EVERETT REUSS my long lost hero....LOST to generations of nomads, misfits, monkeywrenchers and adventurers. Found on a fluke of circumstances. I have spent many a worn out boot in search of his bleached bones. Now finally I go to his shrine...a crevice on Comb Ridge amungst the red scorched stone. DNA confirmed that the youthful legend was indeed found. A young Navajo boy brings this all to light with a hidden family secret. The boys grandfather had from a safe distance been witness to the murder. Three Indians had chased Everett down. Everett refused to leave his burros and in doing so met his death by means of a rock being flung to the head. How ironic that a boy who sought only peace and beauty and stillness found chaos even here....in the desert. The good Indian drug Reuss up to the ridge top crevice, paid his respects, and kept the secret hidden until late in life. A sickness plagued the old Indian. Navajos know that a blessingway ceremony is needed in these circumstances. A evil lurked. The healer needed a lock from Everetts head to dispell the skinwalker. His children helped with the task...the incident of secret now passed on to new generations. The young Nez sought out this family secret and found those old bones of the poet artist nomad....my hero. I mourn for his moment of terror. We had hoped a better circumstance had been at fault. Such is life. Lately I see extreme chaos even in nature. Chaos with subtle order. Is this life? I don't mourn for the soul of Reuss...he lived richly. In his own words>>> I have not tired of the wilderness. I prefer the saddle to the streetcar, and the star- sprinkled sky to the drool, the obscure and difficult leading into the unknown. It is enough that I am surrounded with beauty. This had been a full, rich year. I have left no strange or delightful thing undone I wanted to do.
As I go on my own journey....I now have a mecca to visit...to ponder.
