Interdependence

As Western society becomes more complex, specialized, and technologically advanced, we all have an increasing interdependence upon each other. Sometimes I dream of pulling a "Mountain Family Robinson", moving to a log cabin somewhere, severing all ties with other human beings except for my family, and living a life of self-subsistence in the wild, just me and the bears and the mountain goats. But when I realize that we'd all be dead within a week, I reconsider.

I think that, in our day and age, no one person can possess all of the subsets of skills necessary to thrive--or even survive--in modernity. We need and rely on each other to specialize in certain areas of life. For instance, I'm a doctor. If while you are reading this, you develop a cardiac arrest and drop dead on the floor--which, if sheer boredom can kill, is conceivable--and if I happened to be in your close proximity, lucky for you. I possess the training, skills, and experience necessary to resuscitate you. (Of course, I would need a defibrillator, a bag-mask, an IV, medications, EKG, nursing help, etc. Keep those handy, too.)

But if, while you are reading this, your washing machine goes kaput, your computer becomes irrevocably infested with spyware, or your gas-line starts to leak, then having me in your close proximity is no advantage.

All three of these things happened to us in the past week, and we suffered immeasurably because of them, weeping in despair at our complete incompetence in dealing with these dilemmas. And we would have persisted in our state of pathetic debilitation, if not for the kindly expertise and service of Don and Ron.

First, Don is an employee of Walt's Appliance and (conveniently) Computer Repair. One call, and within a few days he was at our house. It took him fifteen minutes to expertly diagnose our washing machine (slow leak, rusted "wig-wag", old belt, and pump failure--hey, this thing is 20+ years old). Then, within minutes, he had diagnosed our computer virus that has crippled us for weeks, though he needed to take the computer with him to access the appropriate virus-cleaning tools. Now today, our washing machine is operational, our computer is free and clear, and a semblance of order has returned to our interdependent existence, all for the low price of $213.00.

Next, Ron is an exceptionally good-natured employee of Atmos Energy, our local gas company. When Elizabeth and I both smelt a sudden, strong gas odor in our home at 10:30 pm on Wednesday night, we got the kids in the car, pulled out into the street, called the gas company, and watched our home explode into flames.

Just kidding, no explosion. But Atmos promptly dispatched the on-call technician to our home, Ron. He arrived within fifteen minutes, calmly and cheerily proceeded to identify that there was no gas leak, but that our pilot light had gone out on our hot-water heater. A small amount of gas had probably escaped into the air, was drawn upstairs quickly by our attic fan, but was now all gone. He lit our pilot light, then proceeded to track down the entire length of our gas line, including underground, to ensure that there was no problem. He then pronounced our house safe for our return, and as we slinked back in, he called after us to let us know he'd be back in a jiffy if there were any more problems. No charge. We slept well that night.

So whether it be the above problems, auto work, legal needs, medical care, or any other of the hundreds of necessary survival skills for today's world, we all have two options. The first would be to go to school or otherwise educate ourselves, and then fix the problem on our own. The only catch with this plan is that it would be time-consuming, cumbersome, and impossible. It would take more than our entire lifespans to acquire the necessary experience just to make the rest of our lives livable. Therefore, the second option is the only realistic one: we must trust our fellow humans and rely on each others' experience and expertise to get us out of a jam.

Modern medicine is a microcosm of our greater society out there, in the sense that it has become highly sub-specialized. I am currently working with a dermatologist, whose twenty-plus years of experience allow him to instantly diagnose most skin conditions, the same conditions that I, as a family practitioner, spend thirty minutes reading about, consulting with other doctors, and ultimately scratching my head, saying, "I don't know what the heck is wrong with you, but it's crazy!" (Patients don't respond well to this display of bewilderment.) :)

That being said, I think that there is a greater need than ever for the well-rounded family physician, the one doctor who can take all the different pieces of the puzzle and make them fit into a coherent picture. I would say that I can appropriately and expertly manage about eighty percent of the health problems that patients come to me with. The other twenty percent? I'm glad there are specialists out there who can ride to the rescue. But ask the dermatologist to manage hypertension or a child's ear infection, and he would probably give you the same look of bewilderment I give when looking at a complicated skin problem.

So in the end, it's all about trust and interdependence. Thanks to all those from whose expertise I have benefitted in my life. I need you, you need me, look how happy we can be. (Is this starting to sound like Barney?)

My Next Thirty Years

Here's a picture of the two beautiful girls in my life on Elizabeth's 30th Birthday!
(No, there are not thirty candles on the cake, but a man can't be expected to plan everything right, can he?)

Tim McGraw said it well:

I think I'll take a moment, celebrate my age

The ending of an era and the turning of a page

Now it's time to focus in on where I go from here

Lord have mercy on my next thirty years

Hey my next thirty years I'm gonna have some fun

Try to forget about all the crazy things I've done

Maybe now I've conquered all my adolescent fears

And I'll do it better in my next thirty years

My next thirty years I'm gonna settle all the scores

Cry a little less, laugh a little more

Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear

Figure out just what I'm doing here

In my next thirty years

And here's my cute son, Grant, chowing down on an ice cream cone. Check out the ice-cream soul patch . . . What's he going to do in his next thirty years?

If it involves ice-cream, he's there!

I'm coming up on the big 3-2 this summer, and unlike most of my previous 10 or so birthdays, some major changes will be taking place. Mainly, a real job and a new home. Career-wise, I've spent my first 32 years preparing to be able to now go and practice medicine in rural Wyoming. I've gotten so accustomed to being in school or training, to always preparing, to always looking beyond what I'm currently doing towards a more distant goal . . . how am I going to handle actually being there?

I remember after my mission and before I got married, my younger brother Jeff and I went on a couple of long summer roadtrips across the west, to Yellowstone, Yosemite, Glacier, Mt. Whitney, Death Valley. These were highly anticipated, loosely planned summer adventures that were to appease a pervasive sense of Wanderlust, the desire to explore and experience the greater world out there. They were wonderful, funny, memorable trip: camping secretly in the rain on someone's private property, scrounging up gas money from the change we dug out of the carseats, surviving major mechanical failure of our car in Death Valley, and seeing some of the most beautiful country in the world.

But even though I was where I wanted to be, doing what I wanted to be doing, I was still driving 95 mph across desert interstates, restless to get to wherever I was going next, even if it was just a barren, windy campground in the middle of the Montana plains called Dead Mand's Basin. There was joy in the journey, but it seemed to be mostly in anticipation of the journey's end.

So, now I'm approaching the end of one journey and then starting a new one. Here's to finding peace and joy in the here and now.

Here's to the next thirty years!

Rocky Mountain High

A wonderful spring day in Colorado! This is the type of day that makes me sad to be leaving for Wyoming soon. And so here is a farewell tribute to my favorite state:

1)The Rocky Mountains: Any discussion of Colorado's virtues begins and ends with the mountains. They give the state such stature and strength, not to mention a million postcards. Recently, I flew from Phoenix to Denver on a perfectly clear day, and I was amazed at the number of landmark mountains that I could pick out, all capped in a deep, smooth layer of virgin snow.


Let me break these down individually into my favorites:

--The San Juan Mountains: a lesser known range, but so spectactularly beautiful that they take your breath away when coming across Dallas Divide, bursting upon you, looming over you like towering cathedrals. Mt. Sneffles is the centerpiece of this range, and Telluride is its heart.

--The Lone Cone: a perfectly conical peak that will always be near and dear to the old Markster's heart. My love of this peak developed while working at Derald Skalla's ranch. Every day, no matter what field I was working in, I could look up and see the Lone Cone. Eventually, I took a Jeep trip up towards the top and I made it to just below timberline. I was a lone man at the time, and it seemed like the Lone Cone was my only companion that summer. I love going to the Ranch now and having its picturesque beauty be omnipresent there as well.

--Long's Peak: I see this towering peak greets me every day on my way home from work, and it reminds me that I'm still in Colorado and only an hour from the mountains.

--Rocky Mountain National Park: A fortress of alpine beauty.

--Grand Mesa: one of Colorado's best-kept secrets. A lush, cool outdoor paradise. A thousand lakes, a million aspens, and a billion lodge pole pines on a mesa top that has infinite uses. If you ever want a great hike, try Crag Crest, a spine of rock 11,000 ft high that splits the mesa. You can see hundreds of miles in every direction.

--Other favorite spots include: Mt. Falcon, Breckenridge, Steamboat, the Cimmaron range, Powderhorn, Glenwood Canyon, the Weiminuche Wilderness, and Mesa Verde.

2) Denver: what a great city! So many amenities: museums, zoos, theatre, parks, professional sports, restaurants, 16th Street Mall, great airport. When we moved to Denver in 1989, the city was just emerging from a huge economic slump. But over the last 18 years, has any American city made greater strides and become more usable and enjoyable? I attribute its success solely to the Fosters' arrival. :)

3) The Economy: when I drive around the Valley or Highlands Ranch, I often ask myself, where does all of this money come from? While there are areas of spotty economic development, for the most part the state is happily esconced in its upper-middle class lifestyle that affords an excellent and enjoyable quality of life. Even if you don't have a lot of money (like us), the cities and parks are clean, safe, and friendly.

4) The People: there's just something cool about a Coloradoan. A certain easy-goingness, hipness, spirit of adventure, openness and friendliness. The leather jackets, the "Respect Life" license plates, the friendly ski dude sitting next to you on the lift, the hearty ranchers on the eastern plains. Good stock, all.

5) The Politics: no place can be perfect in this regard, but Colorado makes a good effort. It's an open-minded, fairly progressive state that is solidified in its bedrock conservative values. I think that the even mixture of Republicans and Democrats keeps everybody honest and willing to compromise . . . though it does make campaign season very annoying.

6) Finally, the Seasons: I love our four distinct seasons. Living in Arizona for a while and then returning here has made me realize just how much I love them. I have a hard time deciding which one is my favorite: is it the spring time, the rebirth of the trees and grass, the warm sun and the May thunderstorms? Is it the perfect summers in the mountains, the always-cool evenings, the camping, whitewater rafting, backpacking and softball? Is it the fall, the golden aspen, the Broncos games and the smell of firewood and leaves? Or is it the first snow, the shimmering peaks, the first ski run of the season? Every season offers a fullness of outdoor adventure and sublime atmosphere, and every years spills welcomingly into the next.

For all of the above reasons and many more, I love Colorado. Chime in with what you love about this great state . . .

One Day More . . .

Today is my last day as OB service chief in residency. While I had envisioned yelping "Hallelujah!" on this last weekday, two factors are tempering my exuberance: the fact that I still have to work this whole weekend, and an unexpected feeling of nostalgia that has settled in. While I am truly ecstatic to almost be done, I'm also a bit sad that this phase of my life is approaching the end.

But not that sad.

The title of today's posting comes both from this sense of closure, but moreso from the climactic chorus at the end of the first act of Les Miserables. Elizabeth and I saw the traveling production last night at the Buell Theatre in Denver. Few things in life truly move me the way Les Miserables does, and this song in particular.

The song begins with Jean Valjean on stage, questioning how Javert has come to persecute him yet again on his "never-ending road to Calvary." Next, Marius and Cosette are fawning over each other and their new love that will come to an abrupt end tomorrow as they are to be separated and Marius is to die. Then add the revolutionary students and their shrill, violent exhortation to fight for the people and for economic equality. Then add Javert, hot on Valjean's trail yet again, hungry at last to see his foil brought to justice. Now add the lecherous Thenardiers as they salivate over the possibilities of mining the gold from the mouths of the fallen soldiers. Then, just for good measure, throw in Eponine's plantive cry about her unrequited love for Marius. Mix all of those elements in a swelling chorus of sublimely interwoven melodies until at the breaking point the voices all unify and declare, "Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow is the judgment day. Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in heaven has in store. One more dawn. One more day. One day more!!!"

Or said more a bit more succinctly: throw anguish, fear, guilt, justice, duty, revenge, freedom, friendship, bloodlust, envy, shameless greed, infatuation, faith, anxiety, humor, hope, virtue, vice and unrequited love into a cauldron of revolution, boil it over a fire of full symphonic power, add clever and powerful rhyme, and pepper it with searing vocals . . . and that's your song, "One Day More." It is the near sum or human hopes, fears, and sorrows rolled into one climactic song. Everything hangs in the balance. Fear and hope permeate the air: "Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in heaven has in store."

Another thing I find moving about Les Miserables is what I view as its artistic intention. The musical was written, in my interpretation, not to be just entertainment or a faithful adaptation of Hugo's work, but rather as a vehicle to change the world, to shake us out of our modern, materialistic slumber and to remind us of our connection to God and each other. This vision is best articulated, fittingly, in the very final scene, as Fantine, Valjean, and Eponine sing as angels to Marius and Cosette that,"To love another person is to see the face of God."

Fade out. Then a barely-audible backstage chorus begins to crescendo:

Do you hear the people sing lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light.
For the wretched of the earth, there is a flame that never dies.
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.

They will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord.
They will walk behind the plough-share,
They will put away the sword.
The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward.

Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing? Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes!"

These aren't the lyrics of entertainment. They're the cadences of the pulpit, an exhortation to hope for the best in the future and to treat each other kindly in the present. Who can see this production and not feel overwhelmed by its sweeping portrayal of the human condition? Even a jaded cynic with dessicated tear ducts (like myself) finds the tears flowing. I once read a critic who said, "If you see Les Miserables and aren't moved, it says more about you than about the play."

So be nice to each other. Look towards Christ as a beacon of hope in a troubled word. And give your kids a big hug tonight.

Life is short, wonderful, horrible, and ultimately, desperately, deeply meaningful.

Live your life well . . . one day more.