It seems like conspiracy theories are a dime a dozen. Between the fake moon landing, “loose change” 9/11 theories and the reptilian agenda there seems to be a plethora of evil doers to blame for any given wrong. One such popular conspiracy theory involves a “New World Order” of bankers and similarly high power personalities that secretly control the world. Like the other fantasies mentioned, I in no way believe in the creditability of the NWO conspiracy, but one aspect of the theory attracts me. This group of super bankers and others that supposedly control the unfolding of society have their secret base in the Denver International Airport. DIA might seems like a strange place for the seat of an evil power, but then you actually spend some time in DIA. To put it simply, regardless of the existence of the New World Order DIA seeps of evil. I can not think of a place I loath more as I sit in DIA waiting for nine hours for my departure. Just five days ago my flight out of DIA was cancelled leaving me stranded in Denver. When one totals it up I’ve been stranded in Denver overnight four times. I should be on a plane heading to Philly as I'm typing this, but the plane closed the doors fifteen minutes early leaving me behind as my flight to Denver was late.
In an attempt to make the most of the situation, I’m going to write this blog post/study Bambara until my laptop runs out of batteries. My last few days in Montana were busy, but enjoyable as a whole. In five days I’ve seen a lot of friends, and talked to many well-wishers. All of these people I will miss, and talking to them bring to my attention how Montana will continue to live in my absence. The next time I set foot in my home state two of my best friends and going to be married to each other living elsewhere, all my buddies are going to be graduated and have real jobs, my baby relatives aren’t going to be babies anymore and countless other changes will have occurred. I will miss all these people, but I’ll also miss places.
There is a certain time of the year between late May and mid July where Montana discards it’s drab shades of yellow and dawns an attractive shade of green. Things that at one time would not have caught ones eye become beautiful, and a sense of pride for living in this place can fill you. You can forget the wind that roars though Great Falls constantly, or that Bozeman has snow on the ground during May, and just take in the surroundings. I would really love about another weeks to go hiking and journey to Bozeman one last time, but it was just not in the cards. It is no surprise in this time of beauty that I had to go see my cabin one last time.
For those of you that are not familiar with my cabin it is located on the Missouri river betweens the towns of Cascade and Craig, a little downriver from where the Dearborn flows into the Missouri. My grandfather build that cabin when my father was a small child, and it has been it family for almost sixty years. The cabin started as a construction barracks, but has been added onto over the years. This cabin is most likely my favorite place in the entire world, and my favorite activity there is sitting on a swing watching the river flow. As one watches the water flow continually, and fisherman try their luck on boats in front of the cabin, the stress of the life flows into a enjoyable calm. Family, friends and areas like this is what I’m going to miss most about my home.
Leaving Montana for two years in exchange for a mysterious foreign place is going to be challenging, but it is a challenge I look forward to facing.
P.S. I'm having trouble with the website when I try to post pictures, but I'll figure something out soon. Additionally I'm now in Philly and doing staging (orientation). Everyone seems cool from the little conversation that I've had with them. I'll be leaving for Mali tomorrow!
