Leland Hall on fri 14 oct 05
After a couple of months of working like a dog, the funds ran out
simultaneous to the beginning of hunting season. The generous and blessed
Clayarter donations were used to insulate and drywall the reinforced
ceiling, replace all the broken fire damaaged windows in the west wall,
replace the man door, rebuild the destroyed load bearing north wall and
pay the fee for the 40 yard dumpster, trucking fee and disposal of charred
debris. (we created three huge burn piles of partially burnt lumber that
will be burnt when the snows come. (I know, I know, bad for the
atmosphere, but I can't think of an alternative. Some of the least burnt
lumber was cut up to stove length and will go into our wood stove this
winter)
So with all that great progress made, and CERFS funds sitting quietly in my
bank account waiting to be expended on a new electric service, I decided to
begin the annual hunting adventure. Not having a clue where or how a kiln
might happen, or how the heck we would pay the property taxes due so very
soon, I hoped that the deer and elk hunting expedition might dispell some
of the depression and anxiety I've been feeling. But this years hunt comes
with considerable trepedation. So much is unknown about our future. Ten
years of our lives wiped a way in one afternoon. I just can't imagine how
the Katrina victems must feel having lost EVERYTHING. I hope like hell
they all get the federal help they need so desperatly to begin again. Even
starting over with a studio lost but a home intact is a hell. To start
from scratch, I don't think I could do it. And this years hunt is
particularly different because it is my fathers last hunt. This marks the
end of an era. He just can't walk in the woods any longer. Two artificial
knees, and two hips the same. He announced that the 1903 Springield A-3
will be handed over at the end this season. This was his infantry rifle
after the war. It's rough to see yet another member of the "Greatest
Generation" handing down their tools to the next generation. But an honor
as well. I'd like to send that rifle to Griffen and Howe back east and
having it memorialised by having it turned into a fine custom like only
they can do. Maybe later. Also this was my nephews first hunt, and I am
honored to be his teacher. A lot of us out west (and elsewhere too I
supose) stongly feel that these skills and traditions are valuable and need
to be kept alive. My dad only stayed in camp three days, and not much
hunting was actually done, mostly just enjoying his company and the sights
and sounds of the great outdoors. He drove himself home, leaving his rifle
with us. It was a solem moment. Over the next few days, we were
successful in filling our buck tags. and I came home to try to get things
rolling with electricions during the few days I had before elk season.
I had really considered bailing on the elk hunt. Just too much to do, too
much up in the air regarding Before The Wheel. And my neck (failed fusion)
is killing me. I'll hunt elk alone this year. Thats always been the way
for me. Keeps it spiritual. Keeps it pure. But damn I was getting
depressed. No kiln. Taxes due. Losing hope. Well, a freezer full of
venision and elk meat could only help. Better go for it.
Any way, it was feeling like I was out of business permantly when CERF got
back to me this morning and informed us that they were trying to broker a
deal on a kiln for us. I cried. I've really felt like maybe my life was
over. Heres why. Here's what I know how to do in this world. I know how
to drive a forklift. I know how to "high lead" timber out of the Pacific
Northwest mountains. I know how to work the salmon docks of Alaska, and
tend the fishing boats coming in, and how to get their holds unloaded and
the salmon or halibut into cold storage. I know a little farming and a
little animal husbandry. But with a partly ruined spine, I'm not going to
be doing any of those things. Besides, I turned 51 today.
I guess I could learn to flip burgers, but that would pay less than my
disability. Would McDonalds let me lay down for an hour when arms go
numb? Maybe miss a few days out each month, call them Lelands "pain"
days? Don't think so.
But by god I know how to make pots. Pots that sell. That's what I have
left of this life. Like Kelly said, Clay owns me. And clay has been good
to me.
If CERF manages to broker a deal for a kiln for us, I will consider them
angels. If they don't, I still will, just for them trying.
I've got new pics of the studio progress that I'll get up when I get home.
Right now I'm off to the mountains for Wapiti. Wish me luck. Wish me
worthy.
Love ya all
Your crazy mountain man redneck hippy brother in Clay
Leland
Before the Wheel Enterprises
La Pine, Oregon
USA
Linda Ferzoco on sat 15 oct 05
Leland,
Thanks so much for posting this. CERF was one of the organizations
that got my donation and to hear how well they are working for
artists reinforces my notion that it's a good organization.
Cheers, Linda, California
--- Leland Hall wrote:
>
> Any way, it was feeling like I was out of business permantly when
> CERF got
> back to me this morning and informed us that they were trying to
> broker a
> deal on a kiln for us. I cried.
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