Sunday we all loaded into AF2 and headed for the hills in the area of Centenniel, Wyoming, to hunt rocks. Not valuable rocks. Not rock climbing. Rocks. Big rocks that I can add to the rock garden that has been expanding steadily around our building like creeping charlie.    

The diversity of rocks in many places in the West is remarkable. They come in all sizes and shapes. All the different types of rock: sedimentary, igneous, metamorphic. The big ones that are almost but not quite too heavy for one normal unmuscular guy to carry are what I’m looking for. They give punctuation in the gray river rock that surrounds all of the buildings here. And on some of those steep slopes, they help keep stone (the river rock) from succumbing to gravity’s certain influence.

Upon our return from this little outing we espied a brown mass off in a field some distance. At first we took them to be horses mostly because we couldn’t feature what else they might be. As we got a bit closer we settled on elk: cows and calfs jammed together like Spartans awaiting that last flurry of arrows from their foes. We’d never seen elk gathered together like that.

On we went through hill and dale until another brown mass appeared way over to our left near the top of a small rise. Again we speculated about its makeup. I thought maybe a posse pulled together to figure which way the outlaws went. But again as we drew close it became evident we were looking at another close-knit group of mama and baby elk. No antlers anywhere to be seen.

As we continued on our way we passed under some clouds that seemed so close at hand we could reach through the moon roof and touch them. Swirling and roiling. We couldn’t help thinking about the predicted end of the world as we know it this May 21. Some evangelical types are quitting their jobs, spending all of their savings in preparation for … I’m not even going to say it.

Up ahead we saw town and blue skies. We wondered if the elk knew something we didn’t. But figured if they did, we’d find out soon enough.

In the aftermath of the Rep. Gabrielle Giffords assassination attempt the governor of Arizona is describing it as a tragedy. As though nothing could have been done to prevent it. Her solution in answer to a question? Increased security. We listened to the Mayor of Tucson, the President of the United States, the President of Arizona State University, and the Tucson chief of police. To all of these people what happened in that Safeway Store parking lot was a tragedy. There was no mention — NOT ONE — about the fact that something other than a single-shot rifle must have been used to wreak this amount of havoc in so short amount of time.

Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. Well this crime was not committed by a sling shot. Rep. Giffords was shot in the head at near point blank range by some sort of automatic rifle. The sort that hunters would need only if they wished to gun down entire herds of elk or deer.

The anchor staff at a local TV station in Tucson were clawing at the air trying to find words to describe their and their colleagues outrage over this incident. It was as though they were describing a natural disaster. These folks were plenty angry but not so angry they were willing to say something about gun violence. No one we listened to on myriad broadcast sources was willing to say the G word. It was as though they had an advance script supplied to them by the National Rifle Association.

This federal public servant was DOING HER JOB. She was giving the people of her district an opportunity to meet with her person-to-person. Retail democracy. If, as Gov. Jan Brewer suggests, the solution is better security, how practical or realistic is it for Rep. Giffords or any other elected federal official to be among the people who elected them? Our democracy does not function well behind concrete balustrades and concertina wire. And we should not ask citizens to put their lives at risk simply for seeking an elected federal office.

If we put a submachine gun in the hands of any citizen who wants one; someone is going to be off their rocker enough to go out and use one for the only purpose for which it is intended — shooting people. No amount of security can protect us. Not if we give a loaded handgun to every man, woman and baby in the United States. But the governor of Arizona won’t hear any of this. She backed Arizona’s constitutional amendment allowing handguns for everybody older than 21 with no background check or permit.  The President of the United States recently signed a bill that includes a rider allowing people to carry guns in their cars when traveling through national parks.

So we are left with no solution really. In my lifetime, Leo Ryan is the only member of a member of Congress to be gunned down while doing his job, 1978, Jonestown. This is truly a dark day for this country. A dark day for “the American experiment.” Can democracy survive if its elected officials must fear the very people who sent them to Washington?

There is no TV so we have the sounds of traffic on 19th Street. It is too late in the day for the usual sounds of children playing seven stories below us. Sounds of joyful childhood intermingled with the more than the occasional wail of injury or slight. Parents responding not too quickly knowing it is unlikely the damage is life threatening. We sit in our giant lifeguard’s chair and confirm that, indeed, it is a minor scrape or a stolen soccer ball. A few minutes pass and the cheerful sounds resume. But not now as dark collects around us, broken only by the picture windows on our same level here in the sky in our building’s twin a volley ball field away from us.

Now the nightly visit of the train rolls slowly through the north side. Rumbling at my left ear. The cry of the train whistle. Now rumbling at my right ear. It must be traveling at five miles per hour, maybe lingering because it is not eager to leave our mountain oasis. The sad bunnies let the train pass and return to guarding the secure fence that keeps us away.

A train whistle echos through the valley

Who … moi?

We conclude we must choose one of two solutions: a) never leave her alone with any food item sitting anywhere on a counter or b) crate her. Some dogs like the crate. Our dog is ok with it when we are traveling. But otherwise she is not a fan. So I think it will be the first. We have a new toddler in the house.

It always takes awhile for these fears to abate. For me to forget what it’s like to be watching the sun set in the southwest instead of the northwest. Spring is here to sucker us in yet again. And we will buy the whole tamale. Summer is coming. Warm days. Swimming pools. Walks in mosquito infested forests. Camping. For awhile I resist the notion of giving into it all. After all, the idea of warm weather. Summer breezes. This is Minnesota! It’s just unnatural.

Here in the city the golden light from an alley streetlight introduces itself as a new focal point. The sky fades in response to an invisible cue from an invisible stage manager. But no drama issues forth. The bell on the Lutheran Church behind me a long block tolls the dinner hour. The green sky turns a deep blue and the tan a dull red on its way to brown and darkness.

There is nothing like a winter sunset. The cold forces open the sky and allows us to see crystal clear. The city has temporarily lowered its usual lumber and din. No sound of jet planes approaching the airport southwest of here. A muffled, tentative, automobile passes below but it is not followed by another. The night falls but leaves a trace of the day that has passed us. Done with us and now on to Montana, California and Hawaii.