An Attempt To Write A Wagon Train Romance Adventure Dealio

 

   As he had done most every morning for the past 3 months James woke a little before the men on watch fired their guns to signal the start of another day. The morning twilight became dawn and the low sun began to light up the sky. The group he and Polly were with now numbered 143 souls, far fewer than the more than 1,000 people they had set out with.

   After the larger group had crossed the Big Blue River near the Alcove Spring camp they had split up nearly evenly in order to ease the stress of keeping order over the large group of Elephant Hunters (as they jokingly referred to themselves). Though the two smaller groups stayed within a few miles of each other for safety's sake.

   The route through the Federal Territory after they had crossed the Missouri River had been rugged and demanded a level of persistence and determination that James was surprised he was capable of. He was equally surprised and impressed by the resolute endurance his young wife Polly possessed, and her unwavering calm in the face of adversity. While he walked over to their team of 6 stout oxen and the two horses with buckets of fresh water he repeated the same prayer of gratitude that he had recited to himself every morning for the past 92 days.

   "Thank you Lord, for another day of life and the blessings therin."

   The makeshift corral was abuzz with activity as other members of the caravan feed and watered their livestock and made small talk amongst each other. James approached his brother Alfred and they greeted each other with the same half smile and nod they had silently agreed was all that was necessary in the morning. When they had harnessed their respective teams to the wagons, then they would talk about the days itinerary and whether or not they would be volunteering to serve as foragers or hunters that afternoon.

   As the sun climbed over the eastern horizon James could see the smoke from the morning campfires of the three other smaller emigrant companies that had further reduced the size of the trains the Wagon Master had to personally oversee. Now that the company was halfway to their destination and the fear of Indian raids had subsided, the going, while still rough, had gotten easier.

   Earlier in the week a Scout had returned after four days of assessing the trail ahead and told of meeting up with a group at a large rock near an encampment along the North Platte where a ferry service was available.

   Today was the day the group expected to traverse the 15 miles the Scout had estimated they needed to travel to reach the large rock. There would be several other caravans that had made camp in the area, and it would no doubt be a boisterous evening as there would be welcome reunions with fellows that they had split from since the crossing of the Big Blue River had been made.  

   In about an hour the Wagon Master would signal the bugler to blow his horn. The men leading the teams of oxen would start walking while gently tugging on the reigns and the large beasts would begin stirring up clouds of dust as the wagons they were yoked to began to move forward. After three months the logistics of getting everyone underway was a well-rehearsed and smooth exercise. 

   James looked over his right shoulder and up towards Polly, his wife of not yet four months. She had answered the advert he had placed in the Evansville Daily Journal seeking a wife who desired to migrate to the western territories and two weeks after she had replied they had married. It was an indelicate, risky, and possibly dangerous decision for them both, but it was also something they both wanted, almost desperately so.

   Polly looked at her husband and smiled broadly. Her eyes meet his and she thought once again about how surreal if not absurd the past four months had been. She also thought about how exciting and happy they had been despite the hardships of life on the trail. It was an an adventure the likes of which she never imagined would befall her, and the fact she had been fortunate enough to meet such a sound and able-bodied man to share the adventure with made it all the more exhilarating.

   Her future, their future, held more promise than she had ever hoped for, and with every mile further west they traveled her conviction she had made the right decision strengthened.   

     

Discover Yourself Without Hurting Yourself (Or Anyone Else)

He didn't much care for the opinions of strangers these days

Which was a far cry from the days of his youth

When he was consumed with a need to be accepted

When he was convinced his self-worth was dependent on others perceptions

Of what he could or couldn't do

Of what he knew or didn't know

Periodically he would encounter someone, usually a young kid

A teenager wound tight, emotionally turbulent, deeply anxious

Against everything but hoping to find something

Against the wall and insistently trying to tear it down

Because it was all so frustrating

Because it was all so existential

He had to fight to keep himself quiet on those occassions

Keep his thoughts to himself

The kid didn't need to hear yet another adult tell him

The future was bright and there was no reason to panic

That the world was extraordinary

That the best was just beginning

Everybody deserves the chance to discover all that by themselves

Deciduous Trees Droppin' Leaves Like They're Hot

Here we are more than a month into Fall and the trees have finally begun to start losing their leaves. Some people like to hop in a car and drive for hours into the mountains southwest of Denver to peep at miles and miles of Aspens, Cottonwoods, Oaks, Maples and other deciduous shrubs as their leaves change from various shades of green to an amazing rainbow of shades of red, orange and yellow. 

Which is cool and all, but to me a waste of time and fuel, because here in Lakewood where I reside there are several parks within walking distance of my house that have hundreds if not thousands of those very same trees doing the exact same turning color dance.

Over the last couple of days I've spent a few hours walking along both the Clear Creek and Bear Creek trails, and enjoyed every minute of it. As you might have assumed, I took a few pictures of the beautiful views along the trail, too.

The Bench At The Crest Of The Hill

 He walked the 1,428 steps from the trailhead to the crest of the hill 

                         Slowly, casually

There was no rush, and even if there was 

          He didn't believe he could bear to rush

The bench, which was in reality a flat boulder with a rectangular shape

                   Wasn't going anywhere 

The crest of the hill allowed one a spectacular view of the area

       For miles in all directions

In the morning one could sit and watch the sunrise in the east

                        And in the evenings watch the sunset to the west

The flat boulder was large enough for four people 

             To sit together comfortably

Though he had never sat there with anyone other than her

                  When they would sit and talk for hours

She had considered the bench their 

                                 Ringside seat to the world

And a place of sanctuary, of retreat 

                        Where they could hide together in plain sight

At least once a week, usually late Wednesdays, after noon

             When it was rare for anyone else to be there

They walked the 1,428 steps together

                     Sometimes enjoying the tranquility of silence

Sometimes chattering like jays

                   Always reveling in one another's company

Now, as he approached the boulder alone

                                   He looked off into the distance

Through misty eyes he searched out familiar landmarks

              Johnson's creek flowing south the Solomon range to the east

The Dominion school grounds north and the Fuller bridge west

                        Unconsciously he ran his hands through his hair

As he recalled the times they tried to find their home

          Realizing that the house he was searching for  

Was no longer their home

                                Only his

                       

                            

Falling Down The Infinitely Deep Rabbit Hole Of Human Behavioral Studies

For some people successful people are a source of envy

For others, successful people are a source of inspiration

Why is it that?

What are the factors that determine whether one becomes envious or inspired?

Why does one person witness someone doing something at a high level and become so annoyed by it that all they can do in response is belittle and begrudge the high level performer? 

Why does one person witness someone doing something at a high level and find it motivating to the point that it drives them to emulate the high level performer's success?

The motivating factors for people to do anything, whether it be altruistic or egoistic, have been explored, researched, studied - however you want to define the efforts made to figure 'em out - for millennia.

Learned academics from Aristotle to Kant to Mill to Maslow to McClelland have espoused upon virtue and vice, self-interest and impulse, power dynamics, resentment, self-esteem and self-actualisation, intrinsic and extrinsic motivations, situational and institutional forces...ad nauseum.

But none of that is what I'm curious about here.

I'm curious about the "why" two individuals will witness the high level success of a third person and have decidedly different reactions to it. 

One will have a positive and the other a negative.

Biologically, human beings are 99.9% identical. Does that 0.1% difference factor into the "why"?

23 years ago, when the human genome project was completed, geneticist came to the conclusion that the collective human population was basically comprised of identical twins.

Living as we do in the postgenomic era one would think it might have behoved an academic researcher or two to research the "why".

The mechanics of brain function at the cellular level - electrochemical signals sent and received between cells, the synapses between neurons, etc., seems to be well understood (according to what I've read on the 'net, and we all know the 'net is 100% trustworthy), so is it safe to assume that the actions and reactions of individuals can now be dissected and studied and then directed?

For the greater good, that is. 

The Zajonc - Ledoux theory proposes that many emotional reactions can occur before any cognitive assessment of the stimuli can be made - in other words, I feel therefore I am. 

But that doesn't explain the "why" of whether the reaction is positive for one and negative for another.

It's been written (and argued over) that an individual's perception of an event can be affected by levels of emotional sensitivity, whether they are introverts or extroverts, their diet, their core values (moral compass?), and even their sleep patterns, which then creates an individual negative or positive impression of what they experience.

Is that it? Is that the "why?" Is that what really makes one person hear a particular song and become inflamed with the idea of becoming a musician and another person hears the same song and switches the station or just turns the radio off?

That can't be it. There has to be something else at play.

I gotta get back to work.

You Can Change Most Anything About Your House...But You Can't Change Your Neighbors

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