An old-time traveler

This past Monday evening I was scrolling through YouTube, looking for information about the 2024 Paris Olympics. Growing up in rural Utah, I have always been fascinated by the City of Lights, and have many times attempted to find myself relaxing on its historic avenues at outdoor cafés, drinking coffee, leisurely reading the news, and eating croissants with butter and jam.
Unfortunately, every time I attempt to schedule a trip something gets in the way, and I have never visited France.
As I scrolled through the video platform looking for event results, I came across a clip of Julia “The Hurricane” Hawkins, a woman who recently broke the 100-meter dash world record for the over 105 age group.
Forget Shericka Jackson, Melissa Jefferson, or even Sha’Carri Richardson, when it comes to style, form, personality, and stamina, The Hurricane has them all beat.
Feeling motivated to check my own time against Julia’s, I marked off 100 meters, strapped on my Nike jogging shoes, which have not seen action in a very long time, and set out with Pearl and Opal tagging along.
Let’s just say... , well, no, let’s not say. As Momma Rose often reminds me, some things are best left unsaid.
Pearl and Opal seemed amused by my racing technique, and after crossing the finish line, I thought about calling the Harry Chapin taxi service. To paraphrase Dan Fogelberg, the years have not been a friend to me.
When it comes to world records and a vacation in Paris, however, I am not giving up. It may take more time than expected, but at some point I will get to Paris and smash The Hurricane’s record.
My 100-meter route ended at the Bluff Fort. Six days a week Pearl, Opal and I take our morning walk past the fort on our way to work at Twin Rocks Trading Post, and every evening, after hours spent negotiating the purchase and sale of deep blue turquoise, blood-red coral, hammered and cast silver, carved cottonwood, and woven wool and sumac, we head home the same way.
Lately, daytime temperatures have hovered in the high 90s, so Pearl and Opal hotfoot it across the sizzling pavement in search of shade and I amble along in the early evening heat.
According to the media, a “heat dome” has settled over the Southwest, and visitors are going elsewhere. Where else I do not fully know, because most other places have both heat and humidity, a deadly combination in my experience.
As they say in the west, “But it’s a dry heat!” I can tolerate triple-digit temperatures, but add in that East Coast moisture, and I am ready to hide under a rock with the spiders and lizards.
At the fort, there are several covered wagons on display. Although I am unsure whether these are from the original Hole-in-the-Rock expedition or not, I have convinced myself they are.
In several ways they remind me of Julia; years of experience and a great story to tell. Pearl and Opal are mostly interested in marking the wagon wheels as we walk by, but I want to extract their stories. Or make up my own.
I envision pioneer families traveling towards Bluff, one of the few communities in America settled west to east; horse and oxen teams straining, and shouts of encouragement combined with cracking whips.
I also imagine tears of sadness, fear, joy and ultimately relief. Stories are everything, and I freely free-associate when it comes to the wagons and their past.
At the trading post, we learned long ago that great art is, well, you know, great, but it is so much more if there is history to go with it.
As a result, Priscilla and I constantly badger artists with questions like, “What does this mean? What was your inspiration? and, “How did you do that?”
I admit, the artists often get frustrated because they just want to get paid and ease on down the road. The distances to and from Bluff are long and there is no easy way to get here, so artists often don’t have time to chat.
With their newly acquired wealth, there are groceries to buy, pick-up truck payments to make, gas to purchase, and kids to be fetched from school. There is often no time to waste on idle conversation.
For now, Paris will have to wait. Inspired by The Hurricane, however, Pearl, Opal and I are working up to our own 100-meter record, collecting stories, and staying out of the heat.
And that is the latest from Twin Rocks Trading Post, where no news is a regular occurrence, and facts are irrelevant when there is a story to be told.