Not Really Dangerous

There are many legends associated with the Twin Rocks, the massive stone towers that soar above the trading post. Over the years, Navajo people have told us countless stories about the spires.
These include tales of how the monuments represent the Hero Twins, Monster Slayer and Born for Water; that they are prayer sticks, transmitting appeals to the heavens; that they signal an extremely sacred location; and if the monuments fall, Earth as we know it will cease to exist.
Since I work directly beneath the Twins nearly every day, I am confident our Navajo friends are correct on at least one count; my world will likely end if the rocks tumble.
When customers ask what I will do if I hear crashing boulders, I usually place a foot on the counter and exhibit my sneakers.
“Running shoes,” I explain. Then I say, “Oh well, if that doesn't work, it will be over quickly, don't you think?”
Most of my inquisitors nod in agreement, realizing I will certainly be smashed into fine particles in the event of a downfall.
Although I do from time to time consider the implications of a calamity, for the most part I ignore them and take comfort in knowing the formations have stood an extraordinarily long time, and my tenure on this planet is comparatively short.
I believe the odds of me escaping a fall are actually pretty good. That does not, however, stop me from gazing up and questioning whether my luck will one day run out.
A while back, I decided the trading post porch needed a thorough cleaning, so I rounded up Priscilla's electric blower.
Although I generally have an aversion to this method, out here Mother Nature perpetually pushes large deposits of sand onto the deck, so I have decided the only solution is to push back.
Mother Earth and I have engaged in this ongoing battle since the store opened, so I rejoined the fight. As I scattered red sand with the blower, three semi tractor-trailers pulled into the parking lot and backed up just south of the Twins.
After the drivers had properly positioned their vehicles and hopped down from the cabs, I overheard one say to the others, “Well, I hope those rocks don't fall while we're having lunch.”
At that point, I felt compelled to comment, so, as the drivers began to walk toward the cafe, I waived my hands and shouted, “Hey, you boys may want to move those trucks. These rocks do fall, and I wouldn't want your rigs to get crushed.
“I have, from time to time, had to put boulders back up after they squashed a car or pick up. We have never had any damaged big rigs, but you never know.
“Our guests don't like calling AAA or the rental company to come rescue them. It’s a long way from Denver, Albuquerque, Salt Lake City or Phoenix, so replacement vehicles don’t arrive quickly.”
One of the drivers hesitated as though he was going to heed my advice and relocate his truck, but Rick stopped him in his tracks. “Don't worry about him, he’s not really dangerous; crazy, but not dangerous,” Rick reassured.
The other drivers acted like they knew I was only joking and couldn’t really lift the rocks.
There are times when the blower goes astray and my hair starts looking like Einstein’s, but insanity is a whole different matter.
As the truckers continued on their way, I heard one say to the others, “Well, he looked normal.”
One of the others replied, “Yes, but you can never tell. Maybe he needs medication.”
Although Rick may have a point about me not being dangerous, he might be altogether wrong about the crazy part.
Older Navajo people assure me the Twins have strong curative powers, and I have felt that energy on more than one occasion.
One thing for sure, had it not been for the healing power of the rocks, the Twin Rocks team would certainly have long ago driven me mad.