There is Solace on this mountain

It is January 22, 2006. When we did our hike this morning it was 8 degrees. But we have learned how to dress here, how to live here. People are dumbfounded when we discuss where we live. We have no street lights, and there is only one crossroad through the center of our community. At least there are stop signs there! Off the main highway there there are county roads, all but two are dirt roads that go deeper into the mountains. We have a well, there is no such thing as city water, there is no "city", or any type of municipal government. We are "in the county". When it is dark outside......it is dark outside, the only lights visible around us are the other homes in the ponderosa pines. We just now got natural gas in, we have been on propane since 99. A guy asked me once, "do you have inside toilets?", how funny. We live in a modest home that is warm, remodeled to date and even have a two car garage! I love our home.

For Karen and I, it completely changed our relationship. It's pretty darn hard to find stress up here unless you are bringing it in like a virus. We have been together for 28 years, there have been tough times, times of seemingly unenduring anxiety, But I have to say, those times have been brief. Our life is on a wonderful ebb and flow, with both of us experiencing our own realities, and owning them. The City wasn't like that. I will never know how I lived while only twenty feet from my neighbor. How I slept with the neverending sounds of vehicles passing by, and the sounds of neighbors arguing. A neighbor's house gets broken into, a car is stolen. Who needs it?

We call our home "Solace", we have a plaque affirming that over our garage door. It is truly solace, a safe harbor, it is ours, and we choose to fight the cold and snow at 9000 ft. We choose to hike at 8 degrees. Everything here, we choose, everything there was chosen for us. Our morning hike through the Pike National Forest is an incredible experience. We love to hike with new people and show them the beaver, badger, bear, Wapiti, the mulies and the plethera other animals. "TAVA" (Pikes Peak) is in fact sacred ground to the Northern Ute. My heart swells every morning with pride of it's beauty. Our hike offers several views of the peak, I never fail to look up there. We are wide eyed in the forest, looking at the variety of plants and animals. Our understandings are discussed, we do research.

Memories

It is an honor to have known these men, my father Laurice Gilbert Clark (Ocotber 4, 1906-November 6, 1976) and his stepdad, Wilber Genness, the only grandfather I ever knew. It is with deep sorrow that I never took the time to sit with them, and learn more about them. It is a great loss for me. I would have liked to tell their story rather than my memory. My advice to you, is to take the time now if they are still with us. Honor them by wanting to know them,

This is a picture of my Grandfather Wilber and my dad. Wilbur was my father's step dad and they seemed inseparable. It was probably taken before 1940, prior to my dad entering the Army, (drafted). He was born On October 4th, 1906, a hundred years ago, and lived to be only 70 years old, dying in 1976. These guys in the picture were blacksmiths, they had a shop right near the barn with an apple press for a cider mill downstairs. They worked their apple orchards, hay fields and worked iron. As a boy I wasn't welcome in the shop, too many ways to get hurt I guess. I was there a few months back, and when the big sliding door opened on it's wide iron skid I flashed like you would never believe. I hadn't seen inside since I was 10 yrs old, 46 years ago. In my mind I could see the orchards just as if they were right there. I could smell the smells of "Haying" in the fall, the perfume of freshly cut hay, an awesome experience. The old house is there with my aunt still residing. I sat in the room that I sat in as a little boy. The old woodstove was gone, repalced by a oil burning furnace. There is electricity there now, the carosene lamps replaced by light fixtures. The old pump that required priming has been replaced by a modern sink. These were times of the old world, things were simple. How did we ever get here? I mean the technological scream is still in high pitch.

Today is April 9th, a Sunday in 2006. My Aunt Bea died yesterday at 6:10 AM, surrounded by those she loved. She had been fighting a hard fight for two years against cancer, and finally succumed to her disease. She died in the house she was born in, the family home where 4 generations have lived. In September she said to me, "Rocky I'm not afraid of death, how bad could it be?" She approached death as she did everything else, with dignity, grace, and without fear. My Aunt Bea was a central character in my early years. I would give everything I have to go back 30 years and sit with her. Never, ever did she scold me, or call me names. Seeing her onn Sundays in the mountains was the highliight of my young life. Her bold character, and her abilitiy to "cut through bullshit", was amazing. To be on the other end of a rifle held by my aunt Bea was a suicidal situation. She was the best shot I have ever seen, shooting crabapples from a tree 50 yards distance. We were joking in September about a squirrel that was on her nerves. and she said "Rocky, if I can see his eye I can kill him." What a wonderful part of this world she was. I shall always remember her, her white skin and bright red hair, and her command of nature. My heart is heavy.

Viet Nam 22 months and 21 days

I'm not going to write a "bitch" letter about how horrible the past has been, I only wish to reflect upon that experience from the wisdom of 35 yrs, and introspection. I will have pictures to post along the way and will write infrequently about this subject.

First, I tell you this, Viet Nam is one of the most beautiful countries I have ever seen. It is lush and green beyond belief with triple canopy jungles covering the hills of the Central Highlands. I had the opportunity through my mission to travel to most geographical areas of the country and those that border it. The beaches of Chu Lai, Da Nang, Vung Tau and Cameron Bay are unbelievably pristine. While the battlegrounds of Pleiku, The Mang Yang Pass, Hue and Phu Bai show the modern scars of war. The variety of wildlife and plants astounded me. The eyes of a backwoods New Hampshire boy were wide open with wonder.

To this day I have not met a more gentle culture. Looking past the combatants, and outside the cities are a wonderfully generous people who love, live, and die as their ancestors have for thousands of years.

The indigenous people, the Montagnard are a fierce people that do not live among the villages or city dwellers. A Vietnamese friend of mine actually believes that they have tails! They are my favorites, Blowguns and Crossbows are not something to take lightly. They have their own trible laws right to the death penalty. A person who received the death penalty was beheaded, and the head was placed upon a long pole planted around the perimenter of their village. I became very attached to the Mantagnard people living between Pleiku and Khontum, the Mang Yang Pass. The French lost 5000 men in one day in that pass. I carried in my ruck, packs of Doublemint Gum, C-ration cigarettes (5 per pack), and tiny boxes of Tide soap. A greeting along the path to their encampment might be a startle, with two men stepping from the bushes perhaps 20 yrds in front of you. One carries an AK-47, the other a crossbow with a crudely made arrow of rusted steel. They are dressed only from the waist down, their skin is dusky. Stopping you looked behind you and there are two more equally armed. This is not a time to piss anyone off. I always laid down my weapon, reached slowly into my pack and pulled out the little packages of c-ration cigarettes. We would sit and smoke, and I would try my hardest to mumble through thier language. God I was scared. I was seconds from sudden death or welcome. After several visits they named me "Loong", meaning little one, I am 5'5 and at that time weighed only 120 lbs. I spent many nights among them knowing that the Viet Cong or NVA troops would never come near their village. "Silent death" was frightening to them. There have been attempts at ethnic cleansing, but the Montagnard survive. These thoughts bring out in me incredible emotions. A happy sadness. I miss their bubbling laughter at my attempts of their language, or the many cultural errors that I made. Their generosity of food, drink, and basically any thing they had. My heart goes out to them, they are truly cemented in my memory and will never be forgotten.

The longest days

I found these pictures on a recent trip back to New Hampshire. My Aunt Bea and Cousin Sarmantha, (whom I had never met) were so helpful in filling in my family history. I had so many questions. The picture on the right is of my Dad, me, and my older sister Sandy. Does that not look like a little indian girl! I would guess the time to be late 1950.

The thing I regret most in my life is that I did not take the time or interest to get to really know my mom and dad. To have asked the questions that I am now trying to piece together. My parents never talked about their childhood, somehow it makes me feel empty. I can only hope that my daughters and thier children will want to know me.

We never had any money, but dad worked hard and did the best he could. I never knew him to be without a job, but it just wasn't enough to take us from poverty. I think in all those years he may have taken a sick day twice. He'd Drive truck and work the small farm with his stepdad "Haying " in the fall. I spent long days playing in the blacksmith shop and apple press that my Grandpa owned. He sure could make cider, Icy cold on a summer day. Wow what a memory!

"TAVA"

Pikes Peak is in central Colorado and is considered the "Gateway to the Rockies". The Northern Ute Indians believed that their people ascended from the mountain and consider it sacred. In the picture you can see where the treeline stops, (about 11,500 feet). Pikes Peak is 14, 115 ft, the third highest in the state. You are looking at the Northwest slope of the peak, a picture taken in Woodland Park, Colorado. We live on the Northwest slope at the 9000 ft level. It is truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. The tall ponderosa pines combined with the worn trails from so many feet passing it's surface is truly magical to me. The prayer trees along the routes are bent and aged with worn spots on them from ancient hands praying at it's side as they traveled on foot to "Tava" in order to worship the ancients. I have lived in Europe, Asia, Central America and several states in the United States and have never felt the love that I feel from this land.