Small Town, Idaho

Keith sent me a note about McCall, Idaho the other day that reminded me of one of the times I broke-down in the area . . . the other times can wait for another day. On this occasion, circa 1990, I had bought a 1966 Ford for a friend in Cottonwood. I was headed for Boise with it, and I made it past Riggins, I think, before it quit. I got it going again and limped it into some little town—New Meadows, Council, Cascade?—before it quit for good. It was after business hours, but I was able to find a mechanic to help me. He came in, drunk, to his shop in the evening, and figured out that I was sucking rust out of the gas tank and into the engine. We pulled the gas gauge out of the tank and went in through the hole to rig a filter and tube system that by-passed the plugged fuel lines. He charged me nothing for his help and I spent the night behind a Grange Hall, smelling like gasoline and sleeping on the seat of the truck.

Those were the days when you could wake in the cold dawn, rub your face—sticky from the vinyl, get the truck going, and find some greasy spoon that opened at 5:30. The waitress would grab the Folgers off the Bunn warmer and pour you a cup without a word. Usually, for not much more than about $2.50, you could sit there and eat eggs and toast. The coffee would keep pouring, a few truckers would come and go, and you could warm up. After a while, you'd look around, realize you felt almost human, and go out to see if the truck would start again.

The Role of the Artist?

The role of the artist, says Robert Adams, is to "bring varied aspects of life into a new harmony within one frame . . . to make something whole and clear . . . ." For those that know Mr. Adams, this idea of making something unified out of incongruous parts has been a focus of his work. Adams likes especially to think about the juxtaposition of untamed nature and the detritus of modern industrial life, "the call of the dove . . . against some sterility like the flapping of a plastic bag caught on barbed wire." In a talk that he gave at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in the late '80s, Adams said, "[A]rt is a discovery of harmony, a vision of disparities reconciled, of shape beneath confusion. Art does not deny that evil is real, but it places evil in a context that implies an affirmation; the structure of the picture, which is a metaphor for the structure of the Creation, suggests that evil is not final."

Now, Mr. Adams would undoubtedly feel that the smelter stack at Anaconda, Montana is "evil," or that the people and processes that put it there . . . and turned it into a superfund site . . . were evil. This is not a feeling shared by Rural Ways. At least, not the way that Robert Adams means it. For Mr. Adams there seems to be an underlying current of us versus them, the greedy versus the good. At Rural Ways, all are greedy; which is to say that we all want what we want when we want it; we are, every one of us, evil in that sense. And this is the thing that both makes our lives more comfortable and damages the natural world with copper smelters. It is an ambiguous position: Loving one's copper, while hating rain made of arsenic. In any case, Rural Ways has a picture that shows, I think, a cottonwood tree and a smelter stack, a vision of disparities reconciled, and a suggestion that evil is not final.

Consumer Beware

Though the Great Recession is officially over, many people are still feeling the strain of tightened credit and high unemployment. In addition, the rising cost of commodities is making food and fuel more expensive. Some large consumer goods firms are caught in the pinch: The cost of raw materials is going up, but they don't want to be seen raising consumer prices at a time when many Americans are feeling a bit discouraged. So, what to do? Try making it look like you are selling the same thing at the same price, but put just a little bit less in the package. Yep. It's a fact.

Rural Ways buys its tortilla chips from Frito Lay. They are called "Santitas" and they come in a fat yellow package. The packaging always looks the same, and the price never changes, but the quantity of material in the bag moves steadily downward. Recently we noticed that each bag now contains 12 ounces, down from 13 or 14 last year. The price is the same, the packaging is the same, but the cost of our food has now gone up. The trend is probably not confined to corn chips, so . . . consumer beware. (See? Rural Ways is the place to go for good, honest value: Big ideas; small prices.)

Parowan Seedling List

The City of Parowan has an urban forest with 4000 (potential) trees. Unfortunately, some of them do not survive from year to year. This green ash was cut down by (none other than) Parowan's Prophet. For replacements, the City has a little nursery with the space for about 200 seedlings. Rural Ways has worked for many hours at the nursery, planting and watering trees. As the winter of 2010/2011 comes to an end, we need to select this year's crop of seedlings. This is how the list is shaping up. First, we're going to replace the Prophet's green ash, so we are ordering 10 of them (Fraxinus pennsylvanica Marsh.). Then, we need hardy, easy-growing street trees that do well in Parowan, so we'll order 40 or 50 hackberrys, honeylocusts, sycamores, mulberries, and walnuts (Celtis occidentalis, Gleditsia triacanthos, Platanus occidentalis, Morus rubra, Juglans nigra). Finally, we need some species diversity, so we will try a few black gums, catalpas, crabapples, and Simon poplars (Nyssa sylvatica, Catalpa speciosa, Malus x. prairiefire, Populus simonii). Are we missing any favorites?

Tax Tip

Last year Rural Ways forgot to take advantage of the "Making Work Pay" tax credit. Fortunately, the IRS didn't forget, and they sent us a check in June. Since that time, we've been awaiting the chance to . . . once again . . . make our work pay. And you can, too: Don't forget to make your claim using line 63, schedule "m" of the 2010 1040. Of course, the credit is for the working poor, so you must have both a job and a not-overly-large pay packet. (It also helps to ignore the effect of the credit on your children's ability to manage future federal deficits.)

Dixie Invitational

The 24th Annual Robert N. and Peggy Sears Dixie Invitational Art Show and Sale kicked off last night with a gala dinner and collector's pre-sale. The show opens to the public today at 10a. Each artist is allowed to submit two pieces, and the canvas shown here is one of the ones that Valerie chose to include. The second painting—a little oil called "Cottonwood Color"—has already been sold. If you want this one, you'd better hurry to St. George before it is gone. Of course, while you are there, you'll want to visit the St. George Art Museum's Legacy Gallery. From now until March 19, the gallery will be showing a collection of recent acquisitions, including a work by Valerie from Dinosaur National Monument entitled "Lodore II."

More Motor Fuel

Today The Economist published a chart about petrol prices. The point of the table was to show that, while governments around the world are currently blaming the high price of motor fuel on the high price of crude, there is another reason for price rises: Higher taxes. Since 2008, rich countries have raised petrol taxes by an average of 3.6%. In Greece, the tax increase was 14.8%. Yikes. In the United States, petrol taxes have increased by 4.2% since 2008. When combined with the reduced efficiency associated with the addition of ethanol to our gas, our per mile transportation costs keep moving upwards.

I can understand the role of taxation in curbing a behavior—burning fossil fuels—that our society has decided is morally "bad." But, I am a little worried about the effect on consumption associated with the push to make fuel cost more. The Keynesians who currently run the world can see this, right? If household consumption is going to pull us out of the Great Recession, taxing motor fuel during a time of rising crude prices is going to dampen consumer demand is it not? OK, so much for the economic theory. As a practical matter, Rural Ways is staying home more and more as motor fuel costs rise. If petrol prices reach 2008 levels, Rural Ways will be done driving: If it is not an emergency, the answer is "no."

Tax Time

Each year at this time, Rural Ways spends many hours . . . days . . . sweating over federal tax forms. Rural Ways is inhabited by honest citizens who wish to do their civic duty by way of complying with the tax code. Unfortunately, after hundreds of pages of instructions, dozens of forms, and many days of head scratching, Rural Ways files tax forms that may contain errors. Why? Because, despite years of practice, the complexity of the tax code puts full understanding of it beyond the reach of our time and resources. Nor is this problem limited to the dullards at Rural Ways. The President's bi-partisan Commission on Fiscal Responsibility and Reform recently reached this same conclusion:

"The current individual income tax system is hopelessly confusing and complicated. Many taxpayers are required to make multiple computations to see if they qualify for a number of benefits and penalties, and many dole out large sums of money to tax preparers. Meanwhile, other taxpayers underreport their income and taxes, hoping to avoid the audit lottery. In short, the Commission has concluded what most taxpayers already know – the current income tax is fundamentally unfair, far too complex, and long overdue for sweeping reform."

As a result, the Commission proposed steps to simplify the tax code and make compliance straight-forward. These proposals were, however, quickly buried and will never be brought forward for Congressional debate. In order to reach Congress, the Commission itself had to vote to accept its own proposals. The vote fell short because none of the sitting members of Congress on the Commission would approve it . . . even though they wrote it. The only Commission members to approve the proposals were those who had retired and no longer have to face the voters. This is because, in our current political climate, being willing to compromise makes you un-electable. Alas, Rural Ways will spend the rest of this day . . . and many days to come, trying to conform to the 2010 federal tax tables.

Arapahoe Basin, Colorado

At one point, Benson said, "There must be a reason why no one is skiing in Montezuma Bowl." My response was that we needed to stop worrying about what all the people from Vegas might be doing and go our own way. He couldn't argue, so we traversed out there. It was hateful: The surface was bulletproof and covered with ACL-tearing frozen chicken-heads. I told him that it was stupid to ski Montezuma when, obviously, it wasn't any good.

Instead, we worked our way around the mountain until we found Pallavicini. Perfection, finally. Soft, mid-winter styrofoam with smooth sections perfect for beginners. I was home . . . I was in my happy place. Not Benson, though. He thought he wanted to try the West Turbo. So, I let him. We agreed to meet at the lift. Benson never arrived. After a while, Danny said, "Hey, there is somebody on a snowboard." "It can't be him," I responded, "That guy is just sitting there." Unfortunately, it was him. But, he wasn't the same. His psyche had been damaged by the crawling he had done. We took a couple more laps, but I'm not sure his hands ever stopped shaking.

Breckenridge, Colorado

It was 33 below zero when we got up. Needless to say, we were in no hurry to ride the chairlift. By the time we went out it was around 17 below. At Rural Ways we are prepared for anything. Usually. Not today. My hands would not thaw out and I wasn't sure I could keep skiing. Fortunately, Benson had one of those silly chemical hand-warmers. Silly no more. It worked well enough for me to survive. We made it until 3pm, and then got ready for our last run. Unfortunately, Danny got lost. By the time he made it to the base, he was numb, blind, and retching. Another great day on the mountain.

Green River, Utah

The guy at the front desk told me that the wind chill was minus 23. Given that, I probably should have been happy that the truck started, and I probably should have just driven straight out onto the freeway. But, I didn't. I wanted to see the sunrise on the Book Cliffs. My mind's eye was full of last night's sunset: The cliffs were alive with light, glowing like a million embers along the northern skyline. So, I turned north just outside of town and drove along the east side of the river until I came to a high point where I could look down into its valley. It was a great spot, but I was not rewarded with much of a sunrise. There were a few bright shafts, but mostly there were clouds. The river, sluggish with ice, issued from the cliffs in front of me and spread into the valley, but the hills refused to glow.