Happy birthday tomorrow to our grandson Andrew, who will be 12. They are all growing up too fast, especially now that we are too far away from them to see them every week. When we saw them a couple of weeks ago, they had all grown a foot it seemed. Chris's kids all now tower over me, but I still have Shawn, Andrew and Seth in the height department. Matt the younger is about the same height as me, maybe an inch or so taller at 15.
Monday brought a very sad incident that seemed close to home as we saw our first obvious group of three illegal aliens northbound on the road when we went to work. They were smiling, waving and waving water bottles as we passed, so we knew they were thirsty, and figured they had been traveling at least 5 hours by then as we were about 10 miles from the border. We've been told it's dangerous to stop for them, and in any case we had no water for them, so we continued south to the park. My boss had already called one of the park rangers at home by the time I reached the office, so we thought all was well. We soon began hearing radio traffic that told us we were wrong. This group told the rangers who intercepted them that they had left a woman behind in the desert because she couldn't go any further. They had become disoriented about their directions, though, and they couldn't give an accurate description of where they had left her. As the temperatures climbed through the morning and afternoon, it became a desperate search with no positive results. Meanwhile, another group of 26 was rescued just in time for five of them, who were well into the danger zone from heat and thirst. A few rangers were required to transport them and turn them over to Border Patrol, while the rest continued the search for the missing woman, finally calling out a helicopter and taking one of her group up for a look at the terrain to see if he recognized anything. Sadly, she was not found and has not been seen since.
I spoke to one of the rangers the next morning, learning this sad news and hearing with shock that they recover at least 10 deceased from the desert each year. While I have little sympathy for those who die bringing drugs into the country, the others, like the group of 26, are poor, ignorant peasants from deep in the south of Mexico or even further. They have been told that America's streets are paved with gold, and they pay their life savings to human traffickers, called coyotes, to be brought here to cities where they expect to find work and shelter. These coyotes have no regard for the people who trust them with their lives. They often dump them off just barely north of the border, away from roads sometimes, and tell them that Phoenix is just over the next hill. Then they are gone, back to Mexico with the money they've been paid to see their passengers to safety. The passengers often expire in the desert, searching in vain for a city that's over a hundred miles away. The longer we live here and hear the stories of people who have been here for years, even all their lives, the more we realize that most Americans have no idea of the extent of the problem or the reasons for it. For this I blame the media and politicians on both sides of the fence who are using it for their own political gain rather than trying to solve it.
Monday also brought the news that we had completely misunderstood what we were told about the timing of my temporary appointment. All this time we have thought it was 30-60 working days, and that the two-week interruption for our vacation would obligate me to stay until the end of July although Budd is expected in Denver sometime in July. After much discussion and negotiation, Budd had also started a 30-day critical hire appointment after we got back, as his seasonal position had ended on May 22. However, we learned on Monday that it was 30 calendar days, which means I will be done on the 25th of June, and he will be done on July 6. You'd think that would simplify matters, but no.....
We learned later in the week that my time off may have been entered as a leave of absence, which would allow the park to extend me for two weeks, leapfrogging over Budd's end date by a week. We also learned that Timpanogos Cave National Monument, whose cooperation in re-hiring Budd as a seasonal will allow him to fulfill the detail position in Denver, actually wants him to come back there for two weeks before going to Denver. Attempts to contact people at the regional IT office (where Budd will be working in Denver) for clarification and an idea of the schedule were foiled by the director being on travel until June 21 and the acting director not only being on travel until the 15th, but also not knowing the date they expect Budd to be there. Once again, we are up in the air, but by now we've learned to glide. In a week or so we may know enough to make some kind of plans. Maybe.
One of the many things and people we have to be grateful for is the understanding and cooperation of our landlady. Upon being told of our dilemma in not knowing exactly when we're leaving, but suspecting around the 7th of July, she has graciously indicated she will prorate the rent so that we won't have to pay a full month to stay a week. We hope so much that she will find a buyer or long-term renter from Homeland Security--she has been wonderful to us. I keep saying 'she' when it is really 'they'. Unfortunately her husband has suffered a stroke, and while he seems fully present mentally, he remains so quiet during conversation that I often think I'm just dealing with her. In reality, I'm sure they make decisions together. We were so happy they were willing to rent us the house even though they had wanted to sell it, and it has been very comfortable, even luxurious compared to park housing at Canyon de Chelly.
We haven't met many people here in town other than our co-workers at the park, but I wish I could remember the details of some of the stories my co-workers tell about the characters around here. Someone should write a book, really. About the guy they call Stinky, who prowls the town on a three-wheel bike with a walker in back and isn't allowed into any of the restaurants...they bring his purchases outside to him. Or the older man who used to walk on Saturdays the ten miles to Why to have one beer and then walk back (in spite of there being perfectly good bars here in town). They remember a time when there was a Coca-Cola bottling plant here, and they would all as kids collect bottles and return them there for the deposits, then someone would sneak around back to get the empty bottles stored on the loading dock and bring them around to sell them again. I once told them the story of the man in Moab who, when I was growing up, was said to have a seeing-eye pickup because he was too blind to drive, and how we would all get off the street when we saw it coming. They countered with similar tales. There's nothing like living in a very small town. I'll miss these guys when we leave here...I've never had more fun at work than with the crazy characters from the maintenance division.
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