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Show Ijljvj MdDiraimtonim rv byNanChalat 1 Future shock hits the Wasatch It is the fifth day in the work week, the fifth day in a row I have avoided my dog's eyes as I leave for town. The sky is clear, it's a wonderful morning for a walk, but my list of things to do is already longer than the day ahead. I grab my briefcase and a last sip of coffee while my dog dramatically sighs and hangs her head off the front porch. Although her day will probably consist of several visits with the neighbors' canines and a series of leisurely naps in the sun, she will be sure to assume the same woebegone expression on the porch when I return eight or nine hours later. It never fails to elicit waves of guilt and promises of a long ski tour with her on my day off. t Then there is a long drive to work. My attention alternates between glimpses at my watch and glares at other drivers who don't signal, who move too slowly or otherwise inadvertently impede my progress. The day must proceed like a well-oiled machine no time to stop and chat about the weather. And it suddenly occurs to me that this is not the kind of lifestyle I had intended to pursue in a small town in the mountains. When I felt the pressure rising in the big cities back east I packed my bags and headed west. I had seen the symptoms of future shock impersonalization and information overload and I knew it wasn't for me. But it was starting to look like there was no escape. Perhaps it is just a symptom of the season, but I know ! my friends are feeling it too. We have joined the ranks of : the weekend skiers, given up our freewheeling days for steady jobs and are finding that the scales have tipped much too far toward all work and no play. Then just like our city counterparts, we blow off steam at the athletic club trying to become aerobically mellow. I knew future shock had found me when I called a friend in the valley and heard his answering machine politely explain he would get back to me later if I would just leave a message on the tape. The message? I scurried to find a legitimate excuse for calling and then blurted out the truth "Er, urn, I was just looking for a ski partner ..." It seemed so frivolous and irresponsible. Well, maybe so, but I didn't move to the wilds of Utah to spend my days at a desk on hold. On the sixth day, when I found myself headed back to the office once again, I looked into my dog's eyes and realized she was right. It was a great day for a detour. Just as she was about to assume her guilt post I opened the back door of the car and called her. We drove to the lake and slowly enough to notice two deer grazing alongside the horses in a rancher's pasture and a newborn calf leaning against her mother's flank for warmth. Along the river three bald eagles sat like vultures in the branches of the cottonwoods while my dog ran back and forth chasing imaginary rabbits. I drove slowly into town watching the trees and the sky instead of my watch. I saw a kingfisher land on the power line at the river bridge and the unmistakable silhouette of a blue heron winging toward the hills. Perhaps it was just an extraordinary morning, but I think it was just that I finally took the time to notice it. |