Midian Ranch Blog

Merry Christmas From The Desert

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 17:30:00 +0000

Frozen pipes. Broken generators. A septic system that froze, then backed up through every drain in the house. Debt. Massive propane bills. More debt. Unreliable Internet. Days in which there is no sun for the solar panels and no wind for the windmills. Leaks in the office roof. A battery bank rendered inefficient by freezing cold. Illness. A right hand for a time rendered useless by infection. A child that needs surgery.

And, oddly, a sense of peace. None of these things matters beyond its station. Somehow, I have found something close to happiness here amidst the distracting clutter of ranch life. We Walters came her to be modern day settlers, and to live upon this hard land in the manner of our ancestors: free, independent, and answerable to no one. Those tough, hard people of a century and a half ago suffered like saints and martyrs for the right to be here. They suffered and endured things none of us have had to, tough old birds that they were. Some, like Kit Carson, became legends. Many didn’t make it past their first two years, retreating back to civilization or dying anonymously in the dry, desolate mountains.

We have endured.

To be honest, I’m not sure how much of an accomplishment it is to simply hold on in the face of adversity. It does certainly feel like an accomplishment, especially in this harsh, barren, and beautiful place. Yesterday a freezing fog rolled into the desert whose impenetrability rivaled any you would find in San Francisco or London: cold, thick, and mysterious. It stayed throughout the day, reducing sunlight to a dim twilight and visibility to a few car lengths. It left white frozen tendrils clinging to every available surface: trees, homes, and even the salt brush, transforming the Black Rock from somber brown to glistening white.

Is this what it might be like to be a settler on Mars? The Moon? One of the moons of Jupiter? Endless mighty vistas, shocking weather, hard work, isolation, and the small pleasures of life shaped into razors by the threat of death hovering in the background like an unmentioned party guest? In another future time, living another life, could that have been our life? Is it possible that, whether through the gentle hand of God or some miracle of modern medicine, this could be Cassidy's future still? To be a pioneer out among the stars: free, independent, and answerable to no one?
I pray for this, but only dreams answer me.

* * *

I was driving through that frozen fog when I stumbled upon a photographer, standing by his car at the edge of the Playa, looking out into the white nothing. As is my habit, I pulled over to see if he was all right. Having been stranded in the Black Rock before myself, I've developed a sort of “leave no man behind” attitude about this sort of thing. I always pull over. I hopped out of my pickup truck and strode over to where the man stood with his camera, taking pictures of the snowy infinity.

We spoke. In retrospect, he to me as one might handle an escaped lunatic or an overly affectionate drunken stranger: delicately, carefully. I can see why. I was dressed in snow boots, a filthy surplus industrial jumpsuit, and a battered black fedora. Beard, earrings, hair uncut for years – all moving toward him in the fog in the middle of a (nearly) uninhabited wasteland.

A mutant. A Crazy. Somebody Mad Mel shot in Road Warrior.

Many of us get like that out here, given enough time and an initial disposition toward craziness. Our day to day appearance sort of... unravels, turning us into weird, dusty cartoon characters. Many don't, too. There are cowboys out here, real ones, whose clothing outside of their ranch is so crisp and sharp you can set your watch to them. Then there's the Burning Man DPW people, who often look like the road warrior has already killed them, and they've been reanimated for a sequel that involves flesh eating zombies. They make me look like a Montgomery Street bank manager.

But, then again, they're not out here in the freezing fog.

* * *

Christmas is in full swing in Gerlach. We attend a Christmas pageant in which our community's preschoolers [5] sang three songs. Then our elementary school students [27] sang a selection of Christmas and Hanuka songs. All of this was done with great enthusiasm, not to mention a little spontaneous dancing on the part of the kids, and was well attended. Cassidy wore her red “reindeer” outfit – a gift from our postmistress Jola - that came complete with a pair of antlers. She got to sit on Santa's lap afterwords and, as is her habit, was a good sport about the whole thing.

On Saturday the three of us (our dogs weren't invited) went to the annual Christmas party thrown by our friends the Carters, whose home is a shrine to all things Elvis and Star Trek. Today I shall make the rounds, giving out small presents to friends here ant there. Christmas is about the little things.

It's odd, really. I moved us here because I wanted to flee civilization, and end up finding community amongst people I never thought would ever accept me (Tina is a different matter. I was never worried about Tina.) Is that ironic, or does it mean that I'm finally at this late date becoming a fully socialized human being? Only time will tell.

* * *

In conclusion, best wishes to all of you on this Christmas 2009, as we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ – whom even those of you who are atheists, Buddhists, neo-pagans, and what-have-you must admit was a pretty great fellow. I hope that you are all in the company of beloved family; or, at the very least, good friends. I hope you get to do all of the fun stuff we all do this time of year: open presents, wear red, drink eggnog with perhaps a bit of rum in it, and in general celebrate the ideal (if not the reality) of peace on Earth and goodwill toward men.

God bless.

The Tyger

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 09:26:00 +0000

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

- The Tyger, William Blake 1794

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 20:12:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 20:06:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 20:01:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 19:58:00 +0000

With Cousin Maeve [the Mega Baby]

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 05:48:00 +0000

Baby Cassidy Laughs

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 05:44:00 +0000

Eye Hand Coordination

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 05:41:00 +0000

Great Article

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 05:13:00 +0000

I've just gotten done reading an eccentric article by author Claire Wolfe (called by some the Ayn Rand of the 21st Century) in this month's issue of Backwoods Home Magazine (Issue #120). Entitled Learning To Love The High Desert, it sums up what it's like to live in places like the Black Rock Desert quite nicely. Since it isn't available online – and since I highly recommend having a subscription to Backwoods Home in any case – I've taken the liberty of including a few quotes:

“Then there's the damn weather. It's so hot you want to shove a dog out of the only patch of shade, dig a pit in the dirt, and snooze. Then – bazam! - It's so cold you're slamming windows shut, donning jackets, and stuffing old tee-shirts into cracks in the walls of your trailer.”

“The terrain is severe and gaunt, it's true, and the plants are more likely to puncture the skin than delight the eye. The animal life is more likely to bear scales than fur and even the hoppy toads are deadly poisonous. But the desert is every bit as alive as the woods, and you feel the age and raw, primal violence of it everywhere you go. The constant cycle of life and death is everywhere evident.”

“The beauty of a home electrical system, when it works and even when it doesn't work all that well is that you built it... It only works if you stand on your feet and do something about it, ignoring a lifetime's indoctrination that you shouldn't worry your little head because this is a job for the big boys. This, to me, is more precious than electric lights at night.”

Really, I couldn't have put these things better myself.

Family Picture

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 20:08:00 +0000

Cassidy On Flickr

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 19:19:00 +0000

These pictures are a little old (she's a bit bigger and, of course, at home), but they are still nice pictures of The Sprout.

We Have Built Jerusalem

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 17:57:00 +0000

I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
'Til we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land

-William Blake

This is the text of a post I made on Burning Man's official blog last week. The original text of the blog can be ready here.

I’ve never read this blog before but, as the things being discussed here will have a direct impact on my family, neighbors, and myself, it behooves me to comment.

My name is Jason S. Walters and, along with my wife and daughter, I live almost directly across the street from the Fly Geyser. We are some of the roughly thirty inhabitants of the Hualapai Valley. In fact, there are nine inhabited ranches, farms, or facilities in the valley: Granite Ranch, Midian Ranch, Black Rock Station (of course), Dog Ranch, Jackson Ranch, Orient Farms, the Fascio Ranch, and the Spoo Place. Though I am a relative newcomer having only lived there full time for three years, there are people who have lived in the valley for decades. The valley’s population includes two children, and that number will probably increase over the next few years.

I’m generally a fan and a friend of Burning Man. I’ve attended the festival ten times and have numerous friends that work full or part time for Burning Man LLC. The community of Gerlach (our town, in essence) benefits economically from the event, and its spinoff company of Black Rock Solar has done fine work putting up solar systems for the high schools in Gerlach, Nixon, and Wadsworth. I’ve also seen Black Rock Station evolve from what was basically an 80-acre junkyard into an organized, well-run facility… in part due to a bit of arm twisting from neighbors and Washoe County, but that’s water under the bridge, as they say. In the end the LLC put its money where its mouth is and built a great facility. And that’s what counts.

I like art too. Especially art that catches on fire and explodes. That’s part of what’s cool about living in the Black Rock Desert.

BUT… and this is a very big but… ultimately those of us who live in the Hualapai Valley do so because it is remote, seldom visited, and has a low-population density. Or, to put it another way, we live there because Gerlach is too crowded for us. So what sounds like a very exciting project to all of you sounds kind of threatening to our way of life, especially if the goal is to make the Hualapai Flats the permanent home of the festival itself. That’s…kind of hard to contemplate, though I know it’s been there before. I was at that one myself.

Still, Tina and I sacrificed everything to get away from San Francisco. Now it looks like arrangements are being made to bring the city we fled to our doorstep. #sigh# There’s probably a lesson there somewhere.

In any case, I’d like to ask a few questions of the Burning Man LLC, as once again this project could effect my family. What do you mean by a “conference center,” exactly? How big will it be? How much will the traffic on State Route 34 increase? How much noise will its (presumably large) diesel generators create? How many more people will live in the valley? How will it effect the antelope, mustang, and other animals that currently rely on the property for their water?

Is the Bright Holland Corporation selling you the water rights along with the property? If not, are you aware that there are very real long-term plans to pump the Hualapai Valley’s water to the Reno area via a pipeline? It’s not talked about publicly, but the “nervous politicians” mentioned in the post certainly know about it. After all, the Hualapai Valley is one of only two places in Nevada where basin-to-basin transfers are still permitted under state law: and if they do build that pipeline, that geyser won’t stay one for very long, no matter what they’re telling you.

In conclusion, there’s plenty of room in the Black Rock Desert for everyone. There may even be plenty of room in the Hualapai Valley for everyone who wants to actually live there. But with all of the discussion of “community” on this blog, I would like to point out that the Black Rock Desert already has a community of some 300 or so people, including those of us that live in the Hualapai Valley. What is being proposed on this blog will definitely impact that existing community. And, while we are generally neither “progressive” or even “interesting,” we do actually live there – and I fear that few of us were included amongst the beautiful people being fed appetizers and drinks under the moonlight.

-Jason Walters, Midian Ranch, 1287 State Route 34

So, what's my problem exactly? It's this: Burning Man as an organization exhibits exactly the same behavior as the BLM (Bureau of Land Management), an organization which they have close ties to, when it comes to the people that live in the Black Rock Desert. Both organizations operate as though we are naughty children whose input could not possibly be of any value, even though what they do often effects our lives. If fact, they don't care enough about what we think to even call us together in our own community center and lie to us. At least Washoe County does that!

It's arrogant and insulting.

I understand Burning Man's motivations. Every religion needs its Jerusalem, and they can take the one million dollars a year they spend on leasing the Playa from the BLM and spend that on building permanent facilities in the Hualapai Valley: housing, meeting spaces, stages, coffee shops, and the like. It's a free country and they have a right to do this. Maybe it will even be fun and cool. But why in God's name does it have to be across the street from us?

“The Kid's Alright, And The Kid's All Right”

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 06:14:00 +0000

These words of wisdom were spoken by my wife Tina a few days ago and I think them to be true. But before I explain, let me take a moment to confirm something that many of you have already guessed: things didn't go smoothly with Cassidy's birth. She's still in the Renown NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) in Reno thirty days after her birth, though her condition is greatly improved at this point. I am fairly confident that she will be released shortly, though these things cannot be rushed and are in all ways beyond our control. Cassidy will decide when it is time for Cassidy to go home, and there is little Tina, the doctors, or I have to say about it.

Before I continue, I would like to thank all of you singularly and collectively for the congratulations, goodwill, and – in the case of those of you familiar with the situation – advice and support you have had to offer over the last month. In particular I would like to thank my family, the Tina's family, and the people of Gerlach, Nevada for your support and encouragement. I would also like to thank our friends and colleagues at Hero Games, Indy Press Revolution, Blackwyrm Books and Games, and Flash Messenger for your support (and patience) in our time of trouble. When I can I will take the time to thank many, many of you personally, either by phone, email, or in person. I am sorry that I have not done so already.

This has been the hardest month of our lives. For the first few weeks we were, to be blunt, as crushed as a pair of beer cans unfortunate enough to encounter John Belushi's forehead. Tina has stayed by our daughter's side continually in what can fairly be called a superhuman act of motherly devotion. I have had to move back and forth between Reno and Gerlach in a not-always-successful attempt to keep our affairs in order. But we've already cried our tears over things we can't control and feel confident in our ability to move forward, doing what is necessary to help our daughter have a happy, independent, and successful life.

The Bad (what went wrong and why)

Cassidy was born with the chromosomal disorder known as trisomy 21: better known as Down's Syndrome. As is not uncommon with children suffering from Down's, she was born with a heart condition (two actually; one major, one minor) that caused her blood to oxygenate poorly. She quickly contracted pneumonia, which led sepsis, as her immune system was not fully formed (though Cassidy wasn't born prematurely). The first two days were extremely touch-and-go. She nearly lost her life. Then she spent the next two weeks intubated and on morphine being fed intravenously and through a tube.

The experience was extremely heart wrenching on many levels, some of which I've only begun to grasp.

The Good (what didn't go wrong)

Cassidy is a reasonably big baby: eight pounds, one ounce at birth, about nine pounds right now. Her size may have been what saved her. She has recovered completely from the pneumonia and sepsis. Her lungs are functioning well, her major heart problem seems to be sorting itself out. The minor one will probably take care of itself as well. She's quickly getting the hang of eating on her own. She's still on low-flow oxygen, but she should be off of that within the month (we may take some equipment home with us). Her eyes are open, she seems alert, and is all-in-all a cute little sucker.

There are many health problems beyond the developmental and mental capacity issues associated with having Down's Syndrome. (As much as one can be said to “have” something that isn't really a disease.) She's had a couple of them already: heart problems and pneumonia, to be specific. However, thyroid malfunction and poor muscle tone seem not to be issues (though the tires quickly). Her vision seems good and I think her hearing will turn out to be within the normal range as well.

Down's Syndrome has extremely variable effects on the individuals it afflicts, with no two cases being exactly alike. We are optimistic about her intellectual development, which we can and will have considerable influence on. Though there is a small chance that she will be severely retarded, mild or moderate retardation is more likely, with hard work on our part as parents reaping measurable rewards (as is true for any parent). There is even a tiny chance that she will suffer from no retardation at all, though this is unlikely.

Observations

I want to thank the many of you who have contacted me with information about friends and family members with Down's. I knew little about the syndrome before Cassidy was diagnosed with it, and am heartened to learn that there are professional chefs, stockbrokers, housewives, motivational speakers, successful actors, and college graduates with Down's. I was also encouraged to discover that the average life expectancy of a person with the disorder is currently 65 and expected to climb higher (100 years ago it was, rather shockingly, 9). I also wish to thank the many of you who have prayed (and, in the case of at least one friend who is a Buddhist, chanted) for the well-being of our family. I believe it has helped.

I have met several remarkable people in the course of this experience – people who, in our time of pain and distress, worked hard to calm and assist us. I would like in particular to thank Linda from the Nevada Bureau of Early Intervention Services, Randy from Renown's Social Services Department, JoD and Darnell from Reno's Ronald McDonald House, and Mrs. Anderson from Reno's branch of the Social Security Administration. I would also like to thank the NICU nursing staff at Renown Medical for their professionalism, understanding, and the tender care they have given our daughter.

I have had many insights into life, my own shortcomings, and the power of love in the last month. As time goes by I will share them with you. But, for now, keeps us in your thoughts and prayers.

Baby Cassidy

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 23:51:00 +0000

Baby Cassidy and Tina

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 23:47:00 +0000

Poisoned Dog

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 21:13:00 +0000

This why I know that John Farnsworth is really my friend: he helped me make my dog puke.

I was busy counting books in the warehouse and hanging out with the dogs the other day when I heard a crunching sound. Didn't think much of it at first, but then I heard it again. Suddenly it occurred to me: I'd recently put a half dozen little green blocks of rat poison out. Panicking, I dashed around the warehousing, checking the locations where I'd put them.

Yep: Michelle had eaten them all.

Well, at the time I wasn't certain if she had eaten them alone or if Snap had helped her. I was fairly certain that he wasn't that stupid, but I couldn't be sure. Panicking, I shoved them both into the car and bolted for Planet X Pottery on the far side of the Granites. Rachael Bogart is a veterinarian and, correspondingly, the most logical person to find under the circumstances. Along the way I called General Mills; the manufacturer of the poison. Helpfully, they had a poison hotline! (Three, actually: children, house pets, and livestock). They advised me to get the poison out her as quickly as possible by inducing vomiting, or risk death by poisoning within four hours. Rachael seconded this recommendation, so it was off to Gerlach to find John: the town EMT and thus the only person around technically qualified to induce vomiting in children, pets, and those rare adults in our area who don't regularly induce their own vomiting via liquor consumption.

John and I forced hydrogen peroxide down poor Michelle's throat, then down Snap's (who took it far more stoically). The peroxide bubbling away in her little dog tummy, Michelle projectile vomited out blocks of poison, dog food, and what appeared to be a mouse. Then she kept right on going and going, until I had to hold up her head like a teenage girlfriend while the dry heaved in the bushes.

Snap, being kind of macho, simply refused to puke. No matter. The next stop was the Emergency Veterinary Clinic in Fernley two hours away. (Not to worry. He puked up all over my truck on the way there. No poison, but they were both covered in it by the time we got there.) There was fun to be had there for Michelle: liquid charcoal for her stomach and she got her temperature taken... the only way you can take a dog's temperature, if you get my drift. THEN a two hour drive back to the ranch for something both of them hate more than poison, puking, or getting their temperature's taken.

A bath.

The Manly Art Of Shelving

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 06:31:00 +0000

There are certain activities and objects one inherently associates with manliness. Shooting. Motorcycles. Muscle Cars. Clewing Tobacco. NASCAR. Beer that comes in a can. This doesn’t mean that women cannot participate in, enjoy, or excel at these activities. Once could hardly be a rural Nevadan and not know that women can enjoy chewing tobacco and NASCAR! But these are generally male activities, much as Bunko, a deep appreciation of the baby shower as a social event, and watching the Today Show with Kathy Lee and Hoda are generally female activities.

With great humility I would like to enter another activity/object into the vaulted library of masculine undertakings: shelving, both the noun and the verb. I love shelving. I love buying it, building it, designing it, and using it. I love what it means, too: you have stuff. Useful stuff that makes other stuff. Stuff you just like to look at. Stuff you want to read, have already read, or will never read but want others to think you’ve already read. Stuff you want to store. In my case, stuff you need to store for other people, enabling you to make a living. You’ve organized yourself in a useful fashion that is itself a reflection of your masculine competency. (Again, not that women don’t love shelving too.)

Living out at the ranch I find myself haunted by the idea that I don’t – possibly can’t – have enough shelving to meet my family’s needs. Greenhouse? Needs plant shelving. Pantry? Food shelving. Warehouses? Box shelving. Game room? Shelving. Baby’s room? Shelving.

Shelving. Shelving. Shelving.

Not everyone shares my unhealthy obsession with shelving. Walters’ family friend JB has extremely kindly (and perhaps a bit recklessly) given me access to his storage yard of used pallet racking: the El Dorado of shelving. Which is a little like locking the town “mayor” in the bar at 2 AM. (Just kidding JB! Love you baby!) A dream come true! I’ve also developed my own method for quickly constructing large amounts of shelving out of old 2 by 4’s and those fifty-cent brackets you get from Home Depot.

Which isn’t exactly on par with designing an artificial heart, but it feels impressive to me.

Ah shelving! The smell of it!

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 19:51:00 +0000

Most Excellent Cover By Sam Kennedy

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 05:26:00 +0000

What Are We Up To? (part three)

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 05:19:00 +0000

The long awaited Mexican wrestling roleplaying game Darren Watts and I wrote has at last come out! That's right: Lucha Libre Hero is for sale in stores across the English speaking world and the Internet.

Hero roustabouts Darren Watts and Jason Walters put on their magical wrestling masks, get cranked on tequila, and create for you the ultimate gaming guide to monster-hunting, gangster-fighting Mexican wrestlers in Lucha Libre Hero! Dive right into the weird, fight-filled world of Mexican wrestling adventure movies as you and your masked cohorts save the villagers from werewolves, help the police round up vicious criminals, and then head out for a night on the town with beautiful women!

To learn more about Lucha Libre Hero, click here.

What Are We Up To? (part two)

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 05:10:00 +0000

As some of you also know Tina and I run a business here at Midian Ranch. More specifically, we run a branch of a corporation known as DOJ Inc here at the ranch. DOJ is the parent corporation which Darren Watts, Steve Long, several others, and myself formed in 2001 to acquire Hero Games from Cybergames. Our division is known as DOJ Logistics (or DOJ-L for short), and it handles shipping, receiving, storage, and convention support for Hero Games, Indy Press Revolution, Burning Wheel, and several other companies. Besides Tina and myself it employs Tara, a friend of ours who lives in Gerlach.

To learn more about our operation you can click here.

The Cover Of My Novel. Pretty Cool, Huh?

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 04:41:00 +0000

What Are We Up To? (part one)

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 04:08:00 +0000

This isn't strictly about the ranch, but as some of you know already I'm part owner of a small publishing imprint called Blackwrym Games and Fiction (www.blackwyrm.com). Besides such award-winning game books as Scott Bennie's Gestalt: The Hero Within and Lux Aeternum, we also publish a line of experimental fantasy novellas of between 40,000 - 80,0000 words in length: just the sort of thing to take on a long flight or to enjoy on a warm Saturday afternoon. Our titles include Lynn Tincher's psychic thriller Afterthoughts, Dirk Vandereyken's necromancy courtroom drama Baour: Strands of Death , and my own military fantasy novel The Vast White.

So, if you're interested in what we're doing over at Blackwyrm, go check it out!

Fly Geyser At Moonrise

noreply@blogger.com (The Walters) — Wed, 20 May 2009 03:52:00 +0000