Room of Empty Chairs

Dedicated to all those who have an empty chair to fill.

The following is a tale of tragic proportions that has been told many times before. Each time the tale is told, and each time it is conveniently forgotten, until the tale needs retelling.

Outside there is no lack of people going about their lives. Their numbers include a group of teenage boys off to play a game of baseball at the park, aspiring business men and women in fancy suits, a young mother with child in tow, a middle-aged man walking a small dog, and an older man with graying hair ambling towards his favorite park bench. Each person seems to move with purpose, pursuing their present errand with a sense of immediate urgency, totally absorbed by their own cares. They are so intent upon their own activities that they do not see the house.

This particular house is not unlike any other house with its two car garage, shaded front porch, and small yard. Flower pots planted with geraniums and marigolds add color and warmth to the house. A closer look reveals a welcome mat on the front porch and a front door that is ajar. Inside the house is a long dimly lit hallway. At the far end of the hallway is a room and within this room is darkness. It is empty except for a large number of chairs. At one time each of these chairs had an occupant, but now they are empty. The people who once sat in these chairs have not passed, but they have not returned. Their chair is still here, yet they are not.

In this darkened room is a single figure, a man sitting alone. Only a dim light, which was once very bright, illuminates his figure. His shoulders are slouched, his face tilted downward; he is crying. There is much to know about this person. Who is he? What are his life experiences? What are his hopes and dreams? What are his emotions? What are his beliefs? What does he hold dear? Why does he sit here alone? In this dark and deserted room, filled with empty chairs, he freely speaks the answers to all these questions. Yet the chairs are empty, there is no one to listen. He wishes there was someone, even a single person to share things with, but there is no one. They have come and they have gone.

So alone he sits, in this dark room filled with empty chairs, welcoming people to enter. Outside there are so many people. There are enough chairs for many, yet no one takes the time to care. One day his chair will be empty. How many will return to remember the man they once sat with in this room? Will they have forgotten or will they only realize him when it no longer matters? How many others sit in an empty room just like this one, alone, yet welcoming people to enter?


In the past few weeks I have added blog entries.
Maybe I will not blog for a while...

Hey Mr. President!!

Hey Mr. President, I am an American and I have something that needs to be said.Seven years ago on a sunny September day I watched as terrorists attacked America and many innocent people lost their lives. Along with many others I listened as you addressed the American people, speaking words of comfort and compassion. I saw and heard the resolve as you promised to avenge these atrocities. With little need for deeper thought I placed my trust in your judgment and integrity. I supported American military retaliation against the Taliban in Afghanistan. Then America invaded Iraq and the “War on Terror” began on another front. Five years have passed and with each passing year I continue to question America’s involvement in Iraq. The more I learn the more disgusted and angry I become at this tragedy.

Hey Mr. President, we the American people were told there was irrefutable evidence that Saddam Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction. Yet U.N. inspectors had searched for these weapons, without success. Now we’ve learned that this “irrefutable” evidence was gained from a single Iraqi deserter, “Curveball”, who was deemed unreliable by German intelligence. Their fact-checking revealed that he was lying, and they informed American intelligence of their findings. Yet we went to war.

Hey Mr. President, your former Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld, on numerous occasions approved and encouraged the unlawful torture of “enemy combatants”; irrespective of Geneva Conventions and international law. How can we expect our soldiers to be treated with dignity, if we fail to adhere to these rules? Throughout the conflict countless innocent Iraqis civilians have been arrested in their homes, degraded, and tortured. Nakedness, sexual acts, water boarding, and sleep deprivation are just some of the methods used against prisoners. In the very prisons where Saddam’s regime tortured the innocent, we are doing the same. When did women and young children become “enemy combatants”?

Hey Mr. President, vice-president Cheney’s wealth has increased drastically through stock ownership in Halliburton. This military contractor, which was basically nonexistent in 2001, now enjoys virtually noncompetitive status. The crimes committed by this company are infuriating. This company has knowingly provided our troops with contaminated water. Military personnel have been forced to train higher-paid incompetent individuals to take over their jobs. With full knowledge of the extent of the danger, Halliburton sent civilian truck convoys into enemy territory unprotected. They were murdered! Yet this company, through its non-competitive status and monopoly, keeps raking in the profits because the more money they spend the more they receive. They knowingly cheat the American taxpayer out of millions of dollars through corrupt their business practices. Did you not know President Eisenhower warned of the creation of just such a “military industrial complex”?

Hey Mr. President! you told us war with Iraq was necessary because of weapons of mass destruction, but Saddam didn’t have any. Then you told us Iraq harbored terrorists, but this was also false. Now you say that we occupy Iraq in the name of freedom. This seems to be a noble cause, but why Iraq, there are so many other places where the cry for freedom is heard? Why are we spending billions overseas (12 billion each month) while our economy suffers. Why didn’t you invest all this money, which we borrow from China (what about their civil right violations?), in humanitarian programs? Think of the goodwill America could garner by giving food and shelter to starving refugees, fighting the AIDS and malaria epidemic, and other relief efforts?

Even after spending billions overseas there would still be billions remaining for domestic programs like health care, social security, and education. If so many countries and Americans are against this conflict, why are we still fighting? Why is the U.S. government prosecuting an American doctor for ignoring sanctions to bring much needed medicine to the Iraqi people? Why aren’t hospitals in Iraq protected from insurgents? Why do you keep saying that America is safe from terrorist attacks? Aren’t Americans killed with great frequency by terrorists on foreign soil (four thousand to date, not counting thousands of wounded and debilitated)? Aren’t we paying the warlords enough not to fight, while our citizens struggle to make ends meet?

Hey Mr. President! I am an American and I have something that needs to be said. I trusted you, the American people trusted you, but you have betrayed us. America spends billions killing people, while the heroes of 9/11 can’t get medical help for their injuries. You have pursued an unjust war, against the wishes of the greater world community, and propagate an imperialist image of America. Don’t you know what is actually happening? Don’t you remember 1968 and a war called Vietnam? Is America bound to repeat the mistakes of the past? You believe that history will brighten your legacy, but Benedict Arnold is still is a traitor, Vietnam is still a disgrace, and you and your cohorts will still be viewed as war criminals.

Hey Mr. President! I trusted you, America trusted you, but you have betrayed your country. If you value freedom, like the rest of America, end this disgraceful conflict.

Wanderings in Canyon Country: Part II

We decided to establish a basecamp for three days from which to explore the surrounding area. So we headed back to Fruita and filled up with water. By four we were at the Pollack Canyon Bench trailhead. Between us there was at least seven gallons of water; needless to say our backpacks were very heavy. We signed the trail register and carried our burdens for about three sweaty miles. With full packs the descent down the slickrock to the canyon floor was a bit nerve-racking. Then for the next hour we searched for a good campsite. The cryptobiotic soil, which is thousands of years old and is all over the region, made our job a bit more complicated. An hour before dusk I found a site at the top of a rock bench looking deep into Pollack Canyon. Dinner was of the freeze-dried variety and okay. Then tired from our day of activity we retired to our sleeping bags.

The next day began with flavored instant oatmeal and cinnamon raisin bagels. By ten we were hiking towards Rattlesnake Canyon, which contains the highest number of arches in the U.S., outside of Arches National Park. The dirt and rock trail went up, down, and around for a few miles before we rounded the bend and saw the first cluster of arches. The first was shaped like a large open cavern and had a small window at the top. The second had a longer span and provided a view of the sky above. We wandered around taking pictures and exploring. The joy of exploration is so exhilarating! Then we headed down the trail towards the next arch. Somewhere in between Jeff and I became separated. I continued down the trail enjoying the scenery and taking photos. Then I stopped and ate lunch while I waited for Jeff to appear. He came running down the trail in a panic, thinking I had fallen off a cliff. I simply thought he was enjoying a peaceful lunch like me. We sorted things out and walked to the last arch. This arch was probably the most stunning with its wide span hanging free from the adjacent rock face.

After exploring the canyon and arches further we headed back to camp. We were tired and our faces reddened by the hot sun. We rested, reading our books, snacking, and exploring our rock bench. Two hours later we ate a dinner of mashed potatoes and salmon. The potatoes were okay, but I don’t really like fish. As the sun disappeared behind the canyon walls a full moon rose to illuminate the night sky. I crawled into my warm sleeping bag, read my book, and enjoyed some tea before falling off to sleep.

The next day we decided to explore Pollack Canyon. We followed the creek and at a fork followed the western tributary. For the next few hours we hopped rocks and crossed and re-crossed the creek countless times. Towards the end of the canyon we began to look for a way into the other side canyon. We weighed our options and decided to continue deeper into the canyon in hopes of finding an easier crossing. An hour later we reached the canyon’s end, but the route out looked somewhat sketchy so we backtracked. A side creek channel and break in the bench provided a possible crossing point. We slowly made our way uphill as the incline steepened and the wind became stronger. A storm seemed to be moving in, which in canyon country can be dangerous, due to the possibility of flash floods. After about half and hour we reached the top. Before descending into the next canyon we ate lunch.

At the bottom Jeff decided to head back to camp and I decided to explore this new canyon. A hundred yards South the canyon narrowed into steep black rock walls with a cascading series of waterfalls. For hours I clambered over waterfalls, jumped rocks across the creek, and explored the territory. I saw no evidence of any other humans. The sense freedom and discovery spurred me even deeper into Pollack Canyon. There were countless waterfalls of varying heights. At one I took off my shoes, rolled up my pants, waded into the muddy water, and clung to the rock to get a picture of a winding waterfall. Nearby was an arch perched on the rock bench. Its surroundings were similar to the famous Delicate Arch in Arches National Park. I followed the creek until it forked again and disappeared around a bend in the canyon. It was getting late and I was forced to turn back towards camp. On the way back I followed a faint trail created by bighorn sheep and explored an historic homestead. Back in camp I ate and rested before enjoying the beautiful sunset.

The next day we packed up camp. With only two liters of water apiece our packs were much lighter. With reluctance we walked out of the canyon, but I convinced Jeff to take the long way. There is simply so much to see and do, and civilization can wait. We split up again and I explored Flume Canyon alone while Jeff continued along the bench. It was beautiful, but not quite as splendid as the other canyons.

Back at the trailhead I washed off some of the dirt and grim with a wet bandana and changed into fresh clothes. Then we got into the car and headed into Fruita. Although I’ve passed by this town at least half a dozen times I’ve never seen the historic downtown so I tricked Jeff into driving through it; it took a whole minute. Fortunately we found the Hot Tomato Café, a great pizza joint, in downtown Fruita. We each drank a refreshing brew and between us consumed a whole eighteen inch pizza. We were hungry and the pizza was good. Then we headed back to our “civilized” lives back in Fort Collins, fortunate to have enjoyed another wonderful Spring Break experience in the backcountry.