Wonderland

Writing about books, hiking, the Battle of Tarawa and more

You are here: Home / Archives for Clay Bonnyman Evans

Mr. Romney, meet the least of these among us

by

Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. … Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.  

— Jesus, in Matthew 25:38 and 45

I swear on a stack of Bibles, Korans, Books of Mormon, Baghavad Gitas, L. Ron Hubbard tomes or Christopher Hitchens essays — pick your text — that I planned to write this column before GOP presidential candidate Mitt Romney saw his mission complicated by the release of video footage in which he labels nearly half of all Americans lazy bums, gleefully smirks at the plight of mistreated Chinese workers and unilaterally declares a two-state Israeli-Palestinian solution dead in the water.

Dang. That’s a lot of damage for one puny $50,000-a-plate fundraiser.

I’m not going to repeat his remarks. If you haven’t heard them by now please email me the name of the anti-anxiety meds your doc has you on.

Even before Mitt’s-big-mouth-gate, I was aghast at some of the spittle-flecked anti-poor, anti-downtrodden, anti-unlucky rhetoric pouring from the mouths of certain enraged Republicans. In their version of reality, the less you have, the more responsible you are for the alleged collapse of the nation.

Examples:

You’ll recall the lusty cries of “yes” during one GOP debate when someone asked if a sick person without insurance should be allowed to die.

Then there was the critic of the idea of government intervention in the housing debacle as “subsidizing losers’ mortgages” (thank you, CNBC Business News Network editor Rick Santelli for this oft-repeated quote, which some say was the “rant heard round the world” that gave birth to the Tea Party).

And then we have the ever popular “makers vs. takers,” moochers and leeches on society, the subject of Romney’s blithe claim that 47 percent of Americans (Obama voters all) are suckling at the public teat and have no intention of loosing their lips. A cluster of lazy bums who don’t deserve the time of day, much less freebie handouts from the virtuous 53 percent of noble, god-fearing job creators.

Well, here’s what I’d like to do. I’d like to take Romney and like-minded people on a tour of a Boulder care facility where I do volunteer work. Few people even know it’s there, tucked away where it does not afflict the comfortable. I genuinely love being there.

I’d like to walk the halls of this institution and have the Romney-ites meet the hundreds of residents, most of whom are disabled, ill, suffering dementia or elderly and require focused care. Many, perhaps most, of these “losers” and “mooches” receive federal assistance in the form of Medicaid. They are, in most cases, “the least of these” that have come in for such political thrashing of late.

To the glib reply that their families should care for them, many require literally round-the-clock care (which they receive; I am always impressed with the people who work there, many of whom make little more than minimum wage). It’s easy to judge until we have been there; shall we drop the stones?

I’d also like to introduce Romney and friends to my friend Brian (not his real name). He struggles with a serious mental illness that prevents him from working full time. He gratefully accepts the gift of public housing, which keeps him off the streets, as well as medical care for his devastating illness.

I’d also like to take them to dinner at Pat and Candy’s house (again, made up names for privacy’s sake) to meet the couple and their two children. Pat lost his job not because he’s a “loser” or “lazy,” but because the economy collapsed (arguably because of the “haves” on Wall Street). He’s relieved to receive unemployment benefits to keep his family afloat while he continues to search for work and does some retraining in hopes of finding another job.

And, for a change of pace, I’d like to take anti-moocher crew to meet the two billionaires and one multi-multi-millionaire I’ve met in my life. The first two received their fortune via inheritance, and not a lick of work. Nothing wrong with that, but it was always fascinating to witness their dubious “morality” (and whining!) as compared to many a poor person I’ve met. And the multi-multi has frequently cost taxpayers through irresponsible behavior. Each clung to their enormous assets with palpable fear.

Are there able-bodied people who game the system? Of course. But not as many as the Angry Right would have us believe; follow-ups to Romney’s 47-percent claim show that many are likely Republicans. And it’s worth remembering that not all disabilities or disadvantages are visible.

So no, Mr. Romney, Mr. Ryan and your ilk: “Having not” does not incline one toward laziness or immorality any more than “having” makes one a virtuous asset to society, no matter what your neo-Calvinist beliefs tell you.

The art of the Apocalypse

by

I remember back in 1988 when many of my friends at one of the nation’s most liberal universities declared that the election of George H.W. Bush would bring the end of the world as we know it. And they didn’t feel fine about it.

The same was true when his son, George W. Bush was “elected” and re-elected in 2000 and 2004, respectively. If the teeth gnashing was more muted in 2008 it was because anybody was going to be better than No. 43.

This year, the doomsayers are back, loud and proud: if the other guy wins, it’s going to be the end of civilization as we know it. To be sure, there is a real choice to be made. But in the real world, neither candidate will be able to come close to implementing his version. (Unless one party controls Congress and the White House — then wait for the all but certain overreach and crushing backlash.)

Apocalypse is part of the unsettling zeitgeist these past four or five years, since the Great Recession began. Insecurity gnaws and despite an improving economy for the “haves” — business profits and the stock market are soaring, but unemployment is still in the horse latitudes — dark clouds of potential disaster seem to loom for most.

And whenever the public is feeling a prolonged sense of uneasiness, apocalyptic visions multiply. The pre-détente Cold War era produced some masterpieces of the literary subgenre, including “Alas, Babylon” by Pat Frank, Nevil Shute’s “On the Beach” and the lesser known “The Long Tomorrow” by Leigh Brackett. George R. Stewart’s “Earth Abides,” though less known, is perhaps the best of the lot.

The 1950s and ’60s brought a boom in movies about the dangers of all things nuclear, bringing us mutants from Godzilla to the literally impossible giant ants of “Them!” (look up “square-cube law” ) and the animated corpses in “Night of the Living Dead.” One of the best movies of all time, Stanley Kubrick’s black comedy “Dr. Strangelove,” brilliantly mocks humanity’s destructive bent and ends on the cheery note of a mushroom cloud.

Anxiety rules, and what better way to deal than to turn it into entertainment? Not surprisingly, these are salad days for the end of the world.

Cormac McCarthy’s brilliant contribution, the grim novel, “The Road,” arrived in 2006, two years before the collapse; what did he know that we didn’t? That made possible the well-timed appearance of the 2009 movie version — also pretty good — about a father and young son trying to survive and maintain love in a ruined world.

Likewise, young-adult writer Suzanne Collins benefited from fortuitous timing in 2008 with “The Hunger Games,” first in her entertaining trilogy set in a post-collapse America. Now the YA set can choose from a cluster of copycat future-doom scenarios.

Tom Perrotta’s 2011 “The Leftovers” posits a “rapture” that spirits away people without regard to religion, sexuality, age, race — a totally random event — exploring how the mass mystery affects those left behind. “The Age of Miracles” by Karen Thompson Walker has gotten a ton of publicity this summer (couldn’t be because she worked for a big New York publisher, could it?) and has a nifty central conceit: the rotation of the Earth is gradually slowing. It’s engaging enough, but at heart it’s a young-adult novel about the trials and tribulations of being 11, a Judy Blume apocalypse. The best, by far, is “The Dog Stars” by Denver’s Peter Heller, featuring a private pilot, his 1956 Cessna, his beloved dog Jasper and a cranky, gun-totin’ individualist set mostly at the Erie airport just east of Boulder. The story slips into Hollywood action at the end, but like “The Road,” it’s a powerful and complex meditation on love and survival.

At the movies: Steve Carell and Keira Knightly are “Seeking a Friend for the End of the World” as a rogue asteroid heads for Earth. A subtler, darker treatment in “Take Shelter” follows a man who is either going insane, like his mother, or having true visions of a coming disaster. “Melancholia” is an almost unbearably bleak vision pairing the personal disaster of depression with the inexorable progress of a new planet about to collide with the Earth. And I can’t wait for “The End of the World,” Seth Rogen’s meta-disaster featuring a bevy of bankable stars partying at actor James Franco’s house when the end arrives, due in June.

An electric current of anxiety flows through every one of these works. But as with earlier waves of apocalyptic story telling, almost all remind us that whatever disasters betide us, the best tonic for life’s inherent uncertainty is connection — with friends, family, neighbors, strangers — think 9/11 — even pets. When the going gets rough, in other words, wise humans come together rather than tear each other apart.

Reel fun: Michael Brown films the world of adventure

by

When he first came to CU-Boulder, documentary filmmakerMichael Brown had his eyes firmly fixed on the stars.

Michael Brown. Courtesy photo.

“Initially I was studying physics,” says Brown, founder of Emmy Award-winning, Boulder-based Serac Adventure Films. “I wanted to be a spaceman and explore the universe.”

But in part thanks to influential geography professor Gary Gaile, he realized there was more than enough wonder for a lifetime on Earth. Brown says Gaile, who died in 2009, perfectly summed up the kind of life he wanted to live.

He said adventure is something that really sucks while you are doing it, but you look back on fondly, says Brown, 46, creator of the highly regarded 2003 documentary, Farther Than the Eye Can See, about Golden-based blind climber Erik Weihenmayer’s ascent of Mount Everest with guide Jeff Evans.

Brown has summited Everest five times and made dozens of films on location from the highest peaks in South America to Antarctica. Hes also a teacher and founder of the OutsideAdventure Film School in Boulder. Outside magazine, which sponsors the school, has called him a swashbuckling librarian.

On Nov. 1, Brown is being honored with the CU-Boulder Alumni Associations prestigious George Norlin Award, which recognizes outstanding alumni who have demonstrated a commitment to excellence in their chosen field of endeavor and a devotion to the betterment of society and their community.

“I just love the giant reality checks that come in the mountains,” he says. “If you get it wrong, if you dont know where you are, you could fail or even die.”

Blind Encounters: How Jeff Evans became one of the world’s top guides

by

Had Jeff Evans(Anth94) and a friend not found themselves in a hairy situation atop Lizard Head, arguably the single most difficult peak to climb in Colorado, he might not be known as one of the worlds top climbing guides today.

Jeff Evans walks in Chautauqua Meadow in Boulder, Colorado. Photo by Casey A. Cass

The pair was clinging to a vertical wall of notoriously rotten rock in the San Juan Mountains as a storm raged around them. They were trying to decide who should make the next move and realized they were in extreme danger.

The friend lost his cool, says Evans, 42.

“I kind of slapped him in the face and said, ‘Listen, man, this may not end well, but were at least going down shooting.'”

So Evans took the initiative, and eventually they descended safely. Upon regaining his composure, the friend eyed Evans with new respect because of Evans calm confidence.

“When we got down he said, ‘You’ve got to meet this blind climber I know,” Evans says, smiling. “I was thinking, ‘What kind of idiot would go climbing with a blind dude?'”

But just a few weeks later, Evans headed out to California’s Joshua Tree National Park where he hit it off immediately with the blind dude, Erik Weihenmayer.

Eighteen years later, the two men have climbed Mount Everest twice, Denali, Argentinas Aconcagua and El Capitan together. They’ve been featured in documentaries, led blind Tibetan youth and injured soldiers up Everest and, in summer 2011, starred in Expedition Impossible!, an ABC adventure show pitting teams against one another in a race across the blazing deserts and razor-sharp mountains of Morocco.

And Evans crisscrosses the country as a much-in-demand inspirational speaker.

All this from a self-described liberal, redneck, hippie, climber dirtbag guy.

Jeff feeds off taking care of other people, says Weihenmayer, who became the first blind climber to summit Mount Everest in 2001 with Evans as his guide. When the shit hits the fan, hes just there, on top of it, crushing himself to help others.

Others feel the same way.

As much as Jeff is an adventurer and extreme sports addict and has great passion about music Evans is a devotee of the jam band Widespread Panic what sets him apart is he is truly like a spiritual warrior, says his longtime friend Joe Chisholm, 42, of Boulder.

By his own description, Evans took a few early stumbles in life.

Born in a small town in North Carolina to a 17-year-old single mother, all he ever heard about his father were rumors. Raised by his stepfather, a good man, Evans nevertheless failed at his first attempt at college. With nothing to lose, he lit out for Boulder with a buddy in 1988 where he immediately took to rock climbing.

“I was lucky to have $20 in my pocket,” Evans says. “But as I started to develop [as a climber], I realized I could guide here and there and make a little money.”

He began taking clients up some of Colorados famous 14,000-foot peaks and climbing hot spots along the Front Range. After a few years, he was ready to try college again.

“I would have applied to CU a million times to get in,” he says.

He graduated in three and a half years with a degree in anthropology.

But meeting Weihenmayer proved to be the real turning point in his life.

“We just really hit it off,” says Weihenmayer, 43, a teacher in Golden, Colo. “But we were very different. I’m kind of strait-laced. Hes kind of on the wild side. We really complement each other.”

The pair began conjuring up adventure after adventure. Together, they summited Denali in 1995, Yosemites El Capitan in 1996 and Argentinas Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the Americas, in 1997. Their 2001 Everest climb is the subject of Michael Brown’s award-winning documentary, Farther Than the Eye Can See [see a profile on him on page 39].

In 2004 they took a group of blind Tibetan teens to slopes of Everest. In 2010 they guided 11 wounded veterans to the top of the world in the Soldiers to the Summit project, filmed by Browns Boulder-based Serac Adventure Films.

In the summer of 2011 the two men, along with wounded veteran Aaron Ike Isaacson of Kansas, came in second place in the grueling Expedition Impossible!

Evans, who doesnt watch much television, was reluctant to do the show, assuming it was yet another manufactured, unreal reality program.

“I originally said no,” he says. “I don’t like what television represents.”

But he was persuaded to sign on, assured that the contest was real.

Real may be an understatement. The ordeal sent the team dubbed No Limits across the scorching plains and mountains of Morocco. Weihenmayer maintained physical contact with his guide through most of the race. Evans says the experience taught all three men about comradeship and connection.

“I remember one cliff jump we did that was so powerful”, Evans says. “As far as we knew, there were no cameras on us and we forgot we were miked up. We were just doing what we do together. We held hands and went down together.”

And to Evans’ surprise, the show taught him there is an upside to television. He and his teammates heard from many people inspired by their feat and the way they overcame obstacles and limitations.

“We got countless e-mails, Facebook [messages] and tweets from people and their kids who found a source of inspiration,” Evans says. “Kids thought this was really cool, watching us push through pain for our teammates.”

After the show, Evans wanted to delve deeper and explore spirituality. Enter Joseph Campbell, the famous mythologist and writer who described the monomyth or heros journey that can be found in virtually every human culture.

Last summer Evans pitched an idea to Survivor creator Mark Burnett that would be based on Campbells ideas and bring together people who had faced adversity such as a cancer survivor or wounded veteran for a challenging adventure.

“Everyone has a hero’s journey, and its a matter of whether you answer the call to action,” he says.

It got turned down by the studio. But Evans seems unlikely to back off his own pursuit of adventure and awakening.

“I’m on my own uncompleted journey,” says the father of one son. “When do we complete it? Im not sure we do until we die. I just know that Im not done.”

Book Review: ‘Full Body Burden’

by


It wasn’t until the late 1970s that most people in the Denver metro area began really noticing Rocky Flats, that well-guarded, bland and seemingly innocuous U.S. government facility sprawling on the grasslands just east of the highway from Boulder to Golden.

Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats by Kristen Iverson. Crown, 400 pp. $25.


Kristen Iverson’s family was no different. Nestled tightly in the bosom of the American Dream, circa early 1960s, neither they nor their neighbors ever gave much thought to what was happening just upwind. The kids ran pell-mell across empty fields and swam their horses in nearby Standley Lake.

Eventually, the secret of the plant was out: it was the government’s manufacturer of plutonium triggers for the nation’s growing nuclear arsenal during the Cold War. And as radioactive stuff is wont to do, the danger managed to escape and filter into the environment, unbeknownst to oblivious local residents. Incredibly dangerous fires in 1957 and 1969 were all but hushed up and when the plant was finally shuttered, it became clear that the entire surrounding environment was contaminated with plutonium, tiny particles of which could cause cancer and death; that included the mud at the bottom of the lake where Iverson, her siblings and friends played.

But the secret got out and by the time protesters were carrying “Hello no, we won’t glow!” signs and surrounding the plant with massive human chains, its days were numbered. The fact that the endgame included the federal government raiding its own facility, in 1989, is testament to the twisted history of the place.

“Full Body Burden” is an excellent lay history of the plant that smoothly weaves a wealth of information into an engaging narrative. Long-time Boulder residents will know at least the bare outlines of much of what went down, but Iverson will renew readers’ astonishment at the fact that a comprehensive grand-jury report on troubles and cover-ups at the now defunct-plant remains under court-ordered seal and jurors face incarceration if they speak about what they heard.

Meanwhile, about two-thirds of the site is supposed become a wildlife refuge and recreation area. No less than the grand-jury documents, the government plans to keep the land’s plutonium-contaminated secrets to itself. The other third? Too contaminated for safe public use.

“There will be no markers at Rocky Flats,” writes Iverson, director of the MFA Program in Creative Writing at the University of Memphis. “What lies beneath will remain.”

The book is also a quietly moving memoir, describing how Iverson’s seemingly idyllic experiences growing up near the plant were as tainted by more visible problems such as an alcoholic father, as well as the curious fact of her employment there years later.

Both strands — memoir and investigation — work on their own terms. But as with the increasingly crowded personal-memoir field, at times the braiding of the topical and the personal seems somewhat forced.

But Iverson is a beautiful writer, and the family history will pull many readers more deeply into a tragic Cold War tale that few would otherwise have read.

New Posts

FOLLOW US

Sign up to receive email updates and to hear what's going on with us!