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An Ode to Open Spaces
by Ginny Mahar
Liv Fun: Vol 2 – Issue 2
They unhinge us, they make us feel small … and in the process open us up to ourselves.
The first time I saw Wyoming I hated it. I was 18 years old, driving cross-country from my home in the deciduous mitten of Michigan, across the northern plains to the mountain-rimmed valley of Missoula, Montana. My discomfort with Wyoming may have stemmed from severing the safety and comfort of my family or the isolation of being alone in the car for three days. Too many sunflower seeds, cigarettes, and cups of caffeine. Whatever the reason, Wyoming evoked feelings in me of bleak hopelessness and desperate loneliness.
All the way to the horizon, I saw nothing but sagebrush, fence posts, and the occasional herd of distant pronghorn. An unpainted clapboard house stood companionless atop a treeless mound, casting a long dreary shadow in the late August sun. I eyed the gas gauge, passing sign after sign announcing NO SERVICES, arrows pointing toward unseen towns with names like Recluse, Spotted Horse, Savageton and Bill. The winding ribbon of pavement dipped and rose, dipped and rose, changing color from the usual charcoal gray to a peculiar dusty pink. Michigan always held me in the palm of its hand; Wyoming only wanted to buck me off its back.
Why would anyone want to live here, I wondered, turning up the music in an attempt to overwhelm the visual silence on the other side of the windshield. My Teton fantasies of snowcapped mountain peaks and whitewater rivers went unmet in this northeastern corner of Wyoming.
Liv Fun
by Leisure Care
Summer 2013
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Traveling to Inner Space in 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1
by Beverly Ingle
Perhaps your nest is newly empty, or your progeny took flight decades ago. You may have retired, lost a spouse or simply realized that life is too short to dust any more square footage than absolutely essential. Regardless of the impetus, you’ve … opted for smaller, more compact living arrangements.
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An Ode to Open Spaces
by Ginny MaharThey unhinge us, they make us feel small … and in the process open us up to ourselves.
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Dwindling Interludes and Intermissions
by Jeff Wozer
Last January I finally buckled. I gave in to societal pressures and purchased a smartphone. Defiant, I waited three weeks to open it, deriving boundless gratification from looking at the dormant phone in its Apple packaging and saying, “Not so smart while in that box are we?”
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