Jun. 22, 2003 - 21:28 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

An Olio

Today was a remarable day to my psyche, left it with its little head shaking a bit.

The plan was to go to Colorado Springs to attend a birthday party. But first Heather and I went to have breakfast with friends from about 1975, who have peripitated from hither to yon through the years. They attended a family wedding yesterday and were headed back to Grand Junction after we broke our fast. Heather and those two enjoyed the conversation, I enjoyed the company. IHOP near noon on a Sunday is no place for a deaf man to do much but smile and feel close. We did get a few words in on the parking lot before they left.

We lived near the edge of town when I was a kid, but not out in the country where I would have liked to live, so today we went the old route, I had been looking forward to a trip to the Springs this time. My first real memories of some place besides Denver was of Colorado Springs where friends of Mom and Dad lived. They had two daughters near my age so my time was well spent as we got along together pretty well.

So my early memories of the road to the Springs was that narrow, one lane each way, cement highway called by the hoi polloi (poor turkeys who drove it) Suicide Drive. It drew its name because of the weekends. Seemed like everyone who lived in the Springs headed to Denver each morning and returned each night on that drive. And of course it also seemed like, everyone who lived in Denver headed for the Springs on each weekend day. Sunday evening was the hummer, Dad driving the family, knowing that he had overstayed and had to be on time to work Monday would be impatient to get home in the midst of a highway full of cars driven by men in similar circumstances. It could and did get messy, sights upsetting to kids and grown ups both.

But, leaving on Saturday morning early my Dad would beat the traffic, just after sunrise we would start out. We would soon be on the bitter edge of Denver, into railroad tracks and commercial ghettos and on out, headed into the countryside. The route pretty much parallels the railroad tracks which are sometimes in sight and sometimes near but unseen. It follows the low ground between the two towns, with foothills to the west - mountains behind. The valley it runs in used to pretty well be dry land, a bit of sagebrush and scrub growth and lots of wide open space. Fascinating then, broad views, mesa type country encountered, rimrock, boulder covered slopes, dusty arroyos meandering back and forth acrossl the terrain. There was a spot or two where extensive farming and ranching went on, I think it was called Greenland which was a broad swath of fertile, well tended land, obviously with a fine source of water, owned by one family.

Not too much else along the way just the road and surrounding scenery. Which is one of the things that enchanted me. With a head full of cowboy and Indian stories read and Jesse James, outlaw in the West type stories floating there, I stayed busy in my head as the wild scenery passed by. If I could have written fast enough to keep up with my flaming imagination there would be libraries full of stories by me. Or maybe pulp fiction would have been my genre, who knows. Back then, when Broadway stopped at the north boundary of Diamond K Ranch (Littleton Boulevard now) which went south along the highway forever - that was the beginning of capital RANCH land for me. I loved the trip home in the evening as Dad would stay late to avoid the rush panic, it would be a moonlit voyage in my imagination. One which was remarkably seafaring, the airway beacons along the route, rotating at their appointed rate were lighthouses to this kid as I threaded my way through dangerous shoals. (I think the beacons were for pilots who flew air mail as there were no passenger flights at night back then.

So today was sad in a way, multi lane highway with flyovers often, commercial clumps of ugly buildings and housing smeared all over everywhere, even houses perched at the edge of rimock and who knows how far back. One good thing on the trip south was Pikes Peak shining out as it always has, beckoning me to adventure.

Long before I thought we would be in Colorado Springs we were there in the Springs of today. Off highway and into a metropolis not heretofore known by me, houses all new as were the streets, sidewalks, plantings etc.

Our young son drove Heather and I in our car to attend his grandson's first birthday. He has two daughters, the oldest is the Mother of the birthday boy and is pregnant with another child, her sister has a baby that is still quite new to this earth. Of course it was a gala affair, everybody was there and food was served in abundance. It was amazing really, there was a plethora of little children all about the same age, a few old enough to talk and understand. The rest old enough to understand fun.

Being deaf pretty much, my visiting pretty well was drowned out after a short time, but I found a reasonably quiet corner, had a bite and soon became engaged in play with the little kids, while the grown folks had their visit. Hard to tell who had the most fun. None of them were agressive or mean which suprised me. I rolled balls back and forth, wound up toys and admired objects brought to me for admiration. We talked to each other and listened well, they soon knew that I couldn't hear well so adjusted their volume to accomodate my perception.

Then it was present opening time and later cake and ice cream time when all of us were gathered. Heather and I enjoyed watching our son the grandpa cosseting and cuddling his grandchildren and watching him put together a tricycle for the year old ( who by the way will have to grow a bit before his feet reach the pedals). There were more hugs than I could imagine, the tide rising when someone would get ready to leave. I treasure all hugs but above all the hugs I get from little folk who never saw me before, how thrilling that I am trusted to that extent.

Today I traveled through the past into what lies ahead in the future. Probably to be classified as An Olio . . . . . . . .

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