Wednesday, December 31, 2008






The years keep on turning, and in commemoration, Syme and I hopped in his Escort and drove down highway 89 toward the phenomenon called Page, Arizona the day before yesterday.
We did this trip last year on a whim and enjoyed the hell out of the bizzare and picturesque drive, so we did it again. This time, it was colder, for the most part, earlier, and of course, less spontaneous. The places we visited took on a more deliberate air, and made us stop and take inventory of the events and souls that made up the participants in the adventure. In some ways, we were bewildered at how little had changed or progressed in the past year, and in others, we knew that something had happened, but it was hard to put a finger on exactly what.
The dam was still there, and so was the steel bridge spanning the redrock canyon between the western and eastern table lands above the Coloradee. Page still had a parade of churches dedicated to God and pandering to man and a whole grundle of differently flavored breads at the Safeway, ready for purchase and consumption.
What was the difference between the churches, Safeway, and really, me?
Not a whole lot.

2 comments:

Ruahines said...

Kia ora Adam,
Such beautiful country when you discount the razor wire, power lines, cement, and other desecration. Your thoughts here remind me of Ed himself and your writing almost always leaves me speechless. The difference between the church and the Safeway and you is in your Soul my brother, you know what lies beyond all that, and you know whats those deserts, lakes, streams, mountains and forests really are. I just returned from the Ruahines after a bit of a roam around and I thought about your while there. Hope you felt the far away vibes. Kia kaha my friend. My best wishes to you and your lovely family.
Rangimarie,
Robb

Anonymous said...

Robb had already commented on Ed, when i came on your latest.
I wondered if you may have felt his presence along the way, or his ghost somewhere atop the dam, still registering his complaint against the blasphemy that lives on at Glen Canyon (and, many other places as well.)
You didn't quite make it far enuf south for my liking, just half way. The citrus awaits.

pop

pop