I Lie to My Friends

# I Lie to My Friends

I lie to my friends, a lot.  Not about anything of importance but…I live in Idaho and in Idaho all the best things are found at the end of miles and miles of winding road.  What does this have to do with lying to my friends? Plenty.

I have always had the wandering bug. My idea of a great afternoon is to explore a backcountry road I’ve never been on before.  Sometimes, just for giggles I’ll pick up an Idaho map, close my eyes, and point.  Wherever my finger lands is where we head for the day or weekend.  I’ve discovered many great destinations that way, and that is where my problems begin.

As much as I love the Idaho backcountry, I love sharing it with friends and family more.  But to share it I am often forced to lie.  I recall, years ago, telling a good friend about Warm Lake.  I painted a picture of the beautiful crystal-clear little lake, sitting peacefully below the rugged mountain peaks. 

She looked excited and then asked, “But how far is it?”

The look on her face told me I needed to answer carefully.  I smiled brightly, “Only about one hundred miles!”

My friend readily agreed to the trip based on the information I’d given her.  What I failed to tell her is that those actual one hundred-nineteen miles from Nampa would take three hours to drive−a lie by omission.

Highway 55 twists and bends following the Payette River for most of the journey.  The canyons are quiet, shaded and green.  The river roars in places with whitewater and in others it slips by silently as placid as pond water.  I am happy to watch all the sumptuousness out the window; the average speed of 35 mph doesn’t bother me at bit.
 

That weekend was one of the best trips of my friend’s life.  She loved the little lodge, the mountain peaks, the clear cold water, the fishing and nearby hot springs.  She forgave me pretty quick for my little white lie. And, since then my lying has become a habit.

I’ll never understand what folks have against bumping along a dirt road or a twisted paved road to find out what is at the end.  For me, it is a supreme pleasure; the journey is what matters.  I now lie to my friends by omission regularly and without regret. It is, in my opinion, in their best interest. They always forgive me once we are there. The Idaho backcountry never fails to impress.

Driving Directions

Beginning on Highway 55 it is nearly straight shot to Warm Lake.  The only turns involved are a right turn after the second bridge in Cascade−Warm Lake Rd−and another right onto N. Shoreline Dr.   For more information about North Shore Lodge and its amenities find them on Facebook or contact them via internet http://www.northshorelodgeidaho.com/.

   Morels and Poverty

My husband leaned over to peer under the skirt of a fir tree.  “Are you sure they’re here?” he asked.

“Positive,” I replied.  “Just keep looking.  The conditions are perfect for morels—dark forest, moist soil, fir trees, elevation.  They’re here.”

Another minute or two passed and I was beginning to wonder if I was wrong. Then I spotted it, a tiny one inch tall morel peeking out from under a pile of pine needles.  “Found one!  I TOLD you.”

Photo by Michelle Gluch

My husband grumbled something unintelligible, and my eight year-old daughter excited by our first find skipped off in search of her own tiny delicacy. 

The dark deep woods were quiet and I was alone with my thoughts, which weren’t all that happy.  

My mother’s voice echoed in my head, “I’ll never understand you Idahoans.  You’ll spend your last 20 dollars on gas to go fishing or camping when you should be putting it in the bank.”

Even though I hadn’t spoken to my mother for years, her power to make me feel guilty was as strong as ever.  Mom escaped poverty after she left my father.  It wasn’t luck, she worked hard at building a life for herself and her new husband but she seemed to completely forget what a life of poverty was like.

“You have no business having a hobby, when you can’t afford to feed yourself or your family,” she said. 

I didn’t have the strength to argue with her then.  If I had the conversation to do over this is what I’d tell her.  Every day, I wake up as tired as the day before no matter how long I sleep. My exhaustion is a result of depression which is a result of never ending stress. I am depressed  and stressed because I know that there will be problems that I simply do not have the resources to address—a car repair, a bad tooth that needs fixing, a house repair, an extra expense for school.  Inevitably there will be something.  There always is. 

I could be the most responsible financial wizard in the world, but when you don’t make enough money to survive—even after 20 years of working with children 14 hours per day—there is nothing left to put in the bank.  Period. Nothing.  Trust me, I’ve tried.  Something always pops up to steal that fifty or hundred bucks I manage to squirrel away.   Dreams and obligations are always just out of my reach. I gave up trying to save long ago.  It isn’t worth the pain of getting close only to have my hopes dashed again.

I found another morel—my daughter calls them brain mushrooms—pushing its way up out of the loamy soil next to a decaying tree stump.  I picked it, careful to leave the root intact, hoping that it would fruit again the next year.  But for just a minute I felt guilty for doing so.  After all, that little mushroom worked hard to reach the fresh air and sun. I doubted that I would ever get as far as that fungi did. Poverty can be a dark place where the sun never shines.

I dropped that mushroom in my bag.  It is just one mushroom but the forest is generous. The fungi are there waiting to be found if I work for them, just like the fresh Idaho salmon in the nearby Little Salmon River. Foraging makes me happy, even if only for a short time. It isn’t always necessarily cost effective; sometimes I return home empty handed or with very little. However, when successful that wild, foraged food lessens the stress on my already ridiculously tight food stamp budget. I could never purchase fresh fish on that budget, let alone a delicacy like morels.  For me, those mushrooms and salmon represent much more than wasted gas money, my mother’s judgement, or anyone else’s either.

They represent a few minutes or hours where I feel like I have a little control in my otherwise chaotic existence.  My foraging efforts make a tiny bit of difference in the way things are for my family; at least we will enjoy a delicious meal now and then.  Foraging is real, tangible and right now. And, poor or not, even I deserve to taste a little bite of joy once in a while. 

The Child Support Issue

The Child Support Issue #FilltheStateHouse

When the legislative session closed without addressing Medicaid expansion, I was heartbroken. Thousands of Idaho’s working poor would again face the reality of life without access to medical care.  But when I read about Idaho’s refusal sign the child support treaty bill into law, I was furious.  It seems that Idaho enjoys kicking its working poor while they are down.

                More than 150,000 Idaho families utilize the Idaho Child Support system.  The majority of those are single working mothers—a part of the same demographic that is affected by lack of Medicaid expansion—who may now lose child support that is vital to their survival.

If that scenario isn't bad enough, it gets worse.  Idaho’s refusal to sign has further consequences, “Federal officials told the state Health and Welfare Department on Monday that Idaho’s child support bureau will lose $16 million in funding within 60 days without reversal… Without a child support program in place, the state also stands to lose $30 million in temporary assistance to needy families, which covers such programs as Head Start as well as child care assistance for low income families.”

Thousands of Idaho children who utilize Head Start will have nowhere to go and working parents who depend on ICCP will have no means with which to pay for daycare.  It is thought that Idaho’s refusal will touch the lives of 400,000 Idahoans—those with active child support cases, those who have pending cases, Head Start attendees and workers, ICCP clients and the daycares  and providers who accept that subsidy, those who are employed by the Idaho Child Support offices. 

I am one of those 400,000 directly affected. If this comes to pass, I will lose my childcare business of 20 years--my family’s sole source of support.  All of my daycare clients participate in the ICCP program. The five families I provide care for will not be able to continue to work and children I have helped to raise since they were tiny will be gone from my life. The only silver lining in this cloud is that once we are destitute my husband and I will qualify for Medicaid.

The New York Times recently ran an article about the whole mess saying, “A major factor seems to be Idaho’s ornery streak, the part of the state’s identity that does not like the federal government — or, worse still, foreign governments — telling it what to do.”  The article backed up this idea by quoting Ryan Kerby, a Republican, first term representative as saying, ““You need to sign it, and if you don't we're going to beat the crud out of you,” Mr. Kerby said, paraphrasing the pressure he felt (from the federal government). “They were incredibly rude.”

I could not then nor can I now fathom how a dislike of federal control could be a deciding factor on an issue that touches so many Idahoans.  The Idaho legislature is acting on principle but those principles have devastating effects on real lives. 

Idaho’s law making body is behaving like a spoiled child balking under parental control.  It is ridiculous behavior with horrendous consequences and further proof that our governing body does not make decisions based upon what is best for its constituents, but rather on how ornery it feels on any given day.  The working poor cannot afford Idaho’s petulance.  

Blue Tushies and Chinook salmon

For most of the country Memorial Day is the signal of the beginning of the summer.  This does not always hold true in Idaho. I've endured Memorial Days that were so hot the salmon I pulled from the water were poached, while the other weekends were so cold and wet my butt froze and fell off.  I am here to tell you a Popsicle butt is not a good thing.  Being an Idahoan isn't easy sometimes, especially when it comes to the weather.

 Folks like to whine and moan and make jokes about Idaho’s inconstant weather.  I'm sure you've heard a few-- “If you don't like the Idaho weather wait five minutes,” or my personal favorite, “Idaho weather doesn't suck, Wyoming’s blows.” 

Personally, being rather Chihuahua-like in size and stature, I prefer warmth and sunshine but for my bear of a husband weather is a non-issue.  This has caused more than one ridiculous fight in our marriage.  I crave a hot spring when sun and warmth are in short supply, while he would be happy anywhere fishing even when the Idaho sky is spitting in his eye.

After years and years and years of marriage we've learned to compromise. I've promised to endure all types of May weather and combat fishing on the Salmon River and in return he has promised to get  my blue butt to a hot spring on the way home, where I can warm my tushie until it returns to a healthy, normal pink. 

In May, the closest salmon fishing to my home is in Riggins which means that there are ample butt poaching opportunities on the journey home via Highways 55 or 95. Below, I've created two lists of hot springs to help keep your rear-end and marriage warm and happy.  Here’s hoping your Memorial Day weekend is full of fish, good times, and pink tushies.

Highway 95 Hot Springs

Zim’s Hot Springs—just outside of New Meadows—is a nice outdoor, commercial pool. http://www.zimshotsprings.com/

Mundo Hot Springs—just outside of Cambridge—is a gorgeous, commercial pool. http://idaho-rv.blogspot.com/

Highway 55 Hot Springs

Goldfork Hot Spring—just outside of Donnely—is a mountain gem with several pools ranging in temperature from hot to lukewarm.  http://goldforkhotsprings.com/

Terrace Lakes Resort—just off Highway 55 in the tiny community of Crouch—has it all including a golf course, a lodge, and a geothermal pool open year round.  http://www.terracelakes.com/-hot-springs-pool

Roystone Hot Spring—located on Highway 52 just a short ten miles from Horseshoe Bend—Roystone is one of my all-time favorites.  The pool is covered to protect you from inclement weather but still an outdoor pool, the family who owns the place is amazing, and the price is right!  http://www.roystonehotsprings.com/

My book Under My Idaho Sky, which contains more stories and maps of Idaho, is due to be published and available this July!  Stayed tuned for more information!

Living in The Gap - Coeur d'Alene Press: My Turn

Living in The Gap - Coeur d'Alene Press: My Turn

I'm Your Huckleberry

     As I prepared to launch this blog, I wondered how I might introduced myself to you in a creative and engaging way.  Summing one's self up in a few words is a difficult thing to do.  Identity is tough.
     
     I have struggled with the question "Who am I?" for a number of years.  I've toyed with the idea in my writing numerous times.  Was I just a mother?  Or a scholar?  A writer? A western woman?  A country woman? All of the above and then some? And where did this sense of identity originate from?

     These are questions we all face, but as a student of writing I've been taught that reflection--the constant examination of one's interior self--is an essential ingredient in good writing and personal growth. Readers want to know the person they are reading about, and if you don't know yourself then how will your readers know you?  Besides, change and growth are dramatic and fascinating--the stuff of stories.

     To say that examining my life in this way was sometimes uncomfortable would be an understatement.  For example, as a kid I adored Westerns--Bonanza, Gunsmoke, Grizzly Adams. I sat slack-jawed on the floor, crisscross applesauce, in front of the television absorbing all that maleness for years.  Those men on the television screen affected me.  Today I am married to a big man who--no kidding--resembles Grizzly Adams.

    Other times this practice of reflection brought me great joy and a sense of belonging, like the weekend I spent in Sun Valley at a writing retreat titled "Women Writing the West." Gretel Ehrlich,one of my literary heroes, was to be a featured speaker. At that conference, among those women, I found a kinship I had never known before.  A warm glow of acceptance and shared experience that is difficult to put into words...

     Like I said, identity is tough.  And rather than talk your ear off, I thought I'd share a few experiments in writing and speaking that I've created to explore my identity. The links below will take you to a website and video that will give you a good idea of who I am.  Remember, reflection is good for the soul and the page.  Who are you?

http://www.dipity.com/chelleg/Im-Your-Huckleberry/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNJbK5PoijE

Under a Cloudy Idaho Sky, Jan 2015