paid to the county for improvements at the entrance to Brandon’s Gate subdivision, a development under construction that was annexed into the city but whose main access is via County Road L on the northern border of the city.

The city annexed and approved the development before any agreement on impact fees was reached with the county, which requires such fees from all developers based on a long-standing formula.

An agreement was finally worked out last year after the county put up a barricade blocking the entrance to the divided boulevard leading to the subdivision.

Under that agreement, Hatter said in his letter, the city “contributed $70,000 to the County for improvements to Road L. An additional $35,000 was contributed to the county by the developer,” also to be spent on Road L at Brandon’s Gate. The county says it never received the developer’s money, but Shepherd maintains that money was committed to improving the intersection.

“It was our understanding that the money was to be used for improvements on Road L,” Hatter wrote.

However, one issue has now become just what the definition of “improvements” is.

“This would be blacktopping the road or widening it,” Hatter wrote, “[but] we recently discovered that all the County intends to do is chip and seal the road. We do not consider that an improvement, we consider that maintenance.

“It is the city’s position that the City money should be refunded due to what appears to be the County’s misapplication of the funds,” he wrote. The letter said that chip-seal costs approximately $22,000 per mile and demanded that all but $22,000 of the city’s $70,000 be repaid.

“We feel the County has acted toward the City disingenuously and in bad faith,” Hatter concluded, “and if we have no other recourse, we will resort to litigation.”

However, the county has a very different take. Minutes of the commissioners’ meeting on June 19, 2006, state that the city proposed, and the county voted to accept, “$70,000 for general construction by the County on Road L over to Road 26, plus the City will spend $30,000 for construction of A and D Lanes at the intersection of Road L and Brandon’s Boulevard, and the City to put $70,000 to finish Alamosa Street to Highway 145 by 2008.”

City Manager Hal Shepherd told the Free Press on July 26 that a lawsuit would definitely be filed within a few days in an effort to recover most of the impact fees, and reiterated Hatter’s contention that the county’s plan to chip-seal the road is merely maintenance, not the “improvements” that were promised last summer.

However, Shepherd conceded that the deal worked out between the entities in June 2006 was only an oral agreement and there had been no specific definition of what work the county was supposed to perform.

“Unfortunately, from now on we’ll have to do a written contract with the county because I wouldn’t trust them to agree to what we agreed to at their meeting,” he said, “and their meetings are not recorded, so I’m going to have a hard time proving it if they all lie.”

The city was led to believe the halfmile stretch would be completely reconstructed with blacktop, Shepherd said, but then city officials learned that only one layer, or “lift,” of chip-seal costing about $12,000 would be done this summer.

The city’s July 18 letter also implies that the county took the $70,000 and put it into the general road fund.

In a July 23 letter to the commissioners’ attorney, Bob Slough, County Administrator Ashton Harrison expressed “surprise” about the threat of a lawsuit and the notion that the city would “seek to reopen a matter we thought was resolved by both parties last year.”

Harrison said the funds for Road L are kept separate from the general road fund and would not be used on other roads. The money is to be used to chip-seal Road L west to Mildred Road this summer, he said, and what money is left will be kept to be used later on Road L.

Shepherd, however, insisted the county is not keeping its end of the bargain.

“In the letter . . . [Harrison] said they were going to go ahead and chip-seal it and then use the rest of the money at a later date, which is different from what he wrote me a month ago — that it was all going to be done this summer,” he said. “Well, you can’t spend $70,000 on chip-seal for a half-mile, so we want a refund since they’re not going to do what they said they were going to do.”

Shepherd also maintained that the A and D lanes that the city agreed to build couldn’t be completed because the county would have to acquire rights-of-way from adjacent property owners, and this hadn’t been done. To this point only small areas of new asphalt have been added near the entrance.

Efforts short of litigation have proven fruitless, Shepherd said, since in an exchange of e-mails the “answer was basically, ‘Stick it.’

“There wasn’t much sense in meeting with Ashton since he told us he wasn’t going to do what we asked,” Shepherd said.

But none of this sound and fury is changing the minds of the county commissioners, who remain steadfast in their position that the impact funds are being properly used by the county road department and there is no reason to return any money to the city.

The commissioners say the matter shouldn’t even be under dispute.

“This is a one-sided conflict,” said Commissioner Steve Chappell. “The [county’s] zoning law is cut-and-dried; we charge impact fees on new development for the improvement and maintenance of the roads impacted.

“It’s illegal to use that money on any other roads, so there is no conflict,” he added. “Hal Shepherd has misled the city council and that’s just the bare facts.”

Chappell said the county’s chip-seal process has proven more durable and cost-effective than traditional asphalt paving, which the county hasn’t used for decades at any rate.

“We’re having better luck with chip-and- seal as far as holding up, so to say it isn’t as good a road as asphalt is a mistake on Hal’s part, because he doesn’t know, and the county has a history of how the roads hold up.

“I just don’t see a reason to make an issue out of it,” Chappell said. “It’s just such a phony issue — the money’s there, there’s no misuse of it, and the county’s intentions and purpose for the use of that money are pure.

“I honestly can’t see where Hal’s coming from, other than he just wants to be involved in [the money’s] determination and use, but all he has to do is go to the law and it’s there, so he doesn’t need to go to court to find that out.”

Chappell predicted that if the issue did wind up in court, the judge would decide in favor of the county because “that’s the law.”

And Commissioner Larrie Rule, who made the motion that supposedly sealed the impact-fee deal last year, said there had never been a commitment made by the county to repave the road with asphalt.

“We’ve lived up to our agreement because that’s what we told them to begin with — that we’d resurface that road,” Rule said. “We didn’t say nothing about blacktopping it because the county does not blacktop roads — blacktop is way more expensive than what chip-and-seal is, and that’s why the county uses it.

“An ‘improvement’ wouldn’t be actually rebuilding the whole road,” he added. “Any time you do anything to it, it’s an improvement, and that’s what we were talking about. Now if we did blacktop roads, I could see there might be an argument, but we don’t.

“We’re not doing anything different than we’ve done for any other developer in the county,” Rule said. “We can’t treat the city any different than we do anybody else.”

Rule also pointed out that the city hasn’t fulfilled its commitment to build the A and D lanes at the subdivision entrance.

“They went out there and just put on little bitty 2- or 3-foot shoulders, so they’re not doing what they said they were going to do. There’s sort of a turning lane and that’s all that it amounts to.”

Rule said Shepherd’s view on the necessity of acquiring additional rightsof- way for that part of the road is incorrect as well, since the present right-of-way would be sufficient for widening it.

“They would have had room to do that,” Rule said, “but [the city] never talked to anybody about it. That was one of the problems with the whole thing — they never talked to nobody to begin with, they just went and done it.” The county also says the city has so far failed to improve Alamosa Street east to Highway 145 as it promised.

At a recent commission meeting, the commissioners and Harrison said they will now have to hold off on entering into any new agreements with the city, such as a long-sought intergovernmental agreement. Harrison said the county will continue to honor its agreements to provide financial support to some city-run projects that benefit both entities’ residents, such as the library, the animal shelter and the tourism office.

Shepherd likewise said the city would continue to provide the bulk of support for those operations regardless of the outcome of the current fight over CR L.

However, both Rule and Chappell pointed out that the city benefits from a 4.05 percent sales tax paid by all county residents and tourists who shop and stay in Cortez, while the county has far less discretionary money available, with most of its revenues committed to programs over which the county has little control, such as social services.

Even the half-cent sales tax the county collects is by law dedicated exclusively toward paying off the bonds for the jail.

The commissioners also pointed out that the city is the main tax beneficiary of all the events held at the county fairgrounds, such as the Ag Expo and rodeos, because most out-of-town participants patronize the restaurants and motels in Cortez, yet the county pays for the fairground’s upkeep and improvements.

Regarding the strained relationship between the two largest local governments, Shepherd said, “It’s an attitudinal situation that doesn’t seem to get any better — maybe the new city manager will have more success than I’ve had.”

Shepherd is retiring in September after 10 years of wrestling with growth and revenue issues in the rapidly developing area.

Rule said the legal scrapping “doesn’t do anyone any good no matter who wins. The more hard feelings you create, then it’s just that much harder to get back out of it.

“I was hoping [the threat of a lawsuit] wouldn’t go anywhere, that they’d back off, but I felt from what [the city] said the other day they wouldn’t, so we’re sort of getting prepared for it — we got our minutes and we know what they said, and that’s what you go by.

“If they got anything different than that, then let’s see it.”

Published in -August 2007

Commissioners urge clean-up of old power plants

The Montezuma County commissioners have mixed feelings about the proposed Desert Rock power plant.

While the La Plata County commissioners, Durango City Council, and Cortez City Council have passed resolutions opposing the 1,500-megawatt plant planned in New Mexico, Montezuma County’s commission has yet to take a formal position on the controversial project.

They have, however, promised to support efforts to obtain funding for better air-quality monitoring equipment in the region.

Commissioner Larrie Rule told the Free Press it would be difficult for him to oppose Desert Rock.

“I don’t want my electricity to be shut off,” Rule said, emphasizing that he was speaking only for himself, not the board.

“Air quality here — I don’t think it’s near as bad as what a lot of people say it is,” he commented.

A lifelong resident of the area, Rule said his wife, who is from Dayton, Ohio, has told him, “If you want to talk about pollution, go to Dayton.”

Rule said he realizes people don’t want the Four Corners’ air to even approach conditions back East, “but I don’t think that will happen because we don’t have the industry.”

He said many newcomers to the Four Corners moved from lower altitudes and are having problems adjusting. Also, many of those most concerned about ozone and other pollutants are elderly and more susceptible to respiratory ailments, he said.

Rule said the air in the Four Corners was not as pristine in the past as many believe. “I remember when everybody used to burn coal here — then there was a problem,” he said. “Everybody had a coal-burning stove because coal was cheap and burned hotter than wood. Along the Dolores River it was really terrible back in those days.”

He said efforts to stop Desert Rock might be better diverted to other goals.

“What they ought to be working on is getting them to clean up the Four Corners Power Plant,” Rule said.

That sentiment was echoed by Commissioner Steve Chappell.

“If I had my choice I would not have any of them,” Chappell said. “I don’t like those coal-burning plants. I don’t like the smoke in the air.”

But, he said, “our country is so dependent on electricity,” it’s difficult to get older plants shut down long enough to clean them up.

He said Desert Rock is getting the backlash from citizens angry at the Four Corners Power Plant, operated by Arizona Public Service, and the San Juan Generating Station, operated by Public Service of New Mexico (PNM).

Desert Rock, Chappell said, will be state-of-the-art, whereas the two plants in northern New Mexico have been “belching out that dirty air” for decades.

“We notice it here on Goodman Point,” said Chappell. “If the wind is blowing from the south we can see the haze that fills that valley. On the normal days, I can see that dirty haze going down the [San Juan] river. They’re probably the most impacted — Shiprock, Teec Nos Pos, those folks.”

The 2,040-megawatt Four Corners Power Plant, built in the 1960s, has long been one of the nation’s worstpolluting power plants. It sits on the Navajo reservation near Fruitland, N.M.

According to a recent report, the plant is tops in the nation for emission of total nitrogen oxide. In 2004 the plant emitted 40,742 tons of the pollutant. It also was among the top 25 emitters of carbon dioxide in 2004, with 15.1 million tons, and ranked 37th for mercury emissions, at 590 pounds per year.

Desert Rock would emit just 3,500 tons of nitrogen oxide annually, its promoters say.

The San Juan plant in 2004 emitted 26,880 tons of nitrogen oxide. 13.1 million tons of carbon dioxide, and 590 pounds of mercury.

In response to lawsuits, the San Juan station is installing $270 million of new technology to clean up its emissions.

But because Four Corners sits on tribal land, it could not be regulated by the state of New Mexico, and the tribe never created an implementation plan.

Finally the EPA stepped in to create a federal implementation plan. It took effect June 6, but on July 6, a coalition of environmental groups challenged it in the U.S. Court of Appeals, saying the new rules don’t go far enough.

“Rather than fight a battle you may not win, I would like to see stipulations that if this state-of-the-art electrical plant goes in, the [Four Corners plant] would be closed down until it can put in the scrubbers that would clean it up.

“They should be tied together,” Chappell said.

Commission Chairman Gerald Koppenhafer concurred.

“I would rather see a new plant with new technology than these old ones,” Koppenhafer said. “Tri-State and all these other electrical outfits, they are maxed out, they are being pushed to the limit as far as their production goes. How do they ever shut one of those down to fix it if there isn’t one to replace it? I don’t see how, unless people are willing to shut their electricity off.

“Some of these new plants, you hardly see anything coming out of them. I hate to see the darn air get worse here but I think the only way to get those older plants cleaned up is for there to be new ones.”

He also pointed out that Tri-State, supplier for Empire Electric, gets electricity from the San Juan Generating Station. “There’s so many people that think we don’t get power from down there and it’s wrong. Tri-State’s got lots of sources, but they’re all hooked together on that grid.”

Published in -August 2007

What ails us

I wasn’t feeling so great, but I didn’t know how to describe what was wrong. I should have gone to the doctor, but with gas prices out of control, my medical co-pay doing the double whammy along with my monthly insurance premiums, and my prescription- drug costs replacing the food I normally put in my mouth, I decided on a more frugal means of discovering what troubled me.

I turned on the television.

It’s difficult to believe all the debate in Washington about health-care reform for the last decade has accomplished nothing, at least nothing more than opening the door for drug companies to bring their products to prime time. If you watch television, it becomes increasingly obvious that the commercialization of illness has become the public’s first line of defense in treating our ailments.

I wondered if a television consultation would work for me, so instead of sitting in a waiting room I sat down in my recliner and aimed the remote control. Pushing the buttons, my fingers felt stiff and achy. Definitely the onset of an illness, but which one?

The first commercial I watched discussed achy legs, not fingers. As I got to thinking about it, my legs weren’t doing so well either. The ad-man called it Restless Leg Syndrome, or RLS (a handy little acronym to help me remember what my problem might be). I wrote it down on the notepad beside my chair along with the prescribed medication and continued to surf the networks.

Next I heard about BPH, which turned out to be another way of saying Benign Prostatic Hyperplasia, more commonly referred to as an uncontrollable urge to pee.

Average-looking people were gasping and dashing toward a bathroom. The ad said, “If you’re experiencing symptoms such as…frequently waking up at night to go, you might have a potential problem.” I copied the number on my notepad. Their offer for a one-week free trial sounded tempting. I haven’t had a full night’s sleeping without getting up to pee since I turned 45.

Eventually the “little purple pill” appeared, and I listened closely to hear if I was suffering from something it might resolve. A fatherly-looking actor went around the house telling his studio children to finish up whatever they were doing and then he produced a sour expression. This must be what actors do, I thought, because I recognized the look, even had the bitter taste of it in my mouth as he spoke to a Hollywood doctor about the risk of his esophagus burning up. I wasn’t sure if stomach acid could make my fingers and legs ache, but I jotted it down, just in case I decided to take the salsa out of the refrigerator for lunch.

I breezed through a few smaller ads about common aches and pains, ending in sales pitches for overthe- counter relief. But my achiness felt more serious, something that “take two aspirins and call me in the morning” wouldn’t cure.

When I saw the handsome, happy couple focusing all their attention on each other, I had to stop and watch. It turned out that his problem was ED (as in EEEEE DEEEE), and I don’t mean it as an acronym for the word Education, although I learned quite a bit just listening to the list of side-effects. I certainly wasn’t experiencing any of that, but in the back of my head I kept wondering if a stiffness in the limbs was how it all started. She looked pleased that he’d done something about his problem, and her smile certainly deserved an Emmy.

These medical dilemmas on television were not running out of patients, but I was. Diseased incarnations fashioned as artery blockages, irritable bowels, high cholesterol, migraines, skin rashes, hair loss, and diarrhea made their way into my living room and offered themselves to me like voodoo dolls. When I turned the television off, I felt worse than when I sat down, because every medical scenario had been marketed to appeal to me, to encourage me to consult a doctor, armed with a crib sheet full of symptoms and a shopping list of drugs.

When the doctor finally entered the examining room all he’d have to say would be, “Which commercial did you watch?” I’d consult my notes, give the correct channel, time, and date, and we could review my diagnosis on a Tivo, share some small talk while I’m waiting for my prescription. Yes, I’d say, I’ve been studying medicine now for most of the fall season.

My mother would be proud. She always wanted me to be a doctor.

David Feela writes from Cortez, Colo.

Published in David Feela

An eyewitness recounts the trauma of the shooting

Editor’s note: This interview with an eyewitness to the shooting of Cortez Police Officer Dale Claxton was conducted in 2000 but never published until now. The witness at the time asked that her identity be kept secret, so we are honoring her wish since she has not publicly come forward about the incident.

Related:

Unsolved mysteries: The discovery of the remains of Jason McVean leaves many questions

One warm, sunny morning, a Cortez woman decided to leave for work a little early.

That simple decision resulted in her becoming a key witness to one of the most bizarre and horrifying events ever to happen in the Four Corners – the murder of Cortez Patrol Officer Dale Claxton on May 29, 1998. It also marked the start of an emotional ordeal that she says is not over even now.

The woman has asked not to be named, partly because she still fears possible retaliation from friends of those accused in the murder, and partly because she doesn’t want people to think she is seeking publicity.

LAW OFFICERS FROM AROUND THE REGION ATTENDED THE FUNERAL OF CORTEZ PATROL OFFICER DALE CLAXTONClaxton’s slaying and the subsequent shootings of two Montezuma County sheriff’s officers, both of whom recovered, led to the largest manhunt ever in the arid, sun-soaked canyons of the Four Corners. Three area men known to harbor anti-government sentiments – Bob Mason, Jason McVean, and Alan Pilon – were charged with the shootings, but they escaped into the wilderness west of Cortez.

Mason turned up dead near Bluff, Utah, six days after the Claxton murder. He had apparently killed himself after shooting at and wounding a San Juan County sheriff’s deputy.

Pilon’s remains were found Oct. 31, 1999, by Navajo deer-hunters in the desert along the Utah-Colorado border. He, too, had apparently shot himself, police say.

Note: McVean’s remains were found June 5, 2007.

‘Firecrackers’

THE BUSINESS CARD FOR ALAN PILON HELPED IDENTIY THE REMAINS OF JASON MCVEANThe morning of May 29, 1998, around 9:30, the Cortez woman was driving north on County Road 27 just south of Cortez, thinking only about the work day ahead.

Near the McElmo Creek Bridge, she noticed the man in the pickup in front of her pulling over. Not sure what was happening, she pulled over too.

She heard loud popping sounds. “I couldn’t figure out what in hell was happening,” she said. “I thought it was firecrackers. I didn’t think too much at first until I saw the guy with the gun, shooting.”

Claxton had been tailing a water truck reported stolen in La Plata County the previous day. He had called for backup when the truck’s driver pulled over voluntarily and a man got out of the passenger side.

The man, believed by police to have been McVean, strode up to Claxton’s patrol car and poured dozens of rounds from a fully automatic rifle into Claxton, shooting him through the windshield and driver’s side window.

Meanwhile, the woman struggled to make sense of the surreal events.

“It was like, ‘My God, what’s going on?’” the witness recounted. “When the man went off the road in front of me and parked, that’s when I could see the guy shooting. It’s like I’m having a real bad nightmare in the middle of the day. Nothing’s making sense.

“I’m thinking, ‘What happened to the guy in front of me unless they shot him? Why are they shooting people? – and now they’re going to shoot me and I don’t even know why.’ ”

She said the man with the gun was the only one who got out of the water truck, while two other men waited inside it. She said she saw them clearly – police have the right suspects, she believes – and they saw her as well as the only other eyewitness, the man in the pickup.

“He was 10, 20 feet from (the shooter),” she said. “And the pickup was right in front of me.”

Stunned and utterly terrified, she waited to die.

“People don’t understand the fear you feel,” she said. “It is just unreal.”

She was sure they’d kill her next. Instead, the shooter got back in the truck and the trio – who throughout the rampage harmed no civilians – drove past her and on south. Shortly after, they would steal an old flatbed formerly owned by Nielsen’s, a construction company, and flee west in it, wounding sheriff’s officers Todd Martin and Jason Bishop during the chase.

The woman grabbed her cell phone and tried to call 911, but in her panic she couldn’t remember to press the “send” button and the calls didn’t go through. Her failure would cause her enormous guilt.

‘If only’

Cortez Patrol Officer Vern Rucker was the first officer on the scene. On his radio she heard the dispatcher saying that two more officers were down.

“I thought, ‘If I’d only called 911, if I’d only warned them in time,’ ” she said. “I never felt so awful in my life.”

Worst of all, she said, was being unable to help Claxton, who had died instantly from the multiple gunshots. When other people arrived, she couldn’t at first understand why they weren’t tending to him.

“I was yelling at them and screaming, ‘Why isn’t there anybody over there helping him?’ ” Later she would wonder, “Why did you put me here, God, if I couldn’t do anything?” She had no answer.

She remembers walking to Claxton’s patrol car, noticing that his red lights were not on, and seeing his body.

“That’s when I totally went blind,” she said. “I thought I was passing out.”

An EMT led her away from the car. She remembers stepping on the empty shells scattered across the pavement.

“It was awful,” she said. “I just didn’t want to touch them, to touch anything that had been used to kill him.”

Somehow she managed to go on to work, but she could think of nothing but the killing. Not knowing that the fugitives had switched vehicles, she didn’t understand why police were searching for a yellow Nielsen’s truck instead of a white water truck.

An FBI agent and a sheriff’s officer later interviewed her and pressed her on the subject of the vehicle she’d seen. The FBI agent asked whether she might have confused the pickup in front of her with the fugitives’ truck.

“I asked him, ‘Where are you from?’ and he said, ‘New York City.’ I was really rude. I said, ‘Maybe women in New York City don’t know the difference between a [water] truck and a pickup, but I do.’ ”

But police corroborated her account of the three men being in a water truck originally. Why they had stolen it remains a mystery.

For the witness, the ensuing weeks and months brought little but emotional torment. She suffered constant fear that the fugitives would return to kill her.

“You don’t want to leave your house,” she said. “You’re constantly looking around and thinking they’re going to be there. When you drive up my driveway, there’s a hill, and I’d think, ‘They could be up there,’ and every step you don’t know if you’re going to make it to the door.”

‘A loving feeling’

She lost her job because she was too emotionally unglued to concentrate.

She suffered bouts of temporary blindness, when she couldn’t recognize her friends except by their voices. Over and over, she struggled to make sense of what had happened.

“You carry that guilt that you’re alive and he’s not,” she said. “You ask, ‘Why? Why?’ to everything. Why didn’t they kill me and the other guy that saw it? I was sitting right there in broad daylight.

“And why did they have to kill him [Claxton]? Why did they shoot him so many times? Two years later, and I still can’t make any sense of it.”

Only after the discovery of Pilon’s body on Oct. 31, 1999, did she begin to feel normal again, she said.

“That was like a turning point,” she said. “Before that, it was like it had just happened and I couldn’t get any distance from it. After that, it seemed like there was hope they were going to find the other one, too.”

Her ordeal had a few consolations. She developed a great appreciation for police officers and the work they do. And she came to have a heightened sense of the preciousness of life.

“In the midst of all that, you have such a loving feeling,” she said. “You’re full of love for people – all the cops, my counselors, everybody.”

At one time she was unable to bring herself even to drive across the bridge where Claxton was killed. Now, on occasion, she goes there to sit and meditate.

“”I stop there once in a while,” she said. “Sometimes I can stay and be almost peaceful with it. It’s like Dale’s telling me, ‘It’s OK.’”

Published in -July 2007

Unsolved mysteries: The discovery of the remains of Jason McVean leaves many questions

 

Related:

An eyewitness recounts the trauma of the shooting

And then there were three.

The last major piece of a 9-year-old puzzle fell into place last month with the discovery of the remains of the third fugitive accused in the 1998 slaying of Cortez Patrol Officer Dale Claxton, but many questions remain that may never be answered, Police Chief Roy Lane said in a recent interview with the Free Press.

What were the men up to?

What made them so angry?

Just how did they meet their end?

The bones of Jason McVean, 26 at the time of his disappearance, were collected and identified after a cowboy riding through Cross Canyon in southeast Utah on June 5 unearthed a Kevlar vest partially buried in the sandy soil along a creek bed only a couple miles from where the heavily armed trio of socalled survivalists had abandoned their stolen vehicle and taken off on foot.

Ironically, a statement made by Lane at a 1998 press conference in the week following the rampage proved strikingly prophetic.

Asked why the hundreds of searchers who descended on the Four Corners hadn’t been able to locate the fugitives after several days of intense effort, Lane stressed the ruggedness of the brushy desert landscape:

“The terrain is so bad, so heavy, the canyons so deep you could probably walk within 15 feet of them and never see them,” he said at the time. “If they’re hunkered down out there — which I firmly believe they are — then time is about all that’s going to bring them out, or if somebody knows where they are and comes forward.”

Lane said searchers at the time of the 1998 killing would have passed within 10 yards or so of McVean’s well-concealed body, tucked in a cavity along the creek bank behind some trees.

Barrage of bullets

On May 29, 1998, a series of shockingly violent acts occurred in Cortez that would lead to the largest manhunt in Colorado history. For weeks, more than 500 law-enforcement officers and National Guard troops combed the torrid, rocky terrain along the Colorado/Utah border seeking three fugitives — McVean, Alan Pilon, and Robert Mason, all from the area — who had shot and killed Claxton and seriously wounded two other law officers before disappearing into the honeycombed canyons of Utah.

Claxton had spotted a water truck that had been reported stolen the previous day near Ignacio, Colo., and was following it along County Road 27, waiting for backup, before it voluntarily pulled over just south of the bridge spanning McElmo Creek.

The popular 45-year-old cop, who had been on the force only a few years, stopped behind the tanker but stayed in his vehicle, unaware that one of the three — thought to be McVean — had gotten out of the passenger side until he appeared in front of the patrol car and unleashed a barrage of bullets from an automatic rifle into the windshield, killing Claxton instantly. Just to make sure, the shooter then fired another burst into Claxton’s body through the driver’s side window.

Then the chase was on.

Why that road?

The trio continued south on Road 27, turned west on Road H, then turned south onto a dead-end road curving up to the landfill. Near the top of the hill they found a contractor outside loading an old flatbed Nielsen’s construction truck, and commandeered it.

Their considerable arsenal was packed in duffel bags, which they quickly loaded in the new truck.

Their decision to turn onto the deadend road is one of the lingering mysteries of the episode. The men were apparently familiar with the area, having deliberately taken their stolen water truck along a route that bypassed the truck port of entry. Why head down the dump road?

No one will apparently ever know.

They retraced their path down Road F, shooting two sheriff’s deputies — Jason Bishop and Todd Martin — as they fled. Both men were gravely wounded, but made full recoveries and remain in law enforcement today.

The fugitives passed stunned drivers who had pulled over because for the law-enforcement vehicles, but did not shoot at the civilians. They then turned west onto Road G and fled into McElmo Canyon. Hopelessly outgunned, having seen three of their own fall to the fugitives’ bullets, the police fell back – way back. The scanner crackled with confused and errant reports of a man on foot running through fields south of Cortez, and of a fleeing car heading south into Utah.

Meanwhile, the men gunned their purloined flatbed around the tight turns of the rural road. Until just a few years earlier, few drivers had used the McElmo Canyon route because the pavement stopped at Sand Canyon. From there the road was a stretch of tooth-shaking washboard. Had the road remained in that condition, the fugitives might not have gone very far very fast. But the Montezuma County commissioners had secured a grant to pave the road and the work had been completed.

As McVean, Pilon, and Mason raced toward Utah, then-Montezuma County Sheriff Sherman Kennell procured a Civil Air Patrol plane and attempted to follow the fugitives from the air. For a time he had them in sight. However, the pilot became increasingly nervous when he heard about the crimes the three had already committed and the arsenal they possessed.

When Kennell urged him to fly closer, he balked, lifting to a higher elevation instead. Eventually they lost sight of the truck altogether.

A cloud of dust

Forty miles west of Cortez, at Hovenweep National Monument, manager Art Hutchinson got a call on his cell phone (the remote monument had no land line) about the uproar in Cortez. He thought the fugitives might be planning to turn off the McElmo Road toward Hovenweep. If he could get there first and block the turn with his National Park Service truck, he thought, they’d be forced to head toward Aneth, Utah, and police might be able to form a roadblock.

Hutchinson leaped into his vehicle and sped toward the monument’s entrance. He passed a car full of tourists, sightseeing serenely in the summer heat, and told them to stay in the monument. It must have sounded crazy – killers here among the placid Anasazi ruins? But the tourists obeyed. Hutchinson turned left onto Road 10 and rattled toward the intersection with CR G.

Before he was even close, however, he spied a dust cloud coming fast from the other direction. Hutchinson swerved into the ditch as the vehicle passed; he heard the crackle of gunfire, and bullets peppering his truck. Then the men were gone. Shakily he climbed out and examined the vehicle. There were two bullet holes in the hood, but nowhere else.

As Hutchinson called in his sighting, the fugitives were whirling the clumsy flatbed around the 180-degree curves of an even bumpier road that turns west off Road 10 and plunges into a broad valley.

The driver gunned the flatbed down the road about a half-mile, then turned onto a rutted dirt ribbon leading into Cross Canyon. The men pulled into the thick brush along a shallow creek and hidl the flatbed in the bramble.

What happened then is mostly conjecture. Police believe Pilon and McVean left together while Mason went in another direction, but tracks were inconclusive. The men left hordes of ammo and weapons in the truck, but took plenty more with them. Then they vanished into the wilderness.

Bizarre happenings

A surreal atmosphere descended on the city of Cortez and the entire Four Corners region. The day of the shooting, area schools were locked down until it was determined that the fugitives had fled. Law officers stopped vehicles traveling on the highways, often making startled tourists exit their seats while police made sure the fugitives weren’t hiding in their RVs.

Hundreds of officers from different agencies poured into the area. Helicopters chattered through the air, lending a war-zone feeling to the normally placid days of summer.

Despite the massive effort, which included heat-detecting instruments (useless in the blazing heat, which persisted all night) and dogs trained to sniff out humans both dead and alive, not a word was heard of any of the three until June 4.

That day, Mason, was spied by a social worker who was having lunch by the San Juan River near Bluff, Utah. Mason fired a shot towards the worker, who fled and called police. Deputy Kelly Bradford of the San Juan County Sheriff’s Office, first on the scene, was shot in the back and shoulder, but was not seriously injured.

Law officers found Mason’s body lying next to three pipe bombs in the brush. He had an apparently selfinflicted bullet wound in his forehead. A Glock handgun (the suicide weapon) was by his side, along with a .308-caliber rifle. Mason’s body was still encased in a Kevlar vest. His legs had been badly chafed from wading a long distance in the river.

The media and police frenzy continued for another week, marked by other bizarre incidents:

• The town of Bluff was evacuated as officers searched for the other two fugitives.

• There were reports — in hindsight, clearly false — that officers one night had heard the remaining two fugitives “talking, giggling and splashing around” in the San Juan River, but couldn’t see well enough to apprehend them. A 9-year-old girl claimed she’d seen the pair examining a water truck along the river near Montezuma Creek.

• Bounty hunters began arriving from around the country, claiming special skills would enable them to find the missing pair, but left without success.

• San Juan County Sheriff Mike Lacey talked of using aerial fire bombs to burn the brush away from the river, but the Forest Service would not give him permission in the height of wildfire season.

• A young man from Telluride floated onto the river in a raft and was nabbed by police. He said he’d hoped to encounter the fugitives and talk them into surrendering.

No trace of Pilon or McVean could be found, and eventually the search ended.

‘Something big’

THE HOLE IN THE SIDE OF A CREEKBED WHERE THE REMAINS OF JASON MCVEAN WERE FOUNDNine years later, the discovery of McVean’s remains has brought official closure to the case, but the questions persist.

What did the three man, described as anti-government gun fanatics, have in mind before their plan was derailed by Claxton?

“I think there were probably only three people that ever knew, and they’re all dead,” Lane said. “That’s why I thought it was really important to find one alive, but there was no guarantee that we would have found anything out if we had.

“I used to think that they were after money to finance something bigger, but I don’t know now. I’ve thought so much about it and I have no idea what they were doing.”

Still, a few pieces of evidence suggest the trio did have a grander scheme in mind than a shooting spree.

Soon after news of the shootings was reported, McVean’s former girlfriend contacted law enforcement and said he’d called her the day before and told her to keep an eye on her TV because “something big” was about to happen. (It was this tip that led to the suspects being identified.)

And McVean’s pickup, stocked with camping gear, was found parked along Cherry Creek Road between Durango and Cortez — in the opposite direction they were heading when the rampage was sparked.

“Why park your pickup back up on Cherry Creek if everything you’re going to do is this way — it’s a long way to get back to,” Lane said. “That indicates to me that maybe they were going to get money, hide out for a while and then do whatever they were going to do.”

Not long before the shootings, a New Mexico casino was robbed using a truck that was crashed into the lobby of the building. Although the fugitives weren’t involved, it may have given them the idea of pulling a similar job at the Ute Mountain Casino near Towaoc.

“Or maybe they were going to blow something up” using the water truck as a bomb, Lane speculated.

“There’s no doubt in my mind they had some grand plan,” he said, possibly destroying a power plant, a dam such as Glen Canyon or another government facility.

“I’ve always felt that because Dale stopped them, he probably saved lives,” Lane said. “Whatever their plan was, it was foiled when he contacted them.”

Targeting cops

Also among the questions likely to remain unanswered, Lane said, is why the men reacted with such lethal force upon being spotted in the stolen vehicle.

“Stealing a water truck isn’t a major crime any more,” he said, “and why they would use so much violence — it just amazes me.”

One notable fact about the entire episode is the fugitives shot only at police, Lane said, other than Hovenweep’s Hutchinson.

“They never showed any violence toward anybody but law enforcement or government vehicles or employees.”

There were two eyewitnesses to Claxton’s murder who stopped within yards of the scene, Lane noted, yet no attempt to harm them was made. “They never pointed a weapon at either one of them — never threatened them.”

When the men commandeered the flatbed truck at gunpoint, they likewise did not harm the employee who was loading it. “They just told him to get back in the house, they were taking the pickup,” he said.

Suicide pact?

Contrary to one theory, Lane now believes each of the suspects committed suicide.

It had been suggested that Pilon and McVean were traveling together when Pilon wasn’t able to continue because of a bad leg. Then McVean shot him, either with Pilon’s consent or not, and travelled on. (Pilon’s skull had been pierced with a bullet, but no clip nor ammunition for the 9mm Glock located next to his remains was found, and his rifle was on a rocky ledge several yards away, along with a backpack and pipe bombs.)

Pilon had taken refuge under a tree on Tin Cup Mesa. He was dressed in combat gear in the 100-plus-degree heat and had run out of water after traveling only a couple miles.

“I think they each individually took their own lives — I don’t think one of them killed another,” Lane said. “My thinking is that they probably made a pact of some kind in the beginning that they wouldn’t be taken alive.

“Now, as you look at the sequence of where the bodies were, I would think Pilon was first [to die], McVean was the second and Mason lived the longest.”

Mason and McVean, both of Durango, had been friends since childhood, and Pilon, who was raised in Dove Creek, was apparently drawn to them by their common antagonism toward the federal government. Although none of them had other close friends, acquaintances said they believed society was descending into chaos, and they planned to survive in the desert during the final days.

Still, Lane said, he is puzzled as to “what made them so angry they would do something like that.”

Pilon owed $1,500 to the IRS, but it hardly seems enough to prompt a murderous rage.

‘Like his dad’

Lane said he believes the carnage had one positive result — a renewed appreciation of the perils involved in law enforcement, even in a town that has little major crime.

“As tragic as it was, it brought the community together,” he said. “The day of Dale’s funeral, the town closed down and people were watching [the funeral procession] from the sidewalks.”

Claxton’s son Corbin, a young teenager at that time, recently joined the Cortez Police as a patrol officer.

“About two years ago Corbin started coming around and asked me what he’d have to do to get a job here,” Lane said. After graduating from the police academy, Corbin applied for an opening and did well in the testing.

“Sue [Corbin’s mother and Dale’s widow] and I talked about it and I told her, ‘If you’re not OK with it, we probably won’t do it.'”

Understandably, he said, she had qualms, but supported her son’s desire. “He has a lot of his dad’s mannerisms — he’s a lot like his dad,” Lane said.

Hearing a gunshot

A wind-up calendar wristwatch with a “30” in the date window was among the items recovered from McVean’s final hiding place.

“It appeared to have just run down,” Lane said, “and the significance of that is that it was on the 30th, the night after Dale was killed, and the Benallys, [a family] who live right around the corner from where McVean was found, reported [hearing] a single gunshot to us that night between six and six-thirty.”

Why did McVean, reported to be the strongest of the three, kill himself so early in the search while Mason pressed on to Utah?

“Probably there were so many of us out there — so many helicopters and so much activity that he thought, ‘I just can’t get away’,” Lane said, “so he holed up there and thought maybe they’d go away, but they didn’t.”

But why did the fugitives decide to quietly shoot themselves instead of going out in a blaze of glory, killing as many officers as possible? Did they ultimately have pangs of conscience?

The answer, along with the three men, apparently died in the desert.

Published in -July 2007

The legacy of uranium: Cummins’ first novel explores the mining era

When Houghton Mifflin accepted author Ann Cummins’ short story collection, “Red Ant House,” for publication, her editor offered her a two-book contract. For the second book, she would write a novel.

“I had no idea how to do it,” she laughs over the phone from her office at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, where she teaches creative writing and English.

Still, she accepted the deal. Last March, Houghton Mifflin brought out her novel, “Yellowcake,” set in the Four Corners, and named for the yellow bricks of processed uranium ore once mined and milled on the Navajo Reservation.

“It’s about the uranium industry,” she says. “And how it played out ANN CUMMINS' FIRST NOVEL, "YELLOWCAKE"in the 1960s and 1970s.”

She knows well how the industry played out in the Four Corners at that time. Her father worked in a uranium mill, first in her home town, Durango, and later in Shiprock, N.M.

“I grew up bicultural,” she says. “It was such an educational experience to be on the reservation and see how many different kinds of lifestyles my Navajo classmates lived.”

Her soft but lively voice rises. “Some were traditional. Others were more Christian-influenced. . . I was a minority, and very aware of differences. [That] taught me how to listen to other people, and to observe the way [others] act and what they believe.”

She poured her observations into “Yellowcake.” “One of the things I wanted to explore in the novel is the fallout for the people who worked in the mines and the mills.”

Her father eventually died of cancer, brought on by uranium exposure. Still, she doesn’t consider “Yellowcake” to be about the hazards of uranium-mining. It’s about the complex reactions of complex characters who got involved in the uranium industry.

Set in 1991, the story features a white mill foreman, and a Navajo worker he supervised when the mill was operational. Both now struggle with cancer, but neither wishes to seek compensation from the government.

The foreman believes he carries the responsibility for his illness, since he chose to work in a uranium mill. The Navajo doesn’t know how to cope with legal and medical bureaucracy.

The Navajo’s daughter tries to help both men, but finds herself caught between her belief in Western science and justice, and her traditional Navajo grandmother.

As these people cope with their problems, another white mill worker struggles with an alcohol addiction, and his infatuation with a Navajo woman, by whom he has a son, who is trying to find his place in two cultures.

Cummins got pleasure out of putting “Yellowcake” together. Writing the short stories for “Red Ant House” required her to focus on one or two characters, and simple themes. She could envision complicated environments, but she could only focus on microcosms of those worlds.

“Once I got into the novel and realized how much freedom I had to build my characters and work with a complex plot, it felt very liberating.”

However, with the liberation came challenge. Cummins started “Yellowcake” with the white mill foreman, inspired by her father. But as she developed him, he changed from her dad into his own person.

“My first draft was 250 pages of this guy, and his conflicts of having to relyon other people for his health needs.”

She loved the foreman, but realized his story had little plot. It was also depressing, since it focused on illness. Her editor suggested she add characters and explore their points of view.

When she followed that suggestion, the story expanded. She had a chance to explore the Four Corners landscape and to examine the psyches of people not confined to a sick room.

“I actually auditioned lots of characters and some of them couldn’t make the cut. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in (their) heads.” When she found characters she believed she could bring to life, she used them.

Her favorite was the son of the white alcoholic and the Navajo mother. “He was fun. . . because culturally he was on the fringe of things. It was easier for me to imagine someone who was raised that way, than someone who was raised in a very traditional [Navajo] way.”

Once she had her characters, she had to use the Navajo language in specific scenes. She worked with a linguist to get phrasing to fit plot and situation. She also did extensive research to make sure her characters knew everything they should.

“My writing process is very chaotic,” Cummins admits. “It comes from giving voice to characters and seeing where the characters take me.”

For every 1,000 pages she wrote as she drafted ‘Yellowcake,” she believes she used 100.

But now that “Yellowcake” is in bookstores, she’s ready for another learning process. With a Sloan Foundation grant, and in partnership with San Francisco’s Magic Theater, she’s adapting the novel to the stage.

“It’ll be a few years before I have a play. . . but it’s a real interesting experience,” she laughs.

Published in -July 2007, Arts & Entertainment

What isn’t in the 1,600-page Desert Rock EIS: An analysis of the draft document

 

Related:

Power Play: Desert Rock’s foes remain stubborn as public hearings loom

In reviewing the draft environmental impact statement (DEIS) for the proposed Desert Rock coal-fired power plant, I was struck by what was left out of those 1,600 pages. This is not unusual — you can’t think of everything when evaluating a proposed project. But it makes me wonder, is this project viable at this scale or will it be a carbon dinosaur gone extinct in a climate-changed world?

Of course, it is difficult to comment on what’s been left out. Even if I dutifully send in my comment – “Hey, you left out the obvious alternative, a smaller version of the proposed power plant – how about 500 MW of super-critical coal power instead of 1,500 MW?” there is usually a standard reply: “The BIA considered every reasonable alternative in preparing the DEIS.” Not very satisfying. You need either a sympathetic judge that can see the bigger picture or sane investors who can see that Desert Rock is not a solid bet. Fifty years (the estimated life of Desert Rock) is a long time to wait for a return on your investment. And a lot of things can change in that time. Remember, the plant won’t even start operating until 2015 or later.

Shifting economic foundation

Desert Rock is somewhat unusual as a power project because it does not have a firm power-purchase agreement. Nobody has signed up to buy Desert Rock’s electricity. Instead, the developers propose to sell the power into the greater Western power market, which, they are happy to point out, needs hundreds and hundreds of new megawatts to meet the Southwest’s fast-growing electricity demand.

However, this year California delivered a new message to electric power suppliers: If you cannot produce power with the lowest possible emissions of carbon dioxide, we are not interested.

“When your biggest customer says, ‘I ain’t buying,’ you rethink,” Hal Harvey, environment-program director at the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, in California, told the New York Times. “When you have 38 million customers you don’t have access to, you rethink.”

New electric power contracts selling to California must meet a benchmark of 1,100 pounds of carbon dioxide (CO2) per megawatt hour. The reported CO2 emissions for Desert Rock are going to be double that rate. Even without a contract in California, Desert Rock could face a “dirty discount” because its power would not meet California’s standards. And who’s to say that Arizona and Nevada won’t enact a similar standard? Both states already have aggressive renewable-energy requirements that utilities must meet in the next 10 years. To say nothing of a carbon tax. At 10.5 million tons or more per year of CO2, even a modest carbon tax would cost Desert Rock investors dearly.

Getting off the rez

The other big hurdle facing Desert Rock is delivering its 1,500 MW to customers in Phoenix and Las Vegas. The existing transmission infrastructure in the Southwest is already overloaded. This proposed plant is going to connect to a proposed transmission line: the Navajo Transmission Project, which is also in the EIS and planning phase. This $3 billion project has many regulatory and right-of-way hurdles.

Even if both projects move through the alphabet soup of EIS, FERC and other regulations, questions remain. How is the Navajo Nation going to finance these two huge projects? Certainly the investment is necessary to realize the benefits of the tribe’s coal and water reserves. But how much return is the nation going to realize? Normally, developers must have a power-purchase agreement to raise financing to plan, construct, and start up a project. Somehow the Navajo Nation has found partners willing to waive this requirement. But who is really going to invest in this proposed power play?

A critical change

The other big hole in the DEIS is the lack of reasonable alternatives. The DEIS considers only three alternatives. Alternative A: No Action (no power plant); Alternative B: Preferred Alternative (1,500-MW power plant) and Alternative C: (500-MW plant). The obvious alternative that is not evaluated in the DEIS is a scaled-down version of Desert Rock. Yes, Alternative C is a 500- MW power plant, but there is one subtle but critical change. Alternative C is a less efficient “sub-critical” steam plant, whereas Alternative B is a 1,500-MW “super-critical” steam plant. It is unlikely that anybody would build a relatively inefficient sub-critical power plant when carbon emissions are looming as such a large liability for future plant operations and electricity sales. In the end, Desert Rock may be scaled back to the original 500 MW proposed for the Cottonwood Power Station, but not because of emission constraints or global warming. Instead it will be because that’s all the electric power that investors are willing to pay for and customers in Arizona and Nevada are willing to buy.

Additionally, there are several clean coal technologies that were eliminated from consideration in the DEIS because of high costs and unproven technologies. Some of these technologies have such nifty features as carbon recovery that would allow the plant to meet California’s CO2 benchmark and negligible toxic emissions. With “clean coal” technologies being touted and subsidized by the U.S. Department of Energy, I would expect at least one of these technologies would be feasible for Desert Rock. Especially with such a critically located coal resource.

The toughest questions are those faced by the Navajo Nation. What is the tribe willing to invest to develop its coal and water resources? And what return on that investment is acceptable? Desert Rock looks like an awfully big gamble, especially when the major power customer in the Southwest, California, ain’t buyin’ coal power no more.

Carolyn Dunmire has been analyzing the intersection between energy and the environment for over 25 years. She has created, reviewed, or commented on dozens of NEPA documents including EIS’s and EAs related to power plants and oil/gas development throughout the West.

Published in -July 2007

Power play: Desert Rock’s foes remain stubborn as public hearings loom

 

Related:
What isn’t in the 1,600-page Desert Rock EIS

The desert sun beats hard upon a pair of small trailers, a pressed-wood building, and a Porta-Potty sitting on a rise, surrounded by acres and acres of sparse grass. On lawn chairs in the shade of the structures, seven members of the extended family of Navajo elder Alice Gilmore, plus three visitors, sip water and talk.

This modest site looks like the middle of nowhere, but in fact it’s at the center of a raging dispute that has divided the Navajo Nation.

A DRILL RIG PROBES FOR WATER AT THE PROPOSED SITEA quarter-mile away a drill rig is probing the ground for water, in preparation for the construction of the proposed 1,500-megawatt Desert Rock power plant.

Sithe Global Power, LLC, and the Diné Power Authority, an enterprise of the Navajo Nation, are pushing to build the coal-fired power plant on 592 acres of reservation land 30 miles southwest of Farmington, N.M. They don’t have any buyers lined up for the power, but they’re sure there are many potential customers across the burgeoning Southwest.

Not everyone believes the plant will be built.

Alice Gilmore’s family and other foes of Desert Rock are fighting hard to stop construction. They believe the proposed power plant is wrong for a region that already sees clouds of pollution from two nearby facilities. They urge the tribe to “just say no” (“Doodá”) to another coal-fired unit.

So far, the tribe has said yes. The tribal council has already voted in favor of the plant, and the Navajo Nation has pledged to waive two-thirds – $1 billion of $1.5 billion – of the tax revenues Desert Rock would have paid over the next 29 years.

In May, the Bureau of Indian Affairs released a draft environmental impact statement that gives a go-ahead for Desert Rock, saying there are no major environmental reasons to oppose it. (See www.desertrockenergy.com for the full EIS.) Public hearings on the draft EIS are scheduled around the region this month.

The document says emissions of air pollutants will indeed increase if the plant is built, and notes that the area is already “disproportionately affected” by power plants and mining, but says cumulative impacts “would be below health-protective federal standards.”

The draft EIS says not building the plant would mean the loss of $43 million annually in anticipated revenues for the Navajo Nation, where poverty and unemployment are high.

DINAH GILMORE AND PAULINE GILMORE AT THE PROTEST ENCAMPMENTBut many tribal members are skeptical about rosy promises of jobs, money and prosperity. They have seen the toxic legacy left on the reservation by uranium-mining in the middle of the 20th Century, and the drawing-down of a pristine aquifer by the nowdefunct Black Mesa coal mine near Kayenta, Ariz. They see high rates of asthma and other diseases among residents living near the 1,800-megawatt San Juan Generating Station and 2,040- megawatt Four Corners Power Plant.

Sithe Global is a privately held company based in Houston, Texas. Financial backers for Desert Rock are Blackstone Capital, a giant privateequity and hedge-fund firm, and Reservoir Capital.

Can anyone stop such powerful corporations from achieving their aims? It seems like a tough task, but opponents of Desert Rock remain steadfast, buoyed by sheer stubbornness and an ineffable optimism.

“It’s not going to happen,” says Eloise Brown firmly.

Brown is president of Doodá Desert Rock, a small grassroots group fighting the plant. Also on their side are Diné CARE, a Navajo environmental group, and other environmental groups such as the Durango-based San Juan Citizens Alliance.

Sarah White, president of Diné CARE, is likewise hopeful. Speaking by phone, she said, “Oh, yes, we can still stop it.”

Since Dec. 12, opponents of the plant, led by Brown and her family, have maintained a vigil at this isolated site. Through chilly snows, springtime mud and now the relentless heat, they’ve taken turns manning the site – making cell-phone calls, compiling lists, writing letters, hosting members of the press. Supporters occasionally jolt over washboarded reservation roads to bring them water, flour and canned food. One gave them equipment to provide solar and wind power. Sometimes there’s even a sort of party, such as on New Year’s Eve, when there was drumming and dancing.

There have been ugly incidents, too. Brown accuses some workers of nearly running over protesters. A sheepdog belonging to Alice Gilmore was skinned and left at the encampment, according to the critics’ web site (www.desertrock- blog.com); in May, Brown’s home and car were vandalized.

But much of the time the site is very quiet.

The stark encampment could not pose a greater contrast to the picture painted by a Jan. 27, 2007, New York Times article about the planned 60thbirthday party of Stephen Schwarzman, billionaire co-founder of Blackstone — featuring 1,500 friends and dignitaries feasting and partying in a lavish, 35,000-square-foot hall.

Meanwhile, the Desert Rock protesters were sleeping around campfires to keep warm.

It’s a classic David-and-Goliath struggle.

But the Davids have already scored one huge success: dissuading the New Mexico state legislature from granting an $85 million tax break to the power plant, something Sithe and Navajo Nation President Joe Shirley, Jr., had sought in the last legislative session.

‘My family’s lands’

ELOUISE BROWN, PRESIDENT OF DOODA DESERT ROCKThe Desert Rock vigil began in December when Brown and some family members were checking out the plant site, which lies on lands where the family has long held grazing permits. Although Desert Rock had yet to obtain permits to take any action, Brown’s group found equipment and a “stub” where a well would be drilled. Then a contractor drove up in a truck, and Brown refused to let him pass.

“I told him, ‘You can’t go in, sir’. These are my family’s lands.”

The worker eventually left, and Brown’s family set up a blockade. “Little did I know I would still be here six months later,” she said.

She called tribal police for help, “but that turned out to be the wrong thing to do,” she said. “They started escorting Sithe Global workers in.”

Days passed and the vigil continued. Then-tribal Vice President Frank Dayish visited and expressed concern about the elders being in the cold; later, DPA workers brought some firewood.

Shirley himself visited the camp once, but the meeting accomplished little, Brown said. He arrived 2 1/2 hours late, she said, accompanied by some 20 police panel vehicles.

“He just says, ‘Well, you know where I stand on these issues’,” Brown said. “We had all talked before about how we would be polite and not swear or anything. Then Faith [Gilmore, a relative] stands on a table and says, ‘Why don’t you just get the hell out of here?’”

“I forgot about the swearing,” admitted Faith, a firebrand who just graduated from high school and is eagerly involved in the Desert Rock battle.

Not long after Shirley’s visit, courts said the protesters couldn’t block Sithe’s access, and Navajo police dismantled the camp, even taking away the protesters’ stew and coffee.

“They were eating KFC in front of us,” Faith recalled with a wry laugh.

After a flurry of legal wrangling, Sithe obtained a “categorical exclusion” from the BIA allowing the company to do preliminary work without an environmental impact statement. The courts ordered Sithe to leave the protesters alone and the protesters to do the same to the workers.

Protesters moved to another site, sleeping around a campfire in the cold. Eventually Brown, her husband and a supporter from Taos, N.M., scraped together enough money to build a small structure to keep the elders warm.

The encampment now is on a hill offering a good view of Sithe’s activities at the drilling site.

Tumbleweeds and salt cedar

Opponents say their concerns go beyond the power plant per se. Eddie Gilmore, sitting in the shade with other family members, said he is concerned about the coal-mining required to feed the plant. The Desert Rock proposal calls for the continuation of surface coal-mining at the nearby Navajo Mine.

“For me, I don’t want to see the mining. I don’t want the plant to be built,” he said. “I was born and raised in these areas. I don’t want them to destroy the land.”

He said he used to do reclamation work for the Navajo Mine, which supplies Arizona Public Service’s Four Corners Power Plant. “They try to put the land back the way it was,” he said. “They put 16 inches of topsoil over the spoils. But the only things that will grow out there are the tumbleweeds and salt cedar.”

Pauline Gilmore, his sister, worries about her livestock and where the family would have to relocate. “They don’t care about our sheep and cattle and horses. I have them about 3 miles over there. Where we going to move or stay away to get fresh air? They already have two places making the smoke and killing our people.”

She said Shirley is worse than previous presidents Peterson Zah and Peter MacDonald. “This one, he really gives us the trouble,” she said.

The project would also include a water well – the one being drilled – with a pipeline to the power plant. Critics wonder whether that’s the best use of water in an arid land. They were aghast one day to see water shooting out from the test site, hundreds of gallons going to waste.

“Water was shooting up way into the sky,” said White, who lives about 8 miles from the site. “It’s sad knowing they’re pumping that water, that sacred water that should be there for our next generation. I look to the children and young teens and say, ‘What are they going to have?’ To me it’s a waste for water to be used for that power plant.”

Desert Rock foes say the tribal government has turned a deaf ear to their concerns. About 30 protesters were blocked from Shirley’s second-term inauguration on Jan. 9, even though they had prior permission to be there, Brown said.

Dinah Gilmore said tribal chapters have been strong-armed into voting in favor of the plant, and opposition has been ignored. She said at a meeting of the Burnham Chapter, the president asked for a show of hands of those opposing Desert Rock. The majority raised their hands, but he blatantly ignored them and announced that the majority were in favor, she said.

‘Economic silence’

But Desert Rock’s defenders say they are the majority and that the plant would provide a desperately-needed boost to the tribal economy.

“The Navajo Nation overwhelmingly supports the Desert Rock Energy Project, and we need it,” Shirley pleaded in a letter to a state legislative committee considering the tax break. “Today, every highway leading off the Navajo Nation leads to a flourishing economy on our borders. And every highway leading onto the Navajo Nation leads to economic silence. . . .

“Desert Rock is not just another power plant,” he wrote. “It will not exploit our people and lay waste our land and air. It will be the cleanest coal-fired power plant built in the U.S. today. It is the largest economic development project in Native America.”

But state Rep. Ray Begaye (D-San Juan County) replied to the legislative committee with a Feb. 27 letter contesting Shirley’s claims and accusing the tribe of squandering numerous economic-development opportunities through “political hog-wash and gerrymandering at the Navajo Nation capitol.” Among the projects stalled or halted, he wrote, were an egg-manufacturing plant in Huerfano Chapter, a potato- chip manufacturing plant, a large shelter for women and children victimized by domestic violence, and the Boys and Girls Club, which closed.

“The only way to unlock the gridlock of tribal bureaucracy is to re-organize the Navajo Nation government system,” he said.

Begaye also said that Shirley was “misinformed” that Desert Rock would be the cleanest coal-fired power plant in the U.S. “If that is his sentiment, then support Representative Peter Wirth’s amendment that matches the California Emission Control requirement,” Begaye wrote.

Desert Rock would dump 10.5 million or more tons of carbon dioxide into the air every year. That means it isn’t clean enough to meet California’s emissions standards, so that state will therefore not buy its electricity.

Still, Desert Rock would be far less polluting than the nearby power plants. The San Juan and Four Corners plant spew 67,000 tons of nitrogen oxide and 37,000 tons of sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere each year. Desert Rock would emit just 3,500 tons of each pollutant.

Sithe Global also signed an agreement with the tribe May 15 promising to sponsor projects to reduce sulfurdioxide emissions at other power plants or sources near Desert Rock. The total reductions would be 110 percent of the sulfur-dioxide emissions from Desert Rock, meaning emissions would be reduced from their current level.

And mercury emissions would be far lower than the existing plants’.

Going to the people

That doesn’t sway opponents, who urge the tribe to move away from traditional energy and into renewables. “We need solar and wind,” White said. “This would be a good place for those.”

Now that opponents have staved off New Mexico’s tax break for Sithe, at least until the next legislative session, they are turning their sights to getting individual chapters to pass a resolution opposing Desert Rock.

The Sanostee and Leupp chapters have already passed it, Brown said; she will be visiting the White Horse Lake and Blue Gap/Tachee chapters soon.

“Our goal is to get 56 in our favor out of the 110 [tribal chapters],” she said. “The more we educate the people, the more they are against this,” said Victoria Alba, a relative of the Gilmores. “I think we have changed a lot of minds.”

White agrees.

“Yes, it can be stopped,” she said. “It’s not just about the power plant. It’s also the strip-mining, the tearing up of the earth, and the relocation, tearing up people’s homes where they have lived for years. And these people don’t have power or running water. The Navajo Mine has provided a little solar system for people. But they still don’t have running water or power. That’s what gets to me. That’s not justice. That’s abusing the people. You use their things and leave them with nothing.”

“We just have to keep fighting,” Alba said. “It doesn’t matter if they’re a big company. They probably thought we weren’t going to last. But I believe we’re going to win this. I don’t think people are so stupid. There’s already two big power plants here and if you look at the Navajo Nation nobody’s become so rich from those. If we back off now, we’re to blame.”

Published in -July 2007

The Garage Sale Roadshow

Many people in America watch “The Amazing Race,” a television program where teams of young wanna-be millionaires compete by solving puzzles and wasting a lot of fuel traveling to various exotic destinations across the globe. Supposedly, it’s an exciting show, where contestants’ emotions are put to the test and tears flow like…well, like televised tears, I suppose. I wouldn’t know. I’ve only seen the show in passing – that is, while passing by it on my way to a different television network destination. You see, I experience the same emotions for the price of a local newspaper if it has a healthy listing of garage sales.

From what I can tell the strategies are similar. Most of the people I’m competing against arrive at garage sales in teams, having mapped a route that efficiently takes them from one end of town to the other, stopping at every advertised location along the way. Their bodies may not be muscular, toned, or perfectly tanned physical specimens, but I’d put their spirits right up there with the “Amazing” contestants I’ve seen on the screen. Of course, the challenge requires a keen eye and a steady hand.

Contestants must arrive early enough to grab the bargains – namely, the items worth more than the sticker price. Usually these items get marked incorrectly because the people holding the garage sale eventually suffer from sticker shock after a long night of unloading boxes, sorting items, and asking each other questions like, “How much do you think this metal thing with the hole in the cover is worth?” Five dollars is a figure that seems to work.

Usually I do a quick walk-about, scanning what’s out, picking up and carrying any curiosities, whether I intend to buy them or not. The trick is to snatch the item at the instant when the person next to me has almost decided to reach for it. When that happens to me I feel an irresistible urge to own the object, whatever it is, whether I need it or not, just because it was whisked away before I had the chance to decide I didn’t want it.

Naturally, “The Price is Right” is also playing in my head, and I’m fairly sure I’ve memorized the original sticker prices for at least two dozen of these items scotch-taped into their original packaging. At the Dollar Store, for instance, I remember seeing a plastic spatula for… a dollar, I’m pretty sure. This one’s marked 25 cents! And it appears to be brand new. When I glance at the woman sitting next to the cashbox who’s scrutinizing the pockets where I put my hands I realize she bears an uncanny resemblance to Bob Barker’s mother. Nobody has actually said the words “Come on down” out loud, but with a deal like this, who cares?

After my arms are full and I’ve stepped to the side to inspect and assess each bargain, my mind begins replaying an episode from “The Antiques Roadshow,” and I imagine there are clues any expert could read that reveal the item’s hidden value. Of course, sometimes it’s just a rolling pin, and I need a better rolling pin, or some pliers that aren’t rusted like the pair I keep in a drawer at home.

Sometimes, though, I am holding a true mystery, something that theoretically might be worth a few bucks. Maybe even worth a fortune, though a tiny voice in my head interrupts, Why would these neighbors, people whose house I’ve driven past a hundred times, be selling what appears to be a rare 1800s piece of Pennsylvania porcelain pottery for (I check the tag again to make sure) just five bucks?

My memory reaches for the professional voice instructing viewers about the markings on the bottom of pottery pieces or the sure-fire clue embedded in the glazing; I draw a blank, but I buy it anyway, just in case. And if you ever stop by my house I have cases of “just in cases” in my garage, just in case I decide to advertise my own garage sale.

David Feela writes from Cortez, Colo.

Published in David Feela

‘As the River Flows’: A rafting-season chronicle

 

Dolores river group seeks solutions

On March 14, the Bureau of Reclamation (BOR) hosted its annual public meeting on McPhee Dam and Reservoir. As the meeting was not well advertised, only two members of the public attended.

The BOR reported that current forecasts showed that McPhee Reservoir was not likely to fill and there would probably not be any releases from the dam, except for an electrofishing survey scheduled by the Division of Wildlife.

However, BOR agreed to send out McPhee operation updates to the public by e-mail. Later, conditions changed and releases were made, but forecasts and flows proved to be so wildly varied that boaters were left struggling with a rapidly changing, unpredictable river. Here are some e-mails sent to and from the BOR during May 2007 that chronicle the saga.

Tuesday, May 1

BOR e-mail – “The forecast shows that the Reservoir will fill but not spill. Things could change depending on weather and user demand.”

Tuesday, May 8

The boaters begin to hope….

Boater e-mail – “After all this moisture and hot week ahead — what’s the plan?? Will there be water going down the river instead of the canals??

Wednesday, May 9

A spill is added to the McPhee operations forecast dated May 8 – however in order to figure that out, you needed to open the spreadsheet attached to the email which showed an operations schedule that would maximize the higher flows for rafting on the weekends and include 400 CFS for DOW’s electrofishing trip May 16-18.

Thursday, May 10

Two forecasts were released on Thursday before the highly anticipated weekend flows.

BOR e-mail – “I received an updated forecast this afternoon which indicates that inflows will not be as high as previously forecasted. This has changed the schedule by reducing releases on May 14 and May 15 from 400 CFS to 50 CFS and May 19 and 20 are reduced from 800 CFS to 50 CFS.”

Friday, May 11

The irrigators weigh in:

• “Does this ensure a full reservoir and releases for fish surveys which are very important to accomplish this year? I have been directed by the Board of Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company to advocate for both of the above items. . . .”

• “I have great concern we will not fill the reservoir using this current forecast information or have adequate flexibility to conduct the much needed fish surveys. . . . I do not see the logic in starting a spill this early with a flip of the coin possibility of filling this year.”

BOR’s response — “I reviewed runoff forecasts, actual inflow, and reservoir usage today which indicate a release of 800 CFS on May 12 and 13 is necessary. . . . 800 CFS should be at Bradfield Bridge by 8:00 am Saturday. We plan to continue the 800 CFS release until 3:00 pm Sunday afternoon at which time we will decrease flows by 50 CFS/hour until we reach a base flow of 50 CFS. I remind you that this operating plan may change. . . .”

BLM law enforcement pays a latenight visit to boaters at Bradfield Bridge campground preparing for weekend flows.

Saturday, May 12

6 a.m. – Flow at Bradfield Bridge is approximately 90 CFS. About 30 boating parties are at the launch site. 8 a.m. – Flow at Bradfield Bridge is about 800 CFS. Boaters launch.

BLM law enforcement pays campers at Dove Creek Pump Station/Sheep Mountain Point campground a latenight visit.

Sunday, May 13

3 p.m. – Release from McPhee Reservoir is reduced by 50 CFS and ramp-down continues until 50 CFS is reached.

Monday, May 14

Thankful boaters record their weekend experience…

“I would like to thank the Dolores Water Conservancy District and Bureau of Reclamation, especially Vern Harrell for planning and conducting a conservative dam release this weekend for rafting and boating on the Dolores River below McPhee Dam. Vern did a good job of planning this release with boatable flows arriving at Bradfield Bridge by 8:00 Saturday morning and cutting off by sundown on Sunday. . . Even with the short notice and uncertain flow levels, I counted over 100 rafts, kayaks, and canoes with happy passengers floating between Bradfield Bridge and Slick Rock this weekend.”

But the water just keeps coming….

BOR — “We have experienced higher than anticipated inflows and much lower than anticipated reservoir usage over the past week. . . . It is necessary that downstream releases increase today to 800 CFS.”

Tuesday, May 14

And the water keeps coming…

BOR – “. . . we are experiencing inflows in the range of 3000 CFS with reservoir demands near 500 CFS. Releases will be increased to as necessary to maintain reservoir elevation 6923. Releases could range from 1000 CFS to 2000 CFS beginning May 15. . . ”

Wednesday, May 15

The irrigators decide to exercise their water rights.

BOR – “We anticipate a reduction in downstream releases starting today. . . due to the inflow decreases and user demand. I was informed at 10:30 this morning that MVIC plans to take 795 CFS the next two days. . . .”

Thursday, May 16

BOR — “Flows from McPhee dam are decreasing because of a decrease in inflow and user demand. Releases to the Dolores River this weekend are anticipated to be 600 CFS.”

However, with the river running at over 1,000 CFS and forecasts anticipating boatable flows through the weekend, rafters start launching again.

Friday, May 17

A recreation manager e-mail regarding the wildly varying flows – “I just returned from all the river launch sites at 4:05 this afternoon. . . I opened the new operating plan from 1:45 this afternoon to read that Tuesday’s forecast of 1000 CFS through Monday will drop to 600 CFS tomorrow. I encountered five groups today launching from Bradfield, Slick Rock, and Gyp Valley. Generally the trip from Bradfield to Slick Rock and from Gyp Valley to Bedrock is 3 days or 2 nights even at minimum water levels. Minimum levels for small rafts up to 15 feet is 800 CFS. Sixteen- foot and 18-foot rafts would be much better off at 1000 CFS minimum. If you were one of the citizens launching this afternoon, do the math. Fortunately I believe I did not see any rafts over 15 foot. Even more fortunately I did not see any groups with children or older family members. Most of the folks I saw were young enough and strong enough to survive the adventure they are going to have. Even more of an adventure when the forecast drops to 400 CFS tomorrow or maybe tonight? Perhaps the forecast tomorrow morning will indicate 2000 CFS and I should not be concerned.”

Boater frustration with fluctuating forecasts and flows erupts:

Boater to BOR – “I personally have to call bullshit. And as a matter of fact, I am going to laugh my ass off when you guys have to start dumping water again come Monday when the inflow is such that you can’t avoid increasing the downstream release. There is absolutely no reason why the flows could not have been held at the 1000-1200 CFS level as forecasted to the PUBLIC on Wednesday. People have flocked here for the weekend to run the river, & I feel BOR’s decision is wrong, rude, totally inconsiderate, & detrimental to those of us whose livelihood is greatly impacted by these decisions.. . . Your methods for determining what is right & wrong are out-dated, lack objectivity, & I’ll see you at the table.

BOR – “I have updated the forecast daily as I agreed. I informed every one all along that flows would change as user demand increases and inflow decreases. I’m sorry for the folks that made the decision to embark on multiday trips, but I don’t have any more data than what I’ve shared and have no control over irrigators and their demands. . . . MVIC decided to pull 800 CFS with little to no notice to me. . . . McPhee Reservoir is operated for irrigation and by contract the irrigators have the right to the yield of the reservoir. . . .”

With escalating sentiments and declining inflows, BOR changes tactics and announces the Memorial Day operations forecast well in advance of the weekend.

Tuesday, May 22

BOR – “It appears that McPhee Reservoir could fill by tomorrow, May 23. Once the reservoir is full, the amount that will be released downstream . . . will be equal to inflows less reservoir demands. We could see downstream releases ranging between 200 CFS and 800 CFS through May 30. Please consider the variability of releases and use extreme caution should you decide to embark on a multi-day river trip. . . .”

With an inch of moisture arriving the week before Memorial Day and McPhee Reservoir full, the 2007 Lower Dolores River boating season may not be over. Stay tuned for more of “As the River Flows.”

Published in -June 2007

Dolores river group seeks solutions

 

‘As the River Flows’: A rafting-season chronicle

For the past three years, a dedicated group of community leaders has been meeting to discuss ways to manage the Dolores River that will benefit fish, wildlife and human beings.

They have learned a lot — and one thing they’ve learned is that managing the “River of Sorrows” will continue to be anything but easy.

The group, called the Dolores River Dialogue, consists of representatives from all of the local and regional water managers as well as environmental groups, recreationists, and others. The group was convened jointly by the Dolores Water Conservancy District and San Juan Citizens Alliance to improve the environment of the Dolores River downstream from McPhee Dam while protecting or enhancing human uses of the river.

Their first meeting was held in January 2004. Since then the group has meet regularly to identify “doable” solutions for meeting fish and riparianhabitat needs. Despite the diverse and competing interests represented around the table, dialogue has continued.

However, the DRD is reaching a critical juncture. The science and hydrological research have been assembled and the time has come to start evaluating management options. Will the participants have enough courage to see these options through?

A plan to proceed

The first major task completed by the DRD was a “Plan to Proceed” — a blueprint of how the group would get to the point where it could decide what, if any, action to take to implement its goals.

Some facts about the Dolores

  • Our recent dry spell is not without precedent – between 1950 and 1965 there would only have been three releases if McPhee Dam existed and were operated as it is now.
  • The wettest years on record occurred when McPhee Dam was built. Between 1980 and 1995, there would have been releases from McPhee Dam every year except for three.
  • A genetically “pure” species of the native flannelmouth sucker (a bottomfeeding fish) is found in the lower Dolores River. Flannelmouth suckers have crossbred with the non-native white sucker in the Gunnison and other rivers to create a new hybrid sucker species. Unfortunately, recent DOW surveys have found only four of these fish near the Dove Creek sampling point.
  • Even though base releases from McPhee Dam have been managed to maintain a cold-water fishery (trout fishery) in the 10 miles below the dam, trout populations are well below the long-term average, primarily because of the drought. The long-term average is about 10 trout per acre over 14 inches long. In recent years, DOW sampling has found two to four such trout per acre.

First, it had to have data: an analysis of water availability downstream of McPhee Reservoir; an environmental analysis of how different river-flow patterns would affect downstream riparian habitat, fish, and wildlife; and a correlation between water availability and environment, with a “matrix of options” that outlines the impacts of different release patterns.

With the release of a draft correlation report at the group’s last meeting in March, the “Plan to Proceed” is essentially complete.

Native fish a concern

The correlation report includes a summary of the hydrologic and scientific findings for the Dolores River. The DRD did not have funding to conduct any primary research and had to rely on existing data.

However, a great deal of research was available. The Colorado Division of Wildlife has been doing regular fish population studies on sections of the Dolores for 20 years. Records of river flows go back to 1928.

The construction of McPhee Dam initiated a flurry of studies on the Dolores River’s ecology and wildlife. (If only that flurry of paper were snowflakes, the DRD would not need to worry about downstream flows.) The major accomplishment of the group was to compile this avalanche of data into a useful format.

Still, there are things that aren’t known.

David Graf of the DOW, one of the authors of the correlation report, noted there is insufficient information about native fish. “We were clearly able to show how little we know about the three native fish species of concern in the Dolores River [the flannelmouth sucker, bluehead sucker, and roundtail chub].

“Overlaying and compiling all of the fish-related data we have suggests the suckers are truly not doing well since dam closure,” he said, “but it’s only scratching the surface due to the lack of sampling sites river-wide and because we can only speculate why this might be occurring.

“The roundtail chub, being more of a generalist, seems to be hanging on, but again, data is a bit thin, especially for hard-to-sample areas such as Slickrock Canyon or the stretch below the Pyramid to Disappointment Creek.”

While not all of the findings are negative, overall the Dolores River is not supporting the riparian habitat or fish populations that it once did. And this is primarily due to lack of river flows.

Furthermore, the modeling done mainly by John Porter, former general manager of the Dolores Water Conservancy District, in 2006 suggested that McPhee Reservoir would fill and result in spills for 55 percent of the modeled years (more often than every other year). This is not playing out in reality and ratchets up the stakes for the DRD.

Water for the Dolores River is not as available as it once was.

Frustrated rafters

Since the construction of McPhee Dam, Dolores River flows have been managed by the Dolores Water Conservancy District under the direction of the Bureau of Reclamation.

However, the Dolores River actually has been managed for more than 100 years. Irrigation diversions from the Dolores started in the 1870s. The Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company built its Main Canal No. 1 in 1898. MVIC holds some of the most senior water rights on the Dolores and controls 800 cubic feet per second, or the entire flow of the Dolores River in an average year.

The DWCD manages the Dolores River to meet objectives specified by the bureau. These include:

• Fill the reservoir when possible.

• Manage releases to provide whitewater boating opportunities, when possible. Try to peak releases on Memorial Day weekend and provide a minimum of 800 CFS for as long as possible.

• Try to limit outflows to less than 4,000 CFS to avoid using the emergency spillway.

Operation of the reservoir is decided by the bureau based on daily inflow and irrigation forecasts. Generally, the goal is to fill the reservoir and then match daily inflow with daily outflow (irrigation plus releases to the river).

But forecasts are based on incomplete and highly variable information such as “sno-tel” readings that measure the water content of the snowpack feeding the Dolores River.

Irrigation demand can change daily, depending on soil moisture, humidity, and farm operations. Vern Harrell field officer for the Bureau of Reclamation, concedes that the “small spills” are the hardest to predict.

The past two years have presented just those cases. In 2006, McPhee Reservoir did not quite fill, leaving rafters without a boating season.

This year, according to Harrell, the inflow forecasts were 30 percent low, causing the bureau to scramble to release water with little notice to rafters and great uncertainty about the amount of water that would be released because of fluctuating irrigation demands.

While the boaters are getting a limited rafting season, everybody has been frustrated by the lack of notice and the inconsistency in flows.

Doable alternatives

As the real Dolores River is turning out to be much drier and more unpredictable than model river flows, identifying “doable alternatives” could prove to be an interesting but futile exercise for the DRD.

An “alternative” is a description of a flow regime in the river — for instance, increasing dam releases and river flows in April and reducing them in May. The group’s core team has developed an analysis tool to evaluate the potential impacts of any alternative on geomorphology, riparian ecology, and coldand warm-water fisheries.

But real alternatives are proving more difficult to find than “doable” ones.

For example, in the March 2007 DRD meeting, a simple alternative such as “finding” a few thousand acre-feet to ensure a good flow for fish-sampling during May in the hard-to-reach sites came up. At that time, run-off forecasts did not predict a dam release.

While the irrigators “went on record” that they would be flexible to support needed river flows, they are opposed to releasing any downstream water not already designated for fish. Thus, the only real alternative is to shift the schedule of fish flows to fit the sampling window – perhaps shorting fish water needs later in the summer.

Graf said that other than evaluating annual tradeoffs, the group hasn’t used its “matrix of doable alternatives” on “anything particularly significant that could affect ecological resources below the dam.”

But, he added, “I am optimistic that as we evolve as a group and refine how the tool can be used, we will be able to look at big-picture alternatives to target specific interests downstream.”

And it looks like those interests will be native fish.

According to Graf, 13 miles of electroshocking from the Pyramid to just above Disappointment Creek found only one bluehead sucker, only four large and one juvenile flannelmouth, and scattered age classes of roundtail chub, but very few. Brown trout and smallmouth bass were plentiful, which is bad because they compete with natives.

If this goes on, the DRD will have to evaluate options to improve habitat and growth conditions for the fish. These could include increasing instream-flow levels in summer as well as releasing water at different times of year to facilitate fish movement and spawning.

The Dolores River Dialogue is at a point where more data and tools are not going to help. The question of how to make real water appear in the river is going to tap the intangible resources that have been built over three years – trust, creative thinking, and understanding of the limitations and opportunities the Dolores River offers us all.


Published in -June 2007

New Mancos mayor ready to shoulder responsibility

 

MANCOS MAYOR MICHELE BLACK“Literally, one minute I was resigning as a town board trustee, the next, they were addressing me as ‘Your Honor’ – it was weird.”

That is how Michele Black describes suddenly becoming mayor of Mancos, Colo.

We are sitting in Becky’s Barbershop in downtown Mancos, watching my son get his first real haircut and talking about Black’s new political position.

Michele Black is a long-time resident of Mancos, having lived in her current neighborhood in town for the past 22 years. She works in town, walks her dogs in town and has played softball here for years. She is friendly, open and has a great laugh. In other words, she seems approachable to people of all walks of life – an attribute valuable in her position.

Black has served as a trustee on the Mancos Town Board since 2000. Five years ago, she was elected by her peers as mayor pro tem behind Greg Rath. In March, Rath told her that he would be leaving Mancos and therefore vacating his seat.

“I was nervous,” Black recalls. “I was really excited for Greg – he needed a change in his life. But I was nervous.” She adds, “Actually it was closer to panic than nervous.

“In the 113-year history of the town of Mancos, I was to be the first female mayor. That’s a large responsibility.”

But she was mayor pro tem, I note; she knew that this might happen.

“Yes, but it wasn’t a given. The law was changed last year creating more options in this situation. The board could have picked any of the six of us to do the job, or chosen someone else from town, or they could even have held a special election.”

But Black was chosen and she is excited. How has it been thus far?

“Not too bad, although at times overwhelming. At first it was great, then the responsibilities and duties started setting in and the learning curve really took off – it’s super steep right now.”

On of the difficult issues that Black has already had to deal with since taking office at the end of April is that Town Administrator Tom Glover has resigned and will be moving on to the Northwest.

“It was sad. It was really hard. Tom and I came in at the same time – I was brand new on the board when we hired him. We’ve seen a lot of growth and been through a lot of change together.”

Black pauses, then adds, “We were already faced with a lot this summer — this is one more big thing to deal with.”

What other things are on the table for the summer?

“We have two grants: one to complete Phase 2 on the Boyle Park project and another to replace the town sewer line. We’ve also finished a wastewater treatment plant study and need to begin the process of deciding how to update the plant and begin looking for grants to do so.”

Also, the town had received an additional $20,000 for improving the community center — putting in range hoods, a dance floor [in order to be able to offer classes] and carpeting. “This is in the works now and almost completed,” Black says.

“Now, on top of it all, we have to look at hiring a replacement for [Glover] and this is a daunting task… He has assembled a great staff who all work well with him and each other. We will need to find someone who can do the same or else we will be faced with staff turnover.”

I ask what aspects of Rath’s legacy she wants to continue.

She thinks for a moment, and then says, “I think that Mayor Rath moved both the town board and the staff into the 21st Century and I would like to keep it that way. Our current staff is very professional and the board, very invested. It’s good.”

What, if anything, of Rath’s legacy will she change?

“I attended a meeting in Cortez with representation from the tribe, the cities of Cortez, Dolores and Mancos, the sheriff and other agencies. The discussion focused on common barriers and strengths towards improved economic development. I would like to move forward with this discussion.”

Black is uncertain how long she wants to remain mayor.

“I have one year in this position until the next election. Right now I don’t know what I’ll do. By the time the election rolls around, I will have been in public office in some capacity for eight years. There will be five open board seats so it would be good to see some continuity, but it also depends on who’s coming out of the woodwork to participate in the running. If there is someone who is more qualified than I am to do this job, then they should run.”

And what would Black like people to know about her?

“I may not be a local in the oldtimers’ sense. I was born in Cortez, not Mancos, but this is my home and I do have a vested interest in this town.”

Becky, cutting my son’s hair, echoes that sentiment. “She is very devoted to Mancos,” she says.

Published in -June 2007

Slavery in the southwest

In mid-February 1862, Confederates clashed with the Union Army on the Rio Grande near Fort Craig, New Mexico Territory, in the Battle of Valverde.

The Confederates claimed victory, and took control of Albuquerque and Santa Fe. At the end of March, the Union Army confronted them again, at Glorietta Pass near Santa Fe. A Union victory drove the Southerners out of the Southwest.

Yolanda Nava, director of Marketing for the New Mexico State Monuments Division of the Museum of New Mexico, finds irony in that history. “The Union was trying to eliminate slavery, and we had it right here in the Southwest,” she says quietly in a phone conversation from her Santa Fe office.

She’s referring to the 1863 incarceration of Navajo and Mescalero Apache people near Fort Sumner. The U.S. military leader in the New Mexico Territory, Gen. James H. Carlton, directed Col. Kit Carson to kill all Mescalero Apache men, and to take women and children as prisoners to the Bosque Redondo Indian Reservation, on the Pecos River near Fort Sumner.

Carson also launched a scorchedearth policy against the Navajos in the Four Corners, taking livestock, and crops, burning houses, and poisoning water. When some 9,000 Navajos surrendered to him, his forces marched them 450 miles to Bosque Redondo, on a brutal midwinter trek, known as The Long Walk.

The Bosque proved disastrous to the captives, one-third of whom died while they were there.

But Carlton believed land at the Bosque would be good for raising crops, and though the Mescelaro Apaches were not farmers, he decided they would learn to be.

“Things didn’t grow well there,” says Nava. “The captives were forced to live in squalid conditions, with not enough food. The water was salty. The stress on the provisions was exacerbated by the high number of people the area just couldn’t sustain.”

Even the soldiers recognized the captives’ suffering and sarcastically dubbed the camp “Carletonia.”

Eventually, the Mescelaro Apaches, who considered the Fort Sumner area their territory, escaped the Bosque Redondo Indian Reservation in darkness. The Navajos remained, until the Treaty of 1868 established their nation.

Fort Sumner became a New Mexico State Monument in the early 20th Century, with the purpose of interpreting the Civil War. Then in the late 1980s, the New Mexico Monuments Division began developing the idea of a memorial at Bosque for the people incarcerated there.

Both the Navajos and Mescelaro Apaches had mixed emotions when the Bosque Redondo Memorial at the Fort Sumner State Monument opened in 2005.

“It’s a very painful period to recall,” explains Nava. “Both tribes were conflicted in terms of whether they wanted to look back at this situation.”

But they also realized that young people wanted to know and understand their history.

“It helps to heal,” she says, because by studying history, people can understand the dynamics behind it.

Manifest Destiny was the dynamic that created Bosque Redondo. Eastern pioneers believed they had to expand coast to coast to create a great nation, regardless of the consequences to cultures already present.

Nava believes people need to talk about the tragedy at Bosque Redondo in order to heal from it. “There hasn’t been an opportunity to close the wound, and to be able to transcend the pain that took place in the 1860s, and throughout the Eastern settlement of the Southwest.”

To help develop a healing climate, the Bosque Redondo Memorial became a member of the Coalition of Historic Site Museums of Conscience. Now it is seeking affiliation with the coalition. Affiliation will allow the memorial to join places like Britain’s Workhouse and New York’s Tenement Museum, to create a public dialogue on human rights and culture.

To achieve affiliation with the coalition, Bosque Redondo will present shows, workshops, and seminars. The permanent exhibit will expand to tell more of the Mescalero Apaches’ experience in the camp. Right now, the emphasis is largely Navajo because more Navajos were incarcerated, and more of their descendants helped create the memorial.

Recently, the memorial hosted the exhibit “Anne Frank: A History for Today” to help people connect Fort Sumner’s tragedy with atrocities across the globe.

“We are looking to frame the events of Bosque Redondo within the larger context of the violation of human rights,” says Nava.

Bosque Redondo developed age-appropriate materials for teachers bringing students to learn about Anne Frank, her 25 months hiding from the Nazis in Holland, and the journal she kept before the SS caught her and sent her to a concentration camp to die.

On June 23, the memorial will host the Long Walk Symposium, designed to help social-studies teachers learn to talk about human rights violations in ways that fit student levels of understanding.

Before the symposium, Liz Sevcenko, director of the Coalition of Historic Site Museums of Conscience, will lead a workshop to help teachers understand how to lead class activities on human rights and presentation of cultures.

How should they deal with people who deny that atrocities happened? What advice should they give students to help them cope with painful issues themselves? How should they say other cultures want to be presented?

“We haven’t had tools to work with this kind of material, and events and encounters,” Nava asserts. “We haven’t learned that we’re all part of one human planet.”

She believes that books, museums, and activists are heading people in that direction. But work still needs to be done. Everyone must come to terms with the diverse cultures that make up America and the world.

“In the 21st Century we have to learn to live harmoniously with one another,” she states.

Published in -June 2007

Impacts of fuel costs are felt across the Four Corners

 

DAN HOCH, OWNER OF DANIEL'S CONSTRUCTIONPetroleum is the lifeblood of the national economy. When fuel prices rise, everyone is affected.

But the impacts hit particularly hard in places such as the Four Corners, where driving long distances is a way of life.

Few citizens in the region have access to daily mass transit. They must hop in their cars, pickups or SUVs to go to work, buy groceries, haul water, obtain health care.

Fuel prices for a regular gallon of gas averaged $3.21 nationwide over Memorial Day weekend; locally they were about 20 cents higher.

Whether they will drop now is uncertain. Most analysts predict that prices will be fairly high at least through the summer.

If gas soars to $4 or more a gallon, the effects could undermine the regional economy, including three of its mainstays: tourism, agriculture and construction.

And high fuel prices could affect area residents’ daily lives in numerous ways — from how they recreate, how many meetings they attend, even what government services they receive.

Impacts on county services

Montezuma County Sheriff Gerald Wallace said rising gas costs translate into fewer patrols.

“We started taking measures about a year ago, when the price went up,” Wallace said. “For the rest of the year we lowered our proactive patrols around the county. We never restricted response calls, but we did limit the proactive patrols and spot-checking on certain things.”

The sheriff’s office spends $6,500 a month or more on its gasoline bill, even though it gets a 10-cent-a-gallon bulk-rate break at Fraley’s in Cortez and does not have to pay gas taxes. Simply doing the work of law enforcement means a lot of driving in a 2,036- square-mile county.

Wallace said his department plans to take cost-cutting measures again if the price per gallon hits $3.50, but although it neared that level over the recent holiday, it went back down slightly.

“At $3.50 we’re having a higher awareness of the officers driving around,” he said. “If it hits $4 a gallon we’ll have a limit — people will be able to drive x number of miles a day. And if it’s $4.50 we would have to reduce that number.”

However, Wallace said, the department is getting by so far because its budget for gas this year was higher than in 2006 and it has saved money in some other areas.

Montezuma County Administrator Ashton Harrison said fuel costs are affecting other aspects of county government as well, in particular the road department.

“It’s not just gas prices but energy — oil,” Harrison said. “Chip-seal [paving] is oil and rock. The more prices go up, the less chip-seal we’ll be able to afford.

“We had already purchased the materials [for current projects], but if the prices keep up for future projects it’s going to have a major impact.”

The county maintains 771 miles of road, 535 of which belong to the county and 236 that are maintained for the Forest Service under a contract.

Other county departments heavily affected by the prices are senior services, which delivers meals to elderly citizens and operates a transport van, and the assessor’s office, which of necessity has to do a lot of driving.

Leaning on tourism

High gas prices affect local governments in another way: They impact tax revenues. Most municipalities rely on an influx of tourists to boost their sales taxes, while other entities need property taxes — fueled by growth — to maintain their funding.

Lynn Dyer, tourism director for Mesa Verde Country® in Cortez, said tourism’s impact on the county is huge. “I would say tourism represents a third if not more of the economy of the community,” Dyer said. Agriculture and light industry make up much of the rest, she said.

When tourism falls, as it did in 2002 because of wildfires at Mesa Verde, the consequences are far-reaching. “Restaurants and motels are the most impacted,” Dyer said. “But when you’re in a gateway to a national park, you have hardly anybody who isn’t economically tied to that tourism.”

Visitors buy groceries and gasoline; they get auto repairs. And when motels and restaurants do well, they remodel and hire new workers, boosting the broader economy.

“I don’t think we would have near the number of amenities in this community if we were not a gateway,” Dyer said.

So far, she has seen no tourism slowdown because of gas prices. The Mesa Verde Indian Arts and Culture Festival over Memorial Day went well, she said. There weren’t as many visitors as last year, but that was expected because 2006 was the park’s centennial.

Some areas rely on tourism even more than Montezuma County.

“We are a tourism-based economy,” admitted Mary Jo Coulehan, executive director of the Pagosa Springs (Colo.) Chamber of Commerce. Although there is a little agriculture in Archuleta County and a construction boom, visitors are critical to the local economy.

The county hosts many events throughout the summer, including the FolkWest Independent Music Festival June 9-10 and the 4 Corners Folk Festival over Labor Day weekend. Ticket sales for both have been strong, Coulehan said, but there’s no denying people are worried about rising fuel costs.

“People are certainly calling to ask what gas prices are, but they’re high everywhere,” she said.

Construction slowdown?

Industries other than tourism are also hurt by soaring costs.

Dan Hoch, owner of Daniels Concrete in Cortez, said fuel prices are definitely affecting his business, which does excavation and concrete work for construction. “We work in Cortez and Durango, probably within a 100-mile radius,” Hoch said. “We have five vehicles that drive 200 or 300 miles apiece every week, maybe more, plus trucks for hauling gravel and dirt. We’re feeling the price of the fuel, plus we’re buying materials and they’re adding a fuels surcharge onto those.

“We try not to pass that on to our customers but I’ve got to make it up in other ways.”

Hoch said he thinks the impacts are being felt in the construction industry.

“I think we’re already feeling a little slowdown from the pace it was last year, and I think it’s going to keep eroding the amount of residential construction that’s happening. I think people are going to begin considering that [commuting distance] as a factor in where they’re going to live.”

Phyllis Snyder, a member of the Colorado Farm Bureau’s state board of directors, and her husband Sid are longtime farmers and ranchers in the Cortez area. She worries that energy costs will suck the profits out of her livelihood.

“Everything we do is going to be higher because we’re a pretty energy intensive operation,” she said. “I’ve been asked, ‘What’s hay going to be priced this year?’ I don’t know what the market will stand, but most of us that raise hay are going to have to get a pretty good price or we won’t even be able to pay the fuel to go cut it.”

The Snyders sell most of their hay to buyers in New Mexico and Arizona. Last summer, when gas prices rose, Snyder said she did some figuring about how transportation was eating into their profit margin.

“We shipped some hay to Gallup [N.M.], one semi load of 800 bales, four times a month,” she said. “I figured one of the four loads in a month had to pay for the fuel to haul the rest.”

Later this summer the Snyders will be shipping cattle to Pagosa Springs and will have to pay those transportation costs as well, whatever they are. “These cattle are already sold, already contracted. We have to make the costs up somewhere.”

She said everybody is feeling the pinch.

“But what are your options?” Snyder asked. “Don’t raise your crop? Don’t farm? We’re trying to figure out how to cut out something, but you’ve got to work the ground, fertilize the ground and blade it. The high prices right now really hit everybody hard because of the timing. You can’t wait till next month to see if gas will go a little lower before you plant your crops.”

Silver lining

Farmers in Dove Creek, Colo., have similar concerns, said Dan Fernandez of the extension office in Dolores County. “It’s going to have a major impact on agriculture here,” he said. “People say, ‘How on earth can we keep farming with fuel prices what they are?’

“Dryland crops are marginal already, and when you increase fuel costs and the farmer has to make a certain amount of passes through a field, every penny extra makes a difference.”

If high prices continue, some farmers may be pushed into selling out, but there isn’t a great rush to that yet, Fernandez said.

“We’re seeing some of that. There was a sell-off here a few years ago. But I haven’t heard of any of the main farm families selling out at this juncture.”

He said there seems to be a strong demand for large tracts of land, but most of the potential buyers aren’t planning to farm. “We get a few people who say, ‘I just bought 40 acres and want to make a living farming,’ but on dryland that’s a pretty difficult task.”

Ironically, the high fuel prices hit just as farmers were feeling a surge of optimism because of good spring rains, Fernandez said.

But there is a silver lining in Dolores County, because high fuel costs mean the market will be stronger for biodiesel, the alternative diesel fuel made partially with plant-seed oils — and the county has a biodiesel plant in the works.

“That’s the one aspect of this that could be positive,” Fernandez said. “The price of oilseed crops is tied to commodities markets and fuel prices, so if gasoline goes up there could be a benefit.”

Right now the group working on the plant is wrapping up its capital campaign. Fernandez hopes the plant will be operational next year. He said the profitability of oilseed crops is also growing because of demand from the food industry, which is switching from “trans” fats to healthier oils such as sunflower and canola.

The plant could have a ripple effect throughout the area, Fernandez believes. “If we get this up and running, it’s going to help all aspects of our economy.”

Creating jobs is critical in a county where 37 percent of the work force travels out of the county every day to work, he said.

Eroding salaries

Just as soaring gas prices are eating into the profits of businesses, they’re eroding salaries earned by the working classes, particularly in a region where many people commute long distances to their jobs.

“I don’t see wages increasing to the point where people can absorb these higher costs,” said Hoch. “Something’s got to give.”

Sarah Jane White of the Sanostee Chapter of the Navajo Nation, said she knows people who commute from Sanostee, which is some 28 miles south of Shiprock, N.M., to Gallup and Farmington daily. “There’s no jobs so they have to drive,” she said. “Gas prices have really had an impact on them.” And there are many on the Navajo reservation who have no running water and have to haul the precious fluid to their homes and grazing lands. “My cousin hauls water 35 miles every day or every other day for her and her livestock,” White said.

All this has a major impact, particularly for people who don’t have much money to begin with, White said. She is active in Diné CARE, an environmental group currently battling the Desert Rock Power Plant proposed on the reservation. “Those of us who are working against this Desert Rock — we have to do a lot of travel too and now that these hearings are coming up it’s going to be a lot of impact on us. We don’t have that much money to be driving around. Twenty dollars can’t really get you nowhere.”

Fortunately for Diné who need health care, transport companies operated by Indian Health Services will take them free to medical centers.

That isn’t the situation with many other area residents, however, who often have to travel long distances to see doctors or undergo surgery.

David Bruzzese, public relations and marketing director for Mercy Regional Medical Center in Durango, said a “significant” number of the center’s clients come from outside La Plata County.

“It varies by services,” he said. “I think I counted how many patient visits we have from Cortez and it’s in the 10,000 to 15,000 range every year.”

Occasional visits to the center may not be an onerous financial burden, but for anyone regularly receiving chemotherapy or other treatment, travel costs add to the already-high price of health care.

For folks in Durango, public transportation is available in the form of the Durango Transit, which stops regularly at Mercy during limited hours, but most area citizens have to use private vehicles.

Warning signs

But despite the many ways high gas prices hurt workers and businesses alike, few folks seem willing or able to drastically reduce their demand for petroleum, so prices are likely to stay high.

Snyder believes what needs to happen is for more oil refineries to be built in the U.S. “We drill for oil and gas here and then we haul it to the coast of Louisiana and Texas and Mexico and then we pay to bring it back,” she said. “This is a ridiculous process.”

The Farm Bureau is also pushing for development of alternative fuels, Snyder said.

Hoch thinks new types of energy are definitely the future. “I was just talking to a guy in Mexico,” Hoch said. “He bought an ’85 Chevy pickup, full-size, and it gets 34 miles per gallon. The engine shuts down to four cylinders when you’re crusing and it runs on ethanol. He pays $2 a gallon for it.

“That’s a really good start but there’s much more we could do.”

He said the biodiesel plant is an excellent step. “We need to act locally to produce alternative energy. We could be a leader in the nation with the resources we have here.”

For 40 years the United States has seen warning signs that the fossil-fuel bonanza will end, but has ignored them, Hoch said. “Americans keep trying to postpone the inevitable instead of looking into alternatives. I think gas will be in the $4 or $5 range before people say enough is enough.

“But if we don’t get weaned off our consumption we’re going to hit a drastic point where the economy can’t absorb the costs and it’s going to be catastrophic.

“We’re spending $100 billion in Iraq and we could be pouring half or that or a quarter of that into alternative energy. I think it’s time we did that.”

Published in -June 2007

Playing catch during the release

There’s pot-hunting on public lands, and then there’s pot-hunting on public lands.

One kind is the looting of ancient crockery artifacts from the plethora of Anasazi ruins across the Four Corners. The other kind involved BLM lawenforcement rangers allegedly hunting for the smokable kind of pot amongst the personal possessions of campers along the lower Dolores River the weekend of May 11-12, according to some suspects now charged with possessing a controlled substance on federal lands.

The impromptu raids netted the officers alleged grounds for numerous citations — along with a large raft of ill will — when a rare release of water from McPhee Reservoir attracted dozens of boaters to the Bradfield Bridge area on the lower Dolores.

What some didn’t count on was being rousted by the BLM officers as they settled into their campsites late the night before the release.

Three of the boaters who received pot-related citations told the Free Press they thought the rangers had unfairly targeted the rafting community, lying in wait to catch them committing what they see as a minor infraction in a state where pot possession is a petty offense.

Federal law treats possession of small amounts of marijuana more harshly than state law in any of the Four Corners states, providing for up to a year in jail and a $1,000 fine for a first offense, and a 15-day mandatory jail stint and a $2,500 fine for a second offense.

In comparison, the maximum penalty is only up to six months in jail and a $1,000 fine in conservative Utah for a first offense. In Colorado, a first offense nets a $100 fine and no jail time.

The boaters also accused the rangers of being overzealous and “skating the edge” in terms of legal searches.

Although rumors had the number as high as 40 or 50, BLM Ranger Keith McGrath, who along with Ranger Logan Briscoe was patrolling the campgrounds that weekend, said actually a total of 10 citations related to marijuana possession were written.

McGrath denied any illegal searches were conducted and said all the incidents for which tickets were issued involved contraband in plain sight.

McGrath, who along with Briscoe is responsible for patrolling 800,000 acres of BLM land in Southwest Colorado, including Canyons of the Ancients, said the issue was clearly defined in his mind, and denied the boaters were singled out for special scrutiny. “No, they were not,” McGrath said, “but [controlled substances] are illegal. If you’ve got them you can’t have them — it’s pretty cut-and-dried.”

The bulk of law-enforcement problems on BLM lands involve public safety, McGrath said, including drug and alcohol abuse, but he also stoutly maintained the officers were “absolutely not” targeting potheads.

“Those people were all contacted because they were in a fee campground and they did not pay their fees — they were given warnings for that and cited for possession of controlled substances,” he said. “There were no searches or anything like that — everything [confiscated] was in plain view, no people were searched, no vehicles were searched, nothing.

“That’s about as much as I can tell you right now because all this stuff hasn’t gone to court yet.”

‘Kind of aggressive’

However, an area resident who’s been boating along the lower Dolores for 15 years and was among those cited for possessing less than an ounce of pot told a different version of the events that weekend. “John,” who like the other two boaters in this article agreed to talk to the Free Press on the condition of anonymity, freely admitted he had been indulging in the weed on the second night he was contacted, but questioned the officers’ conduct and priorities.

“John” said on Friday night, May 11, about 20 people were sitting around a campfire at Bradfield Bridge, just below the breast of the dam.

“We had not paid the $8 campsite fee — I never even knew you had to pay a campsite fee at Bradfield — and apparently this gave them probable cause to come into our campsite and harass us.

“That night we were not actually ‘misbehaving’,” he said. “We were smoking cigars, and they basically came in and accused us of smoking pot, which was not true.

“They were kind of aggressive — shining flashlights into tents where people were sleeping and going through our kitchen.” They asked one person what was in his toilet kit and asked to search it, he said.

“This person is so far to the right there’s no way he would have anything illegal in there,” he said, laughing. “They were pretty insistent about wanting to search it and he was like, ‘No’.”

They then searched a bag of cooking spices in the kitchen area, he said, and pulled out the Italian seasoning.

“They were like, ‘What’s this?’ and I was like, ‘basil and oregano’.”

That night, he said, “Once they realized they weren’t going to be able to arrest us, they left,” but proceeded to issue citations to some other boaters, including three groups from Telluride.

It was the following night when “John” and his friends got busted.

“They came into our camp at the Dove Creek pump station [further downstream] at which time we were misbehaving, and wrote three of us tickets, two for possession and one for paraphernalia,” he said.

He said that night they had paid the campground fee and weren’t being loud or boisterous, just kicking back at their camp about 10 p,m.

“Their tactic is they lurk in the shadows and watch what you’re doing and they saw us smoking pot,” he said.

“I’m not saying we weren’t doing anything wrong,” he added, but he believes the limited manpower of the BLM could be put to better use protecting resources rather than hassling campers. He said, for instance, the campground was so littered with broken glass and other debris when they arrived his group spent more than an hour cleaning it before they could use it.

Another boater cited Saturday agreed.

“Andy” said he was with the group around the table at the pump station at 10 or 11 p.m. when he was handed a glass pipe and a lighter.

“From out of the darkness to my side comes this voice: ‘Give me that pipe’.”

“Andy” admitted he responded belligerently, first refusing to turn over the pipe, then plunging it in some cheese dip before handing it over. “I was furious,” said “Andy,” who was cited for paraphernalia. He said it was the middle of the night and they weren’t bothering anyone. “River-runners are a peaceful lot.

“I wondered, is this based on revenues or really trying to save the community from the drug-runners taking drugs down the river from Dolores to Las Vegas to make the big hit?” he said sarcastically, adding, “They [officers] weren’t out there at the Jeep Jamboree in Arch Canyon [Utah] going through people’s campsites.”

‘A conservative drum’

Another boater from Durango, “Robert,” said he and his girlfriend’s belongings were searched when they were contacted by BLM officers at the Bradfield campground Friday, after they arrived late that night.

Around 11 p.m., he said, “I noticed people in the shadows watching us, so I basically started walking over and three cops walked up, very aggressive with their headlights shining in our faces — it scared us, because we didn’t know what in the world was going on.

“One of them of them talked to her and one of them started to talk to me, asking why we hadn’t paid our fee, and we explained we had gotten there after dark and were going to do it in the morning, and I offered to pay them on the spot if they wanted the $8 then.

“As those two were talking to us, the other one was over there at the table just going through our stuff, basically looking through everything we had, including my bathroom bag,” he recounted. “At that time he locates a small amount — maybe two grams — of marijuana on the table and, of course, their attitude changed drastically.

“We were more than cooperative,” he added, “but I probably said something I shouldn’t — I said, ‘I know it’s illegal, but where I live in Durango, and in Telluride, people don’t care, and obviously people in Cortez and Dove Creek beat to a different drum — a more Republican and conservative drum,’ and he did not like to hear that.”

And even though he took ownership of the pot, “Robert” said, both he and his girlfriend were cited.

“I said, ‘It’s no big deal, it’s mine, write me the ticket,’ but they proceeded to say, ‘No, we’re writing both of you tickets,’ so they wrote two tickets for two grams of pot. So now we both get to go to court and pay the $1,000 fine or whatever it is.”

They have retained lawyers, he said. “We and our attorneys feel there was no reason for a search — we weren’t drinking or smoking weed or anything.

“It was very militant, very sneaky.”

‘Getting a line’

But McGrath emphatically denied he or Briscoe acted aggressively or rudely.

“No, they’re lying to you,” he said. “I’ll be blunt — you’re getting a line because they’re upset about getting their dope taken away and they’ve got to go to court — it’s just that simple.

“We were very professional, very polite [and] in several instances left with, ‘Hey, you guys enjoy the river’ — we talked about the river and only having one weekend of this release.

“We left on very good terms, but obviously when they got themselves worked up on their web site afterwards that’s not the story they’re saying,” he said. (Numerous negative comments about the busts have been posted on a boating web site.)

BLM field office manager/San Juan National Forest district ranger Steve Beverlin, who does not directly supervise law enforcement on these public lands, supported the officers’ actions.

“I applaud our law-enforcement rangers for doing that,” Beverlin said. “If people choose to disobey the law, then they have no reason to be upset about getting a citation.

“What if there were families down there camping next to people and they were doing the same thing?” he said. “It seems a little inappropriate and by any means it’s illegal.”

The use of marijuana “certainly doesn’t represent the river crowd, and I hope in your article you’re not equating that illegal drug use goes with river-running, because that’s not a correct assumption,” Beverlin said.

“To me it’s no different than a speed limit — if it’s 55 mph and you go 56 you’re breaking the law,” he said.

Regarding the allegations about the officers’ conduct, Beverlin said people getting cited would naturally be angry and likely to exaggerate.

“We encourage all our employees to be cooperative, work with people and be respectful in their dealings,” he said.

Bervelin said he read the comments on www.mountainbuzz.com, but otherwise, “I’ve gotten nothing but positive comments about our law-enforcement rangers and their ability to assist people and their presence in the field.”

Still, he said, the allegations of unprofessional conduct would be checked.

Bevelin said the focus on patrolling the campgrounds didn’t show any change in priorities, but was related to the anticipated heavy use that weekend.

“That’s why [the officers] were there, because we knew the public was going to be using those areas and that there’s a potential for usage to occur that shouldn’t.

“We’re not setting out to catch people doing something,” he said, “but the more people you have in a certain area the more potential there is for resource damage or illegal activity.”

Unpleasant encounter

Jimmy Nash, a painting contractor and columnist for the Free Press, was not involved in the May sweep, but recounted two experiences with BLM officers along the river last summer that he deemed unpleasant.

Nash said he was with his wife and 6-year-old daughter one afternoon last July at a picnic table along the river when two BLM rangers “sped up.”

“They pretty much harassed me about helping my daughter fish when I didn’t have a fishing license,” Nash said, though he repeatedly told them he’d only been helping his daughter cast. (Children are not required to have fishing licenses.)

The two officers also “accused me of wanting to camp there for the night,” he said, even though no tent was set up. “It was just nit-picking— looking for a reason to write me a citation.”

“‘Unpleasant’ would be a nice word” to describe their attitude, he added.

“I felt like they were looking for a reason to arrest me,” he said. “It ruined my day, my wife’s and daughter’s days, and I’ll never go back there.”

Nash said he found this particularly offensive in light of what had occurred the weekend before, when his family was camped near the pump house, and drunken rowdies began firing weapons a few hundred yards from his campsite.

“They were spotlighting our tent, shooting their pistols and scaring the crap out of us,” he said, yet when he told an officer about it the next morning, no action was taken.

“I said I was scared for our lives, and this guy looks at me and says, ‘Hey, this is Dove Creek. I’m not going to do anything about it,’ is basically what he was telling me,” Nash said. “But after my experience the next weekend, I saw they had no problem harassing hippies who might be smoking a little pot.”

Published in -June 2007

When hummingbirds go bad

Supposedly, an innocence exists in the natural world unparalleled by human beings. While society sits down to its usual seven-course meal of deadly sins, the animal kingdom receives its nourishment from some greater inner grace.

Few creations loosed from the Garden embody such an airy reputation for perfection as the hummingbird, which is why the idea of getting a hummingbird in the cross-hairs of a 22-caliber rifle scope and then pulling the trigger feels wrong. How could the tiny puff of feathers after the bullet passes through it, magnified within the scope, make anyone feel good?

I swear I’m not the perpetrator of this hummicidal act, but I understand the triggerman’s motivation. He told me his hummingbird feeder had been plagued by the rufous, a hummingbird with tattoos on both wings and probably a stud in its pierced beak, the one that refuses to let any other hummingbird approach the feeder. He finally reached the breaking point and felt compelled to take extraordinary action on behalf of those more patient birds hovering nearby, unable to confront the rufous. It’s sad that every species, no matter what size, has to deal with the overcompensating behavior of inferiority, more commonly referred to as bullying.

Junior high was my hummingbird feeder. A boy even shorter than me, Tommy Olson, felt obliged to torment me in every gym class. I’m not even disguising his name for the sake of privacy or against the threat of potential lawsuits. His actual name was Tommy Olson. He had blond, wavy hair (hopefully he’s bald by now), and stood about 4 foot 9 in the ninth grade. If he wants to sue me for writing about his sick behavior, so be it. I’ll get a lawyer big enough to beat up his lawyer.

I lost track of him by the time I graduated, and it came as a pleasant surprise when my 20-year high-school reunion announcement arrived in the mail soliciting information on the whereabouts of certain unaccounted-for class members. I scanned the list where Tommy Olson’s name appeared, and in my mind there was a tiny puff of joy: Tommy Olson was missing.

Maybe it’s inappropriate to take pleasure in his absence, but truthfully, I’m still smiling. I didn’t go to the reunion, so I never heard any of the gossip about my classmates, and I assume Tommy was never found. Good riddance. If any boy on the earth deserved to vanish, at least from my point of view, it was Tommy. I know the world produces bigger bullies, like the Bush family plagued for over a decade at the petroleum feeders by Saddam, but at least I didn’t have to marshal a semi-international military invasion to rid myself of my nemesis. Cosmic justice works just fine for me.

The thing about the rufous that frustrates me is not its aggression, but its tenacity. While the thought of destroying hummingbirds is not to be encouraged, I remember reading that Mayan royalty fabricated entire capes and robes made of hummingbird feathers. I can’t imagine the outfits were very warm for all the trouble it must have taken to gather so many feathers, but apparently plenty of people out there are willing to assist in a bully’s business.

Forty years after Tommy Olson, I’m still working at a high school and the bullies still strut the hallways, transfixed by their iridescent glory. Ridicule, taunting, and ugly behavior must be an instruction embedded in the human genetic code at birth. Teachers are supposedly responsible for stemming these behaviors, but kids have a way of vanishing from the radar screen when they harass each other. No teacher passively sits at the window watching, but believe me, bullies are quick. One minute they’re knocking somebody’s milk carton over during recess and the next thing you know they’re administrators and school board members. Subtlety becomes a way of life.

The same friend who told me about shooting the rufous once offered a different solution for eliminating gratuitous violence from the world. I thought he was joking, but the more I think about it, the more I see his suggestion’s merit. He believed everyone should have a constitutionally protected right to kill just one other person during their lifetime, without fear of prosecution, because every time someone’s behavior bordered on bullying, you could remind that person you still haven’t used up your homicide.

Better be nice is all I can say, if his constitutional amendment gets ratified. Retribution is always heading our way.

David Feela is a teacher at Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela

Faith and the conundrum it evokes

I must be honest. I am not a person of a mysterious faith, a believer in heaven or hell or a figure employing mystical powers from a throne on high. Yup, I am (as the righteous refer to me) an atheist.

Why do I bring this up? I was reading an article in one of the many different newspapers and magazines from both sides that I enjoy. In Canada, the U.K., and here in our religiously tolerant country, a number of people were arrested — identified as Muslims and in the same breath as terrorists. It struck me as strange that these persons of faith were identified by their faith first and deeds later.

In contemplating this it comes to mind that I have never read, in my numerous years, an article about anyone arrested and charged with some other dastardly offense to society who was identified as a Baptist, Catholic, Lutheran, or any other denomination of faith. To me these were evil men, but did their true faith have anything to do with their guilt? Let’s put this faith thing in perspective. Like ice cream, it all starts from vanilla, then as people’s wants change, we come up with strawberry, cherry — close in color but different in taste — then chocolate. Then the creme de creme for some, French vanilla (or should that be Freedom vanilla, like our Freedom fries?). Our leaders didn’t study or have a clue, it seems, as to what part faith would play in this butchery that we are involved in. Should I hate those who prefer chocolate, strawberry or cherry because I think I know that my basic vanilla flavor is the “purest” one?

As to why I can’t in good conscience follow a certain mystic direction to be a decent person. I’m not saying I’m always a decent person. I’ve had and most likely will have some transgressions before this journey is over. I believe that in this short period of life I should do my best to help my fellow man and leave the planet in a better state so those with which I have propogated the world will have as good a chance as I.

In the interim I should also extend as much help as I can to those around me or come in contact with that are not doing as well as myself. One of the things that upsets me most is those people who unabashedly proclaim, “I am a self-made man.” To be really honest, one should give credit to those along the way who lent them a hand, whether parents, teachers, employers or someone who referred you to a job and then of course the person who gave you the chance to show your abilities. It is not in me to look down on those that do not have it as good as I nor be in awe or jealous of those who have it better.

Back to this organized battle of the faiths. Whether one wants to believe we crawled out from under a rock, fell out of a tree or were created from mud or a rib, we were all the same in configuration and color at one time. Whence then did this battle begin and why now that we are supposedly more educated and more tolerant can we not realize that the money spent killing people of different faiths and beliefs is such an extreme waste? Employing those moneys for the good of humankind we could all be happy in a new Garden of Eden. It seems we are the only animal that revels in killing while at the same time professing the horror of it. The lion kills for food, the human, it seems, for sport and glory. How grand and glorious is it for parents, wives, children to give up their loved ones for democracy and faith, and the other side being indoctrinated that they will have 71 virgins when they die?

That’s another topic. People of faith make a big deal out of virginity, even stoning to death, in some countries, those who give in to their hormones or even are raped. All the while, in many faiths, the man can take as many wives as he can afford. Women always get the short end of the stick. Don’t forget that it wasn’t until 1920 in our own great country of faith that women finally received more status than the family pet.

In my youth I once met and dated a Catholic girl. When I met her mother she politely told me I could eat at her table; if I were sick she would care for me. But I would never marry her daughter, because I was a Protestant. She was the sweetest person you could meet, but because of her faith she did not like me.

Why do I mention this? Because it shows how an unprovable belief can destroy our tolerance for each other. In each faith people discriminate against one another to the point of hate. It is one thing to discuss provable disagreements and work toward a compromise. But to buy into a myth perpetrated by sharlatans who preach one thing and practice another and to do it through fear is incomprehensible to me.

Isn’t it strange that we can civilly sit down and discuss differences on concrete matters but on matters of faith we are led to hatred and war, with each side professing to offer the same mythical rewards and truths. Maybe if we understood faith as defined first in the dictionary, “allegiance to duty or a person” instead of arguing about an unprovable destination after death, we would be more tolerant of one another. Religious faith seems to be based on fear instead of love and acceptance. If you profess allegiance to your faith then practice what you preach and respect other faiths as you do your own.

Galen Larson writes from rural Montezuma County.

Published in Galen Larson

Time to transcend group identities

For those who have been vacationing on the moon, the Don Imus radio/TV show is no more. And while he deserved to be canned for the offensive and nonsensical remarks he made, the whole episode also raises some questions about our eagerness to see people as victims.

For the past year or two, I was a frequent watcher of the Imus show on MSNBC when I wasn’t watching CSPAN. (Not to sound too defensive about my blatant news-junkie nerdiness, but I wake up very early, and the current-event choices are few.)

At any rate, I saw enough of Imus and his fawning underlings to get a good idea of what he was about, which was making himself look clever and hip by being cruel to a wide range of anonymous folks – fat, gay, minority, whatever – or to the politicians with whom he didn’t agree. (Politically, he is slightly left of center, but he also promoted such anachronisms as Pennsylvania’s former U.S. Sen. Rick Santorum, just to show that he was actually a fair and balanced guy.)

His treatment of all his political guests was irreverent and hard-nosed, and many of them plainly appeared on the show just to demonstrate they had the courage to face his withering (or at least withered) forays against their hypocrisies.

Imus tried to cultivate a countryboy/ NASCAR image by wearing cowboy costumes during his broadcasts and asking his sports guy, whose obesity he loved to ridicule, about the latest stockcar races. (He himself rides in limos and flies in private jets – not quite what the average race fan could relate to — but as Emerson said, a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of a small mind.)

So after decades of dancing on the edge of the abyss, the decrepit shock jock finally went too far, referring to the Rutgers University women’s basketball team as rough, kinky-haired whores the day after they’d lost the NCAA Division I championship game.

A storm quickly gathered despite Imus’ initial lame apology, and the media rushed for comments from the usual “leaders” of the black community – Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson chief among them – who condemned his mean-spirited slurs, threatened boycotts, etc. Sponsors began dropping the show and both NBC and CBS tested the water by announcing he would be “suspended” for two weeks. (This was quite the punishment for a retirement-age geezer who always looks like he could use more time in the Lazy Boy anyway.)

In the meantime, Imus begged for forgiveness, promising to henceforth include more minorities on his show. (Whether he would include more “fat sissies” and “faggots,” and “bone-nosed beanie-wearing Jewboys” and “towelheads” was not made clear.)

These measures flew about as well as Howard Hughes’ plywood airplane, however, and the economics of the PR disaster – not ethical issues – compelled the networks to can him entirely.

Good riddance, I say, to a pile of crap who got rich by being mean in the name of cutting-edge humor. There is nothing funny about what he said about the Rutgers women, nothing even clever.

OK, so Imus got his comeuppance, but it is the discussion that’s followed that troubles me for reasons that have little to do with his boorish behavior. Sharpton and Jackson, well known for rushing to the scene of any racially divisive incident and championing the “black side,” are now taking credit for getting Imus off the airwaves. They regularly exploit such incidents to promote themselves and raise money for their non-profits.

Both have demonstrated they have little regard for the truth – notably Sharpton in the 1987 Tawana Brawley case in which a young black woman falsely claimed to have been raped by a half-dozen white men (they were exonerated, and Sharpton was successfully sued by one of the men he’d defamed); and Jackson in the recent Duke University non-rape case in which the black accuser was shown to be lying about her alleged white attackers. Jackson even promised this prevaricator a college scholarship, regardless of the outcome or her veracity.

The coach and members of the mostly black Rutgers team held a press conference during which they rightly condemned Imus, but then fell into a trap that I believe could condemn them to a self-image more harmful than any words some geriatric freak could utter.

Some of the players said his comments would affect them for the rest of their lives – one observing she expected to be permanently “scarred” – and their supporters universally stressed how deeply hurtful his words were to all these young women.

In other words, these highly disciplined, competitive individuals had been irrevocably harmed by a few nasty words tossed off by someone they didn’t know. The implication was that he had ruined their lives, despite their athletic prowess, their academic achievements and the perverse resulting fame that had unexpectedly lionized them.

It went on for days, the “dialogue” about the impact of his words, whether his dismissal was appropriate and should blacks “forgive” him. What was mostly ignored during these exchanges was the great power falsely attributed to Imus’ ugly blather.

These women aren’t victims, aren’t so weak that any harsh words spoken by whomever — the pope, the president — can render them quivering piles of protoplasm whose futures have suddenly been stolen. On the contrary, they’re so strong, tough and resilient they managed to get all the way to that championship game.

The problem is that the black team members are apparently being urged to see themselves first and foremost as members of a group rather than simply as individual members of the human race — just as all Americans seem obligated to see themselves as members of some group they superficially resemble. (Chinese-American, Hispanic, Irish or whatever. Christians, Jews, Muslims or whatever. Blue-collar, white-collar, no-collar or whatever.)

Historically, though, all races and other subgroups have practiced slavery, discrimination and cruelty toward people they saw as somehow different and therefore inferior, and none of us has any moral high ground on which to stand when it comes to addressing these issues. We are all sinners.

And all of us have to get beyond identifying ourselves by our skin-deep similarities and our so-called “cultural” differences, and fully accept that we are only very temporary residents of Planet Earth, who need to treat one another, our home and all its other inhabitants with the respect life in general deserves, and to condemn words and deeds that harm anyone, not just the members of “our” kind.

Otherwise, our species will soon drive itself to extinction, and it won’t make a damned bit of difference what some ravaged dope fiend said on the radio, or what the proper punishment might be, because the human race will become as irrelevant as he has.

David Grant Long writes from Cortez, Colo.

Published in -May 2007, David Long

Shelter from the storm – a success story

Covered with drywall mud from a hard day of hanging sheetrock, Darrin Blue Eyes arrived at the Bridge Shelter and De-Tox Center in Cortez soon after it opened one chilly evening last month.

A Navajo man who jokingly confided, “My eyes are not blue,” the weary 27-year-old was ready for a shower, some clean clothes and dinner, then a good night’s sleep before he did it all over again the next day. Still, he engaged in some good-natured bantering with other guests while chowing down on some thick bean soup and biscuits, and then agreed to chat with the Free Press for a few moments before heading off to bed.

JACKIE BARKER IS DIRECTOR OF THE BRIDGE SHELTERHe was not homeless, nor was he intoxicated, Blue Eyes explained, but needed a temporary place to stay because he lives up north near Cahone and has had no transportation to work in Cortez since his vehicle broke down. He’d been struggling to get back on his feet after some personal problems, he added, and hoped to stay at the shelter until he saved up enough for a new ride.

“I feel very comfortable here,” he said, “and I like the way they treat the guests that get a little ornery.”

There certainly are the occasional incidents of “orneriness” to contend with, of course, mostly fueled by alcohol, but usually quickly resolved by the staff members’ considerable de-escalation skills. Only rarely do things become serious enough to involve law enforcement.

A convivial atmosphere fills the two general rooms. The Diné (Navajos) greet each other with friendly Ya’ ta heys; there are also hellos and remarks of “Where were you today?” as folks sit at the lunchroom-style tables for a hot supper or plop down in front of the small TV.

Many know each other, at least in passing. A few are quite intoxicated, some have had a drink or two, others are stone sober and eager to sleep before getting up for jobs the next day.

Regardless of the condition or situation of the residents, admittance to the shelter is a simple process involving little more than showing up at the door. Staff workers greet incoming guests, take their coats, pat them down to make sure they are not concealing alcohol or weapons, then offer them food. Those with particularly poor hygiene may be urged to bathe and have their clothes washed. Sweat suits are provided for pajamas for these guests, and laundry is done periodically throughout the evening.

Most of the clients are men, who are assigned to one of three rooms depending on their need for quiet, such as those with jobs. One room is designated for extremely intoxicated clients, on whom a closer eye is kept. (They are checked every quarter-hour.) One room is reserved for women.

Couples are accepted at the shelter, but must sleep seperately. No parents with children can be admitted for obvious reasons involving the kids’ welfare, but alternate arrangements such as motel rooms are provided for them.

Each morning the residents must vacate the premises by 7, but are required to perform chores — stripping their beds, cleaning the bathrooms, sweeping and mopping the dorms — before they can leave. Depending on what food has been donated recently, a breakfast — coffee, hot chocolate, juice, pastries, cereal, sandwiches — is waiting in the dining room, as are their clothes, which have been washed, dried and folded during the night.

Usually there’s a lot of good-natured kidding among the guests as they prepare to face yet another day, and then they gradually drift away to pursue whatever immediate goals they may have in mind, whether a job that might offer them a chance to save money for a permanent home, or a wake-up jug of cheap booze.

‘Keep a person alive’

Blue Eyes, who gave permission to use his name for this story, said he was grateful for having a place to lay his head at night, and planned to stay at the shelter until “whatever comes first — I get a vehicle or the shelter closes.” (The shelter did, in fact, close at the end of April after staying open nearly a month longer than originally planned because of an extended cold snap.)

He is one of nearly 200 individuals who availed themselves this past winter of the shelter’s services, which have been provided through a remarkable grassroots effort by religious leaders and other concerned citizens who want people down on their luck to have a safe, warm place to stay in the winter.

The shelter is housed in the old Justice Building at the northeast corner of Mildred Avenue and Empire Street in Cortez.

Guests range from hard-working folks simply down on their luck to an occasional person just released from jail to a core of street alcoholics, who make up a sizeable portion of the regular residents throughout the cold months. And they are certainly most at risk from the dangers the shelter is intended to ameliorate.

Having the shelter available for these folks in particular can lighten the burden of patrol officers in looking after their welfare, said Cortez Police Chief Roy Lane, especially during inclement weather.

“[The shelter] has a pretty big impact on us,” Lane said. “It allows us to have some place for those folks to go. We don’t have to worry about them freeezing, or being out on the street at night where they’re vulnerable to attack, so it’s been good for us.”

One welcome benefit is that dropping an intoxicated person off at the shelter takes far less time and paper work for an officer than would all the steps, often including medical clearance at the hospital, of taking a drunken pedestrian into custody.

“It eliminates almost all of that,” Lane said. “It doesn’t generate a report for us to put them in there, so that time is freed up” for other duties.

Lane dismissed the criticisms of those who see the shelter as enabling many of the clients’ alcoholism.

“I guess what I’d say to them is that sometimes it’s more important to keep a person alive than it is to worry about whether you’re ‘enabling’ them.

“I just think in a life-and-death situation, it’s a lot better to have [the shelter] than not have it — and I don’t know that you are enabling them. There’s a difference between what it is and just a flop house, so I think it’s very valuable for us to have it.”

Montezuma County Sheriff Gerald Wallace underlined the grim reality of what has happened all too regularly in the past.

“We always have a few people every year that die because of exposure to the cold at night,” he said. “Summertime is not such a big deal, but when it’s 20 degrees or even below zero, it’s pretty tough.

“The shelter gives us another option to give someone a place if they have nowhere else to go and they’re harmless, or they’re just down on their luck,” he said. “If that wasn’t the case, I’m not sure exactly where we would take them.”

Jackie Barker, director of the shelter, also emphatically disagreed with the sometimes-heard criticism about the shelter “encouraging” alcoholics, pointing out that the problem existed long before the shelter did.

“Regardless of whether or not the shelter was open, they were here,” she said, “so I still don’t think it’s enabling them. I asked several of the clients one night — we were sitting around talking and most of them were sober — what kept them here in the winter time, if it was the shelter being here . . . and if the shelter was closed where would you go?

“Most of them said they would probably be sleeping out in the sagebrush area still, and that it’s not the shelter that keeps them here — it’s the alcohol.” A portion of the shelter residents with severe alcohol problems are Native Americans from the Navajo and Ute Mountain Ute reservations, where alcohol is banned.

Barker said negative reactions to the shelter have been rare.

“The most negative comment I’ve had was that one gentleman said it brought in people from out of town to the shelter,” she said, “but I haven’t seen a lot of that,” other than last fall when a few people were winding up summer jobs in the area.

“People do stay here from out of town, and I know for a fact that people stay here who have homes, but a lot of it is that they’re here working.” In fact, she said, the word “homeless” had been eliminated from the name of the shelter to reflect more accurately the clientele.

“I think it made people fell better about coming here — the ones who didn’t drink and had places to stay, like one gentleman who had stayed here until he could get his roof fixed” after it collapsed from a snow storm.

“Had it been called a homeless shelter, I think it would have been harder for him to come.”

Beyond that, “[The shelter] is good in that it’s saving lives — we get people off the streets,” Barker added, “but I do believe we need a detox more than anything.”

Currently little can be done at the shelter to deter the inevitable physical and psychological downspiral stemming from alcohol addiction.

“As it is now, there’s nothing we can do to help them stay sober,” she said. “We’re just giving them a place to sober up and then they just go right back out and drink the next day.”

But with an actual detox unit, she explained, “we would have more resources to help the clients — it would be a place to change their lives.”

Steps in that direction — building a permanent seasonal shelter and yearround detox — have been taken. County Administrator Ashton Harrison said the Montezuma County commissioners have offered land along Park Street north of Empire between the Justice Building and the new jail as a site for a new Bridge facility.

Additionally, various grant applications have and are being submitted for construction and operational funds that possibly could use the value of a longterm lease with the county as an inkind contribution, or matching funds, for grants that require one.

“I think it’s still up in the air whether to lease it [the land] or make it an outright donation,” Harrison said. “For some grant applications they consider leases as in-kind in lieu of cash, so if we leased it for $1 a year and its fair market value was $1,000 per month, then they would be able to write that as an in-kind.

“That’d be for them (the Bridge board of directors) to figure out what would work best,” he said, “but the commissioners did agree” in February to providing the land if the Bridge can work out the funding for construction and operation.

But even if fund-raising is successful, the actual construction of a permanent home won’t happen this year, and there is some question about whether the current space can be used again this fall.

In some ways the former jail is an ideal home for the shelter — the steel bunks in the bedrooms are virtually indestructible and the “cellblocks” are designed to be easily cleaned. One disadvantage is that no one can stay at the shelter during the day because its dining area is used as a holding room for prisoners waiting to go into Montezuma County Court, which is located in the building.

But even such limited use of this space might no longer be available if the county needs it for other purposes, possibly for a new courtroom should the state approve the addition of another district judge in the 22nd Judicial District, a measure currently before the legislature in Denver. Even if passed, however, such a measure could well take another year or two to actually fund and implement.

Harrison said whether the shelter can remain at its present quarters would be determined later this summer when shelter representatives will formally request its use at a commission meeting, but that a “facility-needs assessment” was going to be conducted to determine how efficiently all the county facilities are being used, and that there had been only very preliminary discussions about possibly remodeling the shelter space for a new courtroom.

Wallace said he would be amenable to the shelter remaining in the Justice Building another year unless the space is required otherwise.

“That’s a decision for the commissioners,” he said, “but I support — if the building is not used for anything else — at least allowing it for another year, because I don’t think they can get their other building up and running in the meantime.”

He said the original concerns of other users of the building — county court and probation — have largely been addressed

“They’re pretty receptive of it now because it does provide such a good service for the community.”

And reaction from the community has been “overwhelmingly positive — all I’ve heard is positive comments — especially about the people who volunteer their time there,” Wallace said.

“This is really a community effort,” said Barker, noting that the shelter gets support from the local business community and churches as well as close to 100 volunteers who contributed more than 3,000 hours to make the shelter tick this season. Each evening the shelter requires two shifts of two to three people.

City Market donated a large amount of dented cans and other superficially damaged groceries, Barker recounted, and both Grace and Hope kitchens as well as Once Upon A Sandwich have supplied left-over prepared food. Wal- Mart has donated opened packages of underwear and other apparel.

The shelter also received a $2,500 grant from the El Pomar Youth in Community Service program, which encourages young people to get involved in philanthropic efforts by matching the money they raise to contribute to worthy local causes.

Lauren Bradford, a Southwest Open School senior who is a member of the EPYCS group there, said the shelter scored among the highest when the club evaluated various local service organizations.

“We scaled them on their mission statement . . . impact, sustainability and leadership,” Bradford said, “and [the shelter] scored really high on everything — their mission statement went perfectly with ours.”

Students from SWOS as well as Dolores High School have also volunteered to clean the shelter on Sundays before it opened for the week in addition to the daily cleainings done by the guests.

Dignity and self-sufficiency

M.B. McAfee, chair of the Bridge board of directors, said she wasn’t aware of any other community shelters that so heavily depended on volunteers, and believed their sustained support made a very positive statement about the area.

“There may have been shelters that had such a huge reliance on volunteers in other communities, but we didn’t even look for models,” said McAfee, who did regular turns herself at the shelter. “We just tried to do what needed to be done with the resources we had — what needed to be done was to keep people from freezing, and the resources we had were volunteers.

“And until we are able to grow our organization with money from grants and so forth, we’ll have to continue to rely on volunteers.

“The volunteer aspect is truly something the community is to be commended for, because it is definitely altruistic — we collectively rose to a need.” Personally, McAfee said, she feels well-rewarded.

“As a retired social worker and somebody who likes direct service, for me it’s rewarding because you help someone immediately. I find that inspirational — I guess that’s what gives me energy to stick with the program.”

She said a long-term goal is to be able to rely more on paid staff and lessen the demands on the volunteers’ time, although they would still be an integral part of the effort, perhaps being asked to work once or twice a month rather than doing weekly shifts.

“We will still have to rely on volunteers,” she said, “but my hope is we won’t have to use them as much as we have been, because my fear is the volunteers will not want to do it any more, even though they get a break in the summertime.

“It’s going to be a gradual moving away from volunteers, but I believe there will always be a place [for them] at the Bridge shelter and whatever it morphs into in the future.”

The Bridge shelter was preceded by a facility of similar intent — the Christian Emergency Shelter — that operated for several years south of Cortez. That was the creation of the late Fred Thomas and his wife, Nancy, who is president of Christian Ministries and serves on the current shelter’s board.

“We believe that all people deserve the basic necessities of life,” declares the Bridge vision statement. “We envision a community whose people can access emergency shelter in a manner that supports their dignity and encourages self-sufficiency.”

For the past two years, that vision has been 20-20.

Published in -May 2007

Paying attention to details

 

ARTIST JERRY COHOEIn the early 1990s, Cortez artist Jerry Cohoe didn’t consider the pencil a serious drawing medium. His pencil was a tool to sketch plans for paintings and prints.

Then he spotted pencil drawings at an art show. “It amazed me what [the artist] could do with just a pencil,” Cohoe says quietly.

He wondered if he could produce pencil images. So he tried. “I got better and better,” he chuckles. “It’s like I tell my students, the more you practice, the better you get at it.”

He got so good that he quit painting and printing, and let himself fall in love with the fine details he could produce with a pencil.

“With graphite, you can sharpen it to a needle point,” he explains. “Now I get carried away with my details.”

In addition, he enjoyed the challenge of creating a pencil drawing. “You can do things with color to make [a painting] look a certain way.

“But with pencil, you only have light and shadow. You have to work with those to make things look threedimensional.”

He has not painted or made prints since 1995. Today, he specializes in pencil portraits, and other commissioned works.

Slowly turning the pages of a thick black portfolio, he reveals drawings of everything from goats, to Navajo elders with deeply-lined faces, to rodeo cowboys and horses, to his grandchildren, Presley and Miles, on their first birthdays.

Cohoe’s interest in art began in childhood. Born in December 1957 in a four-walled canvas tent in Cortez, to a traditional Navajo medicine man and a mother who knew only the Diné way of life, he grew up with the fundamental Navajo reverence for all living things.

He also watched his mother weave Two Gray Hills rugs, and his father create ceremonial sand paintings on hogan floors. “I believe that’s where I picked up my artistic ability,” Cohoe says.

After receiving his primary education at the Sanostee Boarding School in New Mexico, he attended Aztec High School. There, he took art classes, but generally ignored his talent, going on to study forestry for two years at Fort Lewis College.

He worked for the U.S. Forest Service in Gunnison, Colo., then drifted into uranium mining, where he learned to operate heavy equipment.

Around his day jobs, he kept drawing, married, and started a family. In the early 1980s his wife, Etta, recognized his talent, and encouraged him to develop it. He began by copying pictures and drawing objects, scenes, and animals from Navajo culture.

“If you’re familiar with your subject, you’re going to do a lot better job drawing it,” he comments, though after enough practice, he also realized he could “draw just about anything.”

Soon, he began showing his work to other artists. They suggested he enter exhibits to get his name in front of people.

He did, and quickly discovered that the public liked his paintings, but couldn’t always afford them. He began making limited-edition prints and note cards.

He also noticed subtle shifts in the Navajo life around him, and after his father died in 1992, he became interested in preserving his past. “I wanted to present some of the things I knew about the Navajo people — the style of clothing, the way of life, and all that.”

From there, all Cohoe had to do was discover the pencil to express himself exactly as he wished.

Today, he shows drawings in Phoenix, and Santa Fe, and plans to expand to galleries in other parts of the country. “I have private collectors coast to coast,” he adds.

In June, he’ll open a one-person show at the Cortez Cultural Center, his first there, since about 2001. The exhibit will run the entire month.

When he isn’t drawing, Jerry Cohoe works with the Cortez after-school art classes, encouraging students to start drawing by using subjects they know, just as he did.

“Once they master techniques with familiar subjects, they can go on to new things.”

He also donates art to charities such as United Way and the American Cancer Society. He has painted a picture of a dog and her pups for an Arizona Golden Retriever rescue group. Cortez’s Head Start program will use one of his images on graduation certificates and T-shirts.

The Denver-based American Indian College Fund raises scholarship money and other support for the nation’s 32 Native-run colleges, in part by selling a Holiday Series card package from selected Cohoe prints and paintings. The AICF also offers Portraits, a notecard collection containing his pencil drawings of Navajo faces.

On Friday evenings in the summer, Cohoe uses his art to explain the Navajo lifestyle to tourists and locals who visit the Cortez Cultural Center.

“It makes people more aware of their own [culture] when you hear of someone talking about theirs. The more we educate people about other cultures, the more we’ll all get along.”

He has been invited by colleges in Minnesota and California to make cultural presentations to students. Wherever Cohoe speaks, he likes especially to discuss the Navajo Code Talkers, whom he calls “a national treasure,” and to describe the resilience of the Navajo Nation, “which has been growing by leaps and bounds over the last century.”

And — oh, yes — Cohoe still operates heavy equipment around the Cortez area, but only in the summer. He creates his pencil drawings in the winter when it’s too cold to work outside.

“That’s my enjoyable job,” he says with a laugh.

Published in -May 2007, Arts & Entertainment

The battle over motorized recreation in San Juan County, Utah

A canyon wren flutes a series of delicate notes, a descending scale, into the soft air. In a deep pool beneath a pink boulder, speckled fish dart in and out of shadows.

A raven swoops low, looking for scraps left by visitors; its wings whoosh. A hummingbird hovers, its much-tinier wings thrumming. The silence is so pure that the sound of tent caterpillars’ droppings can be heard falling from trees – a gentle rustling, plopping sound. The caterpillars are everywhere, crawling across the fine sand in what appears to be an invasion of Biblical proportions.

2007 JEEP JAMBOREE THROUGH ARCH CANYONIt’s difficult to imagine that this serene canyon in southeastern Utah has for weeks, even months, been the center of a maelstrom – a dispute involving questions of federal vs. county authority, the New West vs. the Old West, Native Americans’ concerns vs. those of motorized recreationists.

But when a faint rumble in the distance swells into a loud growl, the crux of the controversy becomes apparent. A man on an all-terrain vehicle motors along the soft road, raising a spray of sand. He leans into a tight corner, guiding his ATV skillfully down a steep bank and through the shallow stream that ripples there. He rounds another corner and the noise fades.

It’s the afternoon of Saturday, April 21. A two-day Jeep Jamboree event has ended, and only an occasional off-highway vehicle moves along the rugged, 8 1/2-mile road that winds through scenic Arch Canyon.

There are a half-dozen canyons in the vicinity, all on public land managed by the BLM, but Arch Canyon is the only one with a stream running through it. It’s also the only one in the Comb Ridge area with a road. And therein lies the problem.

Environmentalists believe the road should be closed to motorized users to protect the riparian area as well as numerous Ancestral Puebloan sites.

But aficionados of motorized travel say that would deny them an enjoyable ride and keep them from seeing the beautiful arches that lie toward the end of the route.

It’s one battle in a long-running war in San Juan County, Utah, where longtime local residents and county officials are overwhelmingly supportive of motorized routes on public lands.

Their zeal has led to numerous conflicts with federal officials and environmental groups:

• In 2000, County Sheriff Mike Lacy took down closure signs on a dirt road in Canyonlands National Park that had been closed for 2 1/2 years by order of the National Park Service.

• In 2004, Lacy and County Commissioner Lynn Stevens led a Jeep Jamboree up Arch Canyon in defiance of the BLM, which had denied a permit for the event.

• In 2005, BLM officials said an offroad group had caused $10,000 worth of damage to a historic Mormon pioneer trail, the Hole-in-the-Rock Trail near Bluff, by illegally improving it to make it more accessible to vehicles. The group’s leaders admitted doing minor work with pry bars and sledgehammers but said they hadn’t damaged the trail, which is on the National Register of Historic Places.

• Now, the fur is flying over charges that OHV groups are secretly and illegally constructing trails on public lands. In Recapture Canyon in 2005, illegal trails and bridges and culverts were built that crossed several major archaeological sites, according to various reports. Now, the BLM is considering granting San Juan County an authorized right of way on the trails after the fact. A group known as SPEAR (San Juan Public Entry and Access Rights) has been accused of bulldozing a route from the top of Lime Ridge in San Juan County to Comb Wash as part of a planned interconnecting system of motorized trails. The vice president of SPEAR, Brent Johansen, said in a letter to the local newspapers that the trail had existed for some time and had merely been maintained. He did not return a phone call from the Free Press.

“We are concerned that there are a lot of trails being built under the noses of most people in San Juan County, without their knowledge,” said Krisanne Bender, president of the newly organized Canyon Country Heritage Association, a local group that focuses on off-highway-vehicle issues.

24,000 comments

So when California-based Jeep Jamboree USA and another organization, Cruise Moab/Rising Sun 4 Wheel Drive Club of Colorado, each applied for a five-year permit to hold events in Arch Canyon beginning this year, it renewed the controversy over motorized access.

The BLM’s Monticello Field Office, which manages Arch Canyon, considered granting the permits as part of an action that would have allowed up to eight different organized motor-vehicle events in the canyon annually.

“The BLM on their own just said, ‘Let’s do a programmatic EA so we never have to address this again’,” said Liz Thomas, attorney for the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance, an environmental group based in Salt Lake City. “It was crazy.”

But Gary Torres, planner for the BLM’s Monticello Field Office, which oversees Arch Canyon, said the proposal to allow up to eight motorized events was intended to save the agency some time and trouble. “We kind of thought a program of eight would meet any future need that we could anticipate. We were just trying to analyze impacts from a broader scale.”

Comments poured in to the BLM – 24,000 all told, the majority opposing the sweeping permit. At the last minute, the agency instead granted a permit only for Jeep Jamboree’s single event in April and for Cruise Moab’s event, scheduled May 2 and 3. Both permits had numerous stipulations designed to protect the canyon.

But the argument is far from over. The Monticello Field Office is working on a revision of its resource management plan, which was last revised in 1991. Travel and access will be among the issues addressed. The draft plan is expected to be released for public comment sometime this summer.

Undoubtedly it will prompt more debate over the role of motorized recreation on Utah’s stunning public lands

“Arch Canyon is kind of the warning shot across the bow saying, ‘We’re very interested in this, folks’,” commented Torres.

“We have 1.8 million acres and 4,000 miles of road, and this is just 8 1/2 miles of road and one specific canyon. If we got this much grief over that, you can imagine what we’ll see when we’re trying to make other allocations regarding camping, hiking, mining, OHV use, oil and gas – all of that. Clearly we anticipate a huge level of comments.”

‘Misplaced anger’

A handful of sign-carrying protesters greeted the Jeep enthusiasts in Arch Canyon the morning of April 20. A scattering of nails near the start of the road also awaited the motorists, according to the BLM, but the nails were removed and no one had a flat tire.

“The law-enforcement report I saw said they [the rangers] gathered enough that it was not just an accidental drop,” Torres said. “But they had a magnet and dragged it through and retrieved them.

“If that was done deliberately I’m sure it was just an individual, some dumb-head,” he said.

Sandy Meyers, manager for the Monticello Field Office, said the Jeep event went “very well” and the nail incident didn’t amount to much. She said the ranger had no way of knowing how long the nails had been in the road. “They could have been there for an unknown period of time.”

SUWA’s Thomas was among the protesters. “We had a few folks watching, but none of us even walked up the canyon,” she said. “We didn’t even know about [the nails] till now. We made it real clear we weren’t going to lie down in front of a Jeep or harass anyone.”

“The event went very, very well,” agreed Pearse Umlauf, vice president of Jeep Jamboree USA. “We had a great time.

“The community of Blanding is amazing. They’re very supportive. We probably put $50,000 in the local community in a few days.”

He said about 70 people in 38 Jeeps participated, with half traveling a nearby route called Hotel Rock and the other half in Arch Canyon on either day. “It’s not a location where we can increase the size of the event much,” he said. “We’re allowed only 25 vehicles on each trail.”

He said the controversy is between the BLM and environmentalists and doesn’t much involve his organization.

“We had some protesters down there one day,” he said. “They had some great signs. They were very respectful. People have the right to protest.”

But concerns about the harm the Jamboree might cause were unfounded, Umlauf believes.

Jeep Jamboree is one of the founding members of the Tread Lightly organization, he said, “and we practice all their principles.” Participants are instructed in measures designed to minimize recreational impacts and ride with trained guides.

Camping is not allowed in the canyon, so those in the Jeep caravan drive up the road, have lunch on the trail, and come back to camp elsewhere or stay in a motel.

“Our participants are really the nicest folks out there,” Umlauf said. “They consider themselves environmentalists. They don’t want to see the terrain changed or the land degraded. They want it to stay the same year after year.”

He said their average speed is 3 mph. “This is a very family-oriented atmosphere, not a big rock-crawling competition.

“We clean up a lot of garbage. We go to trails around the U.S., we do trail clean-up, we build water bars to stop erosion. We’re trying to be stewards of the environment.”

Umlauf said the real problem is dispersed recreation.

“There’s a big misconception that groups such as ours do damage to the land. The truth is, organized groups, from our experience, are not the ones who do damage. It’s individual users.

“There’s a lot of misplaced anger toward OHV groups. We have a vested interest to do it right so we can come back next year.”

Torres agreed that organized events usually are policed well. “The big challenge is unpermitted events,” he said. “Dispersed use. That’s much harder to get ahold of.”

Seeking common ground

Umlauf said even hikers are not always benign.

“I’ve been to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro and the base of Mt. Everest, and I’m ashamed of what some hikers have done. Look at Mt. Everest – it’s got garbage everywhere, and parts have been deforested for firewood.”

He suggested part of the solution to increasing conflicts on public lands may be setting times for different users. “Don’t have a bunch of dirt bikers out when the horseback riders are there,” he said.

And Congress needs to give the federal land agencies more money for law enforcement and resource protection, Umlauf said. “A lot of these districts want to do a better job and don’t have the funding and manpower to do it.”

But despite Umlauf’s support for the federal agencies, the Jamboree was at loggerheads with the BLM in 2004, when the agency denied the group’s application for a permit. Previous permits had been issued with little examination of environmental impacts, according to the BLM. In 2004 the Monticello field office said the application had not been submitted in time to complete an adequate environmental analysis, and the Jamboree, with the blessing of San Juan County officials, held the event anyway.

“That was between the county and BLM, over who had jurisdiction over the road,” Umlauf said. “To our knowledge, the county was given jurisdiction.”

Jeep Jamboree proceeded with the 2004 event but didn’t seek a permit in 2005 or 2006.

This year, “The county asked us to apply for a BLM permit so we would all be on the same page,” Umlauf said.

Torres said county officials this time around were “very supportive” of the BLM. “One of these groups asked the county, ‘Can we just get a permit from you?’ and they said ‘No, you need to work with BLM’. The county really backed us up. We have a really good working relationship now because we’ve opened up dialogue.”

Jeep Jamboree has been coming to Arch Canyon since 1989, Umlauf said. One event annually is all they ever plan to have in the canyon, he said.

“Our hope is that groups like SUWA and groups like ours can come together and have some talks. There needs to be control over individual users. We have to try to find common ground.”

Icons of scenery

But Stevens, chair of the county commission, doesn’t see much hope for consensus between motorized users and environmental groups. He said he read a recent fund-raising letter by SUWA that “basically says, ‘We will someday silence the sounds of engines in Arch Canyon’. If that’s their attitude, there won’t be any possibility of coexistence.”

Stevens, like most elected officials in San Juan County, is a staunch supporter of the rights of motorized users, and he said the road in Arch Canyon is needed.

“Motorized access to the icons of the scenery, the arches, is pretty important to people who don’t hike,” he said. “A lot of people want to see the arches. They’re a little different from others in this erosion country because they’re more characteristic of freezing and breaking and having chunks fall out.”

He said it’s up to the BLM to decide whether there is “really an inordinate amount of damage created to the environment by allowing motor vehicles on that road.”

“We have pretty much left that responsibility to the BLM using whatever guidelines and science and facts that are available to them,” Stevens said.

However, in 2004 Stevens and other county officials didn’t leave the question up to the BLM, but led the nonpermitted Jamboree up the road.

“That’s a fair observation,” Stevens said. “But what the issue has to do with, as far as the county is concerned, is the use of the road. We assert no responsibility or authority outside the boundaries of that roadway.”

Ownership disputes

In Stevens’ view, the road up Arch Canyon belongs to San Juan County. “I know that road’s been in existence and in use for over 50 years,” he said. “So part of the legal issue has to do with RS 2477 ownership.”

RS 2477 refers to a statute in the Mining Act of 1866 that grants local governments rights-of-way for constructing “highways” across public lands. It was repealed in 1976, but claims regarding roads that existed prior to then can still be judged valid.

However, San Juan County has yet to file an actual claim for the road in Arch Canyon, according to Thomas, who says the road is just a “trail.”

“The county has the burden of proof to show 10 years of continuous use before 1976,” Thomas said. “They have never filed a claim. It’s a trail on BLM land, and it may remain that way. Just because someone drove it in the past a long time ago doesn’t mean it qualifies as an RS 2477 right-of-way.”

In 2001, the U.S. District Court for Utah ruled that RS 2477 claims applied to roads that had been “constructed” and that mere usage did not necessarily create a valid road. It also said roads with no clear destination did not constitute “highways” under the RS 2477 language. The decision has been appealed to the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals.

The county remains in litigation with the National Park Service over the Salt Creek road in Canyonlands. There, a vehicle route leads along and through the creek to the scenic Angel Arch, a popular destination. The Park Service maintains that use of the road was damaging the riparian area and blocked it. Despite the county’s action in “opening” the road in 2000, it remains closed to motor vehicles.

The case is awaiting a hearing before the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals. SUWA and other environmental groups have filed to be allowed to join in the case.

“Salt Creek and Arch Canyon have a lot of similarities,” Thomas said. “Both are in Cedar Mesa sandstone. Both have lots of cultural resources and an incredible riparian system that runs the length of the canyon, and an old trail that crosses in and out of the stream.”

The Arch Canyon route crosses the stream 60 times, according to SUWA. Stevens disputes that number.

“I took a mechanical sheep-counter up there, and you cross it 49 times, and about 35 of them are dry,” he said.

Thomas said the exact number doesn’t matter. “Given that there are thousands of miles of dirt roads in San Juan County that go to beautiful places, and that less than 1 percent of the 23 million acres of BLM land in Utah is riparian, it’s ridiculous to allow that place to be degraded just for folks to have fun driving up an 8-mile stretch.”

Ronni Egan, executive director of the Durango, Colo.-based Great Old Broads for Wilderness, agrees.

“Arch Canyon is one of a very few perennial streams in an extremely arid environment,” Egan said. “Although it occupies only a tiny fraction of the landscape, probably 80 percent of desert animals would rely at some point in their life cycle on places like Arch Canyon.”

A SPADEFOOT TOAD IN SALT CREEK CANYONThree species of fish live in the stream, including the flannelmouth sucker, according to SUWA; the flannelmouth is on the BLM’s list of “sensitive species.” Spadefoot toads and other amphibians reproduce in the water.

Such animals are sensitive to contaminants and to habitat degradation caused by motor vehicles, SUWA argues. On a recent visit to Arch Canyon, a sheen of oil could be seen in at least one pool.

“These animals are adapted to flash floods,” Thomas said, “but having motor vehicles driving up a streambed stirring up sediment and tearing down the banks and creating more silt – that’s different.” She said tires create ruts that change floodplains and alter the channel of the water.

Arch Canyon also contains critical habitat designated for the Mexican spotted owl, a threatened species under the Endangered Species Act, according to SUWA.

“The petition mentioned the southwestern willow flycatcher and spotted owls and things that have never in the history of man been seen there,” Stevens countered.

Great Old Broads, SUWA and others petitioned the BLM earlier this year for an emergency interim closure for Arch Canyon that would keep out motorized vehicles until the BLM finishes is management plan, but the BLM did not grant the closure.

“San Juan County has put together a very long historical record with photos showing the history since 1950,” Stevens said. “The evidence shows the health of the canyon is better now than 20, 30 or 40 years ago.”

About a month after the 2004 Jeep Jamboree, there was a big storm and water rushed through Arch Canyon, Stevens said. “I went up there on an ATV and there was no evidence that there had been 50 Jeeps there a month before,” he said. “Conditions in that streambed are either destroyed or reestablished by flash floods. Nature herself takes care of that canyon.”

Used for leverage?

The other big concern in Arch Canyon is its cultural resources.

Anasazi cliff dwellings can be seen in a few alcoves along the canyon walls, but there are an estimated 100 sites throughout the canyon, including one a short distance from the road, according to an archaeologist hired by SUWA. The BLM has never done a thorough survey, Thomas said.

“They’re making decisions with completely inadequate information, to say no cultural resources will be harmed, because they don’t know what’s there,” Thomas said.

The Hopi and Navajo tribes have supported the environmentalists’ call for an interim closure in Arch Canyon.

In a Feb. 26 letter to the BLM, the chair of the Navajo Utah Commission, which consists of tribal councilors representing the Navajo lands that lie in Utah, asked the BLM to protect Arch Canyon from off-road-vehicle use.

“The Utah Navajo Commission recognizes the Bear’s Ears, Abajo Mountains and surrounding canyons, including Arch Canyon, as aboriginal land that is significant to Navajo culture,” the letter states. It continues that the area contains plants important in Navajo traditional ceremonies, as well as “numerous undocumented prehistoric cultural sites, including very sensitive ceremonial sites.”

The Hopi Cultural Preservation Office wrote the BLM on March 7 stating that the proposed motorized events have “the potential to adversely affect identified and unidentified cultural resources significant to the Hopi Tribe,” which claims ancestral and cultural affiliation with the Ancestral Puebloans.

Representatives of the Utah Navajo Commission and the Hopi Cultural Preservation Office did not return phone calls from the Free Press.

The tribes’ concerns, particularly the Navajos’, were met with a certain amount of skepticism in San Juan County, with some citizens in letters to the editor calling the Native Americans’ late arrival on the closure bandwagon a political ploy.

“They have been used by the wilderness societies to provide a lot of leverage,” Stevens said. “I grew up in this county. I was gone for a time, but to my knowledge the Navajos have never claimed any particular kinship with the Anasazi and the people that were in the canyon. The boundary of the Navajo reservation in Utah is many, many miles south.”

He said he met with members of the Navajo Utah Commission to explain the county’s position on Arch Canyon “and to a person not one of the members had ever been to Arch Canyon.”

Popular vote

Stevens said he has concerns about “abuse and misuse” by some ATV enthusiasts, “but that’s an issue of enforcement rather than just denying the use to everyone.”

He said if the county ultimately wins jurisdiction over the Salt Creek road, he would consider seasonal closures to protect delicate resources, and closing the trail to motorized users on alternating days so people seeking quiet and solitude could be assured of having it. But he said such a solution isn’t appropriate for Arch Canyon because it isn’t in a national park.

Stevens said the fact that most comments about motorized travel in Arch Canyon opposed it doesn’t mean a lot.

“I think it’s totally absurd to assume that the damage on the ground can be determined by a popular vote,” Stevens said.

“It’s a hard concept for the public to grasp, but we’re not voting on this issue,” Torres said.

Of all the comments, “far and away the majority were form letters from an environmental groups web site,” Torres said. “When somebody writes and says, ‘I don’t like that proposal,’ I’m stumped. What do I do with that? I wish these groups would teach their constituents how to make more effective comments. If they say, ‘I’m concerned that total dissolved solids in the stream can increase,’ that I can deal with.”

The agency tracks every comment and tries to distill the central issues and how to deal with them, Torres said.

But environmentalists say “votes” should matter. “The desire for protection of the public resources can certainly be determined by a popular vote, I would say,” commented Egan.

“These are public lands,” Thomas said. “They belong to every citizen in the U.S., not just San Juan County residents or the commissioners. It’s not the fiefdom of a BLM field office or a county.”

‘Amazing once’

MONITORING OFF-HIGHWAY VEHICLE IMPACTS IN ARCH CANYONBender of the Canyon Country Heritage Association is perhaps typical of newer residents in the Four Corners who are challenging the way public lands have traditionally been managed.

Bender moved to Bluff from California 1 1/2 years ago. She argues that the increasing number of recreationists on public lands, especially motorized users, requires careful planning and consideration of the big picture. “All of this should be contained in a larger EIS [environmental impact statement],” Bender said. “It looks a lot different when you take little portions – it looks more benign.

“We’re working to have influence in the county, not to close down all motorized access, but so they know there are people paying attention who are aware and intelligent and want to make sure things are being done in a manner that is in harmony with Mother Earth -– not to sound like too much of a granolacruncher,” she added, laughing.

Bender said motorized uses in Arch Canyon are destructive. “We’re talking about a narrow canyon that’s 8 miles in length and crossing it 60 times in one direction and taking the same route back. There’s no way that the environment can heal from that in any timely manner.

“Arch Canyon is beautiful. It’s transformative,” Bender said. “Will we just write that off and say, ‘It was an amazing place once’?”

Published in -May 2007

Wizards and dragons and orcs – oh, my!

“Do you know how many hip points a dragon-slayer-slicer-creature has?”

“I don’t know honey (translate to ‘I could give a rat’s ***, honey’). I know my hips are gaining points every day.”

“Ugh. Mom. Not hip points… HIT points.” (My 9-year-old now proves he has mastered the teenage I’m-so-disgusted- with-my-nerd-mother look.)

The conversation continues, solely because it’s important to talk about how talented these creatures are at destroying other gross creatures.

Actually, I think that “monsters” is the correct terminology.

Kill. Slay. Behead. Freeze. Power. Dungeon Master. Spell. Evil. Slaughter. Crush.

The lexicon of my current life.

I have never felt so lost in my very own world.

What has happened is that my boys (key word here) have discovered Dungeons and Dragons, as have all of their friends. Their minds now crawl around in dark dank places that smell of dragon farts and decay.

Color my world black, gray, and here and there a splash of blood red. I hear that there is more to D&D than killing but that at this young age all kids can comprehend is the mass slaughter. I also hear that girls do not spend the majority of their time plotting the death of their siblings and best friends.

I have always been thankful that I am not raising prissy daughters because I am not prissy and I wouldn’t know what to do with a girlie girl. But, the reality is that right now, cheerleading, My Pretty Pony and teenage-boy-meets-girl movies are looking really good.

(Actually, those movies have always been my favorites, regardless of who my children are.)

We are a peaceful family. We do not play with guns, we do not ride machines that make loud noises. We are anti-violence, anti-cruelty, and certainly antikilling. We have raised our boys to be kind to all living things; just this morning, as a family, we escorted a HUGE black widow outside to a better life in the woodpile.

Then, completely against our will, the boys have become mercenaries, going on wild killing sprees, slaughtering, slaying and reveling in the thought of spurting blood.

“But I thought we liked dragons?”

“Not if they’re EVIL, Mom.”

Oh. I should have known better.

After the boys first experienced D&D at their friend’s house, they begged me for it. It was the day after Christmas and I explained that this was an inappropriate time to be asking for more things. They decided there and then that they would save up their money and buy it for themselves.

I, of course, had no faith that they would, but prove me wrong… within a month, they had worked hard and earned enough extra money to make the grand purchase. Shortly after it arrived in the mail, they asked Tom and me to play. Groaning, but wanting to appear interested and supportive parents, we said “sure.”

We were assigned characters, and told where to put them on the board.

That was the last thing that I understood. After a few times of Bowen (Dungeon Master) telling us that we were doing battle again and rolling the 200-sided die, Tom and I began to fade out. The boys were so intent that they didn’t notice our absence in the least.

I tried to embrace what my children are interested in, but embarrassingly, it’s way too far over my head.

So, not only is D&D too violent for my liking, but it also makes me feel really stupid.

No wonder I hate it.

Recently, a high-school student that I know told me about a friend of his that was so into the game that he couldn’t differentiate between reality and fantasy. He so seriously believed that he was a powerful wizard that he stood in front of a semi thinking that it couldn’t hurt him.

Lord help me – is this my future?

When we kick the boys outside, away from the playing board, they continue the theme via live action. They have created a gang, Skull Clan, whose sole purpose is to forge weapons and run around with said weapons in hand, pretending to rid the world of all evil. They wear ripped-up white sheets with skulls drawn on them and black headbands. Armor is always an added bonus. They are obsessed with the time of knights; they call it medieval, as in “We’re playing Medieval” or “I wish I lived in Medieval.”

This is one battle I clearly cannot win. All I can do is hope that soon they will obsess about something a bit more up my alley. I just hope this phase doesn’t last as long as the Dark Ages.

Suzanne Strazza is a writer in Mancos, Colo.

Published in Suzanne Strazza

The department of corrections

I put my uniform on, attach the ring
of keys to my belt, then slip my photo
ID lanyard over my head. I don’t wear
a gun, and truthfully I wouldn’t want
one, even if I was authorized to carry
a weapon. Apparently – at least based
on the reactions I get while making my
rounds – I can do as much damage
with a red pen.

You see, I am a high-school English
teacher and I’ve worked in the department
of corrections for the past 25
years. When I pass compositions back
to my students, they sigh like inmates,
cover their faces, and weep for the
crimes they’ve committed. Sadly, only
a few of them change their ways, and
so the same errors are repeated, over
and over, generation after generation.

I don’t know why the details – commas,
spelling, subject/verb agreement,
passive voice, and the use of apostrophes
– are so difficult to manage.
You’d think with all the published
books surrounding us, suitable role
models would lead to a healthier, less
grammar-challenged society.

But in my State of the Union speech
concerning our struggle to teach
English in the public school classroom,
I’d have to report the war is not going
as well as planned. We may even be
losing the battle, partly due to the
insurgents who believe text-messaging
represents a higher moral ground. To
me it’s an efficiency that reduces communication
into a series of technological
evolutionary grunts.

And yes, I’m aware I sound too
much like my parents when they were
complaining that
Rock & Roll
music was just
garbage coming
out of the radio. I
really do understand
that language
has always
changed and will
always change. If
the word
Sparrow fart
amounted to a
Middle English
way to say
“Lovely dawn”
then what’s the
chance Hey will go down in history as
an expression of tenderness? I mean,
duh, like, when did anything ever
remain the same?

Still, like my parents who never
owned a cell phone, I too am an
anachronism in an age when most
people in my cell block own one.
You’d think they’d been sentenced to
serving adolescence in solitary confinement,
compensating for their perceived
loneliness by talking almost to themselves,
and constantly, sometimes even
conversing with a friend further down
the hallway – a friend they’ll probably
be sitting beside in five minutes when
the next class begins. If the urge to
communicate is so intense, you’d think
it would be impossible to stop young
people from writing letters or personal
opinion essays. Yeah, right: LOL.

Sitting in lockup with an official like
me staring you down, trying to convince
you that learning to write correctly
is important, must be like visiting
the zoo and ending up with the gorilla
feeding you bananas. It’s not appealing,
because most of the inmates I
work with can’t get past the notion that
the bananas are supposed to be for the
gorilla.

To express a thought in its simplest
form is beautiful, but to dwell in the
thought, to develop entire paragraphs
exploring it, well, that’s another sentence
altogether. I mean, CU L8R – I
G2G is not exactly what Shakespeare’s
Polonius meant when he said, “brevity
is the soul of wit.”

As a correctional monitor, I’m supposed
to teach the sentence, not
administer it. With an adequate budget
for teaching materials, I could supply
every student in my classroom with a
personal cell phone. Their rehabilitation
would begin by requiring they
write vanity license plates, thousands
of them, just like prisoners used to produce
in the service of the society into
which they’d eventually be released.
They’ll be restricted, of course, to
using only six letters. Soon that will get
boring.

Then I’ll move to bumper stickers,
fully formed witticisms running no
more than the length of a 12-inch
ruler. From bumper stickers I’ll move
to obituaries, and from obits to billboards.
For the entire writing curriculum
my charges will furiously push
their buttons, or I’ll be pushing theirs.
No photographs or sound bytes. No
paper, pens and pencils, or flat-panel
computer screens. Just words, plain
old English language, fully formed
and edited on a cell phone’s display,
all perfectly thought out before anyone
ever presses the send button – to
me.

By the time I get to fully loaded
paragraphs, it’s likely the cell phone
will be seen as a tedious instructional
device. If nothing else, they’ll understand
how their freedom will be expedited
by creating a string of beautiful
sentences and not just serving them.
And if that doesn’t work, at least they’ll
be sick to death of text-messaging on a
cell phone by the time they’re released
for good behavior.


David Feela is a teacher at
Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela

End the Food Police state

Two words.

Stop it.

That’s right — cease, desist, knock it off already.

Stop freaking out over fat kids.

Seriously, is any refrain in the Public Nanny’s “think of the children!” battle cry more obnoxious than the words “childhood obesity”? While it’s undeniable some kids are fat and others are not, the reasons why might not be nearly as simple as public awareness campaigns like to present them. Nor might it all be as easy to change as insisting on “more exercise, less to eat,” since plenty of thin kids are couch potatoes. And the credible data suggesting fat, with some exceptions, is not quite the demon we’ve made it out to be, is worth noting.

We need to start considering that, but more important, we need to consider to what degree we want social engineers and the capitalistic marketing machine tinkering with our kids and our emotions.

There are plenty of examples of this very occurrence: Electronic lunch tickets that allow parents to spy on what their kids buy in the cafeteria. Mariska Hargitay from “Law & Order” shilling milk products by scaring the dickens out of new moms with her “concern” over — yup — “childhood obesity.” Across the pond, the UK has the singularly joyless chef, Jamie Oliver, a self-anointed kiddie lunch cop and fatsuit wearer extraordinaire.

From the looks of things, it will get worse before it gets better.

Exhibit A? That’d be Boston’s recent billboard scare tactic. In January — as if relentless media coverage of the Threat That Is Fatness wasn’t enough — billboards popped up along the roadways, with such images as the chunky legs of a child next to a scale and the words “fat chance.” Another sign puts Mariska to shame. It shows the back fat of another child (you see, giving fat people a face might humanize them), and the question: “If that’s your kid, what are you waiting for?”

Exhibit B? The mandatory “BMI report cards” issued in several states, thanks to Mike If-I-Lost-Weight-So-Can- You Huckabee, the former governor of Arkansas and possible no presidential candidate. Recently, he was spitting mad because Arkansas’ new guv wanted to do away with the lame-brained requirement. Current Gov. Mike Beebe missed the point with his “it hurts fat kids’ feelings” reasoning, but, hey. It’s a start.

Then we have the media hype itself. Even the likes of the New York Times, when reporting on some of the unintended consequences of the BMI report cards, can’t rise above the obsession. School districts, we are breathlessly informed, “continue to serve sugar-coated funnel cakes and pizza for breakfast” while they dutifully weigh and measure the kids to determine where they fit on the meaningless body mass index chart.

In general such news reports read like what others have rightly called “food porn.” How much soda are fat kids drinking? Omigoodness, are they buying Rice Krispie treats?! Ooo, yum. Rice Krispie treats… er, we mean, how can schools and local governments let children eat like that? Obviously, they don’t get it. And if your kid is fat, obviously, neither do you.

So the tortured logic goes.

Which brings us to the most offensive element of the war on fat: the notion that we’re all stupid. Kids are fat because they “need help” learning the “right” things to eat. Kids are fat because their parents are “uneducated,” failures, or somehow haven’t noticed Junior’s weight, so the public needs to drop 250-grand on billboards to whack them upside the head.

Or schools need to be allowed to weigh and measure our kids and point it out to us.

Privacy? What’s that? Relevance? What’s that? That the BMI is pretty much useless as a predictor of true health? Well, never mind. This feels good. This is easy. Besides, we hate fatties and this is a politically correct way to express our revulsion. It allows us to look saintly. And if fat kids’ feelings are hurt, why, that’s just tough love. Because we only have their best interests at heart.

But the people who really don’t “get it” are people like Susan Green, the woman who helped unleash the moronic billboard campaign. While expressing concerns that fat kids might be depressed, this compassionate wit actually said: “It would be hard to see your kids depressed because they look a certain way.”

Um … So a ginormous billboard is going to help them forget they look a certain way? Besides, heartbreak over being fat is not actually caused by being fat. The misery comes from the social prejudice meted out by others. Surely, the best strategy here is to confront the prejudice, not conform the victim.

It’s also telling that several of the BMI report card news articles were angled along the lines of how the reports make thin children feel, and how the reports might promote eating disorders. Yet fat kids’ feelings are dismissed as a necessary sacrifice by those fools who cannot see the objections to their invasive and irrelevant strategies are a rejection of insanity, not maudlin self-pity. Anorexia, after all, is tragic, while obesity is “naturally” the result of weakness, laziness and stupidity. Fat kids therefore “deserve” to be ridiculed. For their own good. Now, fat kids, don’t let that depress you!

Even if obesity awareness campaigns really were about health — and not, say, driving up demand for diet products, weight-loss drugs and giving a forum to the “experts” who shill them — the billboards and report cards would still miss the mark.

Healthy people come in all sizes. So do unhealthy people. If schools and Boston and the media and your hysterical Aunt Nellie would address actual nutrition and physical activity independently of weight, we’d all be better off.

America’s obsession with weight rises to the level of a collective mental illness. This lunacy is frequently referred to as “common sense” and vaunted as “conventional wisdom,” but it is past time we realized the difference between conventional wisdom and an old wife’s tale is only about a generation.

The latest campaign in the “war on fat” is really quite simple: The government wants to regulate what you eat because of misguided fear; financial opportunism and size prejudice.

Stop it.

Katharhynn Heidelberg writes from Montrose, Colo.

Published in Katharhynn Heidelberg

Do ‘family affairs’ matter to the religious right?

Remember family values?

You know, all those traditional straitlaced behaviors embraced and espoused by the political and religious right during the last several elections that made them uniquely fit to steer the ship of state?

Things like honesty, integrity, adherence to the sacred bonds of matrimony regardless of the rough patches . . . .

Oh, wait, that last one is, well, kind of inoperative, as it turns out, and obviously reflects poorly on the others, but then the God of Christian conservatives is a forgiving God, as long as one is a member of their club.

So we recently saw would-be presidential candidate Newt Gingrich, who remains wildly popular with that segment of the political spectrum, admit to having committed adultery with one of his Congressional staffers several years ago, at the same time he was leading the charge to impeach then- President Clinton for essentially the same conduct. (Gingrich makes a distinction, however, explaining that Clinton was impeached for lying, not for having adulterous sex. But there are certainly lies of omission as well as commission, so to many — including me — his is a distinction without a substantive difference: Gingrich lied to his wife, and to an indignant public that believed he occupied a morally superior position.)

When asked quite gently if these staffer-sex allegations were true by Dr. James Dobson on his radio show Focus on the Family (Or is it Family Affair? Or All in the Family?), the former Speaker of the House responded that “the honest answer is yes.” (And the dishonest answer was remaining silent and letting constituents assume the best.)

It was Newt’s second wife that he cheated on, but his first didn’t fare too well either when it came to unethical spousal behavior. Mr. Heart of Stone served her with divorce papers while she was hospitalized for cancer. (He now claims he doesn’t remember doing this, although his former wife retains a vivid memory of the incident.) And even his third wife, the staffer 20 years his junior, got dumped several years ago after the bloom of their M a y / December romance withered.

But that’s all okay with the poobahs of the right, such as former Moral Majority (perhaps to be renamed the Reformed Morals Majority) leader Rev. Jerry Falwell, who fell all over himself to assure his flock that Gingrich had confessed to him the same adulterous behavior at the time, and appeared to be genuinely contrite.

“. . . he has also told me that he has, in recent years, come to grips with his personal failures and sought God’s forgiveness,” Falwell wrote in a recent newsletter to his flock. He added that he can generally tell when a man who has experienced “moral collapse” is sincere about seeking forgiveness, and assessed Gingrich as “such a man.” (In other words, don’t count it against him when you go to the polls.)

But Gingrich isn’t the only Republican conservative with presidential aspirations to have been seduced by temptations of the flesh and the lure of freedom from marital commitment.

Take Rudy Giuliani — America’s mayor most remembered for walking amongst the ruins of the World Trade Center following 9/11 and providing comfort and support to his wounded city at the same time President Bush was hiding in Idaho and Dick Cheney was bunkered down at another secret location in case his snarling style of leadership was needed.

Giuliani is also remembered by some as the mayor who encouraged New York police to disregard the niceties of law enforcement, resulting in such memorable outrages as his cops shooting an innocent, unarmed man 40- some times as he stood in the lobby of his apartment building trying to get out his wallet (We thought he was going for a gun, they claimed) and treating another suspect of similar dusky complexion to a buggering with a toilet plunger.

But never mind that, back to the subject at hand. Giuliani has also been married, divorced, married, had an affair, divorced, and is now married to “the other woman.” His second wife actually filed for a restraining order to prevent Rudy’s mistress from living in the mayor’s mansion while she and he were still married, so Rudy moved in with two gay friends for a while. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.) Additionally one of Rudy’s grown sons recently complained that he hadn’t been much of a father to him, but that is just the opinion of a maladjusted child.

Then there is Sen. John McCain, war hero and former straight-talking presidential candidate, who is taking a different tack this time by pandering to the religious right, giving the commencement address at Falwell’s Liberty University after formerly referring to the minister as an “agent of intolerance.”

McCain has also admitted to having an affair with his current wife while still married to his former spouse. And that makes it three for three in the posturing- by-rank-hypocrites department.

In fact, only Mitt Romney, the former governor of Massachusetts who is considered a “first-tier” presidential candidate despite him polling behind Gingrich, has had the minimum of one wife to whom, remarkably, he apparently has remained faithful, even though he is undoubtedly more of a babe magnet than all the other pudgy, pasty philanderers combined. (The joke going around is that Romney, a Mormon, is the only major GOP candidate who’s had just one wife.)

Strangely enough, on the Democratic side of the coin, no major candidate has been divorced, and as far as is known, none of the four – Hillary Clinton, Barak Obama, John Edwards and the coy Al Gore – has strayed from the marital bed.

All of which puts devout adherents of those “traditional family values” in quite a bind, I would imagine.

Regardless of their Very Right pastors giving these conservative candidates a bye on their wretched behavior, their faithful flocks, who are always looking for someone they can truly believe in (Jesus in an Armani suit, perhaps) may well consider crossing the political divide and voting for monogamy rather than for those who have been consumed by lust — perhaps the deadliest of the seven sins for politicians with presidential ambitions.

David Grant Long writes from Cortez, Colo.

Published in April 2007, David Long

Cities mull the ethics of taxing groceries

 

LOCAL SALES TAXESIf you drive a car, I’ll tax the street If you try to sit, I’ll tax your seat…

Since the Beatles’ George Harrison penned those bitter lyrics in 1966, not much has changed. Governments still rely on taxes to pay for the services they provide.

And citizens still debate which kinds of taxes, if any, represent the fairest way of making the populace share the burden.

Is it moral, for instance, to tax the absolute necessities of life — such as food?

The state of Colorado long ago said no. But many municipalities within the state think differently.

A sales tax on retail merchandise and services is the base of revenues for many municipalities in Colorado, where counties and school districts rely mainly on property taxes for their spending money, and the state takes two generous bites of the tax-revenue apple with both an income and a sales tax on residents.

One criticism of sales taxes at any level is that they are “regressive” — i.e., they disproportionately impact low-income taxpayers — as opposed to, for example, “progressive” income taxes under which those who earn more pay more in taxes. For example, in Cortez, which has a 4.05 percent local sales tax that is assessed on food items, a family with an annual income of $20,000 that spends $100 a week on food, or about a fourth of its income, will pay $234 tax to the city on that food, or roughly 1 percent of its total income. But a family with an annual income of $200,000 that eats the same amount will be taxed only one-10th of 1 percent of its income.

At one time the state also taxed groceries, and had a rebate program for low-income people in which they would submit their yearly grocery receipts and get a refund on the tax paid on food. Finally the state legislature abandoned the practice of taxing food altogether. Now the state’s 2.9 percent sales tax is not charged on food purchased in a grocery store.

However, 20 states still do tax groceries. Most of those tax them at a lower rate than other goods, or offer some sort of rebate to lower-income citizens. Three states — Alabama, Arkansas, and Mississippi — don’t do either, according to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities.

However, for many cities, the sales tax on food represents a sizeable portion of their tax bases and the chance of their following the states’ lead by exempting food is highly unlikely.

In Cortez, the sales-tax revenue from food amounts to about a quarter of all sales-tax revenues collected, or more than $1 million, according to Finance Director Kathi Moss.

She stressed that hers was only an educated guess, since the total sales-tax revenue is not broken down into such categorties and the taxes paid by individual businesses are proprietary information at any rate.

But the three largest revenue producers — Wal- Mart, City Market and Safeway — alone accounted for 43 percent of the total sales tax paid in 2006, she said, as the total sales-tax revenue for Cortez has surged about 10 percent over the previous year’s, due in part to inflation as well as increased sales.

To adjust for what is seen by many as the inequity of the sales tax, some Colorado cities are doing as many states have done, adopting various forms of rebate programs for lowincome and/or senior citizens, particularly as they have increased the amount of sales tax for special projects such as jails and recreation centers.

For instance, in Durango, when voters approved a sales tax increase from 2.5 percent to 3 percent in 2005 for creating more open space, trails and a variety of capital improvements, the city council committed to creating a rebate program if the tax hike was approved.

“During the election to increase the sales tax by a half-cent, there was some discussion from people in the community that they felt that lowincome people shouldn’t be affected by it,” said Sherry Eilbes, Durango’s finance director, “and [asked] would the city entertain the idea of having a food-tax rebate.

“So the city [council] checked into it and decided, yes, they would indeed like to do a food-tax rebate program,” Eilbes said, “and they did actually implement the program and made it contingent upon the vote on the passage of the increase of the sales tax.

“So it wasn’t actually voted on — the council put the program in place, but made it contingent on the successful passage of the half-cent tax.”

Durango’s rebate schedule ranges from $50 for a single resident with an income of $20,800 or less to $144 for a family of four or more with an income of $29,700. Eligible applicants must show proof of income, residency and family size to qualify.

That program began accepting applications for rebates in March for rebates for the year 2006.

Eilbes said since this was the first year for the program, it is difficult to project what it may cost, but they are anticipating possibly 600 applications by the end-of-June deadline.

“We don’t have a real good idea of how much will go out, but we haven’t limited what the [total] rebate will be,” she said, explaining that $75,000 had been budgeted for the program.

“That was just based on discussions we had with the cities of Boulder and Loveland and their programs and how much ultimately ended up being rebated back — so we made a somewhat educated guess based on other cities in Colorado.” She said other cities, such as Loveland, set a maximum amount that will be rebated in the budget.

“We may do that at some point if it gets to be a real large dollar amount,” she said. “However, I don’t think that will happen.”

Durango also has a utility refund program for the poor on sewer, trash and water service, she noted, and surprIsingly few residents take advantage of that.

“We’ve had that in place for many years and quite honestly there are very few people who take advantage of it, so we’ll see how many people will qualify or even apply for the food-tax rebate.”

In Cortez, at least two members of the city council recently expressed interest in creating a rebate program here, and one suggested he would ask it be placed on the workshop agenda for discussion.

Second-term council member and former Mayor Pro Tem Gene Glover said he would be willing to broach the idea at a council workshop.

“I would never close my eyes to any program that would help anybody,” Glover said. “I wouldn’t be opposed to looking at it [but] whether it would come to fruition, I don’t know. I don’t know how everybody would vote on it, but I would definitely take a look at it if we could get it in front of the council.

“I’d like to sit down and visit with everyone else [on the council] and see what they thought. “If we’re going to take a look at it, we probably need to put together something formal — or even informal — for a [council] workshop.” Glover said possibly some discussion could take place as early as May.

Matt Keefauver, a middle-school teacher and business owner elected to the council in 2006, said it was “definitely something I would support, although I’m not 100 percent sure how it would work or what it would look like.

“But I do know we have a lot of people who would benefit from something like that.

“I really do think that’s a good idea and it’s something I would support in whatever form it takes,” Keefauver added. “As a teacher, it’s something I see first-hand all the time — how families struggle and kids coming to school wearing clothes with holes in them, no breakfast . . .

“It’s pretty sad.”

Rebates and eligibility requirements vary from city to city in Colorado:

• Boulder, with revenues of about $10 million from taxing food, gives $66 to elderly and disabled singles and $199 for a family, regardless of size, that meets the income guidelines and other criteria.

• Fort Collins program provides $40 for each person meeting the requirements, and single folks must earn less than $24,200 to be eligible, In Loveland the rebate is $70 per person for up to four people in a household, and in Greeley the amount per person is set at $45. The towns also treat those poor receiving food-stamp assistance differently, with some factoring that tax-free source of food into the equation and others using only the income criterium.

Last year the rebates cost Boulder about $81,000, Fort Collins $66,000, Loveland $78,000 and Greeley $80,000.

The city of Greeley has had a foodtax rebate program for 15 years.


Published in April 2007

County works to deal with growth-related problems

The development boom in Montezuma County is creating a few headaches for county officials. On the one hand, they have to deal with developers who follow the rules but whose subdivisions prove controversial for various reasons.

On the other, they have ongoing problems with people who don’t follow the rules but try to circumvent the county’s land-use code and regulations entirely.

How fast is Montezuma County growing?

According to the county planning department, 20 developments totaling 128 new lots are in the works, with 109 of those lots being 9 acres or smaller. However, two of those subdivisions received negative recommendations from the planning commission recently, so their future is uncertain.

In addition, four subdivisions totaling 15 new lots have been approved in 2007 so far, and three other subdivisions were amended this year to add 18 lots.

Reports of people attempting to create “subdivisions by mortgage” prompted County Administrator Ashton Harrison to send a letter March 19 to real-estate professionals in the area notifying them that the county takes a dim view of such actions.

“Recently, it has come to the attention of Montezuma County officials that some people believe that encumbering a portion of land with a deed of trust constitutes a legal subdivision without having to comply with Montezuma County subdivision regulations and state subdivision law,” states the letter, which was sent with the blessing of the county commissioners.

“It is the position of Montezuma County that the only time a parcel can be legally split without approval of the Board of County Commissioners per the Montezuma County Land Use Code is by foreclosure or court order.

“Montezuma County will vigorously pursue civil and/or criminal action against any party or parties and associated party or parties who attempt to split parcels without going through the established subdivision process with the exception of parcel splits resulting from foreclosure or court order.”

Harrison said the county planning department had encountered instances of people obtaining mortgages on tracts of land before the tracts were officially split via the county’s planning process.

“People were saying they didn’t have to go through the subdivision process if they mortgaged off the property,” Harrison said. “Say they had 40 acres. They’d think, ‘I can build a house and sell off the house and five acres’.

“We don’t believe that’s true. We believe the only time you can split a parcel off without going through the whole process is by foreclosure or court order, or if the parcel is over 35 acres in size.”

Not a loophole

State statutes define what constitutes a subdivision (subject to county regulation), and they do allow for land splits by court order, for instance in the case of a divorce settlement. There is also an exemption for a subdivision “which is created by a lien, mortgage, deed of trust, or any other security instrument.” That language has led some people to assume they could get a mortgage on a piece of land first, then come to the county for after-the-fact approval.

Harrison said the county clearly does not believe that is the case.

“Why would the state require counties to have a subdivision law if that were true?” Harrison asked. “That’s not a loophole, it’s an entire bypass.”

The county commissioners were concerned about illegal land splits as far back as the mid-1990s. On Aug. 14, 1995, they passed a measure saying that anyone with property subdivided after June 14, 1994, had 90 days to come to the commissioners to have the problem cleared up. Following that time, after-the-fact exemptions were not to be granted.

Different boards have given after-thefact exemptions to a few landowners since then in extraordinary circumstances, but the policy remains to not do so when someone has ignored the rules.

“We’ve been diligent in making people abide by the process,” Harrison said. He said the assessor’s office notifies the planning department of unapproved parcels when it becomes aware of them.

Neighbors also sometimes report problems. At their March 19 meeting, the county commissioners heard from Planning Director Susan Carver that the planning office had been informed of one landowner within a subdivision who told the neighbors, “We’re going to develop my land by way of mortgage.”

The planning office had no application for a land split, she said. Harrison said he’d heard of similar occurrences within the town of Mancos and city of Cortez, in which people tried to obtain a mortgage on a tract before it was officially split off, then assumed they could use that to gain approval for the division. He said the county is trying to make sure banks, real-estate companies and landowners are aware that land divisions involving tracts of under 35 acres require county approval.

“We’re trying to pre-empt it so people don’t get themselves in a serious bind,” Harrison said.

Assessor Mark Vanderpool, who was at the meeting, said he had contacted officials with the state Division of Property Taxation and they agreed with the county’s opinion that “a partially encumbered parcel does not constitute a split.”

“I’m thrilled you allowed Ashton to send a letter to real-estate professionals,” Vanderpool said.

Enforcing the rules

Another problem involving county regulations came up at the March 19 commission meeting: that of people who try to flout the rules involving commercial or industrial activities.

Carver said she had had complaints about two separate incidences of people operating unpermitted automotive repair or detailing businesses. In one case, the landowner had built an enormous building with large bays on his property; in another, the owner was storing and working on numerous vehicles. In neither case had the owner sought a high-impact permit. Harrison raised the question of whether the county needed a codeenforcement officer to check on such matters.

“As it is, the commissioners have to pass a resolution for an enforcement action against someone,” he said. “We’re comfortable with the status quo, but you’re going to be seeing more of this as more subdivisions are coming in.

“As we’re becoming more of an urban county, you’re going to see more and more of these situations. With more people living closer together, there’s going to be more complaints and more demands for county government to at least investigate alleged violations of the land-use code.”

Commission attorney Bob Slough said the commissioners have the power to enforce land-use regulations the same way they did in the instance of the Rally in the Rockies last summer. In that case, the motorcycle rally’s promoters were denied a high-impact permit from the county, but decided to have the rally anyway.

The county then went to court and obtained an injunction shutting the rally down.

When the county hears about anyone operating a high-impact business without a permit, Slough said, the commissioners can use the same process. First, they would set a public hearing to hear input on the situation and decide if the activity does indeed require a permit. Then, if the landowner persists in pursuing his activity without a permit, the county can seek an injuction to stop the illegal actions.

If a code-enforcement officer were appointed, on the other hand, he or she would have the ability to write citations to offenders that would be processed in county court.

‘Zoning by Band-Aid’

Vanderpool urged the commissioners to consider appointing such an officer.

“I think the most important thing government should do is treat everybody the same,” Vanderpool said. “What we have now is zoning by Band-Aid.” He said enforcement is completely dependent on people complaining.

“I believe the board should seriously consider appointing a compliance officer so you three individuals are not bothered by each and every case,” he told the commissioners.

However, Slough said previous boards had weighed their options and decided that in most cases people would ultimately come to the commissioners anyway.

“The board gets drawn in on almost everything,” he said. “You’re still probably going to end up spending more time listening to complaints about [the code-enforcement officer’s actions] than you would by dealing with it yourselves. I think they [previous boards] felt like it was simpler to do it themselves. I think that’s what it boiled down to.”

Slough emphasized, however, that the board had the right to appoint a code officer. Harrison suggested the position could be funded by fees.

The commissioners decided for the time being not to appoint an officer. Harrison said the planning department gives people the benefit of the doubt when it comes to complaints about unpermitted activities, and that often a strongly worded letter or two might do the trick in bringing the offender in to the planning office.

But even individuals who followed the rules have wound up creating controversy recently.

No to 51 lots

For the second month in a row, the county planning commission in March issued a “no” recommendation on a proposal for a large, high-density subdivision.

In February the planning commission rejected a zoning request for a 44- lot development on 160 acres on Granath Mesa near Dolores, where the only water source would have been cisterns.

On March 22, the planning board voted 3-2 against a zoning request by developer Don Etnier that would have given the green light to a 51-lot development on 199 acres on Road L in the Totten Lake area.

In both cases, developers may still appeal the planning board’s recommendation to the county commissioners Although only a handful of neighbors spoke against Etnier’s proposal, the planning board had concerns about infrastructure, especially water.

Etnier, acting as agent for landowners Larry and Donna Suckla, told the board the property was well-suited to such a development, with BLM land bordering much of it on the east. The property lies just 2 to 3 miles from Highway 160, he said, and Road L to the site is paved.

He said there is plenty of water available, but the pipeline servicing the area is inadequate at the moment. “It’s true, there is no water now because it’s a 2-inch water main in there,” Etnier said. “You have to go back and upgrade the line to a 4-inch line.”

However, he said Mike Bauer, manager of Montezuma Water Company, had told him supplying 51 water taps was “not a problem.” Etnier said plans were for an underground pipe system to carry water to each lot.

Bauer, however, had not provided a letter to the county guaranteeing that water was available.

Several neighbors voiced concerns about the proposal.

Larry Hartzke of Road L said he moved there in 2004 from Wisconsin “because we liked the amenities the county offers. We value peace and quiet, and we chose the Simon Valley for its quiet and the dark skies at night. The proposed subdivision in our opinion would seriously degrade many of the quality-of-life attributes for which we moved here.”

He also cited a preliminary engineering evaluation done on behalf of the county that said considerable work would have to be done to both Road L and Road 29, including work to culverts and drainages along both roads, to accommodate the subdivision.

Chris Foran, also a resident of Road L, expressed concerns about traffic the development would generate and the safety of the narrow rural roads.

Ray Lunnon of Road L said, “Our place is currently up for sale, upon finding out about this development.” He added that there are problems with drainage off the largely flat area. “Last year during a heavy rain a significant amount of water came through our place, so I do think some drainage issues need to be addressed,” Lunnon said.

Planning-board member Cindy Dvergsten said she had numerous issues with the plan. “I’m concerned we don’t have proof of water at this point in time,” she said. “It’s hard to approve a zoning of this nature without that.”

She also said she was troubled by the potential hazards of so many septic systems in that soil and in a wet area, about drainage, and about whether some of the property might be wetlands.

“The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers generally doesn’t consider artificially irrigated wetlands to be wetlands,” Etnier said.

“But that determination has not been made on this property,” Dvergsten responded.

She added that a detailed traffic study usually was required for a development of such magnitude.

Board member Jon Callender commented that the Cortez Fire Protection District said it cannot service the entire subdivision as it develops and that additional water supplies would be needed later. The proposal involves three phases, but Etnier was seeking approval for all three at once.

Etnier said there are three ponds on the property with water for firefighting.

It was also noted that there is an electrical transmission line on the tract requiring a 125- foot easement, and that because of it, hills and an irrigation canal, some of the lots would have very little space on which a home could be built.

Board member Andy Logan argued for the proposal, saying there was an easement for the power line “and that’s all we have to worry about” regarding that. He said one nearby parcel of 80 acres was already zoned for small lots and the property in question is unzoned.

However, Dvergsten said the 80-acre parcel has only a zoning preference and that small-lot zoning has never been officially approved there.

And unzoned property, under Montezuma County’s rules, is zoned by default into its current land use — not actually unzoned.

Callender said he had concerns about whether the area was “inadequate to support this level of development.” “I would like to know whether this is the best plan for the use of this land. Is this the appropriate place for three-acre zoning or are there alternatives that would fit the area better?”

The board ultimately voted 3-2 to reject the plan, with the dissenting votes coming from Logan and Guy Drew.

Published in April 2007

Local women debate need for HPV vaccine

 

LAUREL MONTANO, RN, ADMINISTERS THE HPV VACCINEIs the pharmaceutical industry trying to pull one over on us, or is the new HPV vaccine the key to preventing cervical cancer in young girls?

The Centers for Disease Control have approved a vaccine that protects women against four strains of the Human Papillomavirus virus. HPV is a sexually transmitted disease that can cause genital warts and potentially lead to cervical cancer.

HPV can also cause vulvar cancer and vaginal cancer.

According to pharmaceutical company Merck (the manufacturer of the vaccine) and the CDC, of the four strains that the vaccine addresses, two can cause genital warts and two can lead to cancer. The vaccine is administered in three doses over a period of six months, costing approximately $360.

But the issues which surround the vaccine, called Gardasil, are many and discussion surrounding them often becomes heated.

One issue is that many states are considering making the vaccination mandatory for girls entering sixth grade or 11 years old. The rationale behind this age range lies in an attempt to vaccinate girls before they become sexually active. HPV is considered to be so prevalent (and not always preventable through the use of condoms) that at least 1 in 4 persons who are sexually active is infected with the disease, often with no signs or symptoms, according to CDC statistics. The vaccine is tested and recommended for females ages 9 through 26. It has not been tested extensively in women over 26.

Kate Horle, vice president of public affairs for Planned Parenthood of the Rocky Mountains, said that number may be as high as 3 in 4. “Any self-respecting OB/GYN will tell you that if you’ve been sexually active, you’ve had HPV,” she said.

Does this mean that all women are at risk for developing cervical cancer from the virus? And are women immune if they are vaccinated?

No.

According to statistics, there are at least 40 different strains of HPV, only some of which can lead to cancer. Again, the vaccine only protects against four strains. So this vaccine does not prevent all forms of HPV, although Merck claims Gardasil “protects against the two types that cause about 70 percent of cervical cancer.” It also is said to protect against about 90 percent of genital warts and is said to be nearly 100 percent effective in preventing those strains of the virus.

Are there other factors than HPV related to the development of cervical cancer?

According to Nasha Winters, a naturopathic doctor in Durango, “Yes — smoking, an unhealthy diet, lifestyle.” She also claims that HPV and cervical cancer are “treatable through natural medicine. In states where naturopathic medicine is licensed, there is an incredible success rate in curing women with both HPV and cervical cancer.”

Another issue raised by several health practitioners interviewed for this article is the relatively small number of deaths caused by cervical cancer. That’s because cervical cancers tend to be slow-growing and, when detected early through Pap smears, are generally treatable.

According to information from both Merck and the CDC, some 10,000 women get cervical cancer every year in the United States, and 3,700 die from it. It is the sixth most commonly diagnosed cancer in women in the U.S. and the second leading cause of cancer deaths among women around the world.

Yet the actual percentage of women who die from cervical cancer is tiny, from 0.05 percent to 4 percent. According to Winters, “Four percent seems incredibly high, debatably high. Point zero five seems much more realistic.”

But, who cares, say many. If there is a way to protect your daughter or yourself from cancer, why not do it? Why not change 0.05 to 0 percent? One Durango woman, who asked not to be identified by name, tells her story of contracting the HPV virus.

“My first time going to the gynecologist, when I was 18, I had an abnormal Pap. I had progressive precancerous cell dysplasia [abnormal cells that can be a precursor to cancer].” She had laser surgery to remove the abnormal cells, which resulted in the removal of a large chunk of her cervix. She had only one recurrence of the virus in the next years and then, almost 15 years later, became pregnant.

“I told my midwife about the surgery and she insisted on an ultrasound to see how stable my cervix was. I had two and they were both read incorrectly. Everyone’s alarms went off and next thing I knew, I was headed to the Front Range for potential surgery which would have been risky for my unborn baby.”

It was then determined that there was enough scar tissue in place to hold her cervix closed while her baby grew. But when she did go into labor, the scar tissue tore and her cervix opened much more rapidly than normal, causing an extremely fast delivery.

Three years later, she became pregnant again. This time there was greater concern and another frenzied trip to the Front Range because now the doctors knew there was no remaining scar tissue. The likelihood of her cervix being able to support a baby in-utero became much more questionable.

Again, fortunately, she made it through the pregnancy and her daughter was born safely — although the fear that had surrounded both pregnancies had, at times, been overwhelming. Given that experience, how does she feel about the HPV vaccine? Will she have her daughter (now 4) immunized when she is old enough?

“My first reaction is to ask how long has the vaccine been around. I wouldn’t give my daughter anything that hasn’t been thoroughly tested. By the time my daughter is old enough to receive the vaccine, it will have been around for a few years. I’ll feel more comfortable about it then.”

She added, “Would I like to avoid my daughter going through what I have been through? Yes. Would I like to do anything that I can to ensure that my daughter can have children? Yes, since there was a time there when I thought I might not be able to.”

She looks at the vaccine in another light. “If this was a vaccine that wasn’t related to an STD or if this was a vaccine for breast cancer, we would all do it.”

So should it be mandatory for young girls? Many states (Texas and Florida being the first), organizations and of course, Merck, say yes. According to an Associated Press article, Richard M. Haupt, Merck’s medical director for vaccines, stated, “Our goal is about cervical cancer prevention, and we want to reach as many females as possible with Gardasil.”

Merck began lobbying state legislatures to make the vaccine mandatory. Their aggressive marketing campaign involves a two-page ad in national magazins with headlines such as “GET YOUR DAUGHTER VACCINATED AS A GIRL. HELP PREVENT HER FROM GETTING CERVICAL CANCER AS A WOMAN.”

This seems like an easy choice: get shot, no cancer. Then why are so many people against the vaccine?

One group fighting the mandate is the religious right. Many believe that giving the vaccine will encourage young girls to have premarital sex. Before the vaccine, having multiple partners and/or having intercourse before 18 was a risk factor for cervical cancer, but the vaccine would change all that.

Of course, girls can contract the virus through rape, not just voluntary sexual activity.

Other parents’ rights groups believe that the mandate for vaccination interferes with their control over their children.

Many parents choose not to immunize their children or only partially immunize them when it comes to “routine” vaccinations such as the measules- mumps-rubella, pertussis and polio shots. In Colorado and about 20 other states there is an “opt-out” option, which means that parents can bypass mandatory immunization requirements in places such as public schools on grounds of personal health or religious beliefs.

This opt-out option would also apply to the HPV vaccine in Texas and other places where it is being considered.

One advantage to having the vaccine mandatory is cost-related. If getting the shot is required, then it would have to be made easily available, both in quantity and in price. Also, many insurance companies would be forced to cover the cost. The Montezuma Health Department currently offers the vaccine through its Vaccines For Children program at the incredibly low price of $15. They have only had it available for a month now, but so far, according to Opal Stalker, RN, there have many inquiries but only a small number of vaccines given to local girls.

Stalker is very optimistic about the vaccine and its ability to reduce the occurrence of cervical cancer. “It should be treated as any other vaccine,” she said.

The San Juan Basin Health Department in Durango also offers the vaccination.

Planned Parenthood of the Rocky Mountains backs the use of Gardasil. Horle explains that testing for HPV is not a routine part of a regular gynecological exam and a woman often does not know she is infected unless she has symptoms or an abnormal Pap.

Horle believes that “with the vaccine, more than 99 percent of the yearly 10,000 cases of cervical cancer will be eradicated.” And although there are other ways to help prevent cervical cancer, such as not smoking and getting adequate folic acid in the diet, “this is a major breakthrough for women’s health. Anything that we can do to prevent cancer should be taken seriously.”

She added, “The price for having sex should not be your life… If I had a daughter, we’d be there!”

But skeptics question the timing. Only recently, Merck came under attack due to the Vioxx controversy, in which the popular painkiller was pulled because it could cause or exacerbate heart problems.

According to one pharmaceutical watchdog, Health Truth Revealed (healthtruthrevealed.com), “Merck needs cash badly.” The web site argues that Merck has “spent millions buying the favors of members of the state legislatures” to get Gardasil approved.

But according to the Associated Press, Merck has suspended lobbying for the vaccine “after bowing to pressure from medical groups, politicians and parents.”

There are also questions regarding the thoroughness of the testing of Gardasil. Gardasil was approved just 8 months ago, causing many to question making something so new “mandatory.”

Winters sees the rush as a reaction to fear. “Everyone freaks out when they hear the C-word. But people need to not do so. Preventing HPV is a lifestyle choice… if we are conscious of our sexuality and take more personal responsibility …that goes a long way.”

Having multiple partners introduces varying organisms into your body, which can cause more infections, she said. One of her concerns is that a vaccine will “take away that personal responsibility by creating a false sense of security.”

The vaccine does not prevent any disease in a woman who has already been infected, so women already sexually active may get no benefit from the shot. Also, Gardasil has not been tested on women over the age of 26.

The drug has not been approved for use in men, but at some point there will probably be testing, as males are often asymptomatic carriers of HPV.

One thing everyone agrees upon is the need for people to educate themselves; ask questions, contact their health-care provider, look on the internet. Whatever a person’s choice is in the matter, make sure that it is an informed one.

Published in April 2007

Podunovich finds her voice in performance poetry

 

RENEE PODUNOVICHSome poets publish poetry. Some perform it. Some create poetry for family and friends. Some write it in private journals.

Renee Podunovich has done all of that. At this moment, she’s into performance poetry.

“I really like the idea of the spoken word. I’m. . . enjoying reading the poetry and hearing other people’s stories,” says the small, dark-haired young woman, who is also a nationally certified counselor with a private practice in Cortez, working with teens and adults.

Last January, she read her work in southern Colorado and northwest New Mexico as part of The Growing Voices series, sponsored by Southwest Colorado Arts Perspective magazine, in an attempt to identify Four Corners writers and give them a chance to read. in public.

The variety of presentations amazed Podunovich. “Because writing can be kind of isolating. It’s been wonderful to come and meet people and hear the disparity of thoughts and words that are in the region.”

Also through performance poetry, she discovered that the spoken word can capture dialect and vocal nuance that the written word cannot. She has also learned that reading a poem silently, then hearing it, gives her separate experiences with the work.

When she writes her own poems, she believes that words gestate inside her. Then something she sees lets her link several ideas, and she’ll “spill out a poem.”

Her piece “Breaking Rank” came to her that way. Stumbling across the word “rankism,” she began to think of ways to apply it to the fine arts. If a person had an master of fine arts in creative writing, would that make him or her a better poet than someone without a degree?

Was a published poet better than a non-published writer? She also pondered how people waited for some outside source to validate their writing.

One day driving to meet a friend, “Breaking Ranks” arrived in her head. She had to stop several times to write ideas down. When poetry hits her, “it’s kind of like a waterfall,” she laughs.

“Breaking Ranks” encourages people to write for themselves, and not worry about other people’s opinions of their work.

The experience offering that message made Podunovich realize even more clearly the importance of performance poetry. “There has to be some way to give people a chance to step up and say, ‘I’m a poet. Here are my words. Would you like to hear them?’”

Podunovich sees a close relationship between being a therapist and her desire to write. “Writing comes out of my own self-expression and my own life events.” Through it, she processes what happens to her, and presents it to the world.

Though writing isn’t her primary source of income, she has been thrilled recently to receive small stipends for written and performance work through Southwest Colorado Arts Perspective magazine.

Podunovich has also published poetry The Mississippi Review on Line, and Ruah, a magazine published in Berkeley, Calif., focusing on spiritual matters.

She helped publish a small Zine “in the photocopy realm of things,” called Department of Peace: A Field Manuel of Common Tasks and Essential Poems in Times of War. It represented a collection of responses to the start of the conflict in Iraq at a “very emotional time for a lot of people.”

She has also posted poems on www.poethunter.com, proudly admitting that her name came right before Edgar Allen Poe’s.

Laughter ripples her words. “Anyone can get up there,” and get comments, or read work from all over the world.

When she first published on line, Podunovich wasn’t sure she liked the idea. Then she realized she could email her friends and relatives and tell them to read her poem. The idea thrilled her that almost anyone could now access poetry.

A certified herbalist who learned the art from an herbalist/MD in Albuquerque, Podunovich has grown her own medicines near her earthship home in Dolores. Prior to opening a private counseling practice, she made tinctures and teas professionally. Now she does so for family and friends.

Nature themes, seasonal cycles, and water appear throughout her poems. “I’m pretty free with my visual images,” she says

Podunovich grew up in Steamboat Springs, Colo., attended high school in Boulder, and went to Fort Lewis College. She started experimenting with poetry on scraps of paper around age 15. Her mother saw what she was doing, and bought her a journal.

“I still have that one. It’s kind of ratty,” Podunovich laughs. “But somehow it was kind of sweet to me that my mom took notice of something I loved so much.”

Podunovich still keeps a journal, filled with personal thoughts, fragments of poems, collages, images that she considers important, and art work. She calls herself a budding visual artist, and sees a strong relationship between word and image.

“Certainly I have an easier time expressing myself through words, and it’s just a different process to do art.” She sees a bright future for poetry through the rap and rhyme her students produce.

And that brings her back to performance. “I feel like I’ve found a new voice I didn’t have before,” says Podunovich, contented.

Published in April 2007, Arts & Entertainment

The growing problem of graffiti

 

RICK BECHER SEES NEW GRAFFITI DAMAGE AT HIS BUSINESS NEARLY EVERY DAYEach morning as Rick Becher opens his plumbing shop on South Washington Street in Cortez, he wonders what new damage has been done during the night to his building’s alley wall and garage door. Becher, owner of Rick’s Plumbing, has operated his business in the same location since 1982 and has endured years of repeated graffiti vandalism to his building.

“I finally just quit. I gave up,” Becher said. “You can’t clean it off every day.”

Becher said he tried for years to promptly cover the graffiti that now mars the side of his otherwise tidy building, but the task grew frustrating and costly as the vandals seemed relentless and new graffiti quickly appeared.

“It embarrasses me to have all that stuff on there,” he said. “But I just don’t have the time or the money to fix it.” He estimates that it would cost about $2,000 to have his building professionally painted.

“It’s not like the [Cortez] Journal said [in a Feb. 17, 2007 editorial],” Becher said. “It’s not like shoveling snow, you see an end to that. But [graffiti] can happen any night. And it takes a whole lot longer to paint that wall than it does to shovel that sidewalk off.”

Officers from the Cortez Police Department respond to Becher’s business each time he calls to report new graffiti. And Becher would like to see more done to catch the vandals.

“I just think they need to start prosecuting some of these people,” Becher said. “And not just throwing them in jail for a month or so, they ought to pay the bill [for damages] and be responsible for their actions.”

Diane Fox, school resource officer for the Cortez Police Department, said that the department investigates frequent complaints from property owners about graffiti vandalism but that catching the vandals in the act is a difficult task because most incidences occur at night when the vandals have the advantage over the police.

“They are really tough to catch,” Fox said. “They see us coming unless we are on foot or bike patrol where we can get in the alleys and kind of sneak around.”

Fox said that graffiti vandals are often males, ranging in age from 11 to 18. She added that young females are frequently involved with graffiti and are even forming their own gangs.

Graffiti is the most common type of property vandalism, and much of what is seen in the Cortez area is either gang-related graffiti or what is known as tagging. “Graffiti, especially gangrelated graffiti, is the newspaper of the street,” Fox said.

Gang graffiti often appears as letters, numbers and symbols, and is usually only recognized by the gang members and law-enforcement officers. These marks serve as a crude message system for gangs to mark territory, announce members, offer drugs for sale and send warnings to rival gangs.

“We started seeing a lot of (gang graffiti) last summer,” Fox said. She explained that officers watch graffiti to learn of the presence of gangs. When they start seeing “cover-ups” — gang graffiti sprayed over others’ marks — they know a rival gang is also in the area and there could be conflicts between the two.

Fox said that a rash of gang-related graffiti last summer was linked to a group of Navajo juveniles claiming ties to a gang out of Salt Lake City, Utah. The suspected vandals had been sent to Salt Lake City for school and were “jumped,” or recruited, into a gang. They returned to Cortez and started leaving their mark on local buildings.

“People make the mistake, especially in small towns like Cortez, of thinking these kids are just wannabe gang members,” Fox said. “Any gang expert or authority on gangs will tell you there’s no such thing as a wannabe gang member. You either have that ‘gangsta’ mentality or you don’t have it. You either adopt that culture or you don’t.”

Tagging, another form of graffiti, is usually distinctive and often simple markings placed in many locations throughout a neighborhood or city. The purpose of a tag is to bring recognition and notoriety to the tagger.

“A tagger just wants his tag up,” Fox said. People know who the tagger is and recognize his or her moniker, she said.

As a tagger’s mark becomes noticed by his or her friends and fellow vandals, the tagger’s reputation grows. The more dangerous and high-profile the location, the more attention brought to the tagger.

Tagging becomes a competition between vandals, all working to outdo the other. New tags appear over previous marks, tags show up in more prominent locations and, left unchecked, tags spread to more and more locations.

Fox explained that tagging is usually done in alleys. Once an area is tagged, the vandals often return to the same area to mark it again. Interestingly, taggers often mark prolifically in the area near where they live to announce their presence.

In addition to her duties as school resource officer, Fox maintains a graffiti book for the police department, a thick binder filled with photographs of graffiti in various locations throughout the city. By studying the different marks, officers can sometimes connect certain individuals to their corresponding graffiti tag.

In one case, Fox said, a young man was arrested after a disturbance and officers were able to learn his street name, or moniker. The man’s moniker was also his tag, which he had spraypainted on several buildings throughout the city. The man admitted responsibility for the vandalism after being shown the photos of his tag in the police department’s graffiti book.

“The best you can do is hope to identify who did it through one of their monikers or tags,” Fox said, “and get them charged with it and get the parents to pay for the damages.”

Even if officers don’t catch vandals in the act, city code prohibits the possession of graffiti paraphernalia by anyone under age 18. Prohibited items include aerosol paint containers, etchers, gum labels, markers, paint bombs and paint sticks. Fox said juveniles often get spray paint and markers from local retailers. She added that one graffiti vandal’s mother was buying spray paint for him so he could “decorate his room.”

In addition to tracking graffiti and investigating complaints, Fox said she and other officers do their best to educate property owners who are victims of graffiti vandalism.

“The best thing you can do with graffiti is abate it immediately,” she said. “Get rid of it. Get rid of it. Get rid of it.” If left uncovered, graffiti not only looks trashy, but gives graffiti vandals the result they are looking for — their tag, moniker or gang sign on display for all to see.

In addition to covering graffiti as soon as possible, Fox said that keeping dark areas illuminated at night helps deter vandals. Security cameras placed in areas frequently hit by graffiti vandals also works to reduce property damage.

Not only can police cite minors for possession of graffiti materials, property owners within the city can be held liable for cleanup of graffiti damage on their properties. The Cortez City Code states that a property owner can be compelled to remove within 10 days graffiti that is deemed to be a public nuisance. However, Renda Wright, community service coordinator for the Cortez Police Department, said that in most cases property owners clean up graffiti on their own, without prompting from the city.

“A lot of the property owners are constantly cleaning up their properties,” Wright said. “They clean it up because they think it looks really bad.”

Wright is coordinator for the city’s new graffiti-abatement program, set to begin March 31. She will oversee inmates from the Montezuma County Jail as they paint over graffiti vandalism throughout the city. Wright has identified and photographed graffiti around town and is working to obtain permission from property owners to paint over the damaged areas.

“We went out and took picture of all the graffiti we could find,” Wright said. “Then Chief [Roy Lane] said that we would start downtown, where it was the most obvious and more people see it, then work our way out until we get it all done.”

The inmates will work each Saturday, weather permitting, Wright said. Areas damaged by graffiti will be primed, if necessary, and painted over with colors to closely match existing paint.

Wright said property owners and area residents who haven’t been contacted about graffiti on their buildings should call her at the police department, 565-8441. She said much of the city’s graffiti was found in alleys within a half block of Main Street, where her crews will concentrate their initial efforts.

This comes as good news for Becher, whose shop is located in one of the hardest-hit areas. He said he’s happy to see the city and county creating an abatement program and making an effort to help property owners with the graffiti problem.

He added that although he’s frustrated and disgusted with the graffiti problem, he appreciates the time and effort that police invest in responding to his calls and trying to catch the vandals.

“It’s hard these days to get by and run a business, especially a small business like mine. I try and keep my grass cut and my trees trimmed and make it look like a decent place to do business,” Becher said. “Then I come and find the building all marked up, and (graffiti) more than half way down the block.

“[Vandals] just don’t know how hard people work to get what they have,” he said. “In a few minutes’ time they can come in and destroy it.”

Published in April 2007

Simple pleasures

There is a new sound in my life that is pure music to my ears…

The sound of a flushing toilet.

Yes, it’s true, I now have both a sink, with hot and cold running water, and a toilet that is indoors.

No more down jacket, sorrells, hat, mittens, scarf and headlamp for that early morning run to the outhouse. No more frozen seats, no more snow blowing in on my exposed flesh. I can now stroll through the door to “the other side” (the side which is the actual house and not the garage), taking my mug of coffee and copy of the Free Press with me, to relax in the warmth of my new house.

Yep, there’s heat over there too. Although, I do still have to do the headlamp thing as there are no light fixtures in place yet.

But, I can wash my hands when I am finished without having to haul the water and heat it up on the stove.

At this point in our lives, I am easily pleased.

Likewise, my family is easily entertained. Last Saturday night, when Tom came over to announce that indeed, we did have a toilet, we all rushed over there, camera in hand, and had a group flush. We even allowed the boys to put their hands in the toilet bowl for their one and only guilt-free opportunity to satisfy their (weird) boyish impulses.

And the sink! For days after that was hooked up, Bowen stopped teasing the kitten for entertainment, instead washing minuscule specks of dirt off his hands with hot water and soap. This, from a child who vehemently protests his weekly bath. Now, he says, “Mama, I’m going to pee… IN THE TOILET!”

The boys want to brush their teeth, wash their faces and have even offered to do the dishes, although they have yet to follow through on this one. I, on the other hand, took three weeks to realize that I no longer had to brush my teeth in the driveway.

I am a bit slow on the uptake.

The one hitch, which is temporary, is that there is still “over here” and “over there.” “Over here” is the garage, where we still reside and “over there” is my new home which is quickly acquiring modern conveniences. As “over there” becomes more comfortable and inviting, “over here” becomes a bit more dreary and stifling (not to mention cold and dark). Yet we remain over here until over there is complete.

I know I am not the first person to have to live without modern conveniences and I know that I could continue on living without a flush toilet but…

I also know that there are people in this world, this country, this county even, who live without; people whose daily lives are much more trying and difficult than mine. The main difference being that I am living this way by choice and many others have no choice.

I am perfectly aware of the hardships of others, but for just a brief moment, I would like to feel properly martyrlike in my own suffering and bask in the sound of running water. I am going to be shallow, self-absorbed and perhaps a bit insensitive.

I will join the ranks of our consumerdriven society, believing that I need more stuff. (Judge me if you will, but, admit it, you too are not always the bleeding-heart liberal you claim to be – I’m just publicly putting it out there.)

So when my high-school friend says, “I can’t believe how tough you are, living in your garage; two kids, three cats, a dog, husband, no heat, no water, in the winter, are you really OK?” I audibly suck it up, raise the back of my hand to my forehead and say, “Oh, don’t worry about us, we’re… surviving. Really.”

In all honesty, the time has gone very quickly and it has been an unforgettable adventure. I wouldn’t have traded this time with my family for anything in the world as it has brought us incredibly close, teaching us many a lesson about need versus necessity, and reminding us to appreciate the little things in life.

But for now, I am counting the days until I move into our house. I daydream about which of my unnecessary items, my stuff, I will enjoy the most; microwave, dishwasher, shower and tub, separate bedrooms, lights, heat, windows that open, washing machine and count ‘em, two flush toilets. I will not for even one tiny second long for the ‘good old days” and I will proudly proclaim myself to be a sell-out.

Some day, I may even get to the point where I take these things for granted, when I actually forget the novelty of choosing hot or cold water. I will leave my martyrdom behind, once again becoming altruistic, lecturing my boys about starving children in Africa and large families in other countries living in one-room shacks. They in turn will roll their eyes at me. But there will always be a certain magic for me which lies in the music made by the flush of the pot.

Suzanne Strazza lives near Mancos, Colo.

Published in Suzanne Strazza

‘The stink’? A talk about the term ‘Anasazi’

Craig Childs discusses his new book and the ancient culture that did not vanish

“Earth is the region of the fleeting moment,” sang Tecayehuatzin, Aztec prince of Huexotzinco, in a Nahuatl poem. (Leon-Portilla, 1969-81.)

The 1995 Desert Writers’ Workshop reading was over. We were in the dining room of Pack Creek Ranch south of Moab, Utah. I had read from my novel, “Sisters of the Dream,” a woman’s story set partly in 12th century Wupatki, an ancestral Hopi city.

I stepped away from the podium. I heard a man’s voice with the rough sheen of badger fur. When I turned, I looked into eyes both feral and curious. “I’m Craig Childs,” the man said.

We spoke for a few minutes. I took the silver bracelet from my left wrist and gave it to him. He put it on and told me that sometimes he was in Flagstaff. “Till next time,” we said.

Childs was 28, a wanderer, an archaeologist, a sunglint brought by his own intention under a magnifying glass, hotter, hotter, till smoke rose from the object of his scrutiny.

Ten years later, Childs and I met for perhaps the tenth “next time” in Bellavia, a little restaurant in the heart of Flagstaff.

Craig spoke my name. I have heard him begin an incantatory essay with that tone. I looked up. His gaze was no less feral, no less curious… though walking and writing the terrains of seven books, and marriage, and fatherhood had carried him since we first met.

“So what about using the word ‘Anasazi’?” he said. “In this next book. I’m following Southwest migration routes.”

We were not new to the conversation. “You know what it means in Navajo,” I said. “Something insulting, something like ‘Ancient Enemy’.”

“Worse,” he said. “‘Asshole.’ Almost literally. ‘The stink’.”

We were quiet. Our food came.

“Why not use ‘Ancestral Puebloans’?” I said.

“That’s better, but it’s still a blanket term and one white academics made up. Leigh Kuwanwisiwma from the Hopi Cultural Preservation Office uses the term ‘Hisatsinom’.”

“There it is,” I said. “What’s left to discuss?”

“I’m still not convinced,” he said. “Nobody really knows that word… ‘Honantszin’… and those who migrated were not just ancestral Hopi.”

He made another note in his journal. Something about his pen moving over the page struck me. “What if,” I said, “you write this conversation… open it out, play with it… we could e-mail each other, get a deeper conversation going. Then use it as the prologue in your new book. No matter what names you decide to use for the early people, you will add to a necessary exchange and conflict.”

“Convince me more,” he said.

“I wish,” I said, “you could see the look in my Hopi friends’ eyes when they hear somebody say ‘Anasazi’.”

He picked up his pen. “What? What are those looks?”

I hoped we were at a tipping point. “Sorrow. Deep sorrow.”

Two years moved between us. In December 2006, he wrote, hoping I would read the review copy of his new book, “House of Rain,” and give him my reaction. The book arrived. I read the first sentence in the second paragraph of the preface and stopped:

“As I walked, I carefully studied the passing ground for broken artifacts left by the Anasazi, a people once balanced on the imaginary tightrope stretched between B.C. and A.D.”

I skimmed the book. Anasazi. Anasazi. Anasazi. Then, on page 264, this: “ …For a long time Anasazi was romantically and incorrectly thought to mean ‘old ones.’ It actually means ‘enemy ancestors,’ a term full of political innuendo and slippery history. In Navajo, a notoriously complex and subtly coded language, ‘Ana’i’ means ‘alien, enemy, foreigner, non-Navajo.’ ‘Anaa’ means ‘war.’ Sazi translates as something or someone once whole and now scattered about — word used to describe the final corporeal decay as body turns to bones and is strewn about by erosion and scavengers.”

I called Craig. “We’ve got to talk. I don’t think you’re going to want me to review this book. You write what ‘Anasazi’ means… ‘stinking zombie killer’… and you still use it.”

“No,” Craig said, “it’s not that simple.”

I flipped through the book and in the next instant, as mysteriously as the fate of the “Anasazi” is not mysterious, I found the words that told me he had understood the Hopis’ sorrow, and the deep imperative that their name and the truth of their story be honored.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll dig deeper.”

I read “House of Rain” in two days. Childs’ prose is a topo map, a weaving as complex as the ancient red sash of feathers he studied for long moments in the Edge of the Cedars Museum. I could have been seduced by the audacious beauty of his sentences, words strung as essential and weathered as shell beads on yucca fiber. I was not.

By the time I had finished reading, I was not content with his partial resolution. He had not locked a portal to the further use of ‘Anasazi’; he had left that door open. Still, he had recognized the existence of other openings. I wrote him that I wanted us to move through them. Yes,” he said, “let’s go.”

This is the way the Hopi deal with the future — by working within a present situation which is expected to carry impresses, both obvious and occult, forward into the future event of interest. — Benjamin Whorf

I sent Childs four inquiries. He responded quick as breath:

I experience your mapping as both internal and external. What are your coordinates for “House of Rain”?

Childs: The Southwest, because of its austerity and dryness, and its extraordinary geology, is a map of stark and unrepeatable landmarks. You don’t need a paper map. You’ve got one made of earth. The landscape ends up looking like the night sky, fixed points and constellations from horizon to horizon, patterns of buttes and mountains that fuse into the eye, into memory, never forgotten. Internal and external become the same.

Put the dark hood of Sleeping Ute Mountain in your center. You see it from the barren tip of Comb Ridge wrapping around Monument Valley. You see it from the ruin-strewn rims of the Great Sage Plain and Hovenweep in Colorado. You see it from between the twin buttes of the Bear’s Ears in Utah. Even from the edge of Skeleton Mesa over Kayenta in Arizona — there it is on your horizon, a shroud in the distance.

A landmark becomes your axis and you begin turning around it. Everything you do becomes part of that sphere, walking, driving, sleeping, eating in great circles. The same happens around the San Francisco Peaks, around Navajo Mountain, in the blank hole of Chaco, along the Mogollon Rim, and in the Sky Islands of south- east Arizona. This book is a dance between these center places.

It is a series of journeys that gravitate toward one point and the next, and in the end connect the Four Corners to the Sierra Madre Occidental. By the time I was done, I realized I had mapped out my very heart, the outside landscape matching the one within.

The Chinese say that when a child is born there is a red thread connecting the infant to everyone s/he will know. They stretch but never break. When did you first find the thread(s) you follow in your walking?

Childs: It is impossible to say when the first threads began to appear. I picked up an arrowhead at an early age. My father took me into the desert and showed me shattered, pre-Hispanic pottery, and told me people had lived here long ago. I learned how to find water in unlikely places, how to discern routes between cliffs and canyons. I began walking for weeks and then months, following invisible trails.

“House of Rain” is simply my attempt to salt a little science over these trails and make them visible, in the context of archaeology. I did this because I keep finding myself where people had been before. We keep performing the same kinds of acts in the same places, as if the threads were here to begin with, before we were ever born. Each of us looks up every once in a while and realizes what we are part of, that these threads extend through time well beyond the span of our own lives, yet we are inextricably tied to them.

You write of the word “Anasazi,” which you tell us means “enemy ancestors” in its simplist form, and in deeper translation “foreign adversaries who are now strewn like a corpse torn apart by ravens and coyotes.” What is the trajectory of your understanding of this word? How does its use link with common human unease?

Childs: The problem with writing is that you have to use words, and words have definitions. I first wrote the book without the word “Anasazi.” But I realized that no matter how crude, it is still a useful term. I put it back in and let the word transform across the length of the book. I broke it down, saying that there was never a group called “Anasazi.”

There were many ethnicities, clans, and people speaking different languages on the pre-Columbian Colorado Plateau, and many lived under the rubric of corn, kivas, and pottery. But the people were not Anasazi. The word is merely a category. It encompasses a constellation of archaeological traits. It is not the name of a people.

The middle of “House of Rain” occurs at Hopi, where I bring in the perspective that “Anasazi” is an insult, a word coined by Navajos that denigrates Pueblo ancestry. It is like “nigger,” or even “celtic” in its original use (from the Greek keltoi, dating to the 6th century B.C., describing barbarians living far north of the Mediterranean Sea). After that, the word rarely appears again in the book, replaced by a number of other terms. Many archaeologists implored me to use “Ancestral Puebloan,” a term that is also useful, but just as crude in its own right, painfully dry on the tongue, and geographically nonspecific (does it include Hohokam, Mogollon, Salado, Sinagua?).

Hearing people say that we’ve decided to change the name for the better makes my stomach turn. Is it any less of a violation to turn Pueblo ancestry into a semantic ping-pong game? For the Hopi, I imagine Ancestral Puebloan is far better. And there is “Hisatsinom,” the Hopi term for their ancestors, which leaves out equally valid words used by Zuni, Tewa, Acoma, etc. Should a person absolutely unfamiliar with the ancestry of Hopi be using the word “Hisatsinom”? It feels like a smug, false acquaintance coming from my mouth.

When many people who are not Pueblo speak of these ancient people, they are actually talking about Anasazi. That is, Anasazi: how Anglos envision ancient civilization on the Colorado Plateau. I believe we should be sophisticated and worldly enough to use more than one term. I would not throw out Anasazi any more than I would Ancestral Puebloan or Hisatsinom. They each serve a unique purpose. Permanently choosing only one, and not allowing the scope of others, is human unease, as you put it. It is our inability to shift vantages when need be, leaving much of our vision in the dark. So, I call them Anasazi, Pueblo, Ancestral Puebloan, Hisatsinom, and many other things across the length of this book, each word telling its own story.

What might be weaving here, in your work, in these old old discoveries? What don’t we want to see?

Childs: What I am first trying to weave is vision of the Southwest, filling its empty spaces with a cultural continuity once stretched seamlessly from the Four Corners to northern Mexico (and from there onward, into Mesoamerica). A strong cultural map still exists through modern Pueblo people, archaeologists, and wilderness travelers. This map covers the land, a tapestry of memory left from an ancient civilization. So often, Pueblo ancestry is seen as a purely legendary phenomenon, and I am writing beyond mere mythology, describing actual people, people who once walked, hunted, farmed, and drank precious water.

Part of this vision is an unwanted view of the past. Certain chapters of “House of Rain” focus on evidence of violence, massacres, and cannibalism. I want to shred the misnomer that prehistoric Native America was a mere peaceful, agrarian state. That idea is an invention, a wish. But these people were humans, as capable of episodes of peace as they were of extraordinary violence.

The ways in which people were killed in the Southwest often points toward ritualistic hostility; body parts collected in rooms or plazas, skeletons missing hands and feet, children sacrificed and buried under ball courts or at the foot of pillars in important rooms. The ventilator shaft of a kiva at Mesa Verde was found stuffed with human skulls, so that the air entering this ceremonial space passed through the jaws and nosebones of dead men. Most of the American continents from this time show elaborate signs of ceremonial, even holy violence, shedding light on a deeper part of ancient American society or cosmology.

Exceptional sacrifice was embedded into the Americas. To one degree or another, violence was not prosaic the way most of us now see it. It was part of a reciprocal arrangement with deities who had sacrificed themselves to create the earth. Spanish Conquistadors rolling across continents, overtaking and killing everything in their path, were a thoroughly alien sight, even to Mayans, Aztecs, and Incas who indulged heavily in heartrending human sacrifice. Neolithic New World violence and industrial Old World violence are at their core very different experiences.

It would have been easy to linger on violence as a theme, but in this book I tried to cover as many bases as possible, filling out a vision of Southwest ancestry. We see cliff dwellings, potsherds, and rock art, but we may not comprehend where these came from, what message they might carry. What many witness as a vacant, arid landscape dotted with ruins, is actually a place that holds the key to an ancient lifeway.

Does that answer the question?

“Yes,” I thought, “though there is this… that vacant, arid place may also hold a key to future lifeways, to how our species might better occupy this place.”

Published in -March 2007

Planning board says no to 44-lot subdivision

 

ROAD TO GRANATH MESAA 44-lot subdivision with no water source other than residential cisterns got a resounding no from the Montezuma County Planning Commission in late February.

The planning commission voted 5-1 to recommend denying the developers’ request for AR 3-9 zoning (agricultural/ residential lots of 3 to 9 acres) on 160 acres atop Granath Mesa outside Dolores. A crowd of about 45, many of whom spoke against the development, attended the public hearing.

The developers had 30 days to decide whether to appeal to the county commission, but as of press time they had not sought to be on the agenda.

It is unusual but not unheard of for the planning commission to reject a project outright. Usually it seeks to work with the developers to mitigate neighbors’ concerns.

In this case, worries about fire danger, access, the water situation and a conflict with the town of Dolores’ plans all proved too big for the board to ameliorate.

Tim and Peter Singleton of 4 Corners Properties had argued that their Summerhaven Subdivision would help satisfy a growing demand for small acreage lots in the county.

Tim Singleton said 3-acre tracts are selling for $75,000 or more in the county, “making these lots out of reach of the majority of working families.”

But they also said the subdivision would fill the needs of wealthy retirees and second-home owners wanting small, manageable tracts.

“I’m dealing with people coming into my office looking for property,” Peter Singleton said. “These are retirees and second-home owners that we’re trying to draw. We definitely need more of these people with disposable income to spend.”

Tim Singleton said, “We feel there’s no better place in Montezuma County for a project of the type we’re proposing.”

But a number of area residents disagreed, saying the site was a terrible one for a high-density subdivision and that it could prove disastrous in the case of a major wildfire.

The property lies along roads 31 and W on Granath Mesa north of Dolores. The mesa is reached via the town’s 11th Street, which turns into County Road 31 and winds steeply up Dunlap Hill above the town. The tract sits across from the Sophia Lodge and also along the road that leads to the Boggy Draw area of the San Juan National Forest.

Tim Singleton told the planning board he felt the road was adequate to handle the subdivision’s traffic.

“Road 31 was built by the Dolores Project, to handling logging trucks and such,” he said. He called it “the best road in the county.”

He said the area where drivers descend the switchbacks into town and a school zone is “very well marked.”

“The speed limit is 30 mph in Dolores, and if there’s children present it slows to 15 mph,” he said. “We have a school crossing sign there.” He said they would work with the town if needed to improve safety, however.

He said he did not think the threat of fire was excessive, pointing out that the subdivision would be “way inside the boundaries of the Dolores Fire Protection District” and that a hydrant was 1.5 miles away and the fire station itself 2.8 miles away.

Tim Singleton said they had worked with Natural Resource Consulting to prepare a fire-mitigation plan and had contacted the Dolores Fire Protection District for advice.

However, Dolores Fire Chief Don Setser told the board he had concerns.

One is the number of buildings allowed per lot — two primary residences (one a guest house) and three accessory buildings, he said.

This could create exposure problems if one building were on fire, he said.

He said another part of the covenants states that all RVs and horses on premises must be screened from view by shrubs and trees. “It seems like this would require pretty dense plantings on a 3-acre lot, which could compromise wildfire-mitigation efforts,” Setser said.

He questioned whether part-time residents of the subdivision would keep up with brush-clearing efforts, particularly regarding tenacious Gambel oak.

Setser also said access poses a serious problem. “Being as there’s no central water supply, all our water for firefighting purposes is going to come with a tanker shuttle up that hill,” he said.

In a letter dated Feb. 20, Setser wrote, “The Forest Service road to the north (commonly called Norwood Road) could be considered an emergency egress route for residents during the summer months but could not be an emergency response route as the distances are too great. . .” He also pointed out that the road is not plowed at night in the winter, and Dunlap Hill can be extremely slick and sees frequent rock slides.

But Tim Singleton reiterated that they were just 1.5 miles from water. “Fire is something that we have to live with every day,” he said.

Several neighbors also argued that the 3-acre tracts would not fit with the surrounding area.

The Singletons said the area has a mix of uses. They said a neighboring property is already zoned for AR 3-9.

But Planning Commission Chair Bob Riggert said the neighboring property is not zoned AR 3-9; its owners have merely expressed a preference for that zoning. The county has not approved it.

Attorney Jon Kelly, representing resident David Doran, said there was precedent for the county to turn down the zoning request. He said in 2001, AR 3-9 zoning for another property on the mesa was denied as being incompatible with the neighborhood.

Lori Raney, another neighbor, said she owns 35 acres on Road W that was going to be a subdivision in the ’90s. But the development with its 3-5-acre lots, was turned down, she said.

John Cowell, a resident of Granath Mesa, said average home water use in this country is 6,900 gallons per month, which would total 303,600 gallons a month if all 44 sites were occupied. He said that would require 25 pickup trips per day to haul water.

He also said the subdivision would produce 11,550 gallons of effluent a day and that this could affect an inactive geologic fault in the area.

Tim Singleton responded that cisternusers are more water-efficient. “You live differently when you have a cistern,” he said. He said Dolores has plenty of water available to sell.

He also said the developers had specifically excluded wells from the subdivision because they did not want to affect the neighbors’ water.

“By doing cisterns, if water was to come up the hill we have a block of people that are ready and would tap into that if it came up,” Peter Singleton added.

Commission member Casey McClellan also expressed concern about the town’s objections.

In a Feb. 8 letter to the county, Dolores Town Administrator Ronda Lancaster said the town’s comprehensive plan calls for its “R-35” future land-use category to be applied on Granath Mesa, with maximum density not to exceed one dwelling unit per 35 acres unless alternate access becomes available.

Tim Singleton said he did not see how the town could specify what development happened on the mesa. “There isn’t a town in the country that has an R-35 zone,” he said.

County attorney Bob Slough clarified that in the commission meeting Feb. 26, saying a town can make decisions regarding objectionable land uses within 1 mile of its boundaries. A town’s influence beyond 1 mile but within 3 miles is limited to making sure county development does not conflict with a town’s master street plan, Slough said, though a town’s comments can certainly be taken into account.

But the planning-commission members decided other concerns were sufficiently grave for them to recommend rejecting the development.

Published in -March 2007

Goodtimes’ work shows why poetry matters

Editor’s note: Art Goodtimes of Norwood, Colo., is a county commissioner in San Miguel County, serving his third term. He is the highest-ranking elected Green Party official in the state. In addition, he’s a columnist for several papers, including the Free Press, and a poet whose readings are as highly charged and entertaining as performance art. He has just released his first book of poetry.

On the newly released cover of the first major poetry collection by Art Goodtimes, “As If the World Really Mattered,” an image of what could be mistaken for a wizard from Middle Earth appears. In one hand, a hiking staff connected to the earth; in the other, a lightning bolt streaking toward the sky. Between them a man with the ability to hold my attention now in this totally unusual forum: The printed page.

It’s not that Art Goodtimes’ poems have never found their way to print before. His work has circulated for decades like the legendary ring of power, from hand to hand, within a stack of publications too thick to mention. But it’s his voice that has dominated our Southwestern landscape: Performances, politics, and gatherings of the heart.

Now, for the first time, bound in a handsomely printed sheaf of 128 pages, I can touch the poems themselves, with additional note pages that read like a metaphysical fusion of biography, philosophy, and bibliography. His craft is laid bare without the accompaniment of his booming voice, but his words still hold me breathless.

For those of you who have not heard Goodtimes read his work, then the book becomes a surrogate voice, and the typography sets itself up as a clue that there’s a score by which to hear his poetic music. Visually, all the poems are justified to run a line down the center of the page, those wider, more narrative and discursive pieces set beside the narrow, quicker paced images:

Ah!
Then my name is butter,
sweet cream,
& no noise can disturb
the blind ease of a finger
tracing orbits
in the furrows of our deepest eyes.

The strategy works beautifully, for not only is the page symmetrically balanced for the sake of the reading eye, but the cadence of breath seems to have its say as the eye moves down the page. It’s Art behind the ink, or it’s ink in the service of performance art. Either way, I can hear him from miles away.

An “invocation” by the late Dolores LaChapelle provides Goodtimes with a brief introduction. She relates that he studied in the seminary to be a Catholic priest for seven years before he realized how deeply theology resonates within the earth’s geology. Goodtimes may have escaped his monkish cell, but his poetry remains a prayer book of sorts, an earth meditation, on the relationship between animal and human, a genuine search for meaning locked into the ironies of our existence. He conjures a few spirits from the past like Linnaeus, Neruda, Edward Teller, Ed Abbey, his own grade-school teacher Sister Leo – each of them personal and cultural touchstones. Of Linnaeus, for example, an ancient who advocated for early science and the identification of all things, he writes:

In his last years
Linnaeus suffered a stroke
& it is said he who named & classified

all the known species,
flora and fauna, of his day
forgot even his own name.

As a reader, I’m impressed watching Goodtimes arrange language, and not just in English. His poems contain Greek, Latin, Spanish, German, Italian, and Portuguese references – to name a few – but all of them efficiently and insightfully glossed in the note section at the end of the book. Art Goodtimes is a linguist at heart, a shaper of word baskets, a dervish of vocabulary. Even his last name – an English translation for an old world Italian name, Bontempi – cradles a rekindled spirit.

“As If the World Really Mattered” blends land and language, and the poems are energized with both passion and wit. In “Breathing Kansas” he writes, “Breathe it in. / The centerfold prime rib heart of America.” In “Current Events” it’s “man’s (sic) rise to civilization” that both enlightens me with its Latin notation for correctness while the same (sic) doubles as a comment on our human foibles. Formality is muddied with colloquial mortar, a mixture stabilizing both earth and sky: “…crash ashore / you mother waves! / Soak in. … Pulling up / mud of the New World / from under waves of the Old Ways.” It’s possible the Old Ones have abducted Art Goodtimes and shamelessly used him as a sounding board. I welcome these spirits back as enthusiastically as I congratulate them on the choice for their voice.

Over 50 years ago, American poet William Carlos Williams wrote, “It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.”

“As if the World Really Mattered” reminds me that poetry, indeed, does matter, and that the real news has always been old.

Published in -March 2007, Arts & Entertainment

From herons to hummingbirds: Four Corners a birder’s paradise, but  habitat loss, drought threaten species

 

EURASIAN COLLARED DOVESRegardless of how much members of the class aves are disparaged by us beastmasters — “bird brain,” “for the birds,” “give him the bird,” and so on — many homo sapiens find them endlessly fascinating.

Think of it. There are no widespread rabbit- or deer-watching societies, after all, even though those animals are fun to encounter. And while few of us other than hunters will willingly spend days sneaking around and waiting patiently for the chance — and only the chance — of seeing a rare or particularly beautiful example of other species, birders are known for braving inclement weather for these ethereal feathered attractions that may or may not appear . . . out of thin air.

Not to say other varieties of wildlife don’t have their own aficionados — the dedicated, almost obsessive fans of Yellowstone National Park wolves, for instance — but birding in particular has become big business.

Bird-watching and other wildlifeviewing by 66 million Americans contributes $43 billion annually to the nation’s economy, according to a press release from the American Bird Conservancy. “Retail sales of birding gear, birding trips, and state and federal tax receipts comprise a substantial portion of this.

CEDAR WAXWING“As well as a biological imperative, it makes good economic sense to conserve bird habitat,” points out ABC President George Fenwick.

However habitats from coast to coast are being ever more threatened by intrusive development. The Southwest riparian habitat in parts of Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, Texas and California is the fifth most threatened habitat in the nation, according to the American Bird Conservancy. The shortgrass prairie in Colorado, New Mexico, and some other states is No. 15 on the list.

The popularity of the Ute Mountain Mesa Verde Birding Festival, which is now in its third year (it’s set for May 10- 13) is a welcome addition to the local economy. The diversity of habitats in the Four Corners makes this an excellent area for seeing all sorts of birds.

But the region certainly is not immune to the loss of habitat, with its rapidly expanding population and subdivisions blossoming like dandelions.

The Ute Mountain Mesa Verde Birding Festival will take place May 10-13 throughout Montezuma County. Reservations are being taken and some tours are filling up fast.

The tours include trips to Mesa Verde, the Ute Mountain Tribal Park, McElmo Canyon, and the Dolores River. A special overnight trip to the Bosque del Apache wetlands and Salinas Missions National Monument, both in New Mexico, is also available.

Registration for the festival is $35, which includes reception, lectures, and the banquet on Saturday. More information, including prices for tours, is available at www.utemountainmesaverdebirdingfestival. com or by calling the Cortez Cultural Center, 970-565-1151.

The impact of human development is graphically illustrated by the near total disappearance of the Gunnison sage grouse from the Four Corners, where it was once plentiful. Isolated populations near Dove Creek, Colo., and Monticello, Utah, have dwindled to minuscule numbers despite conservation plans formulated with the help of local citizens.

Southern invaders

Fred Blackburn, a local author and longtime bird fancier who takes part in annual bird counts in Montezuma County, said there is good news and bad news concerning the area’s birds, both residents and transients migrating through.

“There’s about the same number of species,” he said, “but numbers of individual birds are dropping and have been for the last probably 10 years. Some of that is caused by drought, but a lot of it’s caused by habitat loss.

“Hummingbirds are definitely diminishing pretty much every year – they’ve dropped dramatically — and a lot of the warblers are being affected — the stuff coming out of Mexico are really the ones where the count is dropping.”

Climate change is also having an impact, he believes — causing problems for some species but also bringing new ones to the area.

“We’re starting to see species that aren’t here normally,” he said. On the Christmas bird count this year, watchers spotted two roadrunners, a species usually associated with the milder climes of Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. The roadrunner is an opportunist in its diet, consuming insects and small rodents when handy. but preferring more reptilian fare — lizards and small snakes. One roadrunner was spotted on Lebanon Road east of Highway 491, and the other off County Road G near the airport.

“What [biologists are] picking up with this global warming is that a lot of species are moving 150 miles north of their previous ranges . . . as their food sources change.”

Another relatively new arrival to the area is the ringnecked dove, which has established itself over the past five years.

“It kind of sounds like a turtledove but looks like a pigeon,” Blackburn said. “Those came in off the Caribbean and they’re settled in all over now — they’re not just an intown species.” They first showed up in the Dove Creek area, and are now commonly seen in Cortez and Durango.

But unlike starlings and house sparrows, which “are pretty much tied to people,” the ring-necked dove is surviving in rural areas as well, he said.

Newcomers also include the eastern bluebird, which seems to be settling down in McElmo Canyon.

Raptors thrive

Many species are doing well in the Four Corners. Raptors such as eagles and hawks are thriving in this area, Blackburn said.

“I think they’re doing pretty well overall,” he said. “They’ve increased from the ’60s [when DDT and other poisons had caused a decline] and continue to do so. Our bald-eagle population has definitely increased, and golden eagles go up and down with rodent counts — they generally do better here if there are a lot of groundhogs in the canyon systems.”

Last year during the salmon run on the Dolores River, Blackburn counted 45 bald eagles between Dolores and Stoner, he said, and more are nesting in the area.

EVENING GROSBEAKAside from those at Totten Lake, there aren’t many large groups of waterfowl around the largely arid county, he said, although some sandhill cranes were spotted in the Mancos area last November.

Blackburn explained that migratory birds can be blown off course by bad weather, which can be a boon to birders.

“Weather patterns disrupting stuff, that’s when you get birds falling out of the air and you need to be out looking — bad weather is good news for birders during migration.”

Blackburn said he hasn’t heard of any impacts from the West Nile virus or avian flu in this area yet, but there was a different virus that attacked ravens, crows, magpies and jays in the area during the drought. “It knocked them way back,” he said, “but it’s mainly in those species.”

Threatened or Endangered

Jim Beatty, whom Blackburn described as “one of the top birders on the state” and one of the guides for the Ute Mountain Birding Festival, expressed more optimism than Blackburn about the state of local bird populations, saying he was “not aware of any unusual declines or increases — it seems to be fairly stable.”

But just as there is nationally and worldwide, he said, “There’s pressure on all kinds of wildlife, mainly from expanding [human] populations.”

Still, some birds thrive amongst people, he noted, including starlings, robins and redwinged blackbirds.

“They like lawns and easy feeding as opposed to forests, so cultivation of areas in surburban-type settings is not necessarily a problem for them, but there are a lot of other birds — particularly what we call the neo-tropical migrants — the warblers, the vireos and the flycatchers that come up from the tropics, South America, Central America — some of those birds have specific habitat requirements and don’t nest in suburban areas.

“They really prefer woods or forests, undisturbed land, and as those areas get carved up, they find less and less habitat.”

Still, Beatty expressed reservations about studies showing some birds may be threatened or endangered.

“If you’re talking about the Endangered Species Act, there’s some, I’ll call them distortions, in that when you apply that to a large land mass like North America, you can come up with some meaningful conclusions, but when you start subdividing it into smaller and smaller political units, like states and counties, then all of a sudden some of these species become very uncommon or rare.”

The Four Corners is not home to many birds protected by the federal Endangered Species Act. The Gunnison sage grouse is regarded as being in danger of extinction, but the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has refused to list it, a decision that is being challenged.

The Colorado Division of Wildlife lists 19 bird species in the state as being on either the state or federal threatened or endangered lists, or as “species of special concern.” Not all of them occur in the Four Corners area.

One is the Mexican spotted owl, which is listed as threatened both federally and statewide. It likes warm desert habitat, but its primary range is in New Mexico and central Arizona.

The southwest willow flycatcher is on both the federal and state endangered lists. It likes riparian willow-cottonwood habitat, but 90 percent of that has been destroyed. Its traditional range includes New Mexico, Utah and Arizona, but not much of Colorado.

“It has very specific nesting habitat and likes riparian river corridors with a lot of willows, as the name implies, along the side,” Beatty said, “and as some of those areas get developed, then it loses some of that habitat.”

Beatty said the extended drought “certainly has an impact” on birds. “It’s a simple matter of the food chain.” A good example is owls, which feed off mice, voles, moles and other small rodents whose populations plunged because of the lack of moisture in the ground.

“When that moisture isn’t there and the rodents have trouble finding food, then birds like owls might move on to other areas . . . to find their food.

“So, yes, drought has had a major impact all up and down the food chain.”

Domestic and feral house cats also take a horrific toll on the small-bird population, particularly those that nest on the ground or in small bushes.

But birders at the festival probably won’t be thinking about the birds that aren’t here. They’ll just be enjoying their sightings of owls and waterfowl, eagles and ospreys, and hoping the songs and cries of their avian friends will be heard long into the future.

Published in -March 2007

Following in his footsteps: Author documents locations in L’Amour’s novels

“Louis L’Amour has been a major activity. . . since I retired from the oil business in 1992,” Bert Murphy drawls into the telephone from his home near Roswell, N.M.

Since then, he has spent his time finding locations L’Amour described in roughly 100 novels about the American West. Two reference books have resulted from Murphy’s research, “Trailing Louis L’Amour From California to Alaska” and “Trailing Louis L’Amour in New Mexico.” Murphy is currently documenting L’Amour locations in Texas, Kansas, and Oklahoma.

“He was very, very accurate with the geography,” Murphy says cheerfully. “When he says there’s a cave, there’s a cave.”

Murphy discovered Louis L’Amour because of his time in oil and gas fields. A third-generation member of a family in the energy business, he moved across the southern United States while his father worked. His parents also traveled on vacation. Murphy fell in love with the American West.

When he became a petroleum engineer he started his own professional travels, and found himself far from his children and his wife, Martha, his high school sweetheart.

“You travel a lot, and you’re alone a lot, and you’re in some pretty unpleasant places chasing energy.” A touch of weariness edges his voice. “So I started reading the Louis L’Amour books.”

One was “Flint,” set in the malpais badlands near Grants, N.M. Recognizing the terrain the novel described, Murphy decided to find the story’s settings. Using topographical maps, he followed “Flint’s” scenes from McCarthy to Cibolita Mesa near the Acoma Pueblo.

Then, he called his sons to bring pack horses, and they located the bandits’ hideout in the story. “It was pretty much as L’Amour described it,” Murphy laughs.

Studying further, he found the author’s historical settings as accurate as his landscape depiction. L’Amour’s themes also attracted Murphy.

“Critics who don’t understand why Louis L’Amour is so successful do not understand America,” he says. “Principle comes before friendship, hard work brings success, and knowledge must be shared.”

L’Amour probably discovered those qualities within his family. Born Louis Dearborn LaMoore in 1908, the youngest of seven, he grew up in Jamestown, N.D., “in an upper middleclass family,” explains Murphy. “They taught him to love books.”

L’Amour’s sister, Emmy Lou, taught him to read. So did his mother, who had trained as a school teacher. Another sister, Edna, was a librarian, and with her, L’Amour discovered history and natural sciences books.

His grandfather, Abraham Truman Dearborn, told L’Amour of his experiences as a soldier in the Civil War and Indian wars; and tales of L’Amour’s rancher uncles.

L’Amour learned about self-defense and animals from his father, Dr. Louis Charles LaMoore, a large-animal veterinarian. The elder LaMoore also gave his son a lesson in flexibility.

When he wasn’t vetting, Dr. LaMoore sold farm machinery, supervised harvest crews, participated in government; and served as North Dakota’s livestock inspector.

Still, L’Amour dropped out of 10th grade and left home in 1922, when he was 15. He was afraid he’d be a financial burden to his family,” chuckles Murphy. “But I think he wanted to see the world.”

See it he did. L’Amour boxed in Shanghai, rode with Mongol bandits, skinned cattle, sailed as a merchant Marine, and mined in the Pecos Valley. By the time he returned to America to settle in the 1930s, he had experience aplenty to fill books.

“There’s nothin’ phony about him,” muses Murphy. “All war stories get bigger and better with time. Some of his were probably exaggerated. So are mine.”

L’Amour began publishing short stories, including the gangster-themed “Anything for a Pal.” When World War II broke out, he enlisted, though at age 34, Murphy thinks he could have avoided service.

The army sent him to Officer’s Candidate School. “He must have had a good score on his tests, to do that with a 10th-grade education,” Murphy says.

He would know. Murphy served in World War II himself, receiving an army discharge the same year as L’Amour, 1946. Murphy continued in the reserves until he left the oil business.

When L’Amour left the military, he began writing again. One of his first successful novels, “Showdown at Yellow Butte,” is set in the Four Corners. “Yellow Butte’s just above Shiprock on that old scary Highway 666,” Murphy teases. “You can see the Ship Rock from Yellow Butte.”

L’Amour’s book “Hondo” resulted in a movie starring John Wayne, and a spin-off TV series. Fame followed. Eventually L’Amour sold 300,000 copies of his novels.

When he decided to trace L’Amour locations, Murphy started a file including each story he studied, maps, photos, and historical information. When he had enough material for a book, he tried to interest Bantam, L’Amour’s major publisher, in the project. Bantam rejected the idea. L’Amour’s widow, Kathy, encouraged him to develop it anyway.

Having already self-published a semi-autobiographical novel, “Ventures West,” Murphy did the same with “Trailing Louis L’Amour in New Mexico,” and later, “Trailing Louis L’Amour from California to Alaska.”

As he considers the amount of data he’s collected on L’Amour, Murphy makes clear he has had a great deal of fun doing it. “Martha and I have seen some places in New Mexico that third- or fourth-generation families have probably never heard of.”

“Trailing Louis L’Amour in New Mexico” and “Trailing Louis L’Amour from California to Alaska” are available in the Four Corners at Amy’s Book Case in Farmington, N.M., and from MBAR Publishing POB 3164 in Roswell, N.M.

Published in -March 2007, Arts & Entertainment

County revved-up for new motorcycle rally

For the first time, the Montezuma County Commission has given the green light to a motorcycle rally.

The commissioners voted 3-0 on Feb. 26 to grant a high-impact permit to Montezuma Rally Inc., a local group, to have a motorcycle rally next Labor Day weekend on the 200-acre Sugar Pine Ranch 3 1/2 miles north of Mancos at 40334 Highway 184.

The crowd of about 60, which proved too large for the commission room to handle, erupted in applause after the decision.

“Let’s not mess up, folks,” Commission Chair Gerald Koppenhafer warned, “because I guarantee this will go away.”

In March 2001, the commissioners turned down a request from the Iron Horse Motorcycle Rally to move that event from Ignacio, Colo., to the Montezuma County Fairgrounds. The board at the time cited noise, public safety, traffic and the strain on county services in nixing the rally.

On July 10 of last year, a new group of commissioners said no to a different rally — in this case, Rally in the Rockies, which had sought at the last minute to move from Ignacio to Echo Basin Ranch outside Mancos. Lawenforcement leaders had said they didn’t have time to prepare, and residents of the area argued that the narrow road to Echo Basin was inadequate to handle the traffic safely.

Rally in the Rockies organizers then announced they didn’t need a permit from the county or from the Colorado Department of Transportation, either, and tried to hold the rally anyway, only to be shut down by a court injunction.

But the commissioners were then widely criticized for halting the rally, even though hardly a soul but the promoters had spoken in favor of the event during several public hearings.

On Feb. 26, it was a different story altogether, as the audience at the public hearing was largely in favor of the new, locally organized rally.

“I’m not sure an event like this should ever be held in a residential area, but if you’re going to do it, I would support this group,” said Jim Cody, who had opposed Rally in the Rockies last year. “These folks have earned my trust.”

Donna Hauser, activity director at the Valley Inn Nursing Home in Mancos, sobbed as she related how bikers who came to the area last year had boosted the spirits of nursing-home residents. “They came and lifted my residents that couldn’t walk and took them on motorcycles rides, and those residents are still reaping the benefits,” she said. “I know I will never forget it.”

Organizers Joyce Humiston-Berger and Tom Hover, both of the Montezuma Rally, Inc., board, said the ranch would play host for several rock and country concerts as well as beer tents, vendor booths and contests over the four-day rally.

Hover said the concerts would be held in a natural bowl to reduce sound. He said the sheriff’s posse and the Blue Knights, a group of retired and current police officers, would help provide internal security during the rally. The Montezuma County Sheriff’s Office will receive $7,500 for overtime for its officers as well.

Fires will take place only in designated fire pits, he said, and brush will be cleared and grass mowed to reduce fire danger.

Humiston-Berger said they were planning sites for about 800 tents and 40 RVs. She said the ranch has the capacity to host about 10,000 people but they were planning to cap the number at 6,500.

However, Sheriff Gerald Wallace said that number seemed high for the first event and suggested lowering it to 5,000, which they agreed to do.

Wallace said the the attitude of the new organizers was “what can we do to help, as opposed to,” he paused, “the other attitude,” which drew laughter. “I think there’s been overwhelming support in the community for this rally,” he added. “I really see this as an opportunity to make it work.”

But not everyone was in favor.

Barry Guillet of Flagstaff, who owns property adjoining the ranch, said he bought the land in October 2005 and plans to raise horses there.

He voiced concerns about the number of attendees, parking, law enforcement and the effect on neighbors.

“I believe if the Sugar Pine Rally is permitted, it will change the character of this area forever,” Guillet said.

Sheila Myers, who also lives in the area, said she and her husband are not opposed to the rally, just to the location. “We took great pains when we bought our property to be in a residential area,” she said.

She voiced concerns about wildfire danger, drunk drivers on the narrow, winding highway and the noise produced by the many motorcycles.

“Given the noise generated by a single motorcycle, in excess of 50 decibels, there is no way the event can be in compliance with the [county’s] threshold standard [of 50 decibels at the property line],” she said.

Mary Jo Rakowski of La Plata County, a member of Mothers Against Drunk Driving, said she is not for or against the rally but has concerns.

“I am intimately knowledgeable of the rally that took place for several years in our county,” she said. “Our law enforcement is already stretched very, very thin, not only in La Plata, but out here.”

She said a small percentage of riders will drink or use illegal drugs and will not be in condition to drive.

She said she would love to see an annual rally in the Four Corners, but “not smack dab in the middle of private residences.”

“The noise issues, man, you’re never going to address that,” she said.

Hover admitted as much, saying noise “is a subjective problem,” but he said the area in question is agricultural, not residential.

He and Humiston-Berger said they are doing everything possible to make the rally safe, including offering free “hospitality tents” where riders who are intoxicated or just tired can sleep.

“We’re doing everything in our power to make sure that nobody leaves if they’ve been drinking,” Humiston-Berger said, adding, “Drinking was never to be the emphasis of this rally anyway.”

The commissioners voted 3-0 to approve the high-impact permit with the stipulations that the organizers obtain all necessary state and local permits, put the county on their liability insurance, cap attendees at 5,000, and deal with some problems concerning an emergency exit route.

“I’d just like Hal Shepherd to share the tax base with us,” commented Commissioner Steve Chappell wistfully. Shepherd is city manager for Cortez, which along with Mancos and Dolores stands to see its sales-tax revenues soar from the rally. The county, however, has no sales tax but a half-cent tax earmarked specifically for the jail, so it will see no windfall.

The Sugar Pine Ranch Rally will add to numerous biker activities planned region-wide over Labor Day weekend.

Organizers of Ignacio Bike Week, which was thrown together in 2006 after the demise of Rally in the Rockies, are planning the repeat the rally in Ignacio this year.

And a nonprofit called the Four Corners Biker Rally Association is promoting motorcycle events over the holiday, according to the Durango Telegraph. Events are reportedly being planned everywhere from Farmington, N.M., to Silverton, Colo.

Published in -March 2007

No State Fair hair, please

“Hair brings one’s self-image into focus; it is vanity’s proving ground. Hair is terribly personal, a tangle of mysterious prejudices.” — Shana Alexander

Last night, I saw a friend whom I haven’t seen in quite a while. As we caught up, I was distracted by the way her hair fell in perfect, sassy lines, complimenting her face while at the same time appearing easy, unstructured and yes, sexy.

Interrupting her intriguing, yet much less important, description of her career, I said, with a considerable amount of envy “I love your hair.”

“Do you??? I cried when I got it done.”

Ah, the universal hair lamentation.

How important is a good haircut? It depends on who you ask… a woman or a man. A man will probably reply with, “Huh?”, while a woman will fix you a cup of tea and regale you with opinions, and a horror story or two.

Have you ever cried over a bad haircut? I’ll bet that at least 95 percent of you (female) readers can answer yes to this question.

“But it’s just hair,” our male counterparts will say, trying to comfort us. A lot they know. Although it may seem vain, historically hair is a woman’s “crowning glory,” that which defines her. Ask a man what he finds attractive about a woman and I guarantee the answer will include her hair, especially if it’s long enough for him to use it to drag her back into the cave.

Hair can define a woman, tell the world who she is; a well-primped mane screams “high-maintenance,” while a raggedy greasy mop hints that she’s probably a mother who misplaced her brush amidst the piles of diapers. Braids say “low-maintenance, still cares, likes the outdoors.” An ’80s do which has remained the same since high school clearly lets the world know of a timid soul. Healthy hair shows a woman cares about herself, eats well, exercises, hydrates, whereas fried hair or a bad perm job shows ignorance of holistic health. A bad bilevel says, “I pissed off my hairdresser!” And a pouffy style that adds 10 years to a woman lets us all know that it’s spring and the state fair is in full swing.

After numerous bad cuts and bad dye jobs, I took matters into my own hands (quite literally) and shaved off my entire mane, lock, stock and barrel. Although many of my friends and neighbors did not appreciate my choice, I loved it. My husband thought it was incredibly sexy too. But, after many months of hairlessness, I began to covet loose flowing locks.

I wanted to look like a girl again.

The growing-out process has been a living hell, 1 1/2 years of bad hair, day in and day out. I have dyed it, gelled it, and sworn at it. I own a lot of hats. Now, it is finally long enough to not stick straight out, which has catapulted me from the realm of bad hair to an even scarier one: CUTE hair.

Let me make this clear. I am not CUTE. Cute people are nice, sweet, and delicate. I am none of the above, yet I have this sweet little bob that bellows cute.

Ask any woman, it’s demoralizing to want sassy or sexy and end up CUTE.

Another realm of bad hair includes the Home-Do (often a result of boredom or despair). Particularly vulnerable: bangs. Most women have, at least once, grabbed the scissors and hacked off those precious front hairs to create an instant new look. Who doesn’t have a bad-bang horror story? And we somehow always forget the agonizing nightmare of growing them back out. This same phenomenon applies to the dyeing of hair; purple and hot pink being as sure a sign of dissatisfaction as crooked bangs.

“What the hell was I thinking (again)?” is a question frequently asked. When my mother dies, her gravestone will read, “I hate my hair” — her daily mantra for the past 50 years. Any woman, even if she appears to not care, does.

On the other hand… A man’s hit on a haircut… out of his face, covers up the bald spot, shampoo no more than once a week — good.

If men cared as much as women, the world would not know the comb-over. We won’t even go into the mullet thing.

Men’s roots go back to Neanderthals: head-to-toe hair. Hair was utilitarian, kept them warm. Women got dragged around by their hair so we innately know the significance of our locks. And groan as men may about our vanity, they know that, as Martin Luther once said, “The hair is the richest ornament of women.”

Suzanne Strazza writes from Mancos, Colo.

Published in Suzanne Strazza

Just a reminder

On the opening night for a new family movie at our local theater, we waited in line for our chance to purchase two tickets. We hoped for a good seat, close enough to the screen so we could judge how faithfully the storyline had been translated by the movie industry into a stream of flickering images. Our excitement, however, seemed contained compared to the 3- to 4-foot-tall children that swarmed all over the lobby. Towering at least 2 feet higher than the evening’s average movie-goer, we snickered into our sleeves, confident the theater posed only a small risk of leaving us stuck behind a panoramic cowboy hat or a hairdo that resembled cotton candy on a stick.

Everything seemed perfect until about 20 minutes into the film: Pam had to go to the bathroom. She stood up, hovered for an instant like (I’m just being poetic here) a bat abandoning its cave, then deftly navigated toward the back of the theater. The place teemed with children, all of them clutching 32- ounce soft drinks at the edge of their chairs, so I figured Pam wouldn’t return until the sequel got released.

Two minutes later she sat back down in her seat.

“Didn’t have to go after all?” I asked her.

“No, I went,” she whispered. We watched the rest of the film, but in the back of my mind I wondered what kind of enchantment she had used to keep from getting stalled in the theater’s restroom. When we went for a cup of coffee after the movie, I brought the bathroom business up.

“Did you wear an invisibility cloak to sneak in and out of that bathroom so quickly?”

“No,” she replied, “A gaggle of girls were having so much fun talking, I suspect they preferred standing in the lobby to watching the movie. They gave me cuts, so I thanked them and went in ahead of the crowd.”

“Maybe you interrupted a drug deal,” I speculated.

“No, they were being gracious, but it struck me as odd when they thanked me for thanking them.”

I thought about this uncharacteristically generous encounter between young people and (forgive me, Pam, but I am forced to use this word) an “older” person as we drove home, and it prompted me to recall a very different incident from the week before

while shopping at the Farmington Mall. I stood in a different line — a checkout line — holding my merchandise. As I approached the cashier, he glanced up, almost furtively, and then scanned the merchandise I had placed on the counter. On his computer screen the message Say Hello appeared. It sounded like a good idea, so I said, “Hello.”

He gave me a look, attempted a smile, took my money, and nearly counted out the correct change. As I gave the erroneous dollar back to him, I noticed his computer displayed a new message: Say Thank You. So I said it, and I headed out the store under the scrutiny of the security camera, aware that I had probably violated an unwritten shopper’s protocol by being more cheerful than someone who had stood too long in a checkout line ought to sound.

Not until I reached the parking lot, fumbling for my keys, did it occur to me that the messages on the computer appeared there as reminders for the cashier – not for me. No doubt a customer service policy required by the store’s management: Say “Hello” when you meet the customer and say “Thank You” once the transaction has been completed.

I felt like a fool for missing the point so much earlier, but I also felt a pang of indignation, that a computer had to be employed to prompt what ought to have passed between us naturally. Clearly, my cashier had failed to perform according to store’s standards, but then again, how often do I perform much better?

In the weeks since my visit to the Farmington Mall, all during the holiday shopping offensive and the sales blitz that followed, I’ve had the opportunity to say hello and thank you to literally dozens of checkout computers – the software is more common in retail businesses than I had ever previously suspected. At home I’ve tried to keep in practice by addressing our microwave when it beeps. It’s a good habit to cultivate: simple courtesy. After all, there may come a time when, say, your spouse will not talk to you for a few days, and just hearing yourself can make all the difference.

David Feela is a teacher at Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela