Month: March 2022

The past two times I have stayed in friends’ homes, I have made it a point in planning to ask whether they had coffee in the house or whether I needed to bring my own. I recognized that this need/desire was a high priority of mine and an essential part of my morning. I had to ask!

You could say that I am a coffee addict, and I am not ashamed to admit it. I drink less coffee than I used to drink but having a couple cups remains a major joy of my early morning.

My parents drank coffee and I thought it smelled and tasted delectable. However, true or not, mom told me it would stunt my growth and I wanted to be a tall basketball player. I didn’t start drinking coffee until I was a senior in high school and realized I was probably not going to get taller.

Although I can still drink most any coffee available to me, I gravitate to bolder and stronger blends. I am also a coffee purist–coffee and a little cream. None of these fruit flavored lattes!

Coffee is now grown worldwide. Its heritage, however, apparently comes from ancient forests on the Ethiopian plateau. The legend says a goat herder first discovered the possibilities of the beans when he noticed that when his goats ate the berries from a particular tree, they became extremely energetic and did not want to sleep at night. A monk in the area experimented with making a drink with the berries and it kept the monks alert during evening prayers. The rest, as they say, is history.

My favorite coffee shop and where I purchase all my beans is Kind Coffee in Estes Park. A former UNC-CH student in our undergraduate degree program is the owner of the shop. She believes in fair trade coffee, organic production, and the philosophy of “being kind.” The website states the Dalia Lama philosophy: BE KIND WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT IS ALWAYS POSSIBLE.

Kind Coffee is an active member of the organization, 1% For the Planet, which is an alliance of businesses committed to leveraging their resources to create a healthier planet. Members donate at least 1% of their net revenues and believe that taking environmental responsibility is good for business.

The owner of Kind Coffee, Amy Subber Hamrick, once apologized to me that she had not gone into a traditional parks and recreation career. I can think of nothing more leisure oriented than running a socially responsible business that enables people to enjoy coffee and come together in a social setting.

Whether drinking coffee by myself in front of my computer in the early morning, or meeting friends for coffee, I am grateful for that goatherder who discovered the marvels of coffee centuries ago.

It is March Madness. Aristotle suggested that “No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.” That idea applies to people who love basketball this time of the year.

The only real spectator sport I watch other than the Olympics is College Basketball (both men and women). Once upon a time years ago, I played basketball in a world different than today, especially for women.

I look forward to this crazy time of the year and adjust my schedule to binge watch as much as possible. I have favorite teams. I always enjoy a good game, however, no matter who is playing and like to cheer for the underdog. I am glad I do not have an investment in some games as it keeps my heart rate lower.

I wasn’t always a big college basketball fan until I moved to North Carolina and specifically, the Research Triangle of Chapel Hill, Raleigh, and Durham. It was almost impossible not to be a basketball fan if you wanted to be conversant with anyone from November through March.

One of the biggest faux paus I ever made was within the first few weeks of moving to North Carolina. Colleagues invited me to an exhibition game the UNC Tarheel Men were playing. We were watching the warm-up and I leaned over casually and said, “Now, who is our coach?” Three people’s eyes grew huge as they looked at me aghast. Finally, one person blinked and said, “It’s Dean Smith.” I had not followed college basketball for years. I NEVER made that mistake again. 

I played basketball all through high school. Rural Iowa was a haven for girls’ basketball throughout much of the 20th century. In my days, it was half court with three forwards and three guards on each side. Iowa girls’ basketball in that day also had a two-dribble limit and you either had to pass or shoot after the dribbles.

As a forward, with only two people scoring, it was not hard to rack up points. I seldom brag, but I hold the all-time scoring record for Coggon High School (61 points in a game). It will always stand since I played for a merged school district, North Linn, my senior year. Further, I was not tall (5’5″), but most teammates were average height. I would have loved to play competitively in college, but I had other career ambitions.

Everybody with any interest in March Madness knows about “brackets.” I used to fill them out religiously, but they usually got BUSTED the first day.

Basketball is a great March diversion as I await the unfolding of spring. I feel a bit of emptiness once the Madness is over. But then, there is always next year… 

March is Women’s History month. Pausing to remember the contributions of women is delightful. I welcome the day, however, when women are part of all written history. Honoring “women firsts” is vital and I hope someday identifying any woman as the first will not be necessary.

Gerda Leaner was one of the first well known historians to write about women history in the early 1970s. She advocated for the inclusion of women in all of history and particularly noted the lack of information about Black women. Further, Lerner promoted not only the need to acknowledge famous women but also to recognize the contributions of ordinary women who labored, often invisibly, to improve family and community life.

One example of the numerous contributions of women that have not always been noted is the new Estes Park Women’s Monument dedicated in September 2021. It depicts images and the lives and brief stories of a dozen women of various backgrounds that were part of the fabric of life in Estes Park during its 100-year history. The center of the plaza is a sculpture of a little girl and Helen Hondius, a central figure in the community who among other endeavors, was instrumental in funding the library.

When I think of women who contributed to everyday history, I think of my mother and all her efforts for our family and as an elementary school teacher and community volunteer. As a small token of her work, I purchased a brick in her honor at the Plaza of Heroines outside of the Carrie Chapman Catt Building at Iowa State University.

Catt was a distinguished alumnus of Iowa State’s class of 1880 and was a leader in the US women’s suffrage movement and a crusader for women’s rights across the world. Marjorie A. Henderson’s brick joins 3900 other women who made an impact on individuals, families, communities, and society. The description I included to describe my mom was: “Mother, Teacher, Community Volunteer.”

I appreciate the stories about women during Women’s History Month. Honoring the accomplishments of women is significant. I look forward to a time when both men and women will be remembered similarly for their important and unique contributions to history.

I regret some things in my early life and want to reconcile as I reflect on my current life. I acted in my early days in a way that I would never contemplate today. I was a bounty hunter and I cannot undo my now regretted sins.

As a child, I learned to fish and hunt on our family farm. I caught fish, and sometimes we ate them. I hunted squirrels and rabbits and killed a couple. Neither one was good to eat, and I really didn’t enjoy shooting a gun. My admission is, however, that I killed dozens of gophers as a farm kid in the 1950s and got paid for those efforts.

Pocket gophers were a nuisance on our farm. They dug mounds to make their tunnels and then badgers went after them and dug even bigger holes to catch them. If gophers were gone, the badgers would not be a problem.

The county where I lived put a bounty on gophers. Turning in pairs of the front feet strung on a wire was worth $.25 a pair. My dad made trapping more lucrative by giving me another $.25 for each pair of feet.

Spring and early summer was the trapping season. Dad taught me how to find the gopher hole by noting the way the dirt mounded and then digging a hole. I hid a small jaw trap at the trail intersection designed to catch the gophers’ front feet. I checked the traps every 24 hours early in the morning. If a gopher was caught, it was usually still alive. I killed it with a concussive blow from my shovel to its head. I cut off the front feet and buried the dead gopher back in the hole.

After three summers of trapping, I extirpated most gophers and moved on to other less violent interests. In graduate school, however, I read Aldo Leopold’s book, A Sand County Almanac. He describes shooting a wolf:

“We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes – something known only to her and to the mountain.”

Leopold never killed a wolf again. I think about the dying light in those gophers’ eyes and know today I could not consciously kill another living mammal.

I am not opposed to ethical hunting when the playing ground is level between humans and animals. Hunting and fishing for food have importance for people.

Today, however, I live my life in reverence for animals of all kinds. I offer grace to the domestic animals that nourish my body. I respect the circle of life in the outdoors. If the ecological balance gets uneven, I believe science can be useful to manage land and animals. For me, however, my killing days are over.

My favorite place to walk when I don’t have the time to go into the park is Lake Estes. I savor the changing skies, water, and wildlife. Every day is different. I am open to serendipitous moments on my lakeside walks.

No matter the weather and dependent on my schedule and inclination, I go to the lake most days. Early in the morning is peaceful. Moonlight walks open up a new world of diminished light and reflections on the water. I cherish the quietness when snow is lightly falling. The environment is everchanging but it’s a perfect scene.

When I was working full time, I often did not notice the world around me. I was outside most days running, since one could do that in North Carolina, but I usually did not discern the changes in my environment on a day-to-day basis.

Living in Colorado and having a lake within walking distance of my house are giving me insights on bioregionalism. Bioregionalism is being consciously aware of the ecology, economy, and culture of the place where one lives. I like living a rooted life, living in place. My almost daily visits to Lake Estes anchor me.

The culture of people I meet at Lake Estes is a combination of regulars as well as visitors. I frequently see one woman walking her young labradoodle who is full of energy. A volunteer from the animal shelter often is there with one or more dogs for me to meet. Runners abound along the pathways. My favorite people are those who comment about the beauty of the lake area. One day I passed a woman who turned around as a flock of geese flew over and enthusiastically pronounced, “I never get tired of this.”

My hope each day is to see the wildlife. Elk and deer are common since part of the path borders the manicured green golf course. More than once I have had to make a detour because of elk on the trail.

The trail goes through a protected bird sanctuary, and I can always count on waterfowl on the lake. The geese live on the lake year around. Other birds are sometimes in migration. I see a pair of bald eagles frequently that call Lake Estes home.

This winter a rare event occurred at Lake Estes. In early January, three trumpeter swans flew in. They were blown off their migration path. People were excited to see them and hurried to the lake to take photos. Several weeks later they are still at the lake.

I don’t blame those swans for staying. Although I have been living around Lake Estes for almost eight years, I have no desire to leave. The swans and I both appreciate bioregionalism. Every day roots me more deeply in this place.