Smile For The Camera

Not used often, my mouth stutters and bumps our words like the motor of an old car that is rarely driven. I stare at the television camera and hope that I make sense in this crossover from thinking to talking. Five minutes after the interview I find something stuck to my face, and remember to laugh at myself.
From a television interview with Valorie at channel 12 I wander down to KNDN radio, The Indian Station. With smiles and warmth I am talking with George Werito on live radio. George goes from Navajo to english throughout our imprompto talk over the air waves. He has a kind and easy way of moving from questions to casual conversation so that the mic melts away from in front of us. What has become 'same old' to me -- living the walk day after day, suddenly becomes magical and interesting again as I hear it coming back to my ears, and see it reflected through the eyes of George Werito. My plan was to rush past Farmington to head into the land of sand and too much sun--too little water. The walk is still teaching me that my plans are written on water and change with the tide. I listen to George talking in his native tongue with my name falling in amongst the words. Some of the greatest things that I have been given on this journey do not fit in my pockets yet I will carry them for the rest of my life.
I am brought to the Farmington library by Dana, morning show host from KWYK radio. This is far from just a standard library of dusty books on towering shelves. The glass panels found throughout the libray are sandblasted with traditional as well as historic native art the afternoon light wanders through. The rich red stone floors are marked to show where the sun will fall during the winter and summer solstice from the windows high above. The building is a piece of art and I want to explore around rather than sit in and write.
In the morning I'll be on the radio morning-show with Dana as a co-host for four hours, and then after hours of treasured visits come to a close I'll top off with five gallons of water before I head off toward Moab some 2oo-250 miles away, miles of desert sand and uncertainty, over the same course that the character I am endlessly compared to, Forest Gump, stopped running and went home. Bye Forest.
Basecamp Betty has come, shared laughs and great food and headed north again with most of my winter gear. It was great to see my good friend and talk about silly things only old friends can talk about without concern over boring any ears. Already I have a growing of things I'll need shipped to Moab, Utah. I guess my water colors have again made the list. Clocks have changed with only the night now causing a freeze. For a little while I will put my sweater on my head so I can sleep through the night. Soon I will miss these cold slumbers down by the creek behind where the scrub thorn grows. The sun is watching, and, as if taking the cue, summer is trickling in. Already I buy cheese ...and worry.