In
July of 1991, several months past the time I suspected I would be there, I was
still traveling to Parachute Colorado two weeks out of the month to work with
the UNICAL employees that were being terminated from the shutdown of UNICAL's
Oil Shale Operations there (see Jack’s Short Story Blog: A Place Once Alive: Part
1, An Essay on a Defunct Industry). Each
visit I made to Colorado I stayed in the visitor's lodging at Battlement Mesa,
the large town site build by Exxon in the early 1980's. This place was an
enormous undertaking, sculptured out of a long, sloping bluff at the base of
one of the many cliffs paralleling the Colorado River. It had been designed to
house over one hundred thousand people and provide for them all the comforts,
security and conveniences any city of that size may ever require. The area was
well planned and indications were everywhere that the town could have expanded
to at least twice its size if that need ever arose. The paved streets were
wide, trails for biking and running were provided everywhere, and around
almost every corner was another Olympic-size swimming pool, a grocery store, a
golf course, a church or a convenience store.
In
the months I stayed there I spent most of my free evenings either riding my
bike around the place or hiking along many of the paths weaving in and around
the village. I began to admire this place. My view across those paved streets,
around the lighted parking lots, and at the buildings rising all around impressed
me. Because I had been in on some initial planning of this place several years
earlier during a time when I was consulting with Exxon, I felt I was a part of
it. In a small way I felt some ownership . . . that I could speak for all who
had a part in it. In a sort of egotistical way, the "we" who created
this place became "I." Looking at it I marveled at the power I had in
putting it all together.
The
more I did this, especially realizing how Battlement Mountain was almost
completely deserted (the result of the layoffs by the three oil companies), the
more I felt a negative responsibility for the small part that I had played in
creating the community. I felt accountable for having taken this natural place
and manipulated it into what it had become. Where this once had been an open
space free of any of man’s makings, I had paved over the animal's trails and
dug away their hiding places covering them with buildings, grass and roads. I,
like my father and his father before him had tramped down similar places and
conquered them and had taken over the places to build our shelters. I even
used the stones and wood lying about to do that. When I was finished with my
building, I filled up the air with the stink of auto exhausts and fumes from
the gas heaters that resulted in more destruction. I justified it all as
"good" and "necessary" for me, even though in the process
I had made all the streams shallow or empty and dried up the lakes and took the
buried treasures from under the earth. There's even more that I did, and more
and more.
Walking
around this enormous effigy to man's desires and "needs," my eyes
were opened more and more to the ways I had stood by and let it happen then
stepped back and admired the beauty of all I'd created. In the background I
heard a few voices saying, "You've ruined it all. You've already reached
the point of no return." But I ignored those voices believing I was not
too far along to turn it all around if needs be . . . that if required I had the
power to turn it all back. "You've come this far," they said,
"and only you can make it right." I believed them intellectually,
but again ignored the urgency saying to myself, "There's time. No need to
hurry."
After
a while of listening to my internal boasting I took a broader look at this
place and the even more spacious, untouched expanse around it. Then it began
to look much smaller. Even if I expanded this place a thousand times it would
seem small compared to the mountains on my left and right and the picture I
had that the Colorado River had been working for ages at cutting this deep wide
space between these giant mesas. I could see that I had only scarred its face
with my tiny scratches, with my digging, and my building and tearing loose its
natural force. I could see that with my power, as strong as I believe it is, I
could not in centuries carve out a natural place like what Nature had done.
That seemed to justify my actions to build this place here.
But
again I realized that in one small moment's flooding surge from the river or a
great storm, I could see what man had built all washed away. In a few flashes
of lightning I could see it burnt to the ground. There would be no escaping any
unleashing of nature's power upon this place . . . any earthly thing of
nature's making . . . the wind, the rain, the flood or other torrents
unleashed like the unfolding of these mountains there above me. It has happened
in other places, and yet I'm so bold to say, "Look what I've created here
on this bluff," and stand back all amazed and proud.
I
could say I'd be able to stop the deluge with my damns or levies. With my
scientific instruments I could anticipate any catastrophe coming and leave in
safety. In defiance of my true knowledge, I could say I'm in control . . . that
in a moment's time I'd have it held in toe. How foolish I've become in my
pompous ways. With opened eyes I've had a vision of my power against any of
nature's forces over me. I've come to see it better, knowing there within me lies
my own true self, and that's my only power. Nature's sentences over me are
mine to bear within. I'll learn someday . . . someday . . . someday . . . or
I’ll be getting the lesson over and over again until I learn it and can go on
to another lesson.
In
July of 1991 when I was there, it all seemed so hopeless. The departure of the
oil companies seemed to have caused that Battlement Mesa was lost to the
elements and would never see light again. But a few years after, the community
was again vitalized by a few visionary entrepreneurs and the planned city was
turned into a retirement and recreational community. People moved in giving the
community a life gain and now some four thousand people live there and breathe
life into the community that has survived its first holocaust.
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