at least not lush kelly green. It was dry and dusty with few mountain streams and even fewer lakes or ponds, but to its credit, it was one of the truly isolated places left in the forty-eight states. The Sierra Club and wilderness alliances loved it and wanted to keep it that way, but Judith envisioned something else. Something more refined, more polished, more developed. Some paved roads and some park lodges where you could get a good meal and a good bed. Certainly, not like this damn bed she was trying to sleep on tonight. Twisting over to her right side, she felt her lumbar spine groan as it sagged downward, trying to make contact with the hard slab.
Administration had made it clear, without question, the environmentalists were the people with the most political clout, the most money for campaign war chests and were the most politically correct in their view. Her job was to keep them happy. It didn’t take long for her to realize that group wanted the monument to themselves. No multiple uses for them. They didn’t like cowboys and they certainly didn’t want cows defecating all over their hiking trails, and deep down Judith had to admit, she agreed with them.
However, in his proclamation, President Clinton had clearly stated there would continue to be multiple uses for the Grand Staircase/Escalante National Monument. So for now, at least, she was stuck with that principle. That, of course, did not mean that all sides would not be tugging at her shirt, trying to increase their influence.
From her years in the National Park Service, she was well grounded in, and did not need to be converted to, the idea of conservation. That was the whole idea behind the Park Service. Fortunately there, they did not have to contend with the concept of multiple uses. But she was now with the BLM and to make the best of it and to try to appease the warring factions, she had formed this advisory committee. Not that she expected any real wisdom from it, but she knew it looked good and was definitely good PR.
Maybe, it had been a mistake to have Sean O’Grady represent the wilderness alliance. He was such an irritating hothead. It seems redheads always were. But it was more than that, he was also, perhaps, dangerous. Already she had heard the gossip, rumors of environmental terrorism before the monument was created, but perhaps that was just prattle. She had seen no actual evidence of any wrong doing. He had applied for the position of monument paleontologist, and as it turned out, they did need one. The monument was a literal treasure trove of fossils. Having him on the committee would serve a dual purpose. She could keep an eye on his environmental activities and evaluate him for the possible paleontology position.
Then there was Douglas Roper Rehnquist representing the other side. He was a likeable enough guy and seemed to be a well-respected member of the ranching community. Also from the way he spoke and the way he carried himself, he appeared to be quite articulate and probably some college education. Not your typical Utah cowboy and as a bonus, he did play chess! Perhaps the only chess player in all of Kane County, she thought. Though he was a native southern Utahn, he seemed sincere in his belief there had to be room for everyone. It was his belief, there would be an initial and difficult acclimation period, but we all could struggle through it and learn to work and live together. That was probably overly idealistic and more than likely he was just trying to protect his dying kingdom, making sure it was not his ox that was gored, but he seemed sincere. It was truly amazing to Judith, how accommodating people became when they realized they might very well be on the losing team.
Once again, monument manager Judith Brisco pounded her pillow trying to soften it then rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. It would not be easy, but by God she would make a damn good monument in this god forsaken country.
Closing her eyes, she tried to let her mind wander aimlessly into directionless colorless oblivion. Then the phone rang. Without bothering to turn on the light, she rolled over and picked up the phone.
“Hello,” she mumbled into the receiver.
“Judith, this is your mother.”
“Oh, hi, Mom,” Judith said without enthusiasm.
“Did I wake you?” Alise Brisco asked, her voice as raspy as sandpaper from her years of inhaling tobacco smoke.
“No Mom,” Judith replied. “I can’t sleep in motel beds.
“When you moving into your house?”
“Soon as my furniture arrives. Hopefully later today.”
“Have you seen your new office?” Alise asked.
“Yeah, it’s not much,” Judith said. “They rented the old high school in the center of town and are remodeling it into offices. Someday, hopefully soon, they’re supposed to start on a new visitor center, actually several.”
“Several?”
“Yeah, unlike the National Park Service, the BLM is not going to put visitor centers in the monument itself. Instead, they’re going to put them in border towns. Three are planned, one in Kanab, Big Water and Escalante.”
“That seems like a monumental waste of money,” Alise laughed hoarsely. “Monumental, do you get it?”
“Yes, Mother,” Judith answered crossly.
“What do you think of the town?”
“It’s not much. Tourist town. Maybe fifteen hundred people. No malls, no department stores and no theaters.”
“Do they have an Episcopal Church?”
“No, the closest one is in St. George and that’s eighty miles away,” Judith said, “and that’s just a small congregation. They just have Mormons out here, Mom.”
“I know nothing about Mormons,” Alise said, “except they don’t drink and they’re into polygamy.”
“I don’t think so, at least not the mainstream,” Judith said. “But there is a polygamous community, Colorado City, about forty miles from here.”
“I could never understand that,” Alise insisted, not trying to hide her disgust, “being that subservient.”
“Me neither. It’s barbaric.”
“Do you like your job?” Alise asked. “You sound depressed.”
“I don’t know, Mother,” Judith sighed. “There’s so much to do.”
“Are you afraid you can’t handle it?”
“Of course not, Mother,” Judith declared, a little more stridently than she had planned.
“Then what is it?”
“Nothing and everything,” Judith replied, “it’s complicated. There’s all these special interest groups. I’ve suddenly had to learn the fine art of political juggling.”
“What groups?”
“Well, the two main ones are the cattlemen and the environmentalists. They can’t seem to get along. In the Park Service we never had to deal with the ranchers, there weren’t any.”
“Well, remember the future of this country is with the environmentalists. Ranchers and beef are on their way out.”
“I agree, Mother,” Judith said. “But for now, I’m caught in the middle.”
“Judith,”
