There's a family in town who built half of it. They sold the bar and the oldest son lives here still, his wife managing the Motel. That Motel is pure Benson, being polished clean inside, while the outside is covered with junk, debris, Kids and animals wandering about. There's a handmade benchseat in front of the office overlooking the what little of the Town square there is. Thick wooden slates, varnished and honey brown in color, showing off the wrought iron frame.
Carved into the bench in deep letters, "The Township of Zane, pop 50 and two cranks."
When you climb the hills and limestone circling the valley you see a lot of old mining claims, often a pile of rocks or a PVC pipe stuck in the ground is all that's neccesary to mark the border, and of those, half say Benson. Busted down crane in the gulch to the South; Benson. They'll never pull out that rusting eyesore, as tall as a three story house and in the middlle of an idyllic stream. Old trailer there too, Benson's lived there once. Same with the rottten two story house in town. A tree fell on it this winter and it's still there. Welcome to the Town of Zane.
In the 'old days', when there weren't many people around, when something busted and wouldn't work you left it where it lay, unless it happened to be in your way. Then you'd move it, ever so slightly, to the side of the road.
It's hard to leave that attitude behind, and there are many places in rural US where it still exists. This family has another traditional value of the West, the Frontier, and that's generosity and extraordinary.kindness. They helped us after we moved in and to this day. My drive is cleared of snow. Zeke and I cut down a tree on the mountain and rolled it into my back yard. Zeke came out one night to look for a gas leak. Zeke came out another night to look for a burglar. He delivered firewood. They take the kids when we're in a tight spot and have to leave them somewhere other than alone in the backyard. Always giving.
I know they have a hard time following the tourist trade. The motel is a seasonal thing. Spring and Summer you have guests. Fall has hunters. But Winter has no one, and it's a long winter in Montana. The Benson's go broke. Not during a great year, but in most of the others they strain a little. It's kind of pecular when you think of all the animals in the mountains and forests who feel the same way as the Benson's do about Winter. They get thin.
"Here's some gas money," I told her, "thanks for picking up that Saw in Billings." Mary Benson looked at me strangely and started crying.
"You've no idea, " she said with a breaking voice, " I have to go to Billings because of Zeke's Doctor appointment, but I didn't have enough money to get us home. Now I do."
"Zeke, thanks for the backhoe and my driveway." There wasn't any snow on the ground in late Spring. I handed him 50 bucks.
"Now, you take this, I don't want to hear none of that crap. Every Winter you dig us out, and for that matter the whole town. Least you could do is allow me to pay my share."
So Zeke takes the cash. The next day Mary shows me on the books where unless she paid 43.50 the electricity was shut down period, last chance closer. Tears in the eyes. "I prayed and prayed." She said.
This stuff happens a few times. I don't remember them all. I'm not surprised at the good timing; you get used to little miracles after a while living in the Holy Land of Montana.
Yesterday I put a ham and duck chicken thingid in the cab of the truck. I never did read what was on the Bird's wrapper. Sure enough, no meat in the house for the family, and very little food.
"You must be close to God," Mary said, "Four times, it's like you're wired in."
"Well, the Holy Ghost does hang out a lot with me." I nodded. I'm the guy who doesn't go to church. Her church, where my wife and children usually go every Sunday. How could I be close to God?
I don't know about all that. I know there is karma, and a circle. I know that when you give it comes back, and with love you find your way.
I like that kind of stuff.
munk
Carved into the bench in deep letters, "The Township of Zane, pop 50 and two cranks."
When you climb the hills and limestone circling the valley you see a lot of old mining claims, often a pile of rocks or a PVC pipe stuck in the ground is all that's neccesary to mark the border, and of those, half say Benson. Busted down crane in the gulch to the South; Benson. They'll never pull out that rusting eyesore, as tall as a three story house and in the middlle of an idyllic stream. Old trailer there too, Benson's lived there once. Same with the rottten two story house in town. A tree fell on it this winter and it's still there. Welcome to the Town of Zane.
In the 'old days', when there weren't many people around, when something busted and wouldn't work you left it where it lay, unless it happened to be in your way. Then you'd move it, ever so slightly, to the side of the road.
It's hard to leave that attitude behind, and there are many places in rural US where it still exists. This family has another traditional value of the West, the Frontier, and that's generosity and extraordinary.kindness. They helped us after we moved in and to this day. My drive is cleared of snow. Zeke and I cut down a tree on the mountain and rolled it into my back yard. Zeke came out one night to look for a gas leak. Zeke came out another night to look for a burglar. He delivered firewood. They take the kids when we're in a tight spot and have to leave them somewhere other than alone in the backyard. Always giving.
I know they have a hard time following the tourist trade. The motel is a seasonal thing. Spring and Summer you have guests. Fall has hunters. But Winter has no one, and it's a long winter in Montana. The Benson's go broke. Not during a great year, but in most of the others they strain a little. It's kind of pecular when you think of all the animals in the mountains and forests who feel the same way as the Benson's do about Winter. They get thin.
"Here's some gas money," I told her, "thanks for picking up that Saw in Billings." Mary Benson looked at me strangely and started crying.
"You've no idea, " she said with a breaking voice, " I have to go to Billings because of Zeke's Doctor appointment, but I didn't have enough money to get us home. Now I do."
"Zeke, thanks for the backhoe and my driveway." There wasn't any snow on the ground in late Spring. I handed him 50 bucks.
"Now, you take this, I don't want to hear none of that crap. Every Winter you dig us out, and for that matter the whole town. Least you could do is allow me to pay my share."
So Zeke takes the cash. The next day Mary shows me on the books where unless she paid 43.50 the electricity was shut down period, last chance closer. Tears in the eyes. "I prayed and prayed." She said.
This stuff happens a few times. I don't remember them all. I'm not surprised at the good timing; you get used to little miracles after a while living in the Holy Land of Montana.
Yesterday I put a ham and duck chicken thingid in the cab of the truck. I never did read what was on the Bird's wrapper. Sure enough, no meat in the house for the family, and very little food.
"You must be close to God," Mary said, "Four times, it's like you're wired in."
"Well, the Holy Ghost does hang out a lot with me." I nodded. I'm the guy who doesn't go to church. Her church, where my wife and children usually go every Sunday. How could I be close to God?
I don't know about all that. I know there is karma, and a circle. I know that when you give it comes back, and with love you find your way.
I like that kind of stuff.
munk
