Lost Friends

A little rain to help cool the evening. Probably not enough to help the wildfires here in Colorado, but it does make the evening more pleasant.

I got an email from a friend, Elie. A beautiful redhead. I still remember when I first saw her at the Barnes & Noble in Flagstaff. I fell. I actually managed to ask, stammeringly, for her number. Even more shocked she gave it. It was the first time I had ever worked up the courage. And to really put the icing on the cake, she went out with me. And then of course, I tried to put a knife through me arm, and spent the week in the psych ward. She wasn't as friendly after. And it was years before I found the nerve to contact her of Facebook. But she accepted. Through the two most difficult parts of my life, she was there, then and now. And I truly don't think she knows how wonderful that is to me. Thank you, Ellie. 

End of the day

I'm sitting on the patio, a glass of lemonade and a Perdomo cigar. It's about 80 outside. I can just see the sunset reflected off the clouds to the west, as the sun drops below the Rockies. There's a bit of cloud cover, enough to not tell if the moon has risen. The highway is a steady stream, a babbling brook, just beyond the field. Occasionally someone wanders through the parking lot. A number of people stroll laps around the apartment buildings. And here I sit, depressed and apathetic to the world around me. 

No, maybe apathetic is the wrong word. Disengaged. Yes, that's more appropriate, I think. I see it, I see the people, and I don't care. Not today. Not for a few months now. Last time I felt this way I stuck a knife in my arm. Not this time though, I promise me that. The meds are started, the doctor appointments set, the therapy to begin. And then there's this, a public journal. Maybe someone reads it, maybe not. It doesn't matter. But I need someone to express this to, and I chose the Internet. 

Too many frustrations? Too much stress? Feeling trapped? I don't know. I just know that the feeling has crept slowly, day by day, until I could barely think. Grad school, troubled relationship, lack of social connections, challenging job. It all adds to it, until you freeze under the weight, unable to move. But I moved! I MOVED! I took the first steps, I made myself do it. And I found the people who could help and made them part of it. 

Today draws to a close. Tomorrow begins.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

Arkansas River Flood, 1921

Source

It was June 2, 1921, that torrential rains slammed Pueblo County in Colorado, causing a flash flood that left more than 120 people dead, 140+ missing and over $19 million of dollars in property damaged. This was the worst flood in state history to that time.

The Arkansas River runs through the plains of southeastern Colorado. The Shaeffer Dam was built at the confluence of the Beaver Creek and the Arkansas. When the rains caused the Beaver to swell, the earthen dam failed, causing a huge rush of water into the Arkansas. Levees had been built along the river to prevent floods however they proved no match for the extremely heavy rains that pounded the region. As the levees failed, a deluge of water spread through the streets. According to reports, the water rose to the second story of buildings.

A day at the zoo.

Spring time

This is why I love Colorado.

May 27, 1831 - Jedediah Smith is killed by Commanche Indians on the Santa Fe Trail.

Source

Jedediah Smith's was a trapper/explorer of the U.S. Far West, born on January 6, 1799. As with many mountain men of the time, Smith headed west as a businessman working for east coast fur companies. His goal was to find new territories to trap beaver and hunt buffalo, as well as to make trading contacts with Native Americans.  He made his first expedition in 1822 with the fur trader William Ashley, exploring the Missouri River then striking out west to the Rocky Mountains. Smith's travels provided information on western geography and potential trails that were invaluable to later pioneers. Smith's most important accomplishment may have been his rediscovery in 1824 of the South Pass, a natural crossing point through the Rockies. The first Anglo-Americans to cross the pass were fur traders heading east from an Astoria, Oregon trading post in 1812, yet despite their detailed journal being delivered to President Madison and being published in France, the route was not widely known. Smith’s passage helped establish the South Pass among fur trappers as an effective route. It wouldn’t be until the 1880’s that settlers would use the pass on their journey west, becoming an integral part of the Oregon Trail.

With a party of 83 men, Smith left St. Louis in early 1831 and headed south along the Cimarron River, a region known to be nearly devoid of potable water. Despite his years of wilderness experience, Smith was apparently overconfident in his ability to find water and did not take adequate supplies from St. Louis. By mid-May, the party's water supplies were almost exhausted, and the men started separating each day to search for waterholes. Smith was riding alone when he encountered a hunting party of Commanche Indians, who attacked him after a brief standoff. Dazed and weakened by lack of water, Smith still managed to shoot the Commanche chief before he was overwhelmed and killed.