Good Friday in Lander
The Third Friday (In Lander) – 1/27/17
JC got up around 6 as usual, but I rolled over to continue my slumber until 8. The rising sun warmed my face as I ate scrambled eggs and JC’s leftover tamale meat, listening to music that reminded me of home.
Then, I packed my computer bag and headed for the church across the street, which has been kind enough to let me use their wifi, tea, and warmth whenever. As I readied my Artist’s Daily Instagram Post, Mark, the pastor, bustled by and we talked briefly about a film the church might want me to make for them.
At 10 I found myself in JC’s studio helping him set the stage for his model’s arrival. Soon a little boy and his beautiful mother arrived and JC and I showed the little boy the pedestal we had created; he was hesitant to be mostly nude in front of my camera at first, but we gave him a cookie and by the end he was smiling as much at the camera as his mother! Everyone left happy: with photos to reference for JC’s sculpture, Sarah with a day’s pay for her son’s modeling, and me with a banana and happy to have helped the man housing me.
I went home, but on the way ran into the elusive Elyse who busily informed me that she had a number of missions to attend, but that the Central Wyoming Climbers Alliance might have some “freelance” blog work for me! I bubbled happily home, only to realize that it was time to head to Elemental; I had made plans with the gym owner to meet up at noon to shoot for one of his many instructional video projects.
A man obsessed with efficiency, Steve sped me and our model athlete through as many positions and shots as possible in the allotted hour. Afterwards, I got a jump start on the editing so that my weekend might be free for climbing and community involvement. In what seemed like no time, it was 6 o’clock and time to head out to find a free dinner.
As I walked to the Lander Runners Club meeting, I saw a much more happening scene and decided to dive in. After a few smiles I walked into a room of mingling locals and a table full of beer, wine, whiskey, cheese dip, and home-baked sweets; I had made it. I soon learned that this was the open house for a recently renovated Bed and Breakfast and I ended up talking to the owner around a mouthful of his cheese and whiskey. Throughout the next hour of schmoozing, I met a number of nice NOLS workers, some climbers, and a few people that were also headed to the Runners Club Meeting; I followed, somewhat hesitant to leave the fine hospitality.
At the meeting, we watched inspiring adventure running videos, learned about the club, and drank from a keg. After the event ended, I stood around talking to a few people about how lucky we are to live with such access to all the wild places in Wyoming; me, of course, contrasting this to the east coast. When this broke up, I went back to the open house to finish cleaning up the cheese dip, but randomly met Sam Lightner, a local climbing legend who gave me sage advice and humbly shrugged off my questions of his own achievements.
Closing the open house with the straggling gin aficionados, I sauntered across the street to the good ole Lander Bar. There I sat down with an older bearded fellow, Juan, I had been talking to earlier. The conversations around the table ranged from introductions and life stories, to local jujitsu dojos, our various outdoor passions, politics, Maddie’s recounting of challenging experiences as a white lesbian teacher on the Indian reservation, and finally settling on Juan’s escapades as an all-purpose handyman and sailor in Antarctica.
Before midnight,
Juan and I said our goodbyes to our new friends and stumbled into the cold talking about how easy it is to keep in touch in this digital age, and yet how few people take the time to reach out and keep up with one another. Juan tells me that he remembers the first year that he returned to Lander and it wasn’t a better place than it had been the year before: 1981. He said every summer he would come back from his travelling adventures and walk the streets and be welcomed back, yet when he returned in ‘81, few new faces dared to meet his gaze. As he turned around to get something he forgot in the bar, I wondered if the town had changed or if Juan’s beard and general visage was just particularly scruffy that year.
Snuggling into my warm bed, the last thought in my head was just how lucky I was to be staying rent free with JC, and living in a little town in the west that seemed to be welcoming me as one of their own!
