I HATE Talking on the Phone

When the device in my pocket beeps or vibrates, I moan with dread. As I write this, I’m interrupted by a call from a worthy nonprofit wanting to pick up my cast off furniture with their truck, my alma mater suggesting that I increase my annual giving, and a pollster about the Denver mayor’s race. Those are the ones I answer. Most others go unanswered because they don’t show up on caller ID.

Thank goodness for caller ID. There are probably two people on this earth for whom I would answer any call, any time: my sister and my father. Unless I’m in an exceptional mood, the rest go to voice mail.

Thank goodness for voice mail.

Of course with voice mail, you have to return the call. I am terrible at returning calls. If you've called me and I haven't called back, I apologize. You are not alone. It's nothing personal. I'm not sure what the problem is.

I don't dislike most people. I like my friends. I just don't want to talk on the phone. I don't mind talking in person. Usually. I love email and texting. But the phone conversation is a problem.

Phones are everywhere in our lives. People use their cells out in public while standing in line or walking down the street. A man I dated once spent the entire evening on the phone. We didn't go out again.

I've heard guys talking on their phones in public restrooms. I go out of my way to flush loudly when encountering that situation.

Previous generations only used the phone for emergencies. If the phone rang in the middle of the night, you wanted to know who died. I miss those days.

If I do get roped into a conversation, I like it short and sweet. What is the plan, what needs to be done, what do you want from me, goodbye.

Chit chat? Let's save that for our "in person" time.

I don't know where my hang-up originated (hang-up - get it? har har har). Perhaps it goes back to the time I worked as a switchboard operator when I was between "career jobs."  I had to answer by the third ring, route to voice mail, take a message, juggle people on hold, and handle multiple calls at once.  I was not allowed to eat or go to the bathroom. After working the phone under such pressure perhaps I burned out.

Perhaps it goes back even further to when the homophobic aunt I didn't like called and my dad insisted that everyone in the family take a turn talking to her. He literally chased me around the house with the phone because I refused. I finally hid under a bed. True story.

I met a guy once who didn't have a phone. Talk about a lifestyle choice. He didn't want it controlling his life. And the little parasites do control our lives. What other instrument is allowed to interrupt whatever you are doing? What else demands that you drop everything and respond to its beckoning? For what else do we wake up from a nap, stop dinner, put down our work, or interrupt a face to face conversation?

I really can't explain why I have this strong anti-phone reaction while most people don’t.

It's probably some manifestation of social anxiety. Maybe I'm just contrary.

I’ve always tried to fight it and get over it, but I’m getting to an age where I think I should just accept it as an eccentricity and hope my friends understand.

If you have any ideas, give me a call. Better yet, text me.

Postblog from the Arkansas Valley: Cramming a Lot of River into One Weekend

Arkansas Headwaters Official Page

Lake Pueblo Official Page

John Martin Reservoir Official Page

In a manic effort to see as many state parks as possible this summer, I decided to hit three this past weekend.

I don’t recommend it. It’s a lot of driving. One inch on my AAA map is actually a pretty long distance.

I had a lot of time to think in the car. I kept wondering if people call Southern Colorado, “SoCo.”

A lot of people shorten the names of places in Colorado. Everyone knows that “The Springs” is short for Colorado Springs. If you’re from Grand Junction, you might refer to your hometown as “Junction.” Likewise, I’ve heard people call Fort Morgan, “Morgan.” But I’ve never heard Fort Collins referred to as “Collins.” I have heard it called “Fort Fun.” There’s also the popular “LoDo” for Lower Downtown Denver. Some people call Aurora, “Saudi Aurora,” but that’s a different topic, a comment on the number of trees or lack thereof in the sprawling suburbaplex (I just now made up that word).

If you’re expecting a travelogue about my visits to the state parks, you may be disappointed.

To tell you the truth I tried to cram too much in. I was too busy worrying about the drive to enjoy the parks adequately. Sure, they’re all real pretty and interesting in their individual ways. Basically I followed the Arkansas River from its spectacular headwaters high in the mountains (Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area) down to the city of Pueblo (Lake Pueblo State Park) and out to the lowland plains (John Martin State Park).

Presumably, if I’d kept on going I’d have followed the river through Kansas, Oklahoma, and I suppose into the state of Arkansas, right to the Mississippi River.

In case I didn’t get it before, I’m positive now that the Arkansas is a major river. It cuts through SoCo’s near desert landscape like a wide ribbon of green. Following along on Highway 50, windows down so I could smell the sweet spring air, I had the opportunity to see some towns I’d only heard of such as Rocky Ford (home of those incredibly sweet, juicy cantaloupes) and La Junta (where some of the natives say they live in “Lunta”).

The big city on the Arkansas, however, is Pueblo.

I’ve always liked Pueblo. It has real character. From rusting factories to modest southwest-style homes, it’s kind of a cross between Youngstown, Ohio, and Tucson, Arizona. There’s no phoniness in Pueblo. No districts of fake lofts, no faux gingerbread (come on Vail, it’s cute, but maybe you’ve overdone it). Just regular people, in a normal, unpretentious town.

The point of my State Parks venture isn’t just to visit the state parks but to explore the rest of my home state. I saw a big chunk of it over the weekend.

So with something like 38 state parks left, I’ll keep going, but I’ll try to plan the driving a little better.

Postblog from the South Platte Valley: Barr Lake State Park

Official Web Page for Barr Lake

Barr Lake was at one time an open sewage pit. In the 1950s and 60s all of Denver's untreated wastewater flowed into this reservoir just outside of Brighton, northeast of the metro area. 40 years later it is a haven for wildlife, lush with forests and wetlands, full of living things.

The first of many state parks I hope to visit over the summer, Barr Lake is familiar to me. I've bicycled and hiked even canoed the lake many times. I could have written this without going there this morning and it’s a good thing.

State Park Lesson Number 1: I have to share state parks with other people.

As I pulled up to the park entrance at 6:30 this morning, a committee greeted me and asked if I was there for the run. Now this often happens at Cherry Creek State Park where I go most Saturdays. That place is right in the middle of the urban jungle, almost a Central Park of Denver-Aurora. It gets crowded. But Barr Lake always seems so distant, so outside of the city. You never see crowds, and if you do it’s usually a gaggle of lively birdwatchers.

One of the things I enjoy the most is feeling like I’m back in the Midwest, surrounded by hay and cornfields, barns and horses. Unlike much of Colorado, this area is wet and swampy. Barr’s shores are less about sandy beaches and more about bayous. You’d almost expect to see alligators lurking amongst the cottonwoods standing in the shallow water. But as you gaze at the swamp, Longs Peak, in the distance white with snow, rises dramatically out of the plains.

I’ve never seen a gator, but over the years, I've seen many deer - some swimming in the water - hundreds of fish and thousands of birds, including the nesting bald eagles for which the park is famous. Spring is especially lively as hundreds of carp flop around in the shallows near the shore, spawning.

Barr Lake is a large lake (by Colorado standards), but it's fairly quiet. Large motor boats are not allowed. There are no jet skis, no water skiers. Even non-motorized boats (kayaks, canoes) are limited to half the lake - the other half is completely reserved for wildlife.

One thing you can do at Barr Lake is walk, nearly 10 miles, all the way around. Not only do you get a feel for the water itself, but the woods and farmland can be soaked in up close, including herds of sheep and cattle. 

The hike is flat but can be muddy. The mosquitoes can be nasty. But if you're like me, you forget all about that when a train rolls by. A big part of the lake abuts the railroad. If you're lucky, you'll be near (but not on) the tracks when a giant freight train rumbles past, shaking the ground, and causing that child-like thrill: "A train! A train! Wave at the engineer and see if he waves back!"

So I was disappointed when I arrived at 6:30 this morning, ready for my hike and my communion with nature. What I found instead was volunteers setting up, orange cones marking the trail, tables with big water dispensers on them and those cardboard waste containers with plastic bags in them – all around the lake.

I don’t have bad feelings towards the big runs. I love that I live in a state where there is usually one somewhere every weekend: the Bolder Boulder, the Turkey Trot, the Cherry Creek Sneak, the Fury Scurry, and today’s Sean May Memorial Run. Sean May was a district attorney in Brighton who was shot a few years ago. I certainly don’t begrudge today’s runners their good cause. I’m sure the organizers cleaned up after themselves and the wildlife felt no ill effect.

The good news is that people do use the state parks. I just need to get over my hang-up about sharing them.

I did get a good hike in before the run started. I didn’t get to go all the way around the lake, but I saw two huge pheasants, a million swallows, several rabbits, and some geese with goslings. I stood on the dam looking over the expanse of water and saw a long coal train making its way towards the city. I put my hands in my pockets to keep them warm and thought about all the state parks I’m going to visit this summer. I’ll try to share better.