Chapter 4 - Still Falls the Rain

“Still falls the Rain

Dark as the world of man, black as our loss

Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails

Upon the Cross.”

Dame Edith Sitwell

It had been a horrible night. When Len wasn’t in bed with her by 6 a.m. she was scared to death that he and Jack had finally killed themselves on their New Year’s Eve climb.  Maria called Jack to see if he had arrived home.

“Hi Jack, this is Maria. Len didn’t make it home last night. Do you know where he is?”

“He dropped me off at 2:40, Maria. This is not good. You had better call the police. I’ll call the hospital.”

She immediately called the police. “Hello, this is Maria Chavez. My husband didn’t come home last night and I’m worried he may have been hurt. Can I speak to whoever it is that handles these matters?”

“I can help you Mrs. Chavez. What is your husband’s name?”

“Leonard Mahoney. He dropped his friend off last night at 2:40 and hasn’t been heard from since. I’m really worried. This isn’t like him.”

“Just a moment -- Mrs. Chavez, we have Mr. Mahoney in detention for driving under the influence. He will be released at 7:30 this morning.”

“Why didn’t he call me last night?”

“I can’t answer that question. Is there anything else?”

“No, no. There’s nothing else.”

Maria was despondent as she got off the phone with the police station. Len had never been drunk in the 24 years of their marriage. Holding him for driving under the influence was ridiculous. She moved over to the sink to look out the kitchen window at the boys. They had gotten up early and started their chore of shoveling the driveway. Len’s Rover was conspicuously missing. Jonathan was shoveling the snow off the sidewalk and Peter was doing the driveway. Maria was looking out the kitchen window watching Jonathan and his brother work.

The warm early morning mountain sun shone through the window easing her anxiety. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Should I go to the police station and get him? No, I’d better not. If he didn’t call me, there must have been a reason. I better call Jack.”

“Hi, Jack, this is Maria. I found Len. He was arrested for driving under the influence. Were you two drinking last night?”

“You know us better than that. Len takes New Year’s Eve seriously. We had two shots of schnapps a piece over a four hour period. Mostly, we were exhausted. I was worried about him on his drive home. If you’d like I can go down and get him. What time does he get out?”

“They said 7:30 this morning. I’m afraid he’s embarrassed about getting arrested last night. Why else wouldn’t he call? I’ll just wait here with the boys. Thanks, Jack.”

Maria felt a lot better. Jack would calm Len down on his drive home. Lately, Len had been so agitated. She turned on the radio and settled down into the kitchen chair to have some coffee.

Chapter 20.4 - Greatest Need

“I have never met a person whose greatest need was anything other than real, unconditional love. You can find it in a simple act of kindness toward someone who needs help. There is no mistaking love. You feel it in your heart. It is the common fiber of life, the flame of that heats our soul, energizes our spirit and supplies passion to our lives. It is our connection to God and to each other.”

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

“What do you think of this spot?” Len asked Maria as he backed the motorhome into the Natural Bridges National Monument camping spot facing northwest off highway 275.  They were on an arid plateau peppered with high desert juniper surrounded in the distance by rising red bluffs .  The windows in the back of the motorhome faced southwest so that the morning sun would give them a splendid breakfast with plenty of heat.  The setting sun danced off the distant cliffs floating above the landscape like passing ships in the night.

“I’ll get out and start the fire so we can roast some marshmallows.”  Len said.

“I think we should have spaghetti and toast tonight.  What do you think?” Maria asked the family.

“I want macaroni and cheese.”  Peter said not looking up from sitting in the swiveling chair across from the microwave reading Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut.

“Quit tickling me!”  Jenna screamed in joy.

“Jonathan, quit teasing your sister.  How does spaghetti sound?” Maria said lovingly.

“Great Mom.”  Jonathan replied scooping a giggling Jenna up by her feet and dangling her upside down on their way to the front of the motorhome.

“Hey, Mom, do you think Jenna and I could walk around a little bit before dinner?”  Jonathan asked.

“Oh honey, I don’t know.”

“It’ll be OK, Jonathan is way to thin to be much of a meal for the mountain lions around here.”  Len said.

“Make sure you dress your sister warmly and hold her hand the whole time then.”  Maria told Jonathan.

Jonathan put Jenna down head first and reached over to tickle her.  Jenna sprang up and put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek returning to ground on her tip toes.  She spent a great deal of her standing life pushed up on her tip toes in her pink tennis shoes.  Apparently the kiss on the cheek was not enough to satisfy her need of love from her brother.  She stood on her tip toes with her arms stretched up and her lips puckered.  Jonathan leaned over and kissed her gently.  Jenna touched her upper lip with her index finger, touching the spot that had become special.  Jonathan helped Jenna put on her pink jacket and hat with the white fluffy edge.

“Peter, get up and help me with the fire will you.  I’ll let you light it.”  Len told Peter.

“Just one more paragraph till the end of the chapter.  Is that OK?” Peter asked.

“Sure, I’ll get the chairs out from under the motorhome and get the canopy down.” Len said.

“Hey Peter, see if you can start the fire with just one match.  I packed some small branches in with the wood in the left compartment of the motorhome.  Remember to start small and make sure there is a lot of air.”  Len told him.

Jonathan and Jenna took a short walk from the motorhome.  They had only walked a little ways when they turned and saw their dad patting Peter on the back next to the fire.  When Jenna saw the fire she started pulling Jonathan back towards the motorhome.  Their walk was over.

The whole family sat at a small folding red table set up next to the file with spaghetti, bread, and milk.  For dessert they all roasted marshmallows.  Len held the coat hanger with a flaming marshmallows for Jenna to blow out.

In the early morning they all decided to take a walk to the nearest arch 1 mile from the camp.  Len carried Jenna on his back and the boys and Maria carried backpacks with water and snacks.  The sun had been up for two hours when they started their hike and felt warm and welcoming on right cheeks.  The wind was blew lightly and the cold settled into our bones.  Jenna constantly leaned forward in the pack and kissed Len on his ear playing with the back of his hair.

She chortled in happiness pointing out a coyote in the distance, “Look, doggie.”  When they got to Sipapu Bridge Len let Jenna down.

“Hey you guys, look at these.  They’re mountain lion tracks.”  Len said.

“What are these tracks?”  Peter said.

“Those are dear tracks.”  Jonathan said.

Len noticed that the tracks of the dear were spaced far apart and that it was running.  “The deer was being stalked and hunted.  Do you guys see how the tracks are so far apart?”

Jenna kept saying,"Tracks, Tracks."

They rounded the next bend and the terrain became rougher and more rocky.

“Can I take Jenna and go sit on that rock up there? Jonathan asked.

“Of course.  Just be careful with her.”  Maria said.

Johnathan took Jenna and walked up the ridge to the south on a sold sheet of red rock. Len took the opportunity to pull his pants up and rewrap his knee.  The orthroscopic surgery on his knee the week before was bothering him.  When he looked up from wrapping his knee, Johnathan was walking back towards him holding Jenna’s hand.  When Jenna saw Len stand up from fixing his wrap she pulled her hand from Jonathans and started running towards Len.  Jenna was on top of a sloping rock knoll.  Len and Maria watched in horror as Jenna build up speed.  Jonathan was bolting to catch her.  Maria screamed.  Within 10 seconds Jenna had gone out of control and plunged head first onto the rock embankment with an audible thud.  Len and Johnathan and reached her at the same time.  She lay crumpled and mewling on the ground.  When Len picked her up her head was bruised badly.  Len scooped her into his arms noticing that her head was bruised badly and already beginning to swell.  He ran back to the motorhome as fast as his injured leg would allow. Jonathan, Maria, and Peter were close behind.

“Oh my God, Len, is she alright!”  Maria said frantically as Len checked Jenna's pulse, breathing and eyes.

“I don’t know.  She hit so hard.  Thank God, Jonathan put her hat on.  Come here son, help me make her comfortable.”  Len understood the pain his son must be feeling and knew he had to help him own her recovery.  “Get me some crushed ice out of the freezer and wrap it in a towel for me.”  Jonathan wiped the tears streaming from his eyes and got Len the ice and towel.  Peter sat in his chair staring.

Maria said, “She’ll be OK, Len.  It wasn’t that bad a fall.”

Jenna’s eyes weren't responding to light properly.  Each pupil dilated differently.

“I need you all to stay calm.  Jonathan, please hold this ice on her forehead like I am.  It is not your fault in any way.  The rest of us are going to pack up the motorhome and get her to a hospital.” Len said.

“No, Len.  It can’t be that serious.”  Maria said.

Len was out the door packing up the chairs and table.  Peter put out the fire.  Maria packed up the inside of the motorhome.  They arrived in Blanding, 30 miles from camp, in the motorhome within 40 minutes.  Blanding was 30 miles distant.  Blanding did not have an emergency room, just a small hospital with a number to call for 24 hour emergency servide.  Len called the number posted on the door and a doctor arrived within ten minutes.  The doctor looked at Jenna and wanted to make sure there was no pressure on her brain.  He asked them to watch her closely for 24 hours and that she should be within close medical help.  They checked into a hotel and waited out the night.

The whole family waited through the day watching her anxiously, not letting Jenna fall asleep.  She was not herself for the first six hours but then started to be like her normal self around 6 that evening.  Jonathan insisted on staying up all night with her and Len.  They played blocks and read books to Jenna.  In the morning everything seemed to be all right.

Chapter 22.5 - Love Thy Neighbor (Jack Cransten Personal Journal)

“In these times we can only turn to The One Teaching. The thesis must pervade our every act, "Love thy neighbor as you love yourself."

 Even now, I look across the fire to see his weathered face, and I love that man. Through the last forty years our friendship has endured. I would not have thought that possible after what he has done to the world. Still, his eyes hold some warmth and humor like the dreary glow of a burned out camp fire. The world has entered the late night stage of the campfire and no one knows if it will survive the coming years.

 His name is Leonard Mahoney. He is tall, lanky, brazen. His humor lit up my life during the times when I thought there would be no end to the sadness I was experiencing.

 We grew up in a beautiful small town in the mountains of New Mexico during the 1950's and the 1960's. Our town was sheltered between mountains overlooking the Rio Grande Valley. Across from my childhood home the cliffs turned purple at sunset. I remember the mountains turning colors as we walked between mesas out of the shadows.

 I met Len when we were both four years old. My parents moved next door to his. We shared a common breezeway that was the joy of our childhood. Our front yards were covered by a flat grassy area that rolled uphill into a small copse of trees that was considered a forest by children. Our backyards sloped downhill into sand pits and chain link fences.

 Len had a dog called Sherry and a sister named Jen. Sherry went where Len went. They were an inseparable team, just as Len and I were. Jack, Len and Jen, children discovering the world of nature. Imagined bears, bobcats, and bogeymen waiting everyday in the small canyon down the street from our houses.

 Our parents worked for the Atomic Energy Commission. They were the product of an extensive search by the government to find people capable of creating an atomic weapon during World War II. They built bombs, and devices that could be used for massive destruction. They believed in their efforts with all their hearts. The parents of Los Alamos were encased by secrecy and isolated from reality by their idealism. Their children were protected from racism, poverty, hunger, violence, and government suppression. The government needed our parents and would care for them. That's the society our parents created for their children. The world today is a product of their ideals and protectionism.

 The campfire is almost out and Len is starting to shake a little from the cold. He is not careful about taking care of his health.

 "Len, why don't you put this jacket on?" We've only been in the mountains a couple of days. Our hiding out here is the first time I can remember that Len hasn't come alive when we've been here. To us, these mountains are our homes, our friends. They deliver us from the outside world into a world of tranquil thoughts and cool breezes. These mountains belong to us and our childhood. The distance of the trees from each other, the pine needles matting the ground, the waterfalls, the swimming holes, the crows that cry out our names are all as familiar to us as the hamburger hangouts of those who grow up in the city.

 "Jack, do you remember the time we went camping on Easter weekend at the old reservoir and it got so cold Knute woke up with a frozen ring around his neck?"

 "Yeah. That was the time you put your frozen boots too close to the fire and one of them burned up. It was pretty funny watching you walk out of there, one boot on, one boot off."

 "If there hadn't been the snow I don't think it would have been so bad. You’re right Jack I'm worn out. I'm going to turn in. Goodnight."

 "Goodnight Len. I think I'll stay up for awhile and keep watch."

 When we were very young children Len and I played in a small canyon behind our houses. In the canyon was a crevice formed by two large rocks lying side by side. It was probably less than six feet high and three feet wide. To us as children it was huge. I remember when Len and I filled that crevice with old sticks and all the wood around the area we could find. Len took out the matchbook, lit a match and tossed it into the wood. We stared expecting roaring flames to instantly consume the pile of wood. Nothing. Len took another match, lit it and threw it into the pile of wood. Again nothing. We both sat down and looked at each other. I said, “Len, do you think we need to try smaller wood?" Len got up and started collecting the smallest twigs he could find. I did the same. We gathered a large pile together and placed it under the larger wood. Len handed me the matches. We stood back and I tossed the match into the small pile of wood. When it hit the ground the match went out. We both got down on the ground close to the very small twigs. I lit the match and held it gently under the twigs. A small fire started to burn. It burned larger and larger until the whole pile of wood was raging. We were forced to stand far back from the cleft, our faces lit in fear. The blaze we made was uncontrollable. I remember the fear in my heart when I realized that the fire we could not start had become the fire we could not control. I remember the need to run from that fear knowing that we couldn't leave without the possibility of our play world being destroyed. That's how I feel now. Len has let a fire loose on mankind and lost control. As children we were standing in front of the blaze when the firemen arrived and put it out. As adults we are standing in the flames as they wash over our lives and can only hope that the fire can be extinguished. The kind and gentle firemen have been replaced by scores of mankind screaming the anguish that we have delivered to them.

 Every day from the time Len and I were four until the time we were eleven we woke up and looked out our windows at Burnt Mountain. It stood, bare faced, smiling with a big LA written across its face in front of our second story bedroom windows. We both had rooms on the second floor of our houses. Between Len’s room and mine stretched a phone line consisting of two cans tied together with a string. Every night before we fell asleep Len and I would lean out our windows in front of Burnt Mountain and scream out the days activities over the can line until our parents would yell at us to shut up.

 Our childhood was measured by the seasons of the year. Because it was a mountain town, the summers were short and the winters long. Fall brought a panorama of color to the area, leaving dead leaves in high piles for us to jump into and kick around. Spring melted frozen streams into running brooks and children’s dreams into reality. For the children wedded to the mountains, the world was their playground consisting of the animals and flora of the season.

 During the winter we slid down canyon walls, along frozen streams, and into the silence of snow laden forests. We stalked the tracks of unknown animals, dug underground forts, piled snow high into shelters, collected snowballs for team wars, bulldogged each other on sleds, and ran saucer runs that felt comparable to Olympic bobsledding. Bears frequented our garbage cans in the morning, deer gathered together on our front lawns, birds sought sanctuary in our awnings, and silence fell from the snow laden limbs of the forest trees upon the tracks of children on yet another adventure. As winter ebbed and spring sang of its coming, the afternoons burned bright and warm on a world growing underneath the white silence.

 Spring brought the advent of mud, the ultimate source of pleasure. In mud there was texture, smell, slick ugly games of tackle. We knew that the mud signaled the beginning of longer days. They were days when we could stay out until 9 at night playing kick the can or sitting frozen behind a neighbor’s shed. Mud brought the running streams, fishing at 5:00 in the morning at the reservoir, kite flying in the park, baseball, football, and basketball. Mud was the precursor to life. Any mountain child knows this fact. Our mothers feared the end of winter. They saw mud on everything, everywhere. To them mud was the end of existence. So much for point of view.

 Summer brought the lessons of golf, tennis, and swimming. Diligently we showed up at 9:00 am every day at the golf course to play 18 holes. At 12:30 tennis lessons started at Urban park. At 5:30 swimming began at the high school pool. Summer was the time of the crows cawing from the tops of trees and telephone poles. We knew what trees had the crows and where they would be from year to year. That is the way of nature, to hold its form from year to year.

 A bright glow grows in the distance and dies down like the campfire. Len shivers in his sleep, less from the cold and more from the emotional exhaustion. The chill of this winter night is slowly finding its way to my bones. Perhaps tomorrow will bring to us and the world a quiet peace.