Surprises Along the Highway

So I start out at 8:00 a.m. to travel the 4 and 1/2 hours to my mother's home, hoping to surprise her on her Easter Sunday 82nd birthday. An hour into the trip, my right rear tire blows, and I find myself trying to put one of those really small temporary spare tires on the axle, on Easter Sunday morning. But the spare is flat.

Off the Caprock (if you don't know Texas, you need to look it up), in the middle of nowhere, I dutifully change the tire -- flat for flat -- and decide to crawl back to the nearest town, Post. There I find out what is not surprising at all -- no tires stores open on Sunday ever. So I air up the tire, and proceed back home, at 45 mph, because I don't really trust a spare tire on which I just rode for 15 miles.

All is well, so as I climb up the Caprock (really a spectacular sight), I decide to pull in at the lookout picnic area that I've passed a million times before. (The day is shot, and who's in a hurry?) It's called "The Chimney Rocks," according to the sign. Apparently, back in the early 1900s, C.W. Post fired dynamite off the rise, into the lower range below, hoping to feed the atmosphere with necessary air changes that would produce rain. (Really; look it up). Yes, the Post of the cereal fortune. It's a beautiful sight, especially for those of us on the High Plains who long for topographical change; the vista is lovely and large and produces a longing for all.

So I walk around the park, and there it is: A bumper sticker poster on the garbage can, proclaiming "Honor your Father and Mother." Oh, no. What have I done? Is this a sign too turn back, trust the temporary spare, go on valiantly?

But I ignore it. I walk to the fenced edge, looking over prickly pear and mesquite, hugging the edge of the cliff as it falls down onto the city of Post. And there it is, the second sign: a tire. Oh, no. Oh, no. Should I panic? What in the world am I supposed to see/hear? I squint, and look for the size -- 205 55 r 16 -- that would be a stunner. But, alas, it is a 14 inch tire. I am safe.

No message from God. or the Easter Bunny.

Just a lost travel to my Mother's home, and

A day to live and wonder.

slp

A Tribute to an Executive

I do not know Mr. Rob Katz. A Wharton Business School graduate and former Wall Street player, the 42-year old now serves as the chief executive officer for Vail Resorts. While congressional politics were finding ways to bail out major financial and business institutions in late 2008, Mr. Katz was exercising bold creativity himself. He announced that his own 2009 salary would be cut to zero, and in successive years reduced from its previous rate by 15 percent. The company's executives and top directors would see a 20 percent pay cut, office workers a 10 percent pay cut, and all other workers a 2.5 percent pay cut.

When asked in an interview about these moves, Katz said "We have chosen to address this situation by making the preservation of jobs and protecting the guest experience our highest priorities. By asking everyone to take less, starting at the top, we can continue to focus on our mission of extraordinary resorts, exceptional experiences."

Preserving jobs and protecting the product for customers. What a novel idea. Starting at the top. What a virtuous ideal.

Would that other corporations, businesses, and schools would follow suit.