February 24, 2016badfish

SEASONS OF OUR DISCONTENT: PART ONE

Many years later as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.                                                     —Gabriel Garcia Marquez: One Hundred Years of Solitude

Keith+Kriya Aspen 1977 E1
Small fry Badfish with Kriya, Aspen, Colorado, 1977

It is late summer 1977 in Aspen, Colorado. Pluto is still a planet. Nobody wears tattoos or pierced lips. Hair is long and bell-bottoms, wide. Jimmy Carter pardons all Vietnam draft evaders. “Tonight’s The Night” by Rod Stewart is the year’s number one song, but receives no Grammy. Star Wars plays in theaters. Rocky wins the Oscar for Best Picture. Apple begins selling its first laptops.

The first MRI image is produced. Pink Floyd performs the first quadrophonic concert in London. I am reading Bruce Chatwin’s In Patagonia. Patty Hearst is sentenced to five years. G. Gordon Liddy is released from prison. And Ted Bundy leaps from a window in the Aspen Courthouse and escapes into the Rocky Mountains.

Aspen nestles in the Roaring Fork Valley and sits in the shadow of surrounding mountains, 11 to 14-thousand feet high. The back side of the ski slopes of Aspen harbors a few atavistic log cabins, remnants from prospecting days during the 1800’s, which are now rented to semi-hard-core Thoreau impersonators who may want to live in a place like Aspen but want to escape a place like Aspen. I rent one of these log cabins and build a corral of lodgepole pines for my horses Kriya and Circe. There is no running water, no electricity, no roads, no neighbors in that neck of the woods—the allure, not hardship.

You take baths in a claw-foot, cast iron bathtub you fill with ice-cold water from the spring bubbling up next to the tub, under which you build a small fire to heat the water, as though a giant pot of soup. You place a 1X8 pine board between you and the floor of the tub because the cast iron gets so hot from the direct flames below, you could inadvertently sear your bottom. In winter when it snows on Aspen Mountain, it dumps feet at a time, every time, all winter. You might find yourself shoveling the tub out of snow to take a bath. And you might need to chop through thin ice to get to the water flowing from the spring. You will not see solid ground for months at a time. You’ll probably wear insulated hiking boots every day, even in summer.

Life was not easy on the backside of the mountain, especially in winter. But it was a good time to live in Aspen. John Denver had a home there and sometimes gave free concerts in the Wheeler Opera House, built in 1889 and whose acoustics were so exceptional, when Denver sang “The Eagle and the Hawk” chills ran down your spine. Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thomson partied in Woody Creek. Leon Uris lived on Red Mountain and sometimes rented a room at the Holiday Inn, so he could watch football on cable TV. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band hung out in Aspen. And Don Henley. Glenn Fry lived next door to Jimmy Buffet. In 1977, Claudine Longet, perhaps Aspen’s most famous femme fatale, was spending her 30 days in jail on weekends for shooting her lover, Olympic ski racer Spider Sabich. Later, she married her lawyer.

For heat inside the relatively large cabin, the open fireplace in the center of its one room radiated warm air in four directions. For dinners, a fancy wood-burning cook stove with two compartments for baking, and a reservoir for heating water. Summers, you drove your 4X4 along a narrow dirt path leading up the mountain from the valley below, the high-mountain meadows full of Indian paintbrush, skunk cabbage, and elegant blue columbines. There was an unwritten rule for back-country driving when vehicles met in opposite directions: the guy driving “down” the mountain had to back up to find a place wide enough for both to pass on the single-lane paths (originally carved for horse-drawn wagons hauling silver) because his chances of going over the edge while going backward were slightly less.

You might also want to remember not to dump the ashes from your fire place and cook stove into the outhouse pit until the ashes are completely cold. That stuff in the pit does not need a match to start a fire: if it gets too hot, spontaneous combustion occurs. You might show up at your cabin one evening, the way we did, and discover that your outhouse had blown itself to smithereens—the roof over there; the door, way over there. Bits and splinters of the walls…everywhere. They don’t call it deep shit for nothing.

In winter, you cross-country skied up that same path. Or, you skied up the face of Ajax Mountain, Aspen’s main ski slope (which most people mistakenly—or endearingly—call Aspen Mountain), early in the morning before all the skiers began pummeling down on regular skis (snowboards were not yet popular), and then you telemarked your way down through deep powder on the back side of the mountain where the cabin sat.

In this photo, the season is late summer, the aspens have not turned yellow yet. When Ted Bundy escapes from the Pitkin County Courthouse at just about the time this photo is taken, he works his way through town, by-passes Tom’s Market, then climbs Aspen Mountain and hikes over to the back side. He runs across a cabin, breaks in, steals some food, clothes, a rifle.

________________________________

I’ll stop there for today. This is getting longer than imagined. I’ll save Part II for next week.

Forgive the weirdness of the photo, it’s a very poor digital copy of a 35mm slide taken ages ago. The guy didn’t even clean the slide.

You can view more DP Photo Challenge images here: Seasons

193 comments

    • Tish…yes, a remembrance of the past. But inside, nostalgia is running amok!! That was definitely the best 10 years of my life. Hands down. And then one day, it wasn’t. I’m so glad you liked it!!

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  2. Hey…thats not fair. I can’t wait till next week for the rest of the story. You are a fantastic storyteller. And that guy on the photo us quite handsome!

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    • Lena, the reason I started my blog was to teach people lessons in life. Here is the lesson for today: Nothing Is Fair!!!
      But, I am so glad you stopped by and liked the story…and the guy in the photo thanks you, too! If it were a better photo, you would see just how handsome the horse’s face is…really cool horse! Beautiful, really.

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  4. My daughter lives like this now, on a island off the coast of British Columbia. I can hear her telling a story like this years from now. (without the Ted Bundy part) Well written details. Can´t wait to hear more.

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    • Darlene, I have to tell you, I truly miss living like that. Even as difficult as it was, it was a hoot. And you learn just who you are, and who you aren’t!

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    • Sally, you are so right—memories scattered across time. I love that…as I sit here now half way around the world from where this photo and events took place sooooo long ago, when there were no iPhones or selfies!

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    • Beth, HA…the start of my memoir!! I hope you are right. I’ve been THINKING of writing it for decades now, never found the discipline to follow through. Blogging has helped keep me sitting and writing (something). So maybe!
      But really? You really pictured me like that? I’m impressed.

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  8. What… I have to sit on the edge of my seat waiting for part II ???
    Great story and what a neat way to live at a moment (or a season) in life…

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  9. Really great read! All the makings of a story that takes the reader away from where they are and puts them right there when the, ah, shit hits the fan. Very enjoyable. Definitely looking forward to the rest of the story. You’re a handsome guy, btw. And, what a crazy brush with infamy! One of my father’s best friends lived in Aspen for years. He was the founder of the blacksmith “school” there.

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    • LRose…glad you liked the story, thanks so much. And thanks for the compliment, although when I glance in the mirror these days, nothing like THAT is what I see now, you know!
      Blacksmith school in Aspen? I think I remember something about a school in Carbondale, and a friend of mine went to it (if I’m remembering right).

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      • None of us look as we did in 1977 (Me in late summer ’77? On the verge of entering high school. I most certainly don’t look like that little girl!) The school in Carbondale is the one. He lived in Aspen, though. This is a story about him on the news of his death: http://www.nytimes.com/1999/10/31/nyregion/francis-whitaker-blacksmith-dies-at-92.html.
        He and my father met during his years in Carmel-by-the-Sea CA. They left the same year, according to the article. Coincidence I didn’t know! Anyway, I have a couple of his ironworks in my home. I know he did Leon Uris front gate, among many other wonderful works.

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          • Ummm … not sure about that. Everything I knew about him was from my parents. They didn’t mention anything other than the school. I visited once, with my folks, during college years, but we met them (he and his wife) at their house. But, maybe?

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        • Wow! I remember the big push to revive smithy work in Colorado. I remember meeting a smithy that was very proud and telling me about it. He was young, so he may have been a student. I don’t recall where other than it may have been at the Strawberry Festival in Glenwood or the Olathe Corn Festival where such displays were common. I was living in Grand Junction at the time. I was one of those mom’s that was always taking her kids to events that would show and teach them how things were or used to be done, so I found this kind of display extremely fascinating.

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          • Hmmmm. I didn’t know you were in Grand Junction at that time…interesting. And you came to Glenwood Springs? So close, yet so far away, eh?

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          • Yes, I thought I’d mentioned it. Oddly my sales route was Aspen and one day I was walking down the street and thought I saw you. I mentioned it to Tina, but when I did a double take, you had disappeared, so why I even thought of you I don’t know. I didn’t even know you were there then.

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          • Yeah, We will never know for sure. I was selling memberships to Sam’s Club, later, but I hung out there before that because I liked it, there. It had a flavor I like and felt good there, like I was in Europe. When I worked for Sam’s, I got to stay there a great deal. The limelight gave me great rates ($45 a night) to stay there rather than in Carbondale. They liked me.

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          • Well, my ex-husbands cousin owned the landfill there, so we were there a great deal. Not to mention Russ and I were climbers, He did almost all the 14ner’s and I did about 15, including Pyramid and the bells, plus he did hut trips in Aspen (I only did one), skiid Ajax rarely (he telemarked). But, I think if I recall you said you were gone by then. I don’t know.

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          • There are 52-53 fourteener’s depending on who you ask. I only climbed the North Bell (some people consider them separate, some one and the same and then Pyramid which is across the way. Russ climbed the majority of them (I think he was only missing five or six) and sometimes alone. I think he had climbed a good many of them when we started dating and only did a couple of repeats to break me in, like Grey’s and Torry’s, Sneffles and some of the Collegiates.

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          • Because they’re there. They are all potentially dangerous if you’re an idiot. If you are careful as Russ always was, not as much. They can still be dangerous, some more than others. I haven’t heard anything about Nick. Did you call Tina? You should. I’m guessing not unless he’s sending up smoke signals she’s not seen. email me.

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  12. Your writing is so awesome. To start with that great quote and the “It is late summer 1977 in Aspen, Colorado. Pluto is still a planet. ” Who could resist not continuing the read? You certainly have talent! Which is why you have lots of fans 🙂 (I’m one!) The photo is great, too! PS. I have Bruce Chatwin’s In Patagonia on my windowsill right now, waiting for the weekend so I can start reading!

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    • Snow…I was thinking of you because it is about to snow somewhere in this story. And then, a blizzard!
      I loved Chatwin. And now I use the same brand of notebook that he used when he traveled and took notes. Not sure they actually help, though!

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  13. I was living east of you, in Evergreen, when your story was taking place. And One Hundred Years of Solitude is one of my favorite books! Really enjoyed this post — your writing took me back to those mountains.

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    • Gilly–I KNOW! Talk about fish soup, eh! After a while, I learned to make a fairly small fire, and/or wait till the flames settled in char with small or no flames.

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    • Keli…you know, I have led a fairly interesting life. I’m just hoping I can sit down and stay sat down long enough to write about it.
      And just so you know…the young Badfish looks nothing like the seasoned Badfish!!

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  18. Since my time is severely limited these days, just tell me what the heck you are wearing?! I guess I also have time to say this was an awesome read – so many things that bring back my own 70s memories.

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      • Haha – OK, I was thinking oversized flannel shirt since there were clearly no pants! Honestly I’m a frazzled mess but checking in here every few days is a bright spot – thanks for asking!

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        • Yeah, kind of an oversized shirt, really over sized. Odd how warm those things are! I can’t imagine just one day picking up and moving. But soon, I will be doing that also. But…to where?

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  20. You definitely have talent Mr Badfish! I too was totally hooked at “it is late summer 1977 in Aspen, Colorado. Pluto is still a planet.”
    … and of course, I laughed out loud at the exploding outhouse. It’s only funny because no one was actually IN or near the outhouse at the time!!
    I like the way you weave current events into your story. For those of us who lived it, you made 1977 real again.

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    • Joanne, Right! Why is it that when something terrible happens to someone, like their outhouse exploding, people laugh? I don’t get it! I had to poop in the open for days until it got repaired. Luckily it was summer, and few people wandering by.
      And you know what: Pluto is always going to be a planet for me. Screw scientists is what I say. And sugar in your coffee is GOOD for you. Were you a Denver fan?

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      • I like Pluto and it will always be a planet to me too.
        I LOVE sugar in my coffee and I will always be a huge Denver fan. You mentioned getting chills down your spine when you heard him sing. Listening to his music still gives me that reaction.

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  21. This is brilliant. I’m looking forward to part 2 very much. Your writing swallows me whole. And your life.
    Boy, I thought I’d been adventurous living in wilderness hunting camps (much as you described) and in a cabin on the edge of town with no running water – but I did have a gas stove, water delivery, and octopus wiring giving me power from the building next door.
    Alison

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    • Allison, glad you liked it. And you know, I’ve never gotten used to the Brits calling something “brilliant” (I work with a bunch of Brits). And I maybe never liked the way it soundeed. But when you just wrote it, I finally got it. And now…thank you so much for liking it and for showing me the brilliance of “brilliant.”
      And yeah…you gotta get used to hauling water, luckily the spring was right THERE. Still, I got strong hauling water. And logs. Cooking on a wood burner…now that REALLY takes some getting used to. For a while, you eat a lot of burned food.

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  22. We own a cabin up in the Uintahs. No water, but do have electric. The whole post felt like coming home. I think it’s a great picture. Good lookin’ feller there! You know, I remember when Longet was married to Andy Williams and performed on his show with him. Can’t wait to read the rest. IS this going to be the start of a memoir??? Please say yes! 😀

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    • Indah! thanks, glad you liked it. I was thinking two parts, but I like your idea of a trilogy. It could be a VERY long story if I take it all the way through winter of 1979. Oh, a bad year for Badfish. Perhaps we’ll just leave it two parts!!!

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  24. Fun fun fun…multipart story-telling and actual self photo! I don’t know how I lived with woodstoves and outhouses and never even knew you could blow one up…love it. And I love hearing about the life back in the day…but I wonder what it’s like there now. Do the cabins still exist? Are they über-gentrified? Looking forward to future installments…

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    • PAULA…yeah, I really don’t know what they are like now, or if they are still there, but it was Forest Service land, so who knows what has happened to them. Money does talk. There may even be a road up to the cabin by now!!

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  26. What a great read! I absolutely love this and can’t wait for more of the story! You pulled me in by bringing up all that was going on at the time, making me remember, and then swept me into the rest of the story. You are one great storyteller!

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  27. I loved this! So nostalgic. In 1977, I lived in a small mountain town in southern NM. We didn’t have water or electricity most of the time, unless someone got a place with those amenities. Then that would be where we all showered. Mostly little cabins, some tepees . Definitely claw foot tubs! We didn’t have celebrities. Fortunately none of us blew up out outhouses. We are all scattered around the country now, but we still get together once a year for a 5 day camp out somewhere beautiful – different place every year.

    I hope you continue this Bad Fish. You write so well and it’s fun to read. Thanks for the Rocky Mountain High. I miss John Denver. His “The Eagle and the Hawk” gives me chills (sometimes tears) wherever I hear it, which is usually turned up really loudly in my truck. I still live in the mountains. Still need a 4×4 truck to get home. But, we have a well and electricity. Please write more!

    Mary

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    • I’m glad to hear you didn’t blow up any outhouses in NM. And it’s so cool that you guys keep in touch. It seems that I have lost touch with most people from my past, except a few really good women who are now my best friends and I love and always will.
      I lived in NM, in a place called Weed. Do you know it, in the mountains above Las Cruces.

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      • When did you live in Weed? I lived in Cloudcroft. Both are in the Sacramento mountains and very close to each other. Do you know the Western Bar in Cloudcroft?

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  28. OOOh! You tease. You are Luke from ‘Kako so osvobajali divji zahod’! (Sorry, I didn’t know I would grow into a translator and didn’t pay attention to the original title of this TV series, the first I remember watching. But it was in English and I had a HuGE crush on Luke. Never thought of googling him until right now but no luck so far.) And now I get your obsession with dark matters. Deep shit indeed! hihihi

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  29. Loved this! I certainly can’t imagine solitude like that though. I do remember when I was first in my teens, we went way up in the mountains, somewhere in CO, on one of those narrow little roads, so my dad cook roast a hog for a guy who was having a party up there.

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    • HA! well roasting a pig up there sounds like a fun thing!!! And it’s funny, but I love solitude, solitude is such a positive thing in my mind. I love being alone. I think I’m more “me” when I’m alone than when I’m with most people. People are so…human, sometimes. Give me a dog, or horse, and I’m happy. But yeah, people are cool, too. When they’re not being so human.

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      • Hey Badfish, I just saw this guy’s post this morning. Made me think of your comments above. https://nesfelicio.wordpress.com/2016/02/27/solitude-is-not-loneliness/

        My home is a little like an early 70’s commune, lots of people, but with lots of places (inside and out) to be connected or to be alone…until recently that is, when my son and two grandsons moved in. Now, it’s 6 men, and little old me! Not a lot of solitude any more. And I am craving lace and the color pink…..not me at all.

        Thank goodness for the absolute good fortune of a second home in the mountains four hours east of here. For a description of that place, find the song “Ridgetop” by Jesse Colin Young…., just not in the bay area, not as famous in the music life and a lot more remote!

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        • Your home is like a 70’s commune? How cool. My store was sort of like that. People lived in the attic lofts in exchange for a few hours work in the store. Man, I miss that place.

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          • “Sort of” like a 70’s commune…I’ve lived here in this 108 year old house for over 40 years and it has also been home to over 50 other people and 25 animals (not counting the bugs)! 10 years ago, the addition of our Mountain Retreat. Well, I just feel wealthy beyond my wildest…in a completely non-materialistic way, of course. Gotta go. Someone broke the downstairs toilet again!!

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      • I’m usually dangerous when I’m alone. lol However, I become better at it the older I get. I’ve spent years running away from myself, so I guess I’m now in the acceptance phase.

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  30. I’m hooked and on the edge of my seat waiting for part 2 and 3 and—- After the little 1979 mention in the comments (what happened!!!) you must keep going. 1977 seemed just a heart beat away but such a different world back then. I love your horse, Kriya, she looks to be in love with you. Did you grow the vegies for your store?

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    • I know…1977, seems like just yesterday. I loved that decade. Best time of my life. And Kriya…well, I was the one feeding her oats and apples. Horses may pretend to love you when you have food in your hand!!!
      And yes! I had a French postage-stamp garden in the front yard of my store, which was inside a small Victorian-style house. I have a slide that I’m trying to transfer to digital.

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    • Jay, I have good notebooks!! Tons of notebooks. And photos to jog the bean. It was a great time in my life, and easy to slip right back into that period of time. I love it in Aspen, love my time there. El Paso, TX…well, not so much.

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  32. What a treat! Where to start! GGM quote, wonderful. I tried reading HYoS in spanish and gave up, read the english version, and became a lifelong fan of GGM and magical realism. My life is pretty magically realist in many ways, but thats another story. Loved “Love in the Time of Cholera”. …..THEN
    like many others, i was hooked from the first line . Your first paragraph is like your favourite meal/chocloate/sweet that you havent had in decades and you take a tantalising bite and let it savour in your mouth. I’ve got into the habit of reading your first sentences at least five times, savouring them, anticipating the delights to come.
    “It is late summer 1977 in Aspen, Colorado. Pluto is still a planet. “. Im with you, Pluto will always be a planet. Then the rest of the first paragraph – brilliance personified. ( Now that you appreciate the word and all). Patty Hearst – now wasn’t that a trip!

    Im wondering what John Denver’s real name was? And how you got to be the first seller of natural and organic foods in Aspen, Colorado, and if they have organic foods in AD….

    and then there’s the actual, real, experience of living in deep shit – now that is funny!

    I reckon you’ve already got the second installment written, dude, and you just enjoy keeping us all on tenterhooks. 🙂

    Then of course there’s the Chippies, and I see you have many new fans – as you should! Im also glad that those fans are requesting your book, because I’ve given up, and remain quite content with my regular Badfish post dose, and just plea that you do not go into hibernation again soon…..

    I never did hang out in the bush – Aussie equivalent of ‘the woods’ – but used to visit people who did…. but I did see some escaped criminals near a school where I worked once, and when I saw the evening news, realised that those edgy looking dudes I’d seen at the shops were the crims…

    Now, by now you will be used to me writing marathons in comments, and if you dont like that, you’d just better stop writing so damned well.

    This one is easily a BF Masterpiece.

    Thanks for taking the time to write it, Baddie. 🙂

    Oh and PS, I think Manja Mexi Movie is right! The photos prove it! You are Luke from Kako so osvobajali divji zahod. When you gonna write a post about your experiences in Kako so osvo…. , Badfish?? 🙂 (( PPS, Kako so Osvo could be the title of your next post. I’ve given up suggesting book titles….))

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    • I’m glad you like my first lines, I’m really glad you like them well enough to read them a few times!!! JD’s last name was a long German-type name, something Diffendorfer or something like that, you could probably google it.
      Aussie Bush: gotta love the bush…have you been to Alice Springs, to Ayers Rock? Very cool there. I was going to camp out there, but opted for the hotel instead at the last minute. Badfish love their creature comforts, you know.
      Your comments: what in the hell would a Badfish post be without a dang Debbie marathon comment? It would make no sense, would it?
      I’m truly glad you like this piece (but masterpiece…I’m not quite sure of that! But am tickled you think so. Just not sure how credible a Badfish Chippie can be??
      who the hell is Luke?

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      • HI Baddie ( I’ve figured out I can use Reader to check comment replies ( duh!) and posts too ( double duh!) AND…. AND…. I seem to have fixed the notification problem! Many WP mails this morning… gulp.. might have to turn off notifications again ( intentionally this time! 🙂 )….
        now, yes, I’ve been to Uluru, many moons ago when it was still allowed to be climbed…. so I climbed it of course, amazing place, woud love to go back. I camped out. ( I was younger then…..)
        As for your question – you have a point. I’ll try to keep up my duty 🙂

        and as for Luke, dont ask me, ask Manja Mexi Movie, as it was she who put in that photo with an uncanny resemblance to the young Fish….

        Credibility? A guy who hangs out in the basement of his blog drinking with the ghost of a dead rock star is asking about credibility? Okay Baddie….. at least you hung out with the REAL John Dusseldorf, Differential, Diffendorfer or whatever… and not his ghost…. just sayin’… 🙂

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        • Hi again… I’m back! Just thought I should let you know, i stumbled into this new glitzy building yesterday, in the promise of a bookshop, it was huge, large, and filled with an enormous selection of books – mainly in Chinese of course. As I walked in, on the display shelf, was a number of colourfully covered books, with an English title, yes an English book – it was… ( trumpet roll)
          Love in the Time of Cholera.
          just after I’d been mentioning it up there.
          This might not seem much to most people, but this is the first time in 13 years I have seen a whole selection of reasonably okay English books in a bookstore in China!!!!

          and hows the serendpity of the book I was mentioning in a badfist post comment, just staring me in the face as the welcome display of a bookstore in China!!!!!

          I think I need to head down to your basement speakeasy now.( Is that same ghost still playing? 🙂 )

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          • I love it when things like that happen. Serendipity, indeed. AND, in my upcoming post, I wrote a bit about serendipity. How’s that for serendipity?

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        • I don’t understand the Reader. It’s got all these blogs in no particular order, I can’t find things, or blogs I want to find. Just don’t get it??
          But I would think most people would trust a guy who hung out in the basement of his blog drinking with ghosts. That’s like the very definition of credibility.

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  34. really looking forward topper 2 – and I am running off – but wanted to leave a quick note and say that I had a few things to chime in with – just from things that relate from my Denver Days (like how folks used to think John Denver was mayor of Denver – really!) but I shall be back later in week – have a nice weekend bf!

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  37. What a time! And Pluto was still a planet!! This is great stuff Badfish, I can’t wait to read Part 2, and the photo of ‘small fry’ Badfish with Kriya is wonderful.

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  38. Ah 1977, remember it well, seems like yesterday. And I would have loved to live in Aspen back then, even in your ‘roughing it’ accommodation. Nice photo cowboy 😍😍😍

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  39. Is that a picture of you? … You look very handsome. I always imagined you as the hippy types with a band on your forehead and not the cowboy types 🙂
    It’s nice to finally put a face to badfish 🙂 .
    I loved the opening esp Pluto being a planet and bell bottoms being wide 🙂

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  40. What a great read especially for those of us who can remember those times. Also lots of great advice in case we ever get into survivalist mode, which given what we’re doing to our planet may be soon! – love the bathtub advice since I would have burned my bottom for sure…

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    • I know…it’s scary what we’re doing to the planet. I just hope I’m gone before the sh** hits the cosmic fan. And yah, I’m telling you about the board in the tub from “experience” of burned bottoms

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  41. I don’t recall seeing this in my inbox… but I found it through Part 2 – wormholed back in time.
    As I read this, I realized we’d talked about this way back in a time when I didn’t have to ski down from the 12,000 feet to here to respond. And I have never skied a day in my life. What a long strange trip it’s been.

    While you whiled away your days in the back-woods cabin, I was in the foothills, east, in Fort Collins; my 2nd year there. It was the year I met Jim McCord, while I was working in Home Health care, with an extraordinary woman, for whom it was a pleasure to tend with loving care. So close, yet so far away, to only meet – let me count – yes, 38 years later, where homes were virtual places, and we met equally extraordinary people, through a medium, yet, for some of us, bringing us the sense we were hanging out on the backside of a mountain, or in the Maldives, or in a rice field in Bali.

    Somewhere, somehow, it seems as if we’d known each other for eons. Isn’t it strange.

    Now I must go and finish this story or I’ll live on the edge of my seat through eternity.

    Dude… no, you’re not ever bored… I was silly.

    May the Force be with you!
    And remember, no matter where you go, there you are!

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        • Fim, condolonces to you and all your family and tribes.
          A difficult time for you.
          Hope that your elder has passed into a more beautiful and peaceful place and that you and Mr Quantum and the rest of your gang remain peaceful and happy during this time of grief.
          It really is great to have you back in bloggsville – it just really wasnt the same without you.
          xx

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          • Thank you, Debbie. I do believe he is finally at peace. We’re processing, and trying to be as much help to my Aunt as we can.

            It is great to be back in bloggsville! I find the Badfish and Chips Café is just the place to come and chill out, and hang with good people!

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          • Virtual interruption by me in my apron and bearing refills: coffee or tea will it be? Bless you guys for hanging here and putting up with my poop. I think the windows need cleaning…

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          • the best place Cafe in Blogsville that I’ve found so far Fimnfan. Now we just have to get Lucille back on board! 🙂 Glad you guys are dealing with everything as best you can. These last months have been challenging for many people, but the tide is turning…. finally… I believe…. 🙂

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          • Lucile has been hibernating, just now coming out for a bit of foraging. I think we all need time to break away from things sometimes.

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          • mm, just replied to you Fim from Reader but looks like it didnt go thru?? was saying that this is the Best Cafe in Blogsville ( I believe the Fish has a plaque somewhere to say so) and all we need to do now is get Lucille back…..

            and Baddie, tea please, English Breakfast with a dash of milk, and then I’ll happily clean your windows for you if you promise to not go more than a week without publishing a post, okay?

            More than a week without a Badfish post is something akin to torture…..

            And Fimnfan again, i’m glad you guys are handling things as best you can. The last few months have been quite difficult for many people… but its spring, and its a warm day, and La Vida es Bella. Le Chaim! 🙂

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    • FIM…I believe you had more important things to occupy your mind when Part One was posted–love being love, and family being family. But glad you found it through Part Two. And I’m kinda sorry you had to ski all the way down that mountain to respond…and kinda thrilled that that mountain is there! It is inspiring. And to be honest…is giving me something that I can’t quite define or explain. But I think it does have something to do with equally extraordinary people hanging out. And one of them (at least) with poetry running through her blood right along with all that spooky stuff–and eons it most likely IS! I’m so glad you’re here.

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      • Yes, it was like reading a prequel. Plus, the timeline thing… so close, yet so far away.
        I think it is very cool to have that mountain to have to ski down. No worries. Besides, there were lots of good conversations going on. That always adds to the experience!

        I would hope that part of what you feel you can’t quite define or explain, is a sense of accomplishment. I see it that way. So, drinks are on me, to celebrate all of us being back together.
        As it’s said in part of my tribe, Le Chaim!

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        • OK, cool. I’ll let you buy the drinks. But really…I can’t say that what I feel is even close to “accomplishment.” I’m the kind of guy who never finishes things. But thanks for the toast!! What’s in the glass…champagne, beer, wine, Wild Turkey?

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  42. So my first thoughts on this post – firstly, that photo looks like something out of a 70’s TV show; and secondly, where are his pants?!?!

    You certainly have lived a full life, Badfish (and still do by the look of it). Thanks for sharing with us!

    PS: isn’t Pluto back to planet status again? 😛

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  43. Aah, that was time travel at its best! Your spare, descriptive prose is hypnotising Badfish. Quit procrastinating and get on that memoir now. Can’t wait to read all of it.
    PS: You look like a movie star in that photo!

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    • Glad you liked the step back in time. It brought up a lot of different emotions and memories for me as I wrote it. Not quite a movie star (with no pants) but definitely young!!

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