Jar of Glass: Words Collected by Tamara Lopez

I recently discovered a new waterfall (Mill Creek Falls), or actually the merging of two waterfalls. I did not discover it in the sense that I could lay claim and give it my name: Tamara Falls (that is a depressing name anyway).  I discovered it in the sense that I became aware of its existence. And what does it care if little me perceives it or not? It is busy with its chaos, its power, the constant work of shaping the stone trying to impede it. It wildly propels itself into the depths, never stopping, but finding a means to eventually get where it will go. I sat on a rock by the raging waters, stuck my hands in the water and felt all of the unbridled energy of its freedom. Its voice fluid cacophony, its body pure violence, and I wanted more of it all, as I think most people do.      Just a few days ago I visited another waterfall. It is nameless, but I know its exact spot, and I have hiked there many times. Each year it flows differently. The first year I v...

My latest Pacific Crest Trail section  hike brought me into the little known place called Seiad Valley. There is a reason this place is little known. The people there are forgotten, separated (some by choice others by circumstance) from the outside world. The beautifully engraved sign by the local restaurant advertises that it is the “Home of the Pancake Challange.” Either the spelling is indicative of “I don’ give a fuck attitude”, or is evidence of illiteracy or even a general hate for “the educational system” that produces “drones of society.” Maybe it is both of those things, or maybe there is a general lack of quality proof readers in that little valley. At any rate, this place, Seiad Valley, is tucked away in the wilderness with the Klamath River gloriously winding its way through its contours.      It was my task to find the RV park, as my maps indicated that I could get a coveted shower and wash my sweat soaked hiking clothes. As I walked in early in ...

My son got a new bed. This means that his whole room had to be dissembled, the old bed taken apart(which was no easy task; it was a mammoth bed whose skeletons now resides in the dump), furniture rearranged, and while in the process, it was a perfect opportunity to clean the closet, and sort through the clutter that has been stuffed away in various locations throughout the years. I anticipated this to take one day. I underestimated just how much one little boy can stuff away, and just how much one mama had invested in the bedroom bulge. It was like looking at a monster that I had fed with Legos, art supplies, toy trucks, cars, train tracks, etc. I had gorged the beast with objects.  I needed a beer to even think about looking that aberration of nature in the eye. Liquid courage some call it!       As I began taking objects apart, I barked orders at Joaquin. "Sort through that shelf first! Make a donate pile, a trash pile, and a keep pile!" I was a commando on a miss...