Intersections

It was early, and I was plodding along, pursuing my morning routine. The cows in the field have now had their calves, and the mothers were particularly attentive to their charges, nursing and cleaning them with special care. The day was chilly and the cows had patches of frost on their backs. As the sun rose, warming the land and the animals, clouds of steam rose from the herd.

When I reached the hay farm, the geese were honking, and making a great deal of noise. I noticed that the white goose had recently had a flock of her own. There were now three new, small, white geese. Since Barry and I are always looking for the metaphor in everything, I decided this was a sign that intolerance breeds intolerance, and love, compassion and understanding breeds more love, compassion and understanding. The flock’s contentment and happiness with each other seemed almost palpable.

As I trudged along, I approached one of the many dirt “onramps” feeding into the main road. A car was approaching the pavement as I came upon the path. As I run along this road in the mornings, I am always gauging my speed and distance to avoid catastrophic interaction with cars, trucks, sheep, horses or cows. I am especially careful not to intersect with trucks of the eighteen wheel variety, although they seem particularly drawn to me, and often like to get as close as possible. Once in a while the local school bus full of children also decides that I am an attractive target and evasive action becomes necessary.

On this particular day I successfully avoided a collision and, as the car drove off, I began thinking about the intersections we have with people who come into the trading post. As I have mentioned, the most enjoyable aspect of this business is meeting and getting to know new people. We have the occasional crash of personalities, but over and over I am amazed and pleased by the number of interesting people who arrive in Bluff. A few weeks ago a couple from New Jersey came into the trading post with their son. We had been keeping in touch with them by e-mail, but had never met face to face. Barry and I found ourselves laughing and joking with them, addressing serious subjects and thoroughly enjoying their time in the post. As they prepared to leave, they said, “We feel like family.” I don’t think Barry and I could have been more proud and flattered.

Barry and I often feel that we are the white geese among the local Navajo people. They seem to accept us in spite of our odd appearance and strange behavior. Some weeks ago I wrote about the unusual word pronunciations we hear at the trading post. After Priscilla read the story, she pointed out that I had failed to look at the other side of the issue. She said I needed to consider how funny Barry and I sound when we speak in Navajo. With one word, “Yah ta hay,” (properly pronounced "yacht eh") she sent Barry and me running for the relative safety of our offices. Needless to say, our faces were red for a while. I don’t remember who said “time is a great leveler,” but I find that embarrassing situations effectively level, and deflate, one’s ego.

As we discuss purchases with artists who bring their work into the trading post, we are often amazed that these individuals tolerate us so well. Often they simply break out laughing at the things we say or do. From time to time the older Navajo people even refer to us as “shi chei” (“grandson”), which is a very nice compliment. Bluff is one of those very rare places where cultures intersect to the betterment of both groups. This small town is in reality a cultural confluence; a place where the Navajo and Anglo universes come together in tolerance, respect and compassion. That is the type of interaction we seek, without concern for bruised flesh or broken bones. The dirt roads leading to the trading post have brought us many happy intersections over the years.

Copyright©2002 Twin Rocks Trading Post