Boundaries

While traveling home from the valley of Salt Lake recently, I found that I was becoming quite bored with the drive. My wife, children and I had departed before 9:00 a.m., passed through a minor snow storm over Soldier's Summit and emerged into brilliantly bright blue skies full of puffy white clouds outside of Price. Laurie had been generously helpful with advice concerning driving strategies as we traversed the snow swept mountains, but as we entered the sparseness of the desert she decided I could handle things just fine by myself. After fluffing a pillow and reclining the passenger seat, she promptly passed into slumber land. I attempted conversation with the kids in the back of the van without success; they were either reading, playing with the Gameboy or simply ignoring me.

I have found that any chance of meaningful exchange with my children these days occurs only when they want to talk. This usually happens when they are in the grips of teenage hormone fluctuations, hungry, or in need of money. I should have considered myself lucky that they were quiet, but I was getting sleepy and needed mental stimulation. After several attempts at initiating a verbal brewhawhaw, and receiving no satisfaction whatsoever, I gave up. As I refocused on driving down the road in an acceptable manner, I noticed that the highway department had recently impressed those funny little grooves into the centerline of the roadway. These bumps are meant to let one know when he or she has strayed too near oncoming traffic, by causing the tires to roar when they encounter the grooves. My right eyebrow raised itself up in a high arch as an idea sprang into my head.

I closely inspected my peacefully sleeping spouse and wondered, "Was it right for her to be dozing and leave me to the tedious driving duties?" She had spent most of the night visiting with her sisters, talking until the wee hours of the morning before going to bed. She just assumed that the driving responsibilities were mine. I gave the steering wheel a slight nudge to the left; bbbrrrruuummmppph! Laurie sat straight up in her seat, grasped desperately for any available handhold and looked around, anticipating the impending accident. Quickly realizing that there was no immediate danger, she focused on me. I gave her the most innocent facial expression I could muster, and said, "Oops! Sorry, babe." She gave me a suspicious look, grunted, then relaxed back into her seat and regained her sleep mode.

Humph! My plan to wake her and encourage a discussion had failed. A look of consternation must have crossed my brow. I glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed the equally distrustful faces of the kids gazing back at me. I gave them a snotty look, much as they often give me and went back to driving that long, straight, relentless stretch of highway. The further I drove, the sleepier I got. Now everyone in the car was passed out and my frustration was building. It was at this point that I noticed the shoulder of the road had been marked with those dastardly depressions as well. In this case there were twenty foot sections of indentation a ten foot flat space then twenty more feet of impressions. I wondered at my safety, but was in dire need of conversation to stay awake.

I edged the van to the right; bbbrrrruuummmppph, bbbrrrruuummmppph complained the tires. Laurie barely moved this time, but she was definitely awake. "What are you trying to do?" she asked with a profound hint of irritation to her voice. "Testing my boundaries," I said brightly. "Without a doubt, you have reached your limit, please don't explore them further," she said with a hint of warning in her voice. Laurie then turned to the window and returned to the land of nod. My offspring added a few comments of their own, which I ignored, as they do mine. I decided that it would be prudent to refrain from further agitating actions and returned my attention to the road ahead and keeping the van squarely between the lines.

Recognizing the fact that I was not able to stimulate a conversation with Laurie, my mind began to focus on boundaries. It seems that Steve and I are constantly attempting to expand our borders here at the trading post. We push our bounds in the internet marketing arena in an effort to share our love of Native American art and the people who create it. We are constantly bouncing off the walls of traditional and cultural implications of the Navajo people in our attempts at understanding their way of thought. Steve seems to be searching for a new and unusual character front to portray at the store. He has often discussed this notion and assumes that I am in dire need of a remodel as well. Whatever the situation, we are exploring it fully and testing our limits.
Be convinced that we will continue to "test our boundaries" here at the trading post, and unfortunately in our personal lives as well. It is lucky for us that our wives are so understanding and don't take us too seriously. Steve is much worse than I, I assure you. It is in our nature, probably brought on from being raised in Bluff, living in such a remote and unregulated area and dealing with artists of a like mind and attitude. We will attempt to "keep it positive", well mostly anyway!

Below are two artists who test boundaries as well (the bear and coyote are not usually portrayed in Navajo art).


Navajo Basket Weaver Peggy Black and Navajo Rug Weaver Helena Begay

Copyright©2004 Twin Rocks Trading Post