Two hours after starting our hike, the fog has mostly cleared and Chimney Rock can now be seen.
I have written about how the day after Labor Day is the worst day of the year for me, so my friend, Sandra, offered to take me on a hike the day before to try to create some happy memories around this time of year.
One of the coolest things I attended as a spectator this summer was Panhandle Pride. Each year, for the past five years, friends, family, and strangers gather to celebrate old and new friendships and support the LGBTQ+ community.
Each year, the members of Nebraska Press Women gather in the spring for a convention to announce the winners of their communications contest and to provide continuing education in areas members would like to learn. This year, as things have been extremely rough for me, personally and professionally, I debated skipping the event.
When Friday morning came, my husband, Paul, asked me if I still wanted to go. “Yes and no,” I said. I wanted to attend, but am so wiped out from the ever-increasing assignments at work that four days hiding in my house instead looked promising. However, a promise is a promise. I gathered my things and began my journey to Broken Bow, the site of this years convention.
The memories are flames that lick the edges of my life, always anxious to burn me once again. They are always there and always exhausting. I want to cry. I’m angry. I’m tired. Some days, nothing makes them go away. A touch, a smell, anything that triggers the memories can ruin my day.
It was day nine or ten living on the basement couch. Hours had been spent staring at the wall, the ceiling, the floor. I knew every flaw in everything in the room. I saw the cracks in the ceiling. I saw the holes in the wall. I traced the outline of missing parts of floor tile with my eyes. I didn’t care about any of it at all.
Paul’s mushroom pizza. There is no way I would eat anything with those toppings. Paul said it was tasty and looked like a forest on top of his pizza.
The Flyover Brewing Company opened a little more than a month ago and people in town have been raving about how good their beer is. They also claim the pizza is delicious and everyone should eat there.
A couple of friends visited the first week they were open and raved about the beer. They wanted to try the chicken wings, but the business had run out of them. I frowned at that comment. How do you run out of chicken wings when wings and pizza is all your business sells. Still, I figured I’d give them a try. This pizza was supposed to be so tasty that even I, the great pizza snob, would like it.
Carter Canyon WMA.
I crossed the old wooden bridge over the canal on County Road 17 and continued on. The dirt road makes an almost ninety degree turn just up ahead before winding back to the left, then right, ending in a small, open area. A sign lets you know you all the people and organizations who have made this area possible. The Cedar Canyon Wildlife Management Area parking area is uneven and rocky. It’s just a dead end, but only for a vehicle.
A bullet casing flies through the air as Kris Paronto takes target pracitce at Bluffs Shooters in western Nebraska.
As I traveled through the back roads of Scotts Bluff County and into the southern edge of Sioux County, I looked all around me. A red-tailed hawk sat on the wooden cross beam of a telephone line watching me as I approached. It kept a keen eye on my car until I stopped. Before I had a chance to take my camera out of its bag, the bird flew away. Knowing I didn’t have the zoom lens to track it and take its picture, I sat for a few moments watching it sail into the distance.
I continued my journey a little farther north to the Bluffs Shooters range for an active shooter training course I had been assigned to cover day one of a two-day event. As I pulled in just after 9 a.m., two men greeted me and told me I could park my car anywhere. They were happy someone from the media had come out to see what they were doing. I was less than ecstatic to be there.
A butterfly soars above the ground along the path to the Belmont Tunnel.
Each year, the Sioux County Historical Society Museum in Harrison, Nebraska hosts a historical tour around a portion of the county. This year’s trip took us around the eastern part of the county with highlights about the early-day settlers of Sioux County, family plots, schools, the Agate to Andrews Mail Route, and stops in Marsland and Belmont.
Youth enjoy the day at the Panhandle Equality Pride event at Frank Park in Scottsbluff.
Paul and I always attend the Panhandle Equality picnic. Now in its fourth year, the event continues to grow. This year, there were fantastic musical performances, some from acts who traveled from Lincoln and Omaha to be a part of making a difference in western Nebraska.
I don’t know everyone at the event, but there are always the familiar faces. They are working to make life better for the next generation so that, one day, the LGBTQ community won’t have to work so hard just to be seen as an equal.
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