Meow

Pookie aka Punkie Pooksters, Punxsatawney Pooks, Punkdiddlyumptious, and most affectionately, Punkin, was my cat.

For fourteen years there was one footnote to any claim I might make to living a completely independent life. And she, most definitely, would say the same. No matter what I did or where I went, the first order of the day was to take care of Pookie. And no matter how late at night it might get, the last order of the day was to grant her the ultimate cat wish -- "in or out?" She was the only responsibility I had and she knew it. Infuriatingly standoff-ish at times and completely affectionate at others, Pookie defined the role of a cat in a bachelor's life. "I do not belong to you. We simply share this house. Now, where's my food?" But she was also the constant every single person needs, sitting on the porch each afternoon waiting on me to drive up, purring as loud as a locomotive late at night to remind me that I was not alone in the dark or crying bloody murder at the front door, only to take a few steps, stop for a lick or two and say "thanks, that's all I wanted."

When I decided to come to the Grand Canyon, the biggest impediment was not financial, it was feline. The entire transition centered around how to maintain one cat's lifestyle to which she had grown accustomed while I ran off on some adventure. So, enter my housesitter, a terrific young man and dear friend, Chris Bryan, who agreed to live in my home essentially so Pookie would be in good hands. His mother, Beth, the definition of a best friend, would also lend a hand and report back all the latest "meownderings" of the lady of the house. And for three months all was well. Until Monday.

It was not a call I had expected, but Chris and Beth had discovered a large growth. At the vet it was diagnosed as inoperable cancer and it had reached the point that ultimately Pookie would have only a few days left before she would begin to physically suffer. So, this afternoon, after many phone calls and e-mails, the decision was made to put her to sleep. I spent the entire drive to Kanab and back today remembering all the little things that made her so unique. She was the perfect audience for all my outlandishness and I was the perfect servant to all her finicky whims. She must have thought I was completely insane at times, but I hope she also knew that I was only doing it to keep her entertained.

I will never forget pulling out of the driveway in April knowing how much she would wonder what happened to me. The last few days had been interesting to this very curious cat who spent hours nosing around my containers and boxes all stacked in the middle of the living room. It would only be six months, I thought. Then I'll be back and the world will be right again. Well, maybe it was never meant to be, but at least I know the last words I said that day remain profoundly true on this one --

"Goodbye, Punkin. I will miss you."

Allan Boeshaar

Having been here almost three months, I've seen what it means to room with someone not of your choosing and cannot imagine how this adventure would have turned out if I had been stuck with almost 90 percent of the people here. Fortunately, to some degree, I have had the ability to "choose" all three of my roommates so the experience has been at least a pleasant one.

The latest roommate is Allan Boeshaar. Allan is the best thing to happen to me here. And in some ways, the worst. From the moment we met there was a spark. And like so many of the relationships I've developed over the years with so many of my friends and "little brothers," it was simply a matter of recognizing the power of the chance encounter and making the most of it. I could have easily continued having a single room, but when he announced that he had decided to move in, I was actually happy to share my space.

In some ways Allan is mature for his age. After all my Sigma Chi experiences, it has become almost second nature to be able to measure someone immediately against an unwritten standard of "adultness" and he passes the test. He also appreciates all types of music and, in particular, loves a number of the same artists I do. The latest favorite is Poi Dog Pondering, the Chicago band I've been listening to since hearing them open for Dave Matthews a decade ago. Allan is now hooked on their latest album "7" and no Jeep drive is complete without it. He is a great conversationalist, too, and even though his interests may be narrower than mine, we are never at a loss for something to talk about. Best of all, he came to the Grand Canyon for the same reason I did -- to enjoy all the possibilities this magnificent national park has to offer.

Are there any negatives? Certainly. Some are not of his making like his job as a dishwasher and the horrible schedule that entails. I have endured more than one long diatribe, but for some reason I don't mind. It gives me the opportunity to offer a bit of encouragement and a reminder that someone cares about his welfare. He also has a few other quirks, but nothing atypical of a teenager. A short list would include impatience, short attention span, and a constant need for trivial entertainment/sensory stimulation, all of which are counter to my nature, but are not so irksome that I find them intolerable. In a word, it is like bunking out with a freshman pledge versus a senior officer...and I had my share of both.

So, when all the positives and negatives are considered, what is it about Allan that has totally captured my heart? Well, frankly, he has given me the kick in the pants I needed to really begin to enjoy this place. In one week, we have been 4-wheeling in the Jeep to places no one else goes, we've hiked several great trails, and enjoyed dinner together in the lodge dining room and at the Kaibab Lodge north of here. And one night last week, we did something completely over the top. We drove out to a spot along the East Rim, hiked through these amazing aspen groves, then built a campfire and watched a lightning storm on the South Rim. Sitting by that fire under the stars, enjoying a bowl of pipe tobacco, could not have been more Gandalfian if J.R.R. Tolkien had created the scene himself.

Having written this, I know it begs the question: "what did he mean by 'the worst?' " Simply this. Time is flying by and before we know it, October 20th will be here. Everyone will go their separate ways and I will lose a terrific hiking companion, perfect roommate and as all of you will understand, an awesome "little brother." Nothing could be worse than that.

Uncluttered lives

Before I moved here, I led a somewhat rut-filled life. Not that I didn't enjoy my friends at work, my home and cat and, of course, my family, but it was damned predictable. Weekdays were dreadful in retrospect because there was little joy in my employment; lunch, in fact, was the highlight of the day. After work, a quick drive through heavy traffic to the post office, running the same course in my neighborhood for 3 to 4 miles, a smoothie and snacks, then TV. Repeat, over and over again, for 20 years. On weekends, I had much the same sort of fixed routine so I won't bore you with the details. I'm sure the folks at Kroger miss my mad dash through the store during intermission of the weekly live broadcast from the Metropolitan Opera every Saturday afternoon!

Here, for all the problems of a first season and quite a bit of turnover, I find everyday to be as interesting and satisfying as the day before. And some days are simply beyond even my expectations.

On Saturday, Allan and I had to go to Kanab to get my spare tire. That also means a trip to the grocery stores and a few other places for random necessities. The drive up is more than an hour but the entire trip is so scenic you don't care. From the national park you transition to the Kaibab National Forest and then down off the plateau to the desert floor and across the border into Utah. It is great Springsteen listening country. After we stocked up on a few things for the room and the usual variety of beverages, picked up the tire and stopped at the motorcycle dealer so Allan could drool over this bike he wants, we made a quick exit of the real world and returned to the North Rim. I don't even recall where it came up but at some point the idea of driving to Point Sublime was broached by Allan. It is an 18-mile rut-filled, high clearance, 4WD-recommended road, but for some reason it seemed like the sane thing to do. My God, it was fun! In places, we had to go slow and use (for the first time) 4WD and in others we rumbled along at a good clip hitting a few muddy ruts with such force that the Jeep was essentially no longer black, but brown. Once we upload it I will post video of the best moments...and a few scenic photos of the point, too.

The evening wound down with dinner in the deli and a hike in the dark around the employee housing area to make a few phone calls and check a voice mail or two. (For those who are curious, Billy and Colette enjoyed Mount Rushmore and want to visit here soon and Beth got her handmade earrings made by a Navajo silversmith and was thrilled to add them to her collection.)

Today could not have been more different. First, Allan had to go back to Kanab to be treated for a lingering throat infection he developed after breathing in degreaser in the lodge kitchen while dishwashing and I didn't get dressed until 2 this afternoon. He's fine and I enjoyed watching the rain out my dorm window while coding a few invoices and listening to APR. And the few times I ventured out were to mail a birthday card to the Old Man's old man and get a bag of bagels at the general store. How relaxing can you get!

So what's the point of all this? Simply to say that I cannot believe how quickly I have gotten used to having no TV constantly blaring, no chain restaurants and NO set schedule or routine everyday. Some people here sit in front of the TV in the EDR and watch whatever is on or they spend mindless hours wasted in front of a computer screen updating some silly Facebook or My Space page or listening to music on some acoustically inferior I-pod. For heavens sake, one of the Seven Wonders of the World is only yards away and FREE! In August, we even have the symphony playing on the veranda at night. I think I will have died and gone to heaven when that happens! Certainly they will play Ferde Grofe's "On the Trail" from The Grand Canyon Suite. It will be sublime.

We are only days away from the halfway point in a full season's employment commitment and I am already beginning to wonder what I will do next. My options are several, but making a decision is going to be difficult. Some of my closest friends here know nothing but this lifestyle and seem perfectly content. Others enjoy doing this and then spending the off-season in surroundings more realworldly like, say, Santa Fe. Who knows?

Finally, through the magic of FedEx, the much anticipated lemon squares from Cafe Pierremont in Shreveport arrived. Judy, the postmaster, was keeping an eye out for them and called me to say in so many words "go get them from the front desk...NOW!" We ate four in a matter of minutes. The rest are safely tucked away in my dorm refrigerator. For Barbara and Ernie Landman, my most heartfelt thanks for a reminder that some routines cannot be left behind.

Have a great week and "Happy 76th Birthday" to the reason I am Shelby Jr!

Pictures, please!

Before we get on with the show, it was suggested to me that I would not believe the monsoon season in the high desert until I had actually experienced it. This weekend, the monsoons arrived. First, a light rain Saturday morning, then a deluge, then steady showers until mid-evening when it got very quiet. We also had a power failure in the middle of it all, but that is a common occurrence here, storm or no storm. Today, much the same thing late this afternoon, thankfully after I had returned from hiking. One side note: I was sick Friday night and Saturday morning, so the rain was a good excuse to sleep in. Until 4:30!

It was suggested tonight by a loyal reader (aka Scooter) that it would be a nice change to my usual postings to skew more toward the graphic image and less toward the journalistic ramblings. Luckily, the last two weekends I've intentionally left the Nikons behind for the little Olympus digital I bought years ago to try and stay at least within a decade of current technology. And so, with a nod to Scott Graves, let's turn out the lights and grab some popcorn. I also left the pictures full-size, so you should be able to click on each for a better view.


The weather was gorgeous Saturday afternoon, the day after the 4th, so I decided it was time to tackle the Tiyo Point Trail. Round trip it would be about 12.5 miles from the trailhead four miles down the Point Sublime Road, but a view I had been told was worth the effort. This is facing to the southeast from Tiyo Point. Along the way I also met the fire manager from Big Bend National Park. We exchanged names and I told him I might see him in November.






The point is very narrow, so a few yards across is a terrific view to the southwest. It was late in the afternoon, so the sun provided great lighting to show the layering of the various formations in that part of the canyon.



As I hiked back to the Jeep, I listened to NPR and Garrison Keillor's "Prairie Home Companion." It made the 6.2 miles go a little quicker, so when the light rain began to fall I was only a short distance from the trailhead. Along the way, the wildflowers were in bloom and I thought this image was one to share.

The week was rather routine. The usual accounting audits each morning, vending machine maintenance on Wednesday and invoice coding at any free moment. My roommate, Allan, is also proving to be a great late night conversationalist and music resource. His Apple has thousands of classic songs from the 50s and 60s, Johnny Cash hits, Springsteen...all the tunes I love to listen to. And he enjoys Pink Floyd, in particular, which brings back a rush of memories of so many friends and places and moments in my life. Naturally, he picks the songs and I tell the stories and before you know it, it is 2 or 3 a.m. I think THIS time I have a winner!

After being sick Saturday (food-poisoned in the EDR is more like it), today's hike was simply for relaxation and no better place to do that than Cape Final. It is a short hike, but let the pictures tell the story.

And, finally, although it is not Christmas card-worthy, I could not resist having a little fun at Tiyo Point and it proves I actually made the trek.

4th of July, Grand Canyon National Park

The 4th of July at the North Rim was one of the most unusual experiences I've had here. We did work a full day, but the uniform of khakis and white Oxford-cloth shirt were scrapped in favor of jeans and a Big Bend National Park t-shirt. "Something you won't mind getting wet" was the actual suggestion. At some point this morning, I returned to the accounting office to also discover a "super soaker" water gun had been left on my desk. "I would carry that with you on the property as a deterrent" was the explanation for the gun. And so the holiday was off to an interesting start.

The employee BBQ was terrific. Both lunch and dinner featured hamburgers, chicken breasts, hot dogs, all charcoal-grilled on the patio behind the EDR. The sliced tomatoes in a balsamic dressing with bits of chopped onion, the corn on the cob, the sliced watermelon and cherry pies were the perfect complement to the main course. We could not have asked for a better celebration. And then there was the parade.

It is a tradition for all the inhabitants of the North Rim to celebrate this holiday with a parade down the long driveway that includes representative vehicles, or should I say modes of transportation, to entertain the guests and staff. So, at the appointed hour, led by the Grand Canyon National Park fire engine, the procession began. It was followed by various company vehicles, NPS trucks, decorated golf carts, two-man bicycle surreys, and most impressively, the mule riders decked out in their western gear astride their mules. Oh, and one more thing. The entire parade is also one huge water fight. Guests, staff, management were all armed with water guns, super soakers, garden hoses, even a pressure washer. And the people on the "floats" were armed, too. Huge barrels of water were set up for reloading and someone even brought hotel ice buckets for "splash and dash" warfare. Honestly, it is hard to describe the scene. If you recall the massive pie fights staged by The Three Stooges, this would be comparable. The best part was when the tour bus arrived at the end of this bedlam. Can you imagine what they must have thought! It concluded with the traditional mule riders ascent of the stone steps to the saloon -- on their mules -- for a cold beer.

Finally, tonight, the 4th of July ended personally in a way that I will always remember. I had the urge to go for a drive and just enjoy the 60-degree weather -- it was a "roll down your window" sort of night. It was also a Bruce Springsteen sort of night. So, as I cruised up the two-lane road to Point Imperial, the Boss was providing the soundtrack to a winding, evening drive to one of the Grand Canyon's most famous overlooks. When I arrived, however, much to my surprise not a soul was there. It was as if I had been granted a private audience with this great wonder of the world. And, so while all of you were ending your day in the real world, I was opening all the Jeep's doors and tailgate, cranking up the volume and enjoying what is truly the panorama of "the promised land!"

"You can hide 'neath your covers
And study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers
Throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I'm no hero
That's understood
All the redemption I can offer girl
Is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now?
Except roll down the window
And let the wind blow
Back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting on down the tracks
Oh-oh come take my hand
We're riding out
tonight to case the promised land..."

--from "Thunder Road"