Wide Open Spaces

Obstacles, slowdowns, and stops have always perturbed me. I’ve lived in Los Angeles for the past six years, and getting around in a car or on foot in Los Angeles is nothing if not maddening and a massive time suck.

The open spaces of Montana speak to me; they open my chest. I breathe more deeply, I rest more easily, and I can move long distances and short ones with great speed. I think we may have found a new home.


Having spent much of my youth in the fir forests of northwest Oregon, I wanted nothing more than to live in a tipi and learn to hunt and survive with Indians. It was around this time that my grandmother sent me a hardbound set of books from National Geographic. They covered whales, volcanos, dinosaurs, sea life in general and Indian cultures of North America.

I buried my nose in the Indian volume, trying to extract survival skills as if it were a manual. It was around this time that I’d first heard of the state of Montana, Lewis and Clark, and Sacajawea. For some reason Montana stuck in my mind. I needed to see it, feel it, explore it, touch it, live it. No explanation or understanding as to why, but suffice to say, now I know.

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