Bookends

 They call it the Circle of Life for a reason. Life follows birth, which precedes death. A cycle going back to the dawn of life on this rock we call home. I’ve very intentionally not written about all the recent deaths intentionally brought about by some among us who have given up on the notion of Live and Let Live. School shootings continue to plague us, and it seems you can’t even head to the neighborhood grocery store without putting your life on the line. I’ve refrained from speaking (or at least writing) up because I simply have no answers, no solutions, and the grief in my heart pales by comparison as the parents in Uvalde bid farewell to their babes who had only just begun their Circle of Life. 

Columbine remains seared into my brain as it truly hit home. Not only because my wife is a Columbine graduate, or that the school is just 3 1/2 miles from my doorstep, or that it was seemingly the event that was so catastrophic, so beyond the pale of humanity, that it would allow us, once and for all, to solve this problem of humans hunting humans. The country seemed to rally together after Columbine, at least for a very short time. In today’s world there is not even that - our grief, our frustration, our anger is irreparably split along political lines. We can’t even agree on how to mourn.

We can’t even agree on how to mourn…

For most of us the Circle of Life has a shared sameness that is somehow reassuring in its simplicity. Most of us go about our lives much like others around us do, Simple lives can be very good lives. To aspire to getting through this short tenure on Earth without taking the life of my fellow man seems such a simple wish yet increasingly it seems a very difficult concept for some of those among us. Have you noticed lately that the buzzword of mental illness is increasingly tied to the cause of these shooting rampages? I’m not yet convinced that the 18 year old in Texas, or Mr. Klebold and Harris all those 23 years ago, are any more ill than bank robbers, rapists, or heads of government who start meaningless wars. People have been killing people with disturbing regularity since our species first planted foot on the plains of Africa and sadly the passage of thousands of years hasn’t quelled this seemingly natural propensity.

The COVID pandemic brought about nothing so much (other than a lot of death) as a yearning for normalcy. This weekend I’ll be out riding my bike as I do most days when the snow isn’t falling (and some when it is). This weekend will be slightly out of the norm as I’ll be participating, along with tens of thousands of other cyclists, in the Elephant Rock ride held for the last 35 years in the once-rural countryside surrounding Castle Rock. Sadly, but not surprisingly, this will be the Ride’s last year as the Castle Rock area has become too urbanized (too crowded) to safely continue the event. Cyclists are like canaries in the coal mine - when cyclists disappear from roads near you its a sign that you no longer live in an area that is nice enough to ride through. From that perspective, the fact that cyclists will no longer converge on Castle Rock for a peaceful Sunday morning ride before most folks have had their first cup of coffee doesn’t bode well for the increasing numbers of folks who call this area home.

I didn’t do the very first Elephant Ride in 1987, but it didn’t take long before I was hooked on what quickly became a local tradition among Colorado’s two-wheeled set. I’ve lost count on how many times since I’ve done the ride. I’m sure there will be at least some out there this Sunday who have done Every. Single. One. Kudos to them. Whether its one time or thirty five, the Ride brings back fond memories and it will be missed, gone into the history books. Bookends on the Circle of Life.