words are not enough » [live... from planet earth]

In 2007 I took a road trip west to Calgary, and on my way home I spent a couple nights in Montana. My second day had me driving west through Glacier National Park, then south through Butte to the town of Belgrade for night. Somewhere north of Butte, I took a quick detour to get the shot you see above, which would eventually be titled, “and then I went up on that mountain over yonder.” Imagine me pointing *that way* as you read this. Three hours later, I was on my way southbound on I-90 toward my night’s destination.

Three. Hours. Lost. On a mountain. In Montana. You getting this? It was a long three hours on that mountain.

It was getting dark and I was low on fuel. The road changed quickly from narrow and paved to narrower and rock. Then gravel. Then dirt. It was getting a little sketchy. I’m pretty sure every movie that begins this way leads to a gruesome death followed by an hour and a half of terror on screen. I took a risk going up on that mountain.

About this time last year I was making coffee at a bookstore for overprivileged, ungrateful mallrats. I left that job out of occupational frustration to volunteer full-time at the Red Cross last August. It was a huge risk; I would end the only job I had to become a volunteer in hopes it would lead to something better. Something bigger. Something meaningful.

In a way, it did. I worked hard. Very hard. And in January I became an AmeriCorps VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America), which is sort of like the domestic Peace Corps. I was assigned to the Red Cross, so I got to stay where I was already volunteering. The job came with no control and no salary; instead it carried year-long job security and a “living allowance” of $10,700. About what I’d make in a year at the bookstore in the mall, but with 200 times the responsibility and 40+ hours a week. It meant responding to disasters. Tornadoes. Fires. Late nights and early mornings. Shooting from the hip and bending the rules. And still. Hard work and minimal pay.

We joke that we get paid in pennies* and hugs. (*Bring your own pennies.) I work hard to keep what I have. I risked a lot to get where I am. I don’t want to lose it. But I also want more. I’ll be thirty years old in the next two weeks. Thirty.

Four years ago I went up on a mountain because it seemed like the thing to do. Low on fuel and headed into the sunset, it was a risky move. Last year I quit my dead-end (but paying) job to start a career. I don’t know if going up on that mountain was worth the risk. I’m not better off having been up there. I got a picture and a story. The last year? Tonight, if you’ll allow me a little leeway, I find myself wondering if that risk will pay off. All I know right now is that it was better than making coffee for a living.