It’s the Little Things

This is the time of Trumpian Entropy, Utah’s Laughable Legislature, Deer Valley and Dakotan Development, and Park City's popularity pivot points, where all the world seems to be heading towards its most random and chaotic existence (like all things tend, thermodynamically), complete with potential war, depression, deportations, developer authoritarianism and a billionaire oligarchy. I find comfort in the little things in life.  It is raining in February and thirty degrees above average, ten above the records and the skiing sucks.  Spring runoff has already started early so It is much too muddy to walk the dog.  The pickle ball courts are packed beyond imagination due to anomalous scheduling priorities, so I have time to share my small joys, triumphs and my satisfying sense of place. 

I am sitting at my desk, safe and warm and dry, in the morning sun that melts my heart and soul.  My laptop, house, heat, hot tub, car and bike are powered from panels on the roof despite the trees, clouds and snow (optimally).  No coal, oil or gas is needed (theoretically).  I’m dinking a coffee that appears perfectly at the press of a button while I eat a bagel born appropriately from NYC water and fittingly baked locally, like me.  Think globally but shop locally.  I wear my favorite clean pullover and lined pants, thanks to the e-washer and dryer that uses mountain spring water and delivers it back to the river after it is miraculously cleaned.  I can watch last night’s hockey game and see the puck on the giant, Smarter than me, TV in the other room where my dog sleeps on a heated bed and my wife knits by the fire.  Life is good.

We installed a fancy microwave oven below our new designer-slate kitchen counter and accidentally drilled a hole in the back of the refrigerator to plug it in, but we opened up tons of priceless counter space. This location is key since despite all our efforts we have never been able to move our parties out of the kitchen.  On the bright side, we measured once and cut twice to adjust the old cabinet doors that fit so perfectly that the soothing sound of their precision closing is music to my ears. 

Friends and family send me pictures, notes and messages on my phone that I can choose to ignore and reference at a later time.  In the background, my computer is transcribing dozens of instructional videos for me while Ai summarizes and critiques them for work while it plays my favorite songs on the house stereo, remembering where it left off every time I turn it on. There is peace in my neck of the woods, on Gods little half acre.

The windows and doors have been repaired and replaced to keep the cold out and the heat in, or vice-versa in the summer, (how do it know).  The surrounding trees allow the winter sun in and the summer sun out and the morning coolness precludes the need for air conditioning for now, since those morning temps have gone up an astonishing 10 degrees in 50 years.  Even though the Federal Infrastructure and Climate bills have funded a third of my improvements with tax credits, we will not be able to slow these local and global temperatures trends if we Drill Baby Drill.  We will have to adapt resiliently to maintain any semblance of sustainability. 

In the garage is an electric mower with a leaf and snowblower since in this new world without immigrants we will have to vacuum our own houses and clean our own toilets, rake our own leaves, cut our own grass and blow our own snow.   The work involved in that can be classified as exercise and the instant visual gratification of that is comforting.  In our modern delusional world, if our lawns and driveways are clean, then all must be right with the planet.  Our compartmentalization of reality into small, manageable segments we can comprehend is a blessing, for if we could ever comprehend the sum-total of the world’s reality, we would never stop crying.

So, take credence in the little things that make you happy when all else is falling apart.  We are lucky.  That doesn’t mean we should not resist and rage against the machine, to stop the insanity, limit growth, pay living wages and provide affordable housing.  We should not be afraid to stand up for what is right and for the other people who haven’t found their place yet in this topsy-turvy town, let alone this crazy chaotic world.

Don’t let it bring you down, its only castles burning.

Find someplace that’s yearning, and you will come around.        

Keep Park City Cool, Keep Park City Kind.         

 Matthew Lindon.  Snyderville Utah

Waterandwhatever.com               

Blessed Beatle Generation

Looking at the old pictures and the history of Park City, it is evident that the current overwhelming growth trends started in the early 60’s with the Baby Boomers.  The town was a down-and-out, ghost town with only the most resolute miners hanging on in the late 50’s, when people started coming up with the new idea of skiing as the future.  With a Gondola loan from the JFK Administration in ’63 and some new blood in town, the concept took off.  The Boomers moved in and set the tone while becoming vertical venture capitalist, untracked entrepreneurs, and promiscuous powder hounds.  They bought up Main Steet for back taxes and built a couple of funky friendly little ski resorts.  The rest is history.

Common folklore asserts that the Beatles rose to popularity, especially in America, after the JFK assassination threw the country into an inescapable funk.  The lads from Liverpool sparked the country with their boots and bangs and their irreverent energy and mirth.  Their musical talent and artistic creativity propelled them to such success that they could play any new chord in any key and get away with it.  For the next 8 years they put up Gretzky type record sales figures as their imagination and adventure evolved and progressed, as most good artists and rule breakers should.  They reinvented pop music and set the tone for the sixties’ music, culture, politics and social norms.  They were in the right place at the right time.  We were ready.

I contend that the Beatles also emerged from a post war rebuilt England, where most of the generation before them were dead or suffering silently, as is the English way.  The Fab Four came out of Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields to storm the bars of Liverpool and Hamburg.  They were emboldened to do something different than the usual BBC blather and were inspired by Elvis and Dylan, Chuck Berry and The Big Bopper.  With good management, production and timing, they took it to the next level.  It was as much as an evolution as a revolution. Mix in peace and love, liberated women and the sexual revolution, 8 track recording with movies, videos and TV shows.  Add to that the Mozartian musicality of Paul and the Andy Warhol artistry of John with George learning the trade by osmosis and Ringo keeping the perfect beat, they were unstoppable.  A phenomenon, waiting to happen.  Musically the Beatles affected the generation, from Sinatra to Elvis, Chuck Berry to Buddy Holly, Hendrix to Clapton, Dylan to The Dead, Joni to Janice, The Beach Boys to Bruce, The Doors to the Stones , The Who to Led Zeppelin,  CSNY and Linda Ronstadt, The Eagles to Jackson Brown, Segar to Cougar-Melencamp, The Police to Pearl Jam, REM to U2, The Talking Heads to Nirvana, Taylor Swift to Beyoncé, Eminem to JZ.  And the beat goes on. 

And so it is with our generation, the blessed Boomers they call us, the Hippies, Yuppies and the ‘Me Generation.’  Hached from thrifty parents that survived the Great Depression and World War II and thrust into the post war prosperity. we maintained that frugality but forgot the war amongst Hogan’s Heros reruns.  So we went straight to peace, love, sex, drugs, rock and roll and new math.  Whether the Beatles led this, or followed as the poster child of the generation, it makes no difference.  The times were a ‘changing. 

Nationally, Boomers ended McCarthyism, The Cold War, Vietnam, and the draft, settling into the uneasy Industrial Military Complex, preferring to fight our battles, bolster our economy and dissipate international friction in Afghanistan, Isreal, Iran and Iraq.   We shut down Nukes, for better for worse, after Three-Mile Island, Chernobyl and Fukushima and started burning stuff like the air, sky and water were free.  We sent a man to the moon and the Space Station and a probe out of the the solar system to look bat at our blue dot.  We cured Polio and quelled Aids but found a flu that could not be beat.  We went after solar and wind energy but faced a head wind of resistance from an overcast climate.  We drained the rivers and pumped the aquifers dry thinking we could desalinate the ocean without the nukes we needed.  We invented digital music and dumped records and tapes, 8-tracks and disks, storage and streaming and now just listen to music from the Cloud.  We perfected animation so that movies could be made without actors or writers.  Mothers went to work but eventually came back home to their kids with telework and flex time, proving once and for all that they can do it all even if they don’t get paid the same.

Boomers dumped Civil Rights Lyndon Johnson and crooked Richard Nixon and settled for Gerald Ford who would ‘Whip Inflation Now (WIN) or Jimmy Cardigan, who told us to slow down and turn the heat off.  Regan sold us on Bad Government and Trickle-Down Recessions while daddy Bush stopped short of Sadam in Baghdad, leaving it to Junior to clean up his mess, and that of 911.  The sins of the father were laid upon the son.  Clinton balanced the last budget at the cost of the Middle Class and Obama started Universal Health Care at the cost of his political capital.  Trump gave his buddies a tax break, and will do it again, while Joe Biden saved the Climate and our Infrastructure.  With all our phones, computers, Ai and fake information, we are the best and the worst generation, knowing what was really going on and choosing to ignore it. 

Athletically, Boomers boast Muhamad Ali, floating like a butterfly stinging like a be.  Wayne Gretzky was the Great One and Michael Jorden was the Other Great One.  Baseball had Mantel and Mays, Football had LT and Montana, skiing had Killy and Michaela.  Snowboarding had Sean White and Chloe Kim while back country skiing had Coombs and Schmidt, Plake and Kim Reichhelm.  Biking had Armstrong, LeMonde and Ned-the-Lung while the Olympics had Phelps and Bolt.  Climbing had Alex Honnold and Lynn Hill, and chess had Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky.  Soccer had Pele and Mia Hamm while Tennis had Laver and Borg, Serena and Martina. Surfing had tow-in Laird, and shark-girl Bethany Hamilton.  Cars had Jackie Stewart and Richard Petty, Mario Andretti and Danica Patrick.  Pickleball meanwhile had Old Uncle Joe and Karen the Trophy Housewife.

Meanwhile back in Park City Boomers were weathering local recessions and enjoying personal prosperity, buying low and selling high.  We were born in the black and white 50’s, grew up in the psychedelic, free-sex 60’s, partied in the 70’s, skied big pow in the 80’s, built houses in the 90’s, married in the 00’s, raised kids in the 10’s and retired in the 20’s. What a life.  We became Olympian and gourmet customer oriented, invented fat skis and fast chair lifts, snowboards, snow making and snow grooming, mountain bikes, E-Bikes, and E-Cars, Erogenous zones and flying drones, hip and knee replacements, vaccinations and extended vacations, just in time, as needed.  Coffee went from a nickel a cup to 5 dollars, and ski passes went from 5 dollars a day to 300.

Park City and SLC became real cities as people followed that Post-Covid, Tele-Working, quality-of-life thing.  Development ran rampant and roughshod while hostile, strongarmed corporate takeovers were de rigueur as we became Olympian and customer oriented.   Homes became commodities to buy and sell.  We became generationally rich on home equity but poor on the life-critical consumables, like air, water and shelter for all.  Living wages became a thing of the past while affordable housing became unobtainable.  Ganja was legalized, validated and vindicated and we became the new gummy-bear generation along with micro-doses, micro-breweries, designer tequilas and single malt scotch.  We all picked our poison.   But we had a good run.  We had the best; they can have the rest.

Now we stand at the precipice of another generational grand funk where the middle class has been battered, and the country is divided, by a team of Oligarchs that would make Putin blush.  We strive for sustainability but continue growing and consuming.  We brace ourselves for a future with pessimistic reticence to endure, instead of optimistic resolve with solutions.  You say you want a revolution?  Perhaps it starts with the music.  All we are saying is ‘give peace a chance’.  I trust this generation will prevail like we did.  All you need is love.    Hopefully they will find the balance that eluded us.  In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. 

KPCW Book Review - A Walk in the Park - Kevin Fedarko

 

A Walk in the Park

In his award-winning book, “The Emerald Mile,” author Kevin Fedarko described the great Colorado River’s 1983 Grand Canyon flood. In his latest effort, “A Walk in the Park” Fadarko along with his friend photographer Peter McBride, relays a more focused and record seeking exploration of the entire length of Grand Canyon National Park on foot. Matt Lindon has this month’s book review.

The best way I know to see The Grand Canyon is not on a cushy raft trip but on foot, where you smell and taste, feel and hear every detail, including the distances and the silence.  With backpacks and boots, blood and blisters, heat and hieroglyphics, searing sunshine and epic storms, “A Walk in the Park,” is a combination of self-flagellation and hubris. It arcs from the painful lessons of the Tenderfoot to the triumph of will, wisdom and experience, eventually ending as a mind-numbing march to an existential finish. 

Fedarko is a great writer with a zinger on every page, incredible descriptions and metaphors.  Some of the best parts of this book are Fedarko’s litany of the geology and stratigraphy of the Grand Canyon, From the billon year gap in the Great Unconformity layer, to the oldest exposed rocks in the world.  His unrivaled explanation of their stargazing of the Celestial Vault, solidifying their three-dimensional insignificance, is a powerful portion of the narrative.  So is the apparent movement of the Anthropomorphisms painted on the rocks nearly 4000 years ago, where the canyon is alive and speaking to him.  In between is the sad story of the local Havasupai tribe’s struggle for relevance and the rampant Eco-tourism depicted by air traffic in Helicopter Alley.

These epic hiking trips were Fedarko’s personal search for meaning and the familiar struggle for fulfillment in a brutal, living and moving, natural environment that cares not for him, or his quest.  Despite its hyperbole this is a fun and funny story, like an endless family hike or a farcical fraternity road trip, complete with mishaps and miscalculations, tragedy and triumph.  In the end, he does find meaning in the journey, if not the destination, in the coda of its completion.

Wild country reveals itself to us in its own time, to those who are curious, patient, resilient and well prepared.  Despite his cautions, Fedarko’s “A Walk in the Park” will spur a new horde of cross-canyon adventurers, seeking out the inner chasms’ myths and legends, records and experiences.  Will they flood the Park with novice and expert hikers alike, all taking with them their little piece of heaven or hell.  Hopefully they will leave a little bit of soul for the rest of us, who might be content to just read the book, look into the void, or simply to know that it is there.

Kevin Fedarko’s “A Walk in the Park” is available at our local libraries.

For KPCW, this is Matt Lindon.

Park City Ski Patrol Support

         First let me say that I consider all Ski Patrols as the chief focus of customer service and safety.  From their avalanche control work to medical assistance, and from skier safety to public information, they are the kingpin of mountain operations.  To underestimate their contribution should be considered hubris if not fatal.  My friend suffered a serious injury at The Canyons in 2020 (see her letter of thanks in your April 8 edition) and the emphatic professionalism of the responding Patrol was exemplary, if not lifesaving.  I personally have had interactions with the Patrol for 45 years, in the resort, side country and back country and have been met with courtesy and respect every time.  They are a vital component of our community that should not be underestimated or undervalued.

Secondly, to pinch these employees for asking for a 10% raise over a period of 20% inflation should be considered crazy if not criminal.  They are asking for a miniscule piece of the corporate pie.  Last time they received a 50% raise from $14-21 dollars an hour, after months of negotiations, and the following week Vail raised all employees’ wages to at least $20 an hour, keeping the Patrol at the bottom of the food chain.  This was a slap in the face and an obvious sign of disrespect.  Respect is  as important as recognition and remuneration.  These are highly skilled specialists who give their heart and soul, backs, hips and knees to their profession and are treated like dishwashers.

Lastly, Vail claims that there are  3,000 'qualified' applicants for 300 Patrol positions because this is a well-respected and fun occupation that provides self-satisfaction and lifestyle benefits for just half of the year.  I’m sure there would be more than 3,000 applicants for the $6.5 million CEO job or any of the well-respected positions around Vail’s management table that include perks and fun  lifestyle benefits but that hardly preclude them from receiving a living wage!  

We don’t blame the local representatives of the company for they know the value of the Patrol’s expertise.  This is an obviously ploy by Corporate to prevent the precedence of paying a living wage to essential employees.  This should be an opportunity for Vail to reward excellence and send a message to the community that they are valued and not just another widget or cog in the corporate machine.   This is, again, Vail giving us a number and taking away our name.  Shameful, disrespectful and regrettable. 

Matt Lindon

Snyderville

 

Happy New Year

            My fan club has unanimously suggested that I stop being such a curmudgeon.  Both said I should drop all the doom and gloom and be more positive about the world. I have been very happy lately.  Gummy happy, without the gummy.  I have relished the little and big things, like the elk and eagles in the backyard, as well as where I live and who I live there with.  So, to be more optimistic I have made a resolution to see the world through rose-colored glasses again and look for the silver lining.  It can’t be all bad.  The glass is at least half full.    Here are five things to look forward to in the new year. 

Short of WW III or a Greater Depression this Trump thing could be very entertaining with crazy people like RFK and Elon Musk and ideas like deporting our work force or deconstructing the government and the economy.  There is a random and reactive component to all this that must be fun at some level.  I would like to think they are just crazy, and not evil, and crazy can be funny if they are not going crazy on you.  Maybe they can fix Daylight Savings Time, so we get extra light at night and in the morning.  We won’t have viruses or vaccines or worms any more, in our bodies or our brains.  Perhaps they will scare or outspend the world into tearing walls down like Regan did.  Maybe they will trim the fat and balance the budget, by sacrificing the middle class, like Clinton did.  Musk can take over NASA, Bezos take over the Post Office and Zuckerberg take over education and save us all some money.  They could privatize the National Weather Service, so we only get the weather that we want and solve climate change, hurricanes and fire problems.  Housing could mean that all trophy homes have separate servant quarters for all their workers, solving unemployment too.  Or we could privatize Interstates with tolls, solving all the traffic problems.  They could divvy up all the public land in the USA and we would all get 6 acres.  The rich still get Yosemite and Yellowstone.  We could get rid of the IRS if we all agreed to just pay our share of the budget, about $10,000 each or 17% of all income.  We could join up with Putin and China and have one big happy world family with peace and prosperity. No armies, no human right rebellions, no race riots, and no religions too.

The great thing about living in the USA is the government puts half of our expenses on their credit card.  The great thing about living in Park City is that people with second home McMansions pay twice the taxes and most of our bills.  It’s mostly OPM – Other People’s Money, that we are living the high life with.  Which is nice.  I am looking forward to Park City 5.0 with a new Main Street, Snow Park, Mayflower, Canyons, Dakota and Arts Center.  Everyone is going for the Olympic gold with gusto, the golden ring on the merry-go-round, the golden egg laid by the golden goose.  That’s a lot of gold.  There should be gondolas going all over, from Kimball Junction to the Kimball Art Center, from the Pendry to Peak 9990 and from Main Street to Snow Park and Silver Lake and Jupiter Peak.  Cars and buses will go away, and the county will hire personal E-drones to fly us around in three dimensions.  Trophy homes will have servant quarters (see above).  Main street will have no stores, only Disney Land rides.  A snow globe will be installed over the city, and snowmaking will be everywhere.  Utah powder will not be snow or cocaine, but cold hard crypto-currency.  Let’s just hope the people making all of it will decide to make this their home and not take the money and run.  Share the wealth, build the community and make it home.  It could happen.

With less supply and more demand, water will be the hot commodity, priced for what it is worth.  It will then be too expensive to grow rice and cotton in the desert or fruits and nuts in the central valley or alfalfa and hay in the mountains.  They can do that in Japan and Alabama, Georgia, Florida and Texas respectively, where It rains.  Then we will have enough water to refill the Great Salt Lake and for the Colorado River to resupply Lakes Powell and Mead, while having enough water left over for poor western white people and the Native Americans.  Farmers will be bought out and buy a motor home to move to Florida or Arizona.  Hobby Ranches and Dry Farmed Estates will proliferate, and golf courses and pickle ball courts will dominate.  Solar and wind powered dehumidifiers will supply drinking water, and the middle class will take over once again.  There will be red states, blue states and green states that look like Greta’s own backyard.

We will find great reserves of natural hydrogen or fire up the old Nuke plants so that we will have unlimited energy and never have to burn anything again.  Wind turbines and solar panels will be on everyone’s house and the grid connects us all in a many-to-many configuration.  The atmosphere will recover faster than we thought, and the temperatures will ameliorate exponentially with tipping and inflection points in the right direction.  Mother earth will welcome us back like the Prodigal Son.

Finally, with less struggles, we will see the things we have in common and not the things that divide us.  Race and sex will no longer matter, nor will nationality or political preference.  Free speech will be rampant, and guns will be reinstated with light sabers that glow with gold of sunshine.  Truth, honor and civility will make a big comeback, and our representatives will be selected from the best and the brightest.  Everyone will be paid a living wage for their individual contributions to society, and no one will be hungry or cold or compromise their pursuit of happiness.  Imagine. 

 

Matthew Lindon, P.E.

Snyderville, 2025

Waterandwhatever.com

Pooping in the Perrier

 

I may be easily amused but I think we should take this time of year to be thankful for plumbing.  I’m continually amazed that we can turn on our tap and drink fresh clean water.  Hot and cold, you can’t do that in most of the world.  Treated surface or pure ground water, it’s amazing that we poop in the Perrier fresh, local spring water, and It all goes somewhere, by gravity, to be cleaned magically and put back in the river.  Or that the sun evaporites salty sea water into perfectly clean freshwater clouds that float over our mountains and drop their load as rain and snow that we can use on its gravity driven run to the sea.  This old Hydrological Cycle has served us well for eons for all our use.  Eighty percent of all precipitation, 17 trillion gallons a year, goes to natural vegetation. 16 percent to agriculture, mostly for animal feed for meat.  3 percent goes to lawns and golf courses.  A half percent goes to our houses and % 0.1 is actually consumed by our bodies.  So there is a lot of water out there and it really matters how we use it.  If we really wanted to save water, eating less meat would be a good place to star for the best bang for the buck.

It’s Amazing that someone can keep track of all that water and divvy it out to all of us to use for beneficial use and the public welfare, for free.  We use a system developed by the California miners and perfected by the Mormons, to set priorities:’ first in line first in right’ and ‘use it or lose it’.  The actual commodity of water doesn’t cost anything, only its delivery.  And it’s amazing how little we pay for water when it is our second most precious, life-giving compound, behind air.  You can live for 5 minutes without air and 5 days without water, but we pay a lot more for gas, coffee and beer than clean air and clean water. ‘Whiskey is for drinking and water is for fighting’, said Mark Twain. 

I was skiing glaciers in Alaska above Glacier Bay one time and our plane could not land to take us home due to the weather.  We had food and tea, whiskey and warm tents but we were running out of gas for the stove.  No stove meant no snow melting and hard times for us.  That trip highlighted the connection of energy and water.  You make energy with water at dams, and you use energy to make water from the sea by reverse osmosis.   Park City recently built a 100-million-dollar water treatment plant to get Heavy Metals out of mine water (like Led Zeplin and Metallica.).   So the new Hydrologic Cycle is the interrelation between water, energy, money, grass, food, people.  ‘You know the worth of a glass of water when the well goes dry’, said Ben Franklin.

My wife Tracey and I spend some time each year on the Central California Coast in a few small beach towns that don’t have any extra water and don’t want any.  Therefore, there is only very controlled growth and high property prices due to small supply.  In the 80s we thought we could limit growth in Park City that way, but we had money and bought other people’s water, lots of it.  Water flows towards money.

So here we are in sunny Park City, still dependent on an economy that relies heavily on snow.   But there is less and less supply of snow and water and more and more demand for it.  As things get warmer, less snow can be made and more snow comes as rain.  Scientists predict that we could be out of snow by 2050 as we enter a rain-based hydrology.  Then consider that we are using so much more water and getting so much less rain and snow that the Great Salt Lake is drying up along with the Colorado River, Lake Powell and Lake Mead. Conservation can help decrease demand while addressing climate change can help with increasing supply but our free/cheap water is not going to help us intensify our efforts. 

Subsidizing our water use or burying costs in property tax bills will not help us focus on our consumption, conservation or climate. The State and the Feds are paying people now not to use their agricultural water to solve the shortages of the Great Salt Lake and Colorado River.  Most of the unappropriated free water in the west is long-gone and water is now something to buy and sell.  Now water has a price as well as a worth and a value.  It is becoming a commodity, no longer free, going to those who can afford it.

What are we to do?  Ideally, we can conserve and concentrate on water use efficiency and priorities to reduce demand without sacrificing the public health and welfare.  We can stop burning stuff and address climate change for the long term supply issues. We can listen to scientists and engineers on how this can happen and elect people that will strive to fix it and adapt resiliently.  We can pay the true unsubsidized price and worth of water, and then we will know its value.  We can appreciate the magic and luxury of our water resources and stop squandering them.  We can stop pooping in the Perrier, just because we can. 

 

Call Things by Their Real Name – Be What You Are.

 

When Elder Parley Pratt came up and over his namesake canyon toll-road in the late 1840’s, he named the giant meadow he found – Parley’s Park.  A ‘Park’ was a mountain man term for a high mountain meadow, like Park Meadows, Winter Park or South Park, and not a place to play, live or put your car. 

“We don’t get up ta ‘Park’ too much anymore” said the Summit County ranchers years ago, “too many Mc Mansions and rich hippies”. The old timers called this place ‘Park’, like we call it Heber, and dropped the City part.  Deer Valley’s Snow Park was called Frog Valley before it was drained for lakes, lodges and Parking lots.  That ‘Park’ was the place with the meadows, streams and wetlands.  The city, mines and ski resorts would come later.  This place would grow and change but the name would remain the same.  Park City, paradise paved and a place where winter is now shorter than summer used to be, Can we let it become No-Snow Park or No-Park City?

Personally, when I was small, they called me Ginty, a name my Irish nanny gave me.  When I was in grammar school, they called me Little Lindon following in my big brothers’ footsteps.  In High School I was the philosopher Lindonian and in College I added Rex as the king of Lindonian, but you don’t get to pick your own nick names.  When I got out of school I was called an Engineer on my business card, even though I didn’t know squat.  I was a very Civil Engineer building ski resorts where the slopes face north, and the condos face south.  Then I was called a Dam Inspector, but that sounded too pedantic.  

Getting more involved in the dam design business I called myself a Dam Safety Engineer.  In the winters. I got more involved with weather modeling and called myself a Hydro-Meteorological Engineer even though I couldn’t say it, let alone spell it. Then I became an Assistant State Engineer, of what I wasn’t sure, but it was a nice Title. Finally, focusing on water and admitting that’s what I liked and was good at, I just called myself simply a Hydrologist and owned it. 

It took me a long time to figure out what I was and what I wanted to be, gaining wisdom by experience, no just osmosis.  People and places make us what we are.  You are what you read.  You ‘are’ your soul, and you just ‘have’ your body for a short while.  We become what we are, deliberately and accidentally, but admitting what that is can be the hardest part.  We’ve heard of ‘be where you are’ to be present, or ‘be who you are’ to be self-accepting, and finally ‘be what you are’ to admit to what you have become.  Decide what to be and go be it.

Historically we obscure  what we do with names and titles downplaying what we really are.  Remember they started calling Garbage Men, Sanitation Engineers.  Killer air quality is called fog or smog, haze or PM10 by fake weather readers.  Climate change is called natural chaos by big oil to help deny, diffuse, delay, deflect or diminish it.   Sweatshop delivery warehouses are idealistically called Dream Fulfillment Centers, and your eventual last bed is prosaically called Hospice Care. 

Now instead of being a pedophile, they can call you a Congressman and Cabinet Member or even President if you are a sex offender. It is even more essential during these trying times to call things by their real name. Titles, names and respect are earned and not just bestowed.  You are what you do, not what you say you will do.  We shouldn’t call a narcissistic huckster a King.  You are what you do, not what you say you will do.  WOKE actions are scoffed at but it is still essential to call these designations what that are: civility, kindness, politeness and inclusiveness. 

It doesn’t matter if you are a Vegetarian, Transsexual, Republican or a Buddhist, what matters is that we are more honest and self-accepting of what we really are, and that we call things by their real name.  I’m a Hydrologist, smog is pollution, climate is changing, and our con-man is a clown.  A Park is a beautiful mountain meadow and not a Disney Land destination, cash register megalopolis.  Let’s realize what we are and where we come from and try to incentivize what we realize.  Be what you are.