What's all the Flap?

Flirtatious: "You might be the hottest lookin' Sandhill Crane I've seen around these parts."

Real Mood: Refreshed

Prediction: There will be Sandhill Cranes at the Monte Vista National Wildlife Reserve on The Ides of March 2010. Etu Brute!

There are places on this planet that envelope me. I suspect there are different places for different faces. But I know few people who've bothered to stop driving in this valley, that don't share the awe. I'm talking about Colorado's San Luis Valley.

It's a place where Shirley MacLaine finds a connection to other levels of consciousness.  It's a place where the Forbes fortune's development scheme seems stymied by a special spirit. It's a welcoming spirit, but comes with a warning.

WARNING: Enjoy your stay. Leave your ambitions at home. Make no plans to alter this place. The people here may seem poor, but they are rich in spirit and tradition. If this place doesn't seem like HOME to you AS IT IS? Then in the words of Tracy Uhlman? "GO HOME! GO HOME!" 

This place, bigger than Connecticut, has enticed development from centuries of generations. Development has always been the loser.  It's hosted Ute Indians, Spanish Explorers, Mormon Pioneers, Miners, Mountain Men, Farmers, Ranchers, and Malcom Forbes.

But when you stand in the middle of this place, it's the PLACE that matters. The people who survive here seem to accept and defend that truth.

I still very clearly remember one of the first people I met in this place back in the 70's.  He owned and ran a gas station in San Luis, Colorado's oldest town. He ran that station the same way his father ran it in the 40's.  He takes me into a back room at the gas station. There among old gaskets and greasy fuel pumps, he picks up a newspaper article from a New York newspaper.

In that paper he points to a picture of an "ALL GIRL BAND." He points to this gorgeous trombone player sitting in the middle of the band?

"That's my daughter!"

We are interrupted by three men easily in their 80's. They are right out of the Milagro Bean Field Wars. ( I'm not big on telling people what to do. But you should read the Milagro Bean Field Wars if you haven't. It's good for the soul.)

For those of you who've read the book? This man who owns and runs the gas station goes by the name of Joe Mondragon.

(Joe is the chief protaganist in thenovel.)

Well these old guys, short on teeth, but sharp of wit want some chewing tabacco, a beer and my host's ear. You figure all this out through their body language, 'cause if they knew any English? They were clearly going to keep me from knowing it.

You know we take all this new pride in our abilities to multi-task? It's nothing compared to Joe Mondragon. While he's telling me his daughter's life story, he is jumping in and out of English, Spanish and Spanglish with the "elder" gang. He is watching the pump to make sure he can get back out front and stop it before it gets over ten dollars. And he never stops tinkering with this old fuel pump, even as he is pouring me a cup of coffee into an old stained but washed out paper cup.

I'm guessing? But I think whenever Joe wants a break? He just walks outside and stands there in the middle of the valley. 

"Aw! That's better. Back to the fuel pump. Que tal Viejo?"

It's enough to stand alone in a field and be surrounded by 14 thousand foot high mountains.  It's enough to stand and gawk in awe at the Great Sand Dunes. That happens even following a scientific explanation of why they exist.

Standing out here is a little like taking a scrub brush to your brain, getting all the old dead skin off, paving the way for your soul to get out and get some exercise.

I've got a pretty good sized telephoto lens on my camera, but I never do get kissin' close to these Sandhill Cranes? About a 100 thousand of them visit here for less than a month twice a year. I'm pretty sure they've come here for some rejuvenation, just like me. (They need it because they're going to spend the rest of the Spring and Summer in Nebraska.) (Bad Colorado Joke!)

It's odd that when I walk out into a field trying to get a really good closeup of one? It knows just how close to let me get before it moves on. It moves on at a slightly faster pace than mine. It came here for rejuvenation, not exposure.

I can remember telling friends decades ago, "go see the San Luis Valley before its ruined by development."

Was I naive? There are just places on this planet that say, "don't mess with me! You're welcome to visit, but don't MESS with me."

It comes as no surprise to me that most of the people who live in this place trace their roots back five and six generations. I'm expecting to drive into that gas station in San Luis?  And who is going to wait on me?

"Name's Joe Mondragon. Mi madre used to play trombone in an ALL GIRLS BAND in New York. Want to see her pictura?"

I'm sure you've got a place like this of your own.  If not, go find one.

All our brains need a good scrubbing once in a while.  

I'm still mad at Robert Redford for turning Joe Mondragon into a crusading environmentalist in the "Milagro Beanfield Wars" movie? My Joe Mondragon is just a guy who likes to say, "DON'T MESS WITH ME!"

They must not have any brain scrubbers in Sundance.