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North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
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Pay attention by Bill Donahue Chapter One. The indian I had just returned from the 4th of July ritual started a decade ago. A new american flag was planted on Winfield peak every year in honor of our country's birthday. On the copper flagpole, I put the name of a friend or family member who was struggling in life, Perhaps illness or disaster had struck them. The names were etched into the poll among the previous ones. Then the poll was used again the following year. A picture snapped at the peak and sent to them telling about the flag flying in their honor. That year. On the peak was the tradition lift me up for the chosen person was the intention. Then the flag would be retrieved in the fall, cased and sent to the honoree or family. The annual trip was cold just above freezing this time of year, at timberline, beautiful lush and green. The plants and trees just bursting with new growth were wet and hanging low to the ground. The sound of the runoff roared like a lion down the valley. The morning clouds laid in the valley at the 12,000 ft level, like a layer of cotton separating the lush valley floor and the rocky peaks where the sun rays broke through. God's Beauty showed through in the white snow, laying in the high crevasses on the sheer rock faces, everything was wet first thing and by the time I got started, my pant legs were soaked along with my boots from the do on the tall grass. The first part of the trip is by a tv about an hour's ride to my timberline parking spot. Then the zigzag hike of about two hours would begin. It was quiet and as I emerged from the clouds just above timberline. The sun was bright and warm at the summit when I finally reached it. Then I planted the flag, did a photo shoot and took some time to soak it all in and of course have a nip from my flask. Then I began the return trip back down the steep narrow trail and ride back to the cabin to rest and have refreshments. It was a proud walk. Each year spent thinking about the person whose name I put on the pole. It was a good thing like helping an old lady across a busy street. It was intended to be a challenge, met head on and conquered once again. On the way back to the valley floor, I had stopped in the usual spot to shift my ride from my climb mode into take it on home mode. On the way back to the valley floor, I had stopped in the usual spot to shift my ride from climb mode into take it on home mode. Some sort of movement caught my eye to the left. A deer or an elk, No standing about 30 yards away in a shadow. I saw an Indian standing motionless now. His dark eyes glared at me. No expression in his face. I nodded. A friendly mountain man, nod his way. He gave no reaction, so I moved on, giving it a little thought. He must have wandered away from a mountain man rendezvous up in the big meadow. Back at the cabin, I was ready to relax. There's nothing like a cold drink after a job well done in the colorado high country on a warm midsummer morning after a seven hour adventure, I was about to do what I always did after placing the flag on Winfield peak. Get in my deck chair, boots off slippers on, cold drink in hand and spotting scope in place to look at the awesome sight I had created this fine morning. Sitting back on the deck to admire my own handiwork. The flag on the peak would be my view. I saw movement down the road in front of me about 400 yards away, but moving toward me. I was not sure why, but whatever was heading my way made me feel just a little bit nervous, not afraid, but that feeling a person might get when they're about to go off the high board or pet a snake.