this saturday, one of my coworkers invited me to go with him whitewhater rafting down the skykomish river. we were to leave from the camp just outside a tiny little town called index at 9:00 am. I asked around and they told me it ought to take 45 minutes. including the wrong turn I took, because I had already been traveling an hour & I figured I had gone too far, and the lousy directions on the hand drawn map the raft company faxed to us, the trip took me an hour and a half. I got there about 40 minutes late.
I was freaking out that they probably left without me, but as it turns out, they spent the first hour foodling around with stuff like “safety talks” etc. who needs that, eh?
well, I was just in time to pick up my wet suit, helmet and liability waiver (which pretty much said that I had to be out of my mind to do this and if my life insurance company paid if i died, which i probably wouldn’t, probably, that is, would be unlikely)
so we got in and it was a pleasant little ride, we had time to practice turning — there were six of us plus a guide in the boat — and then the fun began. it was a thrill!

I just got back from Austin. Am I exhausted. I had to go to this meeting to set technology policy for the company. It was mostly a bunch of bullshit. You know how these things go. But I got a chance to see some people I needed to do some work with, and it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Saturday and Sunday I spent working on the Lonsdale house with Cathy. Against my better judgment, we’re going to try to sell it by remote control. What the hell, we’re going to have to clean it up after Marsene left, anyway, it’s vacant, and the market has been worse, so why not at least try. Besides, Cathy already has a listing in Forest North, so it’s right up her alley.
However,…There was a LOT of work to do, and not much time to do it in. Much of my time was consumed with power washing, pretty much the entire house, the driveway and sidewalk, the deck and patio. We tacked up some molding along the cruddy siding in the back, and painted all the trim and touched up a good portion of the siding as well. I even had to rebuild the windowsill where their dogs had chewed the old one to pieces. I removed the chandelier from the dining room (finally!) and replaced it with another, simpler fixture, and we did a variety of other things, frantically running around, racing against time. Ugh. It was ridiculous.
But one thing sticks in my memory. It is the sight of Ed and June Card holding one another, and it makes me choke up a little to think of it. A few years ago, they came pretty close to losing Ed to a heart attack. I can still remember June, beside herself one day when Ed was in the hospital, wringing her hands and crying, asking me to show her how to change the oil in her car. “Ed always changed the oil.” she cried, “I don’t even know how. Can you show me where it goes?” I thought the question odd, considering the timing. I had an opportunity to think about it later, and realized it was poignant and symbolic in a way.
Well, “to make a long story short,” as he would say, Ed survived that battle. And all the intervening time, several years of it, has been just bonus time for them, and it has really brought a new appreciation of one for another. I think of Anita and myself perhaps sometime in the future, and empathize.
Now Ed comes up with some bizarre virus, “IBM” he called it, which is disintegrating his muscle tissue. Their time together is limited. Its really tragic, and breaks my heart. I was glad I got to see them.

I was in the office, on the 9th floor of a high-rise building in downtown Bellevue working late. It was about 9:00 pm. I was sitting at the computer as usual and I heard the miniblinds shake a little bit. I thought “what the hell is that?” I figured some cleaning guy had bumped into the wall outside my office. I got up to go to the door to see what was going on, when the floor moved out from under me. The whole room moved. It was like being at sea.
I continued to stagger toward the door and by the time I got to the hall, the whole building shuddered. “Holy shit!” I said. “It must be an earthquake!” I grabbed my wallet and keys off the desk and headed for the stairs.
The stairs were marked by an emergency use only sign. “I guess this counts as an emergency,” I thought, but by the time I got there, the building had stopped moving. I hit the elevator button from force of habit, and while I was deciding whether to go down the stairs and set off the alarm, the elevator doors opened, and believe it or not, there was a guy in it! I said, “do you think it’s really a good idea to take the elevator down?” Looking back on it, of course it wasn’t. He just shrugged and said “it’s probably is the fastest way down, as long as we don’t get hit again, or lose power.” Duh. Well, I got in and we both sweated the full 10 seconds it took to get to the ground floor.
We got out and went out the main lobby door. There was the security guard and two oriental cleaning men. They had been on the 15th floor and had an even more scary experience. They had taken the elevator down too. I asked if there wasn’t an emergency exit plan. “I don’t know.” said the security guard. Great. My knees were still wobbly.
“I think I’ll just take a break now,” I said.
We stood around and listened to the police and fire sirens going off all over town. “I’m from Texas and we don’t have things like that there.” I said. “I’ve been here eight years, and I never felt anything like that before either,” said the guard. It turned out to be a 5.4 earthquake centered about 20 miles north of here, shallow and on a previously unknown fault line. My friend later told me that he had been in a store very near the epicenter, which was in Duvall. He lives up in Snohomish county. Stuff fell off the shelves, tiles fell from the ceiling, the lights went out and stayed out. “People were screaming and crying all over the place.” he said.
The following morning the paper reported it all. There were power outages, mostly in the northern part of the area, but thankfully, no one was hurt — the most serious injury was a broken arm suffered by a woman unfortunate enough to be standing on a ladder when the quake hit.

Sunday, 3/10/1996
Big day here on the side of the mountain. The days start off quite hectic with everybody going in different directions, except for me, I am lying still with the pillow over my head. But Pam has already brewed a pot of coffee and BJ is already gathering the girls up for their ski school at 8:30. I lie here and thank God that they are early risers — it works out perfectly, don’t you think?
The boys — John and his two friends Lucian and Ian are a little bit slower getting ready, they are big snowboarders, and go God knows where.
Anita has her own school to go to. Judging by yesterday’s teacher — some kind of zen guy with a braid and lingo like “there is a dark side to the mountain, but you must go with the force…” she is in pretty good hands. She has improved tremendously and routinely takes the green slopes. I am very proud of her.
Monica and Julia are so close, its hard to pry them apart. I had the good fortune today to meet up with them at the bottom of the Teocalli lift, and by a stroke of luck was able to ride up with Julia. She told me some interesting tales of her adventures in ski school. One of her classmates even had the misfortune of having her ski delaminate while she was going down a pretty tough slope! Now that would be inconvenient.
The rate of progress of these kids is utterly astounding. I think they may be almost as good as I am! You think?
Monica went down the lift, Silver Queen, Teocalli, Paradise, Painter Boy, and lots of other incredible slopes. Monica and Julia are going shopping today. They will buy good things. They might buy milkshakes!
Elizabeth, by all reports is doing very well too. I was surprised to find her teacher mention that among her other attributes, such as cooperativeness and attentiveness, that she was “aggressive” in her approach. I was surprised, and in this case, pleased at the possible implications of this choice of adjective.
Oh there’s so much to say, I couldn’t possibly say it all. But I do not want to forget to describe this afternoon, after we all came back to the shack — San Moritz. The sun was setting over the mountain on the other side of the valley. Those perfect long rays cast a warm yellow light across the slope called “O Be Joyful.” Doesn’t that just say it all? There were kids sledding down the bottom portion of the slope, and a snow woman had been constructed by Pam and Elizabeth, and there was the happy sound of kids playing in the snow.
I was filled with a feeling I cannot describe, but if I had to put words to it, I might say that when we get to heaven it had better be at least as good as this or I will be disappointed. The humpback shape of the drifts catch the light in just such a way, they look like sleeping whales. The crystals in the sky catch the sunlight and make a remarkable ice halo. The glint of the final rays hit the slopes and reflect into a thousand sparkles of light like diamonds. It was just great.
Monday, 3/11/1996
This morning promises to be the most crowded on the slopes so we all agreed to take it easy in the early hours and go out later. The girls were delighted not to have to go to ski school, and I must say I could use a rest myself. Last night Anita and I went into town. Now this place has this remarkable feature of a shuttle suburban at your beck and call. You call this number and poof! they’re there! two minutes appears to be the average waiting time. Its great. Now we called for a ride into town — they’ll take you anywhere — no charge (but we make a point to tip well). Ok, so far, so good. Our ride was waiting for us when we came down. Unfortunately, before we could get on our way into town, a call came over the wireless. “Ken, we have a party of nine to go into town… and we can’t find Vito.” Ken’s face says it all. Well we ride up to another building on this campus and out come seven of the gabbiest perfumiest drawling-est people I have ever seen. “It would be best if you two came up here with me” Ken says. I roll my eyes and try to contain my frustration. But you know me — mister transparent. Anyway, these drawlin’ Texans pile in, one on top of another and all of them talking. “Where’s Maryjane?” someone asks. “Oh God” I think. Dad goes back in to see what’s the deal, and comes out a few minutes later “she’s coming, believe it or not” Sure enough, a few minutes later out comes Maryjane and her sister-in-law or whatever, in a full-length mink coat, no less. Well, I guess they’re loaded, no matter what else they are.
Ok, so Maryjane and her sister-in-law have to sit on Dad’s and Uncle Jim’s lap, and we ride on into the night chattering and admiring the utterly beautiful sunset. “We don’t get many colorful sunsets up here” Ken tersely mumbles. Anita proceeds to quiz him on the best places to go and see. I gladly let her — she is my best ambassador. He mentions the Idle Spur brew pub, and I perk up immediately. “Yeah, tell me more about that…” I say, and it is settled.
The town of Crested Butte is nestled in the cleft between two mountain ranges. I will have to look up the names of everything. I noticed from my early morning walk the other day, that the town benefited from the early morning sun and now I see that it gets the evening sun through the cleft at least at certain times of the year. It is a cute, picturesque little tourist trap, but we enjoyed the Idle Spur so much we just had to bring some home. Along with our leftovers, we noticed that by a strange quirk in Colorado law, they were permitted to sell beer, while the liquor stores are closed and the grocery store only sells 3.2 brew.
So we just had to buy a six pack of this great home brew. But, I thought to myself, I never get enough of anything when BJ and Pam are around, let’s go ahead and get two six packs. Imagine my surprise when our waitress, Stacy, brings out a case of 22-ouncers! Oh-my-God! What the hell, what we don’t drink I’ll bring back to my friend and brewer Dave for “chemical analysis.”
Mornings in the condo are crazy for late sleepers like Andy and me. Last night B.J. suggested that we have a contest to see who would sleep in the latest. I was wildly optimistic that we would get to sleep past eight, so I decided to splurge and drink one of my champagnes. Wouldn’t you know it, at 6:30 AM, the T.V. blares on and the entire household is jumpy and juicy. Luckily the boys vacated first and we have entered the MTV-free zone at last!
The kitchen is wonderfully huge and I after witnessing mass quantities of food disappear at an unbelievably rapid rate, B.J. and Andy are no longer poking fun at all the provisions Pam and I insisted on bringing. We are saving big bucks this way because everything is at resort prices.
I can’t wait to see the girls skiing together. Elizabeth has surprised us all in ski school. She has even been on lifts that I haven’t had the nerve to venture on. The sun has been so intense that we are all burned to some extent, especially Elizabeth and me.
Wednesday, 3/13/1996
Our last day skiing. Everybody is in great spirits. And we’re frantically getting ready to be the first ones in line for the lift. We’re starting to run out of the massive quantities of food that Anita and Pam brought, and we’re going through more than a gallon of milk a day. Everybody is feeling good and no one’s hurt (knock on wood). Yesterday we all went out together Anita, Monica, Elizabeth, Julia, BJ, Pam and myself and we did a few slopes over by the Painter Boy lift. Elizabeth is utterly amazing! She is great! Monica and Julia are also remarkably accomplished, you should see them fly down the mountain, confident and in control (most of the time). Anita has also made great progress and it was a lot of fun cruising down the mountain just the two of us while BJ and Pam took the kids back down to the base area.
A snowstorm hit the mountain just as the lifts were closing at 4 oclock, which was quite an adventure, compounded by the flight of the crowds off the slopes. Anita and I had some fun coming into base through the “rush hour” It was quite remarkable.
…
This morning, I tagged along with BJ and Pam for a few runs. Anita wasn’t feeling so great, and the girls really wanted to stay together. I was a little disappointed that I couldn’t persuade any of them to go along with me, but I can’t really blame them. They were tired, didn’t really realize that they might not get to ski again for a very long time, and really seemed to enjoy the idea of going shopping in town together. Must be some kind of girl thing.
But I really got to know the run down the Paridise Bowl to the upper section of Forest Queen through the non-obvious shortcut over to the lower section of Ruby Chief. I must have done it five or six times this morning. I wanted to explore more and find some new runs (especially over by the Gold Link area), but with the snow falling and the flat light, I felt better going over terrain that was more familiar. Anyway, the Paradise lift had to be at least twice as fast and was a quad instead of a two-seater, so allowed much more skiing and much less waiting.
The three of us did go the whole way down one time, down Canaan and Treasury, along with Mark, the son of BJ’s next door neighbor. Mark seemed to ski about the same level as me, but I guess being younger, was much bolder. He seemed to be a really nice boy, and told an interesting tale about how he only had to spend 40 bucks on his lift ticket for his whole trip. When I asked him why, he said “because people like me. I make them laugh.” This is behavior I would like to model.
Pam, ever thoughtful, went in early to relieve Anita, thinking that she might possibly like to ski during the lunch break. She went in but made sure that we would come in at some specific time. Anita had said something like 12 o’clock, but I planned to call and plead for more. I figured Pam would understand if I wanted to ski some more and would negotiate on my behalf, so we got another 45 minutes.
The snow began to fall more heavily, and I thought at least we don’t have to worry about sunburn anymore. BJ and I did a few more runs. Here my memory gets a little foggy, because I was concentrating on the slope in front of me so much and people started to go in because the weather was getting worse, and I was trying to keep up with BJ. So I don’t remember exactly what we did or how many runs we got in. I do remember we had a great time.
Then came the appointed time, and we did one more run all the way from the top of the silver queen lift because we had to get pretty high to find the cutoff for the easy way to ski directly back to the condo. I noticed that there were several obvious ways straight back, if you happened to feel comfortable skiing black slopes the whole way. We did not, so we took the fatiguingly slow Yellow Brick Road down a few turns out of the bowl. I got confused several times trying to do this myself the past few days, and I insisted that Pam and BJ show me the way back. They said there was supposed to be this cutoff from the green slope we were on over to Aspen Park road and the rest of the way was pretty easy and fun. I had tried three separate times after they told me about this. The first time, I wound up on the International Run, way out of my league. After a few missed jumps, I decided to head for the deep snow among the trees. This was my first experience with fresh new snow and a totally different technique was required to negotiate it. I found this out the hard way.
I went a few hundred feet through the trees, shin-deep in fresh powder, and I started to enjoy it, until I found myself on a roller-coaster run, a track cut through the powder, very narrow, going up and down, and it was fun for the first few seconds until I realized I had no idea how to stop or even slow down. So down I went, then up (thank you ma’am), and down again even faster, and then up… into the air. ka-boom! into the snow. Well, at least no one was watching, that I know of.
So I made it down that time. The second time, I negotiated the same hill, having made the same mistake, and decided to take it extremely slowly, consuming the whole width of the run, maintining control the whole time. I was kind of tired, since I was coming in anyway, and barely made it, but managed not to fall.
The third time, I was feeling a little more competent and tried it a little faster, trying to keep a line the way I had observed several people do. Of course, I fell. Twice.
This time I had BJ with me so I thought it was going to be easy. Besides Pam had shown us the way when she went in. We did everything I think we were supposed to but wound up faced with the same goddamned slope! BJ wasn’t interested in doing it either, so we turned back through the powder again and this time had a little more success. We loooked at each other and shrugged and just did it.
We didn’t get away without going down a few hundred feet of the international slope, but made it pretty well. We had a great time!
When we came in, Anita fed us, I learned neither she nor the kids really wanted to ski, despite my pleas, and the snow was falling more heavily. We both conked out.
While I was asleep, Monica came in and asked if it would be ok if she went into town to shop with Anita and the girls, and of course I said ok, although it made me sad. Before, when I had asked who would like to come with me, no one wanted to and I made an exaggerated face to Anita, suggesting my feelings. Elizabeth immediately sensed the feeling, and although I was kind of kidding, rushed over to hug me and make me feel better. I was really touched. Monica responded by saying that she would go with me even if the others went into town. It was this promise she asked to be released from.
After a nap overtook me, I felt refreshed and anxious to get out for some more skiing on this, our last day here. Only the hard core would go -out- in the snow, but it was coming on 2:30 and the lifts shut down at 4. It was 3:00 by the time I got to the lift. I had time for probably four runs, if I was lucky. I went straight to the top of the silver queen and straight down through the bowl and the run I had done this morning. As I came onto the Ruby Chief, the sun began to come out! I thought to myself, God is with me today! And said a little prayer of thanks.
When I got to the bottom, BJ was just getting on the lift. He saw me and waved as the thing scooped him up. This one moves pretty fast, and its scoop packs a whollop. To my delight there were no lines, everyone having gone in because of the snow and perhaps lunch. I got right on and met him at the top. By this time I think we only had 10 minutes left until 4:00. We made it down in 5, and were among the last to get on the Paradise lift this day.
We got to the top just about 4:00 and the lifts stopped. The slopes were almost empty and the sun was coming out! What a treat!
This time we decided we had all the time in the world and went down at a fun but relatively sedate pace. All the way down and back to the condo and an ice cold Red Lady ale. And with that, another delightful day entered the books.

We had a wonderful time in Colorado. The drive was surprisingly enjoyable in the giant gypsy wagon. Our first stop of note was Santa Fe — an odd little town at the historic crossroads of the Pecos Trail and the Rio Grande. Well, they’re nearby anyway. They’re not into accuracy in Santa Fe. But you can just feel the history and the sense of the desert there. We met Kate and Beno Schoenborn there — former neighbors of Mom and Dad — who live in this palatial hacienda on a hill overlooking the shimmering lights of the capital of New Mexico. The town square is dominated by a cathedral of European proportions and flavor. Between Santa Fe and Los Alamos is Bandeliero National Monument, where ancient cave dwellings overlook the ruins of a characteristic Anasazi city. The drive in takes you on some breathtaking mountain switchbacks studded with anomalous giant satellite dishes pointed skyward. The contrast is somehow still charming and poetic.
The kids — to my surprise and delight — were fascinated by and about the caves and people who once lived in them. I had thought I would be dragging them along to see “boring pictographs and petroglyphs” but once they summoned the courage to go into one of these cliff dwellings that approach 1000 years old — and actually saw a snake petroglyph close up — they couldn’t stop asking questions. They particularly wanted to see some of the people who lived here and were totally mystified when I told them that no one knew where they went. The next day we cruised on out of there on the way to a place I’ve wanted to visit for very many years. Probably the best example of Anasazi architecture in the country and a worldwide archaeological treasure — Pueblo Bonito and Chetro Ketl in Chaco Canyon. It was positively breathtaking. First I should say that it was an adventure getting there. Its a thirty mile drive down a dirt road — and the dirt road begins in the middle of the desert!
We were a little anxious, since it was threatening rain — ironic in the desert — and considering the Anasazi probably vacated this magical and breathtakingly beautiful place due to extended drought. They say that demanding dirt road turns into a mud bath in the rain, so we kept a wary eye on the weather. The place is really beyond description, but imagine a series of towns, several thousand people living in each, extending over twenty miles of what is now desert canyon. Each town a gem of harmony with the rugged cliffs above and vast dry expanse of desert below. I can only quote Elizabeth: “I NEVER want to leave this place! I LOVE it! I want to stay here FOREVER!!!” Its just a short drive (at least by Texas standards) from there to Durango. Our condo was fantastic, with outstanding views out front and back. Nestled in a cozy valley of the San Juan range — I can’t really say enough about it.
Durango is friendly and quaint, sitting on the Animas river (actually, Rios de los Animas Fuertos — “the river of lost souls”). That is why they call the place “Purgatory. ” It does deliver on the name in one way, though. Once I got out on the slopes, I for one felt totally purged of any stress or anxiety I may have had. It felt just great! The beautiful sunny weather — crisp mountain air — and the thrill of speeding down the slopes. What a rush! I loved it! I found myself dreaming of moving down the mountain. It was a good dream. We came back a different way, past Wolf Creek (another ski resort of decent reputation), over the continental divide and some of the most beautiful mountain scenery I’ve seen anywhere, into a complete (and thankfully short) white-out blizzard at the 10,000 foot Wolf Creek Pass, among the headwaters of the Rio Grande, which there is a crystal clear, fast-flowing mountain stream.
Back down through Taos for a perfect sunset, the kind that bizarre Pueblo-commune/art colony is famous for. Taos appears to have one art gallery for every ten people. Really. That brings us back home through miles and miles of Texas. Boy, this state is big. And now we’re rushing headlong into spring, with activities, shows, recitals and God knows what else. Europeans laugh at what they call an “American vacation,” where we dash through three countries in a week. What they don’t understand is that we actually LIVE like that! Now that we’re back home, we can’t wait to get back out there and vacate some more. On the whole, I’d say driving in the van is a very comfortable way to travel if you have the time.
We’re thinking about putting the boat back in a marina. We’re looking at one a little further down the river which will let us explore some new unfamiliar coves and capture some of that “vacation head” and allow us to inject it into an ordinary weekend or even weekday. Anita is studying very hard. She even has some pig brains or something in a cooler in the garage. (some homework!) She’s getting all A’s, by the way. Elizabeth is dancing her heart out & Monica is doing very well in her piano lessons. They both have recitals coming up.