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True Kinship
I am not a family man. My mother took us, her three kids and dad, from a large extended family including aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, friends, neighbors, animals, places and things in Rochester NY and moved, lock stock and barrel, to the mountains of Colorado with little money in a 1937 Ford named Comet, towing a 4 x 8 ft. open trailer. I was five years old. We all adapted to our new secluded way of life in the mountains of Colorado.
Every chance I got I escaped into the valley below our cabin. There I found companionship and delight among trees, rocks, flowers, streams and coyotes, bear and elk. We spoke the same language. I had no interests other than what I found to be soothing and in the mysteries of nature. It was nature with whom I felt a kinship. I felt safe and cared for. Mother Nature made me who I am now.
Now, virtually 80 years later, living in the high desert, there are many opportunities to experience the connection with nature. Early this morning around 4am, I listened to the coyotes’ exchanging howls and staccato yips, a familiar language without words, a language that our ancestors, the American Indians knew. I find delight in watching Mother Javalina and her babies parading outside my window and laughing at Raven’s antics. Gazing high into the clear blue sky, I am effortlessly, gracefully riding the currents with Vulture.
After the hot, dry season, when the grass is turning gold, the monsoons arrive nurturing body, soul and land in the Sky Islands of Arizona. Storms bring high winds; heavy rain, hail, flooding, and cool green lushness covers the mountains and valleys. Kinship.
David Krest
Patagonia
Movement Is Natural
I was reading John Washington’s provocative and persuasive book, “The Case for Open Borders.” Nice mindset. No fear. Clear thinking.
Then I heard Kris Kristofferson had died. I played his 1968 vinyl recording of “To Beat the Devil,” a song that preceded “Me and Bobbie McGee” on the album. Kris quoted the devil:
“If you waste your time a talkin’ to the people who don’t listen to the things you are sayin’, who do you think’s gonna hear? And if you should die explainin’ how the things that they complain about are things that could be changin’, who do you think’s gonna care? There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind who were crucified for what they tried to show, and their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time, ‘cause the truth remains that no one wants to know.”
The truth? How about simplicity, sustainability, generosity…peace.
Movement, within borders and across borders, is natural and inevitable. It’s not about the journey, it’s the destination, respect for the place.
Doug Morris
Sonoita
ERRORS AND OMISSIONS
In the October issue of the PRT, Maria Eastman’s phone number was listed incorrectly. Her correct number is 307-250-2711. We apologize for this error.
OPINION PIECES WELCOME
It is our objective as a community newspaper to present many views to our readers. The opinions expressed do not necessarily represent the views of this publication. If you would like to contribute your opinion or commentary to PRT, please send your article, in MS Word, to editor@prtnews.org. The PRT reserves the right to edit all submissions for language, length and content.