Sojourn in Steamboat Springs
A few months after I had become a
Bahá’í in the spring of 1969, I made a trip to see Roger and Dee Carson with
Bill Bright, who I shared a home with in Loveland, Colorado. The Carsons had
purchased an old hotel in downtown Steamboat Springs that needed
renovation. They named the hotel, The
Edelweiss. We made the trip in Bill’s moody VW van. I remember the van; the style that was
typical and popular with the “hippie” movement of the 1960’s. Bill and I had
come from that era into the Faith. His van had a very difficult time climbing
the mountain pass to the Trail Ridge Summit near Long’s Peak. We stalled out
close to the road’s summit. Night had fallen bringing colder temperatures in
the high mountains. Bill had learned a lot about his sulky vehicle and after
some tinkering with the motor, we made our way through the “colorful” Colorado
mountains to Granby and then on to Steamboat in the Yampa Valley. Bill would
let the van pick up lots of speed on the downhills to have a running start at
the next slope.
Dee was ecstatic to have Bahá’í
visitors, which was a rare occasion for her.
Roger, who still considered himself a dedicated agnostic, was
accommodating, usually ready to support Dee’s activities in the Faith. The result of that short visit was that Dee
and Roger invited me to live with them in the hotel. If I helped Roger paint
the hotel rooms, I could stay in one of the rooms rent free, at least on a
temporary basis. The plan was for me to head back to Loveland, give notice at
my job at the Electric Shoe Shop in Fort Collins, where I worked as a shoe
repairman; gather up my meager belongings and return to Steamboat Springs in
several weeks. As I recall, Bill was willing to take me there as he could
combine the trip with delivering health foods to new customers he had made. My
adventure as a young Bahá’í entered a new phase of eager learning.
In short, I stayed with the Carsons
until Christmas Day 1969, a total of four months. Another young lodger had the
same deal with Roger: free rent on a short-term basis by helping Roger fix up
the hotel. He asked Roger if he could paint the walls of his room anyway he
wanted. Roger reluctantly agreed with the stipulation that if Roger wasn’t
happy with the colors he chose, the lodger would have to paint it over before
moving out. The room was painted to appear like the inside of a cave complete
with stick figure cave drawings.
After helping Roger minimally, I
worked as a dishwasher in a small café near the hotel. The cook was a Syrian
immigrant who had completed a college degree, but his student visa had expired
and wouldn’t allow him to work in the US. To remain in the states a while
longer, he worked as a cook. He was very vocal, but we got along well.
One of the regular customers at the
café was named Snowball, a quiet, weathered man who always wore a knitted
cap. He also wore a red, white and blue
political button on his coat that said, “I dig Graves” (referring to a man who
was running for political office somewhere in the area). And that’s what Snowball did for the town—he
was the grave digger! At times, Dee said
that Snowball would stay at the hotel, but never used the bedding. Instead, he would bring his sheepskin rug to
lay on. He was always seemed clean, even though Dee thought Snowball only had
two sets of clothes, one for winter and one for summer.
At that time, for whatever reason, I
didn’t attempt to have any conversation with Snowball, which I regret now, as
he was one of Steamboat’s most colorful characters.
The Edelweiss Hotel soon became a
popular stopping place for travelers.
One day a couple riding beautiful Arabian horses checked in. They were coming from Montana and headed for
the Southwest. They had a place to rest their mounts while they enjoyed resting
at the hotel.
Another time, Roger or Dee rescued a
family from Haifa, Israel whose teenage son was being pushed around by some
local wannabe cowboys because he wore his hair long. The Jewish, Israeli family was puzzled why
long hair on a young man would be so threatening. They were delighted to meet
Baha’i’s as they knew the beautiful Bahá’í gardens in Haifa, though they knew
very little about the Faith itself. The reason for that was due to
Bahá’u’lláh’s injunction to Bahá’ís not to teach the Faith in Israel. Being
that the family was not in Israel, we were able to share the basic teachings of
the Faith, which they found very agreeable.
The
window in my room faced a hillside in the back of the hotel that had a ski jump
on it. Howelsen Hill Ski Area by name. I don’t remember there being enough snow
on the slope while I lived in Steamboat Springs for the ski jump to be used,
but on clear nights when the moonlight glistened on the hill, I enjoyed staring
at the ski jump through my window.
As a new believer, I spent much of
my leisure time reading Bahá’í Writings.
I enjoyed “Prayers and Meditations
of Bahá’u’lláh,” a three-hundred-page book of several hundred prayers
revealed by the Pen of the Most High. I especially liked to go through the very
long prayers toward the last part of the volume. The last prayer in the book, CLXXXIV, runs fourteen pages and
includes passages like this one that I found almost other worldly:
“Praise be to Thee, O my God, that Thou hast revealed Thy
favors and Thy bounties; and glory be to Thee, O my Beloved, that Thou hast
manifested the Day-Star of Thy loving-kindness and Thy tender mercies. I yield
Thee such thanks as can direct the steps of the wayward towards the splendors
of the morning light of Thy guidance, and enable those who yearn towards Thee
to attain the seat of the revelation of the effulgence of Thy beauty. I yield
Thee such thanks as can cause the sick to draw nigh unto the waters of Thy
healing, and can help those who are far from Thee to approach the living
fountain of Thy presence. I yield Thee such thanks as can divest the bodies of
Thy servants of the garments of mortality and abasement, and attire them in the
robes of Thine eternity and Thy glory, and lead the poor unto the shores of Thy
holiness and all sufficient riches. I yield Thee such thanks as can enable the
Heavenly Dove to warble forth, upon the branches of the Lote-Tree of
Immortality, her song: "Verily, Thou art God. No God is there besides
Thee. From eternity Thou hast been exalted above the praise of aught else but
Thee, and been high above the description of any one except Thyself." I
yield Thee such thanks as can cause the Nightingale of Glory to pour forth its
melody in the highest heaven: "Ali (the Báb), in truth, is Thy servant,
Whom Thou hast singled out from among Thy Messengers and Thy chosen Ones, and
made Him to be the Manifestation of Thyself in all that pertaineth unto Thee,
and that concerneth the revelation of Thine attributes and the evidences of Thy
names." I yield Thee such thanks as can stir up all things to extol Thee,
and to glorify Thine Essence, and can unloose the tongues of all beings to
magnify the sovereignty of Thy beauty. I yield Thee such thanks as can fill the
heavens and the earth with the signs of Thy transcendent Essence, and assist
all created things to enter the Tabernacle of Thy nearness and Thy presence. I
yield Thee such thanks as can make every created thing to be a book that shall
speak of Thee, and a scroll that shall unfold Thy praise. I yield Thee such
thanks as can establish the Manifestations of Thy sovereignty upon the throne
of Thy governance, and set up the Exponents of Thy glory upon the seat of Thy
Divinity. I yield Thee such thanks as can make the corrupt tree to bring forth
good fruit through the holy breaths of Thy favors, and revive the bodies of all
beings with the gentle winds of Thy transcendent grace. I yield Thee such
thanks as can cause the signs of Thine exalted singleness to be sent down out
of the heaven of Thy holy unity. I yield Thee such thanks as can teach all
things the realities of Thy knowledge and the essence of Thy wisdom, and will
not withhold the wretched creatures from the doors of Thy mercy and Thy
bountiful favor. I yield Thee such thanks as can enable all who are in heaven
and on earth to dispense with all created things, through the treasuries of
Thine all-sufficing riches, and can aid all created things to reach unto the
summit of Thine almighty favors. I yield Thee such thanks as can assist the
hearts of Thine ardent lovers to soar into the atmosphere of nearness to Thee,
and of longing for Thee, and kindle the Light of Lights within the land of
Iraq. I yield Thee such thanks as can detach them that are nigh unto Thee from
all created things, and draw them to the throne of Thy names and Thine
attributes. I yield Thee such thanks as can cause Thee to forgive all sins and
trespasses, and to fulfill the needs of the peoples of all religions, and to
waft the fragrances of pardon over the entire creation. I yield Thee such
thanks as can enable them that recognize Thy unity to scale the heights of Thy
love, and cause such as are devoted to Thee to ascend unto the Paradise of Thy
presence. I yield Thee such thanks as can satisfy the wants of all such as seek
Thee, and realize the aims of them that have recognized Thee. I yield Thee such
thanks as can blot out from the hearts of men all suggestions of limitations,
and inscribe the signs of Thy unity. I yield Thee such thanks as that with which
Thou didst from eternity glorify Thine own Self, and didst exalt it above all
peers, rivals, and comparisons, O Thou in Whose hands are the heavens of grace
and of bounty, and the kingdoms of glory and of majesty!”
Prayers and Meditations by
Bahá’u’lláh, p. 328
For some reason, I found reading the
letters of the Guardian, Shoghi Effendi, difficult. Several times I picked up his remarkable
history of the Faith, God Passes By,
but never got passed a few pages. That mental block disappeared once I began
reading “Nabil’s Narrative: The
Dawnbreakers,” the indispensable history of the Báb. At times the
experience of reading a chapter of the Dawnbreakers would transport me to
another realm and leave feeling dazed for hours when I put the book down. When
I realized that Shoghi Effendi had done the translation of Nabil’s work into
English, I had the urged to read every letter and book that the Guardian had
written.
Dee and I, as the two Baha’i’s
residing in Steamboat at the time (plus Dee’s two children), were limited in
what type of activities we might hold, but we did hold the Nineteen-Day Feasts,
either in the hotel, or in a park on warmer days. Autumn in Steamboat was
beautiful with the aspen leaves turning to fiery hues of reds and oranges. To
sit in a park on a clear, crisp autumn day to celebrate a Feast with readings
from the Writings along with cups of yoghurt and fruit made for an inebriating,
dream-like experience.
Roger and Dee’s son, Stacy, maybe in
first grade at the time, showed much capacity.
One day he entered my room while I was reading from Rodwell’s English
translation of the Qur’an. Stacy asked me what I was reading, and I told him
the Qur’an, the Holy Book of Muhammad. I showed him the page I was reading from
and he began reading a passage with hardly a stutter. I was amazed how this
young lad could grasp the difficult language of the Qur’an, and he seemed to
understand much of what he read. It was more puzzling because Stacy’s school
teacher had reported to the Carsons that Stacy was not keeping up with the
reading in the class. The problem became clear when I discovered that they were
reading “Dick and Jane” books with sentences such as: “See Dick run. Dick runs
fast. See Jane jump. Jane jumps up” with the rest of the page being a colorful
drawing showing Dick and Jane doing what the text said. I think Stacy was trying to figure out what
he was missing. With so few words on the page, reading must have been the most
boring subject in the world for him.
Dee had a vivacious personality,
sometimes beset with lows. Roger, on the
other hand, stayed even-keeled. I don’t
remember him every losing his temper while I was there, even if a guest broke
something. Both were wonderful to be
around, but I knew Dee felt an emptiness that Roger didn’t share her love for
Bahá’u’lláh.
Apparently, in his younger days his
interaction with church was negative and he chose to be agnostic in his
outlook. We had lively discussions about
the topic neither side able to convince the other with rational arguments. “Prove there is a God”, he might state; and I
might respond with “Prove the astronauts actually landed on the moon.” It all came down to faith. A couple times while I was there, Dee left
for a few days to be with Baha’i’s friends somewhere else. She would return rejuvenated and everything
would be great again.
Not
all the guest tenants worked out well for Roger and Dee. One morning a great commotion disturbed the
hotel. A young man staying at the Edelweiss overdosed on drugs and went into
convulsions, which caused a panic. Roger and Dee had a no drug policy for
tenants and their guests, which was honored by most of those staying or
visiting the hotel.
Special, but rare, visits from
Baha’i’s bolstered Dee and my spirits.
Two Denver believers who made a couple of trips during my time in
Steamboat Springs was the odd pair of seventy-year old Leah Dagen, a
delightfully garrulous person from a Jewish background, and Ray Kahn, a humble
Navajo Bahá’í in his thirties with a pleasantly reserved disposition and gentle
smile. Such an unusual combination of
age, personality and experience was perfect medicine for Dee and me. Leah later
moved to the Grand Junction area of western Colorado and helped the Faith
especially in preparing public information articles for the local news
media. I would later get to know many of
the famous Kahn family—stalwart Baha’i’s from the Navajo Reservation in
Arizona. Ray was a wonderful introduction to that steadfast family.
One day a young, Jewish woman from
New York arrived and rented a room. I
don’t remember her name, but I’ll call her Laura for this memoir. She was
waiting for her fiancé to come. We
became good friends and enjoyed long talks together, sometimes sitting on the
carpeted floor of my room drinking tea. (We always kept the room door open.)
Almost simultaneously, another person from New York City, also Jewish, rented a
room. I’ll call him Cliff. I cannot remember if the two New Yorkers were
already acquaintances, but his presence added another layer of perspectives to
our daily talks. We would compare
philosophies of thinkers like Friedrich Nietzsche, George Ivanovich Gurdjieff
and Peter D. Ouspensky. I knew very
little about such thinkers and would generally share quotations from
Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá on the topic under discussion. It felt both delightful and strange to be in
this small, cowboy outpost in the beautiful Colorado mountains carrying on
decidedly intellectual conversations with two scholarly Jews from New York City
on deeply mystical and spiritual concepts.
One of the most memorable days I had
living in Steamboat Springs was when Dee and I were invited to help Daisy
Anderson Leonard harvest her carrots in Strawberry Park. It was late September. The ground was cold, but not frozen. I remember it being more sludgy than
hard. Though it wasn’t too difficult to
pull the carrots from the ground, my fingers quickly felt frozen and we slipped
around in the muddy ground a lot. Later
that day, after a chance to shower and change, Miss Daisy came to the hotel and
joined Dee and I for tea and snacks. For
helping her with the carrots, she gave me a copy of a book she wrote about her
illustrious husband, Robert Anderson, From
Slavery to Afluence: Memoirs of Robert Anderson, Ex-Slave.
Here is a summary about Daisy
Anderson Leonard’s life:
She “was a noted local author and
one of the country's longest surviving Civil War widows.
“Miss Daisy, as she was known to
some, married Civil War veteran and one-time slave Robert Anderson in Forest
City, Arkansas, in 1922 when he was 79 and she was 21. He had fled his
plantation with his master's blessing in time to join the Union Army in the
last days of the Civil War in 1865.
“Mr. Anderson died eight years after
he married Daisy but left a modest fortune behind after successfully running a ranch
in Nebraska. In the wake of the Great Depression, she found her way to her
sister's home outside Steamboat where Daisy raised poultry and gardened.
"Daisy drove a green Army
surplus open-air Jeep and always wore a red bandana around her head."
“But Daisy was best known for
writing a book about her late husband's life entitled "From Slavery to
Affluence: Memoirs of Robert Anderson, Ex-Slave," which won her
international acclaim and allowed her to tour to give lectures.
“When Daisy died in September 1998
in Denver at the age of 97, she left behind just two other surviving Civil War
widows. Her obituary in The New York Times ran 22 paragraphs in length. graphs
in length.”
Excerpted from article about
furniture maker Tom Ross in the August 7, 2013 issue of Steamboat Pilot and Today: https://www.steamboattoday.com/news/tom-ross-furniture-makers-national-reputation-has-roots-in-routt-countys-strawberry-park/
Obituary for Daisy Anderson Leonard
from NY Times: https://www.nytimes.com/1998/09/26/us/daisy-anderson-97-widow-of-former-slave-and-union-soldier.html?register=google
As the fall arrived, the temperament
of the town changed. LTV
Recreational Development bought the sky resort and upgraded the ski lifts and
added a high-end lodge and an extravagant restaurant. New arrivals flowed into town—the rich to
stay at the lodge and others, less affluent to take service jobs at the resort.
I worked at the restaurant as one of the dishwashers for a short time. The main chef, a stately looking
African-American man, commanded the kitchen area like a military general. He
looked quite distinguished in his dazzling white toque blanche, as he barked out orders to the kitchen lineup.
Waiters came in and out of the swinging down to the dining area with platters
of steak, lobster and all the fixings. Often the waiters returned with plates
with hardy any of the delicious food touched.
We would put the untouched food aside for our own dinners after work. It
astonished me to see how many wealthy people seemed unabashed in their wasteful
abundance.
Meanwhile way down below the ski
area in downtown Steamboat, resident patrons filled the local pub. One night, Dee and I ventured with some of
the hotel guests to the pub to celebrate the first day of fall with hot apple
cider. It was a jubilant evening of song
and dance in the pub and out on the street.
Autumn brought hunting season too
and hunters, some with their deer carcasses strapped to the top of their
vehicles, rumbling through town. After
being surrounded by the kaleidoscope of fall colors for several weeks, the
sudden display of dead life being paraded through town by jubilant hunters
brought sadness to my soul. It seemed all the newcomers to town, whether coming
for skiing or to kill game, only had their own pleasures in mind.
One day my New York friends and I
went to have lunch at a local café.
Outside the restaurant a Suburban was parked with the body of deer
strapped over the top. Inside the restaurant
a group of several men in hunter garb sat laughing elatedly around a table as
they looked at their menus and sang loudly, “Super juice! Super Juice! We want
super juice.” We sat down at a nearby
table and looking at a menu noticed that the lunch entrees included “soup or
juice”. The gloom of death mixed with
comic celebration of the victors.
A Nigerian student, Toya Moses, who was Anglican, had come
to study at CSU and was staying with Father Hal (as he was called by
parishioners). Toya sometimes came to
church services at the more traditional St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, which my
family belonged to. Toya, a very outgoing person, was the only dark-skinned
person in our congregation, something that he found strange, which it was.
Toya, when he first arrived in America, imagined it to be a model of justice
and racial equality. The ingrained
subtle racial prejudices bothered him, but he tried to be loving and keep his
feelings to himself. We quickly became
friends about the time that I became a Bahá’í.
He invited me a couple of time to come to Father Hal’s home when several
Nigerian students came over to prepare their favorite dishes from back home,
where I learned the proper etiquette of eating with ones hands. Toya wanted to
know what Bahá’ís believed. The emphasis on unity, equality and justice
impressed him. He was particularly captivated by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s
positive encouragement for interracial marriage. I gave Toya my favorite
Bahá’í Book, Baha’i World Faith, and
showed him what ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’ wrote about marriage between the races:
“If it be
possible, gather together these two races, black and white, into one Assembly,
and put such love into their hearts that they shall not only unite but even
intermarry. Be sure that the result of this will abolish differences and
disputes between black and white. Moreover, by the Will of God, may it be so.
This is a great service to humanity”
I remember Father Hal as being liberal in his views, but not
as extreme or as flamboyant as Malcolm Boyd was. When I first heard about the Baha’i Faith in
a small coffee shop in the bar zone of Fort Collins, I decided to call Father
Hal to get his insights about the new religion before I attended a
meeting. I was surprised to find out the
Father Hal has recently attended a Bahá’í fireside meeting. He told me that he
thought the Faith was very good and encouraged me to attend a meeting. He said: “Chris, I think you will like it,”
then he added a personal note, “For me, it’s too small of a group, but you
should go and find out about it.” His
endorsement encouraged the way for me to go with an open mind, and within a few
days of that phone conversation I attended my first Baha’i meeting in the home
of the Garrigues family.
Those words had stayed with me-- that he saw the Faith as
being too small for him. The more I learned about the universal nature of the
Faith, the stranger his assessment seemed. Barely six months after that pivotal
phone call, there I stood on a street in Steamboat Springs greeting Father Hal.
I told him of my becoming a Bahá’í. He
received the news warmly, then informed me that he was no longer “Father” Hal.
He had renounced his vows and left the church to get married. He was in
Steamboat to stay with friends for a few days. He looked very happy. That was the last time I saw him.
While in Steamboat I befriended a
young married couple, who were devoted Christian Scientists. Founded in 1879 in Boston, Massachusetts, by
Mary Baker Eddy, the Church of Christ Science sought "to commemorate the
word and works of Christ Jesus" and "reinstate primitive Christianity
and its lost element of healing".
We had a lot in common and enjoyed
our chats together. I attended their
church services a couple of times. We differed on the use of medical treatment
for health. Their belief centered on
prayer and spiritual healing and not medical treatments, and my Bahá’í view
combined spiritual healing with medical healing.
When Linda and I went to MIT for
Rahmat’s PhD graduation ceremony in 2011, we toured the beautiful Mother Church
of Christ Scientist in Boston. Though the theology of the church did not
attract me, I had been a subscriber to The
Christian Science Monitor newspaper from time to time for its objective,
global reporting of the news, as contrasted to the often-skewed news reporting
of today.
As winter approached so did the
cold. I had a mustache in those days,
and I remember it icing up when I made the two-block walk to the post
office. I would reach the front door of
the post office with tiny icicles hanging over my mouth. The sidewalks were often slippery, especially
after it snowed, making every step a delicate one, setting my crutches
carefully on the cement before placing my weight down on each step.
One
day at the hotel a couple of weeks before Christmas, Dee, the two New Yorker
Jewish residents and I decided it would be nice to celebrate the Christmas
spirit by caroling in a neighborhood. We all remembered enough Christmas carols
from our school days and had a repertoire of enough songs to make it work. Dee thought it would be nice to include
Christian friends to join us. It would demonstrate unity of religion and the
Christian friends would probably be more familiar with the carols. However, when reaching out to several local
Christian friends inviting them to carol with us, they all kindly declined for
one reason or another. Bravely, we determined to do it anyway. Thus, one frosty evening we strolled to a
residential area in our warmest clothes and gloves and approached a home and
knocked on the front door. We introduced
ourselves and offered to share a Christmas carol with whoever lived in the home.
We were pleasantly surprised that no one turned us down, and we received warm
appreciation at each home we visited.
After touring one neighborhood, we went for hot, apple cider at the
local tavern, needing to warm up again.
We wondered if the families we sang to knew that two Jews and two Bahá’ís
were singing at their door, would their reception have been as open and warm.
Not
long after, my New Yorker friends left to continue their lives elsewhere. I don’t remember where Cliff was headed—back
to New York City or westward, but Laura’s fiancé arrived for her. Of course, she was filled with joy and
quickly packed to leave with him. For
me, it was bittersweet. We had become very
close spiritually, and I was losing a family member. I’ve often wondered how her life turned out,
and where she might be now. Life’s
journey binds us to hundreds, maybe thousands of souls over the years, knitting
us together in many ways, some short lived and others like lifelong ribbons.
Dee,
too, decided to take a break from the hotel life and left for a while. Roger
continued to be supportive but stayed quite busy running the hotel alone.
Suddenly, a melancholy sense of loneliness crept over me. The cold added to my
gloom and I began thinking about leaving Steamboat Springs, but I couldn’t
decide where I would go. I had meager means, which narrowed my choices to
heading to my parents’ home in Fort Collins, or maybe returning to
Loveland. My heart yearned to go
somewhere warmer, like Arizona or New Mexico, but how would I get established
without a means of livelihood?
Self-sufficiency in the Bahá’í Writings is an element of being detached.
We shouldn’t become a burden on others or on society.
In the early history of the Faith in
Iran and Iraq, many Sufis joined the Faith with pure hearts and dedication.
They followed Bahá’u’lláh to Baghdad and struggled to meet their own material
needs, simple that they were. Bahá’u’lláh, at one
point, told them that they needed to have professions to become
self-sufficient. He helped several start
trades or businesses. One man started a
confectionary, another a coffee house, etc.
Years
later when exiled to the Akká prison, where Bahá’u’lláh revealed His most Holy
Book, the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, He states: “O people of Bahá! It is incumbent upon each
one of you to engage in some occupation -- such as a craft, a trade or the
like. We have exalted your engagement in such work to the rank of worship of
the one true God.” the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, p. 30)
In another Tablet Bahá’u’lláh
revealed: “Concerning the means of
livelihood, thou shouldst, while placing thy whole trust in God, engage in some
occupation. He will assuredly send down upon thee from the heaven of His favour
that which is destined for thee. He is in truth the God of might and power.”
Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh, p. 266)
‘Abdu’l-Bahá later reiterated this
tenet to the friends; "Thou hast
asked regarding the means of livelihood. Trust in God and engage in your work
and practice economy; the confirmations of God shall descend and you will be
enable to pay off your debts. Be ye occupied always with the mention of
Bahá'u'lláh and seek ye no other hope and desire save Him." 'Abdu'l-Bahá,
Bahá'í World Faith, p. 375
Realizing the need to work and have
a profession of some kind, the nagging thought of college study kept sneaking
into my thoughts. Going back to school wasn’t something I wanted to do at that
time. I was still new in my Faith and
wanted to explore life a little longer before getting chained to a job. I still
longed to travel and explore how other Bahá’ís lived and served. I prayed intensely about this dilemma facing
me and, unless something changed, I’d plan to return to Fort Collins and start
anew.
One day, however, my life took a
more adventurous turn. A Bahá’í youth from Greeley, Colorado arrived to give a
few weeks of service to the Faith in Steamboat Springs. I knew her from
teaching visits I had made with others to see her and her family in Greeley. I
told her that I was preparing to leave Steamboat to go home. She suddenly burst
out asking me if I had heard of the Bahá’í teaching conference happening in
Alamogordo, New Mexico. She said that
she knew of several youth from Wyoming and Colorado who were planning to
attend. I told her that I would love to
attend such the conference, but I had limited means. She told me that she was sure if I could make
to the conference that I could catch a ride home to Fort Collins afterwards
with a youth who lived in Cheyenne, Wyoming. It all sounded great, but the
information was skimpy. I counted my
money and came up with enough to get to Alamogordo, but not much more.
It was almost Christmas Day and
snows had fallen. The depths of winter
had come to the Colorado mountains. I prayed and went to the bus depot to buy
ticket to Denver. Once there I could
decide to go to Fort Collins, or head south to the Land of Enchantment. On Christmas Day I climbed aboard a bus
headed for Denver. I was the lone
passenger. The prayer for the Western
States revealed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in the Tablets
of the Divine Plan ran through my mind: “I
am single, alone and lonely.”
