A Community United in Hope

James L. Davis

With the world at our doorstep I made a conscious decision that for the most part I would put down my camera this past week and keep my notebook tucked away. With the world watching and recording our every move and our every statement, one more reporter in search of a headline is not what I thought we needed. What we needed, every one of us, but especially the families of The Six miners, is an answer to a simple but urgent question: Are they safe?

More than a week has crept by since The Six miners were last seen or heard from and there is still no answer to that one question. But many other questions have been answered. And it is the answer to those other questions that should make us all proud to be a part of this community. If there was ever any doubt that this was one community, united by common hopes, common dreams, common desires, then the collective embrace we have all shared in since the mountain tested our mettle, our resolve, and our faith should allay those doubts. For the past week we have been one in our thoughts and in our prayers and in our faith that The Six are within that mountain, alive and waiting to be found.

As media from throughout the region and the country descended upon the county we have carried on, protecting each other and helping when and where we can as we wait for some word from the mountain.

Regardless of our faith we have been united in prayer this past week, prayer for the lost six and prayer for their families.

Much of the media, intent at first to paint us all with a broad stroke as simple and naïve, have had time to consider the strength in our community’s resolve to protect each other from too many prying eyes, too many intrusive questions. In the past week the image of the community portrayed on television, print and radio has been transformed for the most part by the strength of our faith and the bond we all share.

Before the names of The Six were released, before their grainy pictures were shown to the world, the media was frantic to put a face on what was happening here. They searched for a family member to talk to, a brother or a sister, a father or a mother, a wife or a child. All they really had to do if they wanted to see the faces of those impacted by the struggle to find The Six is look around them. Pick a face in the crowd in Huntington, in Cleveland, in Castle Dale or Orangeville or Ferron or Clawson, in Elmo or Price, or Helper or any little community in Castle Valley and odds are you will have picked someone whose life is linked in some way to a coal miner.

“Do people like working in the coal mines?” I was asked last week by a reporter from Los Angeles and the question, while innocent enough, highlighted the lack of understanding people have about the way of life of a coal miner. The reporter had trouble understanding that the community we all share in was built on the sweat of those who chose to face the hard work and dangers of working in the coal mines. The coal mines and the men and women who choose to work in them are intricately intertwined into everything we are here, whether we have ever been in a coal mine or not.

It is a legacy that we are proud to call our own. It is a legacy that has made our community what it is. And as we wait for word from The Six, it is a legacy we can all be proud to share in.

A Way of Life Defines Us

Judi Bishop

Who am I? I am a woman, mother, sister, grandmother, aunt, friend and yes a daughter. I am a coal miner’s daughter, granddaughter, niece and sister. First and foremost, I am a human being with emotions and feelings.

Having been born and raised here and having grandfathers, father, uncles and family friends that were all in the profession of mining you learn to accept the way of life of a mining family and community. Coal miners are a proud group of people, not only in the mine but outside the mine. Perhaps the way they live and love is all from being in that black pit for so many hours. Perhaps they developed their keen sense of humor to override the fear that they may have faced each and every day that they went to work, so as not to worry their loved ones.

I remember all too well my dad talking about feeling the bounces while at work. When asked what they were he merely explained that it was the earth moving all the time and that it was from earthquakes. He would explain that while we outside the mine didn’t feel them, that the miners would. Yet he never once instilled in us or made us feel that he was in danger or that he was afraid of the job he was doing.

During this long week of anxiety over the fate of the six miners in the Crandall Canyon Mine, I have given a lot of thought to some of the questions being asked and some of the answers given. When a reporter for any media source would ask about the fear factor, I would think how dumb. Then I thought about them and their position. They are out here doing a job, and come from various places in the United States. Some having never been outside the city environment they live in and some, yes, may have lived in a rural area, however it was not mining country. So they were justified in asking a question concerning something that they know little about. They are thrust into the world of the close knit group of coal miners and their families and wow, what a culture shock. How little we all know of each other in this vast world we live in except our own concepts of what people are like in the walks of life they have chosen. We all can learn from each other and the very life experiences that has taken place and changed each and every ones life this week.

The families and friends and others in our small communities are shocked that something like this has happened to us and we are trying hard to sort it out in our minds and put it all in the proper perspective, when all of sudden we are overcome with this mass amount of media people who are total strangers and they are invading our space and privacy. We shut down and they get pushy. What a combination! We can never give them the credit they have coming because we don’t talk to them and respect that they are doing a job, much as any of us do the job we get paid to do. So they catch bits and pieces and piece together a story to sell. Then we are mad.

Then we come to the management, owners, government agencies and all the others that come into our space to try and do something, anything to help. We believe and want to so very strongly, but then our confidence in them starts to fade and so the lack of faith in them and their word becomes apparent.

I looked at the faces of family members, towns’ people, sheriff’s department people, and rescue workers and from the first day of the rescue started, you could see each day the toll that was being taken on each and every individual. Mr. Murray, has been a stalwart human and you can see that each day his despair, as it is not going as fast as he would like. If that man could, I believe that he would pick up the mountain and set it aside to get to the men inside. One can read the frustration and see the depth of being tired that the majority of people working on this rescue are starting to show.

The signs by the towns people, prayer services, candlelight vigils and the coming together shows that we do have it in us as humans to reach out and give a hand to one who may need that gentle touch or that hug to help reassure us that we are not alone. When faced with an adversity such as this, we need that inner strength to keep us on a level field until the ordeal is resolved. We are humans after all. We all hurt, laugh, love and feel with the same emotions no matter what race or religion we are. In times of crisis, we all band together and that is how we should be every day. I sat with one young lady TV producer and in the middle of all this she had some news that was very upsetting to her regarding her grandmother. She was here and her grandmother was in Colorado. She felt that same feeling of despair that all were feeling here not being able to do anything to help at the moment.

Life doesn’t stop with a crisis, it goes on. We are in a state of limbo so to speak, but we must forge on. I received a phone call from a dear friend of 40 plus years and she has cancer and has been given three months to live and wanted me to come and spend a day. I left and while driving to Utah County, I thought about the miners, their families, and my friend. Then there was an idiot who decided that none of us were very valuable and passed five of us and then had to crowd in to avoid a head on in our canyon. My thoughts went to that driver and wondered if he had any real value of life and all that it has to offer. I saw people in the parks, on the golf course and thought, all the lives that are in limbo at this moment down home are wondering if they will ever feel normal again. The answer is yes, that is of course if you can really define normal. We all live different lifestyles and yet we are so similar. We all have different likes and dislikes, beliefs, yet we all feel the same when it comes to the trauma we have all faced with this mine disaster.
We should all try to remember the one point that has come very clear in all of this, we are all one family and should try to show that same love, compassion and empathy for each other even in times of no crisis. We are all the same people today, yesterday and tomorrow.

May our miners that are trapped in the darkness know that the love and light is here for them, waiting. May our families and friends feel the love and hands extended to hug and help if needed. May we all learn a lesson in acceptance for each other long after the crisis has passed. Let’s not wait until another crisis occurs to come together as a untied county again.

Who are you? Each and every one of you is like me, a human being first and then the other categories named above after that. If we all try to remember that and give each other the respect and understanding of who we are and what we are and not judge or criticize because we don’t understand we can make this world a better place to be in. They say we should learn from our experiences and this is a really tough experience to have to go through. Together we can make the unknown easier to deal with and hopefully a better appreciation for all.

May we all be blessed with love, peace and understanding in our hour of greatest need.

Deer Spotting

James L. Davis

The headlights of my car caught the deer just as it was starting to cross the road. The light of the day was only just fading from the sky as the deer looked at me, startled and afraid, it was a beautiful sight to behold. I brought the car to a stop and waited as the deer, a four point buck, cautiously started across the road.

My eyes followed the buck as it crossed and its frightened eyes continued to watch me as it came to the other side of the road. And then, with one glance back at me, still staring at it intently, the buck shook its great antlered head and walked over to my car.

“What are you lookin’ at fella?” The deer stood in front of my door and tapped on my window with an antler until I finally rolled it down. “I said what are you looking at?”

Not used to being addressed in such a fashion by woodland creatures, I was a little taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean every year about this time everywhere I turn there’s one of you humans gawking at me. It gives me the creeps. I try and cross a field and there you are, staring at me through your binoculars. I come up from the creek and you just about run off the road trying to get a look at me. So what? Do I have something on my face for crying out loud? What is it about me that you keep staring at?”

My eyes had been drawn inexorably toward the buck’s impressive rack, so it was difficult to pay attention.

“Hey buddy. Down here, you’re staring again. I asked you a question.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’m not a hunter but I think people are looking at your, well, they’re looking at your…”

The buck poked his nose through the window of my car. “Spit it out already.”

“Your rack. They’re staring at your impressive rack,” I blurted out, ashamed because I could not help staring and hoping that the deer wasn’t hostile. He seemed to have some anger issues. Had I known that deer had anger issues I would not have stopped to let this deer pass.

“Well, that’s just sick.” The deer paced around my car for a moment or two and then returned to my window. I tried not to look at his antlers, but it was difficult. “Why do you people want to stare at my rack?”

“Well, I think a lot hunters would like to have your rack.”

“No doubt, but my rack would look funny on one of you humans.”

“No, I don’t mean to wear, just to have, kinda like a trophy.”

The deer looked at me incredulously, which up until that point in time I was not aware that a deer could do. “You people want my rack as a trophy?”

“Well, not all people, just some people. Hunters.”

“Rack hunters?”

“Sorta,” I said, not particularly comfortable with where this conversation was heading.

“Well just tell them to stop staring at me. When I shed my antlers they can have them for crying out loud. They can fight over them for all I care.”

“I don’t think you completely understand.”

“What’s not to understand?” The buck was sitting on the hood of my car now, swinging his legs restlessly.

“The hunters, well, they don’t just want your antlers for a trophy. They want your entire head.”

The deer laughed and I was shocked to discover that when deer laugh they sound exactly like David Letterman. “Well, that’s just crazy. If they were to take my head as a trophy then they would have to…” The light of realization finally clicked on in the buck’s dull brown eyes. “That’s…that’s inhuman!”

“Well, no, actually it’s pretty human.”

“They want to take my head?”

“And hang it on the wall, yes.”

“Why would they want to do such a thing?”

“It’s a sport.”

“Yeah, well so is football. Do they hang the head of the opposing team’s quarterback on the wall?”

“No. But maybe it’s never been suggested before. It might make for a more exciting season.”
The buck jumped off my car hood and glared at me, shaking his head menacingly. “You tell those sick voyeurs that they’ll get this rack over my dead body.”

“I think that’s the idea.”

But the buck didn’t hear me. He had started back across the road and my eyes drifted once again to his rack.

“Watch your eyes!” He called out as he slipped out of sight.