Moody Meow

Liberal, lunatic lassie, with mood swings and foot-in-mouth syndrome

Lessons from the Rockies

Posted on | August 3, 2010 | No Comments

Pine beetles have turned the verdant mountain sides into a blanket of green corrupted by spotty copper. Each copper speck on the mountain, each strangely beautiful red smear is a dead tree. And like a plague (which is really what these fuckers are) the beetle spreads from infected tree to the healthy ones surrounding it. The patches of copper and brown become the blanket on which little smears of green struggle to grow. The living forest is almost gone. It will take two generations for the wood to recover. The only way to kill the pine beetle  is a long long hard freeze, which will kill the eggs and larva hiding in the flesh of the tree, or fire.

We have tried to control nature for too long. Sometimes we need to let her loose. That is not to say that I think fires should be allowed to blanket the peaks of the Rockies, surrounding little pools of civilization like the one where my Mom has her little hotel. No but there needs to be a shock in the ass for those who seek the status quo. Your inaction has succeeded in nothing, only more of a plague. And in the end, the woods these people sought to protect will fall due to their fear of doing the wrong thing.

And this is kind of like the situation I find myself in. I didn’t go to Colorado last weekend to mourn the loss of the forest, or to struggle with memories of what it looked like 7 years ago when I first visited. Nope. I had a purpose, and that purpose was to present a new way to a close family member.  Their problems are not for public consumption, but as of September I will have someone else living in my house. I offered my place for several reasons – I know my city and I love it – I know how terrible fear is and how it can corrupt your soul and keep your feet planted deep in quicksand – I know how it feels to fall on your face and land on your feet – I know how it feels to leave everything you know behind.

Most of all, I know how it feels to hope.

I would never say that moving changes everything. It doesn’t. The problems you have in your current location will follow you like a shadow to your new place. The hope is that the different sun and air can cleanse you of those demons. With a new place, you are reborn. No one knows about your past, your follies, your fears. You can become someone new, better, more shiny, less neurotic.

Or you can be brutally honest, and just tell them how batshit crazy you are. That works for me. I think my crazy is part of my charm… or something (delusions, I love you).  What I hope in helping this amazingly wonderful person out is that they find the life they want and deserve. I am going to do a lot of research, so I can present the right opportunities when they do arrive. I want them to love this city as much as I do, but even if they don’t, I want them to know I love them, unabashedly, and I am actually looking forward to their move. We let life get in the way of things – of connections that should be maintained and love that should be nurtured. This is one I have neglected. I won’t do so again.

Right now they are the last tree surrounded by beautiful copper, and they will perish if no one stands up and drags their ass out of their inaction. So, that is what I did this weekend. I’m action girl, and I will drag them, perhaps kicking and screaming, into a new life.

At least they will be moving then.

Other things I learned in Colorado:

  • Living at 9k feet is for big-horned sheep and crazy people. My mother is among those people.
  • You can take the redneck out of Florida, but you can’t take the Florida out of the redneck – one of Mom’s employees decided to put gas in the chimenea…which was only 6′ from the house. I think she fired him today. Get it….fired? Hehehehhe… I kill me.
  • I am still angry at a lot of people. I need to get over that. I just wish Mom and my stepfather would get divorced so we can move on. This is exhausting me, and I’m not even involved.
  • I can totally stick my head out of a window, going 70, for two hours and still have fabulous hair. It’s the purple… it works every time.
  • Hand signals + slow drivers = making friends on the highway. Needless to say I made a lot of friends on the road, and I wasn’t even driving.
  • I turn into a raisin in Colorado. No. Humidity. I thought I was going to die.
  • Thunderstorms are amazing, and I miss them.
  • I should not run through the airport in Denver. I can’t run in Portland, much less at that altitude. I thought my head would explode.
  • My brother and I would totally get into a bar fight with anyone that looks at my sister funny. She’s the pretty one. I’m the one with the temper and the low center of gravity.
  • With the iPad, I will never travel with my laptop ever again. It was perfect for writing, watching movies, and killing time. My 15″ macbook often gets bumped when the sloth in front of me lays back his seat. iPad = tiny = no problem.
  • I love and miss my siblings.

This was a little disjointed since I’m not trying to call out the loved one I’m helping. Sorry. Sometimes that’s the way the blog bounces.

Category: Connections, Contemplation, On the road

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