A Granddaughter Coming of Age

Here is a 24-year-old journalist, adventurer, philosopher, observer, artist, sage, and poet in the making. I proudly post her latest missive. Her words should be immortalized. It is hard not to unabashedly live vicariously through her experiences.

Dear Friends and Family,

There are no excuses for not keeping in touch more consistently, if at all, though I will nonchalantly throw in that I have no readily available Internet or phone access (it's kind of a contributing factor). Currently, I am leeching off of a WiFi spot in downtown Zortman (Montana) at the motel. It is a Saturday night, which means Zortman, population 75, is alive with activity. It also doesn't help that I am 200 feet from the main attraction in Zortman, perhaps the only: The Bar. Here with my borrowed laptop, I am enjoying the brisk weather and hazy moon peeping out from the mountains.

My summer in Montana has reached its halfway point. I hear rumors that the remaining crew will be let go in the middle of October. So, it looks like I will be spending my 24th birthday in Montana, though I don't think there is anywhere else I would want to spend it. I am in love with Zortman. The mountains have seeped deep into my soul, and I feel like this is the first place that I have let it---the first place I want to take over my heart. Nowhere has ever felt like home until now. I'm still analyzing this new feeling but taking it with a grain of salt as well. Don't worry; I haven't grown any roots yet. I would say it's just the feeling.

I would begin from the beginning, but there is far too much. Simply put, it's too late in the evening to start writing a novel. I will tell you that all of the summers of Girl Scout Camp have not helped me prepare for this world: The "Man's World." Which I honestly mean in no sexist way. There are simply things throughout my life that I have never been exposed to, and the plain simple fact is that (a) I'm a girl, and (b) I didn't grow up on a farm.

It's almost like an unconscious form of protection by men, at least from what I have observed. My "boys" have been helpful and understanding and patient with my complete ineptitude in their world. They have calmly and courageously shown me how to use a chainsaw and have never expected me to push myself past my comfort zone. It's a heartening thing to think that I've been hired based on the fact that I will work hard, period. Not how fast I work or how much I can plug out but the plain fact that I will work hard. That's not to say they haven't been pushing me. Far from it. I have reached new physical limits, which are constantly changing. I keep pushing myself harder and harder, mostly out of curiosity. I wonder if limits exist anymore. For as one of my captains said, " You can train yourself to do anything."

Oh, how I ache with stories and adventures. I wish they were like water and everybody could drink from my well. I'm overflowing. Take them, enjoy them. Feel my fears, my joys, my triumphs, my failures, my life.

Even though it has been a slow fire season, that has not decreased the number of events. I love the irony. Everyone keeps saying, "Thank God it's been a slow season. Thank God it's been a slow season." Echos from the corners of the earth. Well, I hate to break it to you slow-season believers, but I actually encounter more dangers with this slow season. Because instead of a tool in my hand I now wield a chainsaw. Far more dangers than any job involving fire. In fact...some would say exponentially more dangerous. I now hope there will be prayers for fire.

Well, it is late, and my energy dwindles. Hopefully this short message will suffice on my happy existence. I am happy. I suppose that's really all people want to know. I love you all.
Erika