Douglas County
Tree faller to the world,
Lumber mills, ranchers, hunters and fishers
Rainy, grey, brooding, and misty.
City of Little to No Money.
My Dad has been the town dentist for over 30 years, and in some way, I’m connected to everyone’s dental health.
They say you are meth and unemployment, and I don’t believe them.
I have seen these things and choose to not let it define you.
I have seen the beauty of a wrecked plane at the bottom of Fish Lake on a sunny July morning when a boy falls off a log catching his first fish, and the laughter echoes off the isolated shores.
I have seen friends get DUI’s and fail,
But I have seen friends own businesses and have families and succeed.
I don’t know you anymore,
Yet I see you on bar stools and at hardware stores and you know me.
I know more than I remember; we catch up fast.
I used to be embarrassed at being from Douglas County,
And now on Facebook I proudly post that I am headed home to DougCo and South County pride.
I’m ashamed I didn’t stay. You say “Idaho” like it’s an exotic word.
Sometimes slow and dreary and monotone
Other times exciting.
Bucking hay in a field, waiting for someone to drive by,
Just so we have an excuse to drive to the creek and swim.
Taking her to Cow Creek for the first time,
showing the beauty of Old Woman Swamp to Doodle:
Driving Jeeps across the river,
A 15-year-old kid swimming a child across the river almost drowned
and I saved him. The mom sobs to me
“thank you for both of my sons.”
I laid on the hard rock and panted, too tired for “you’re welcomes.”
Everyone cracked a beer in silent praise of my efforts, glad THEY didn’t have to do it.






