Every act we do every day leaves a legacy.
In every service we give, every bit of work or play, we leave an example of who we are and what we stand for. We don’t have to be dead to leave a legacy; we are creating it moment by moment.
The legacy we leave in our Southern Utah region reflects our priorities and values. This melting pot of interests and concerns will live long after we have ceased to be here. Ranchers cite previous and upcoming generations as their legacy and motivation to be wise stewards of the land. Environmental activists also claim preservation motives. Even though the stated goals are similar, the approach is vastly different.
What are we leaving? Contention, discord, and litigation? Or civil conversation, cooperation, respect, and trust? What we focus on grows. Given so many divergent views, the issues may not be resolved. I propose that the legacy we leave has as much to do with what we embrace as our impact on the land.
Remember when President Trump reduced the size of the monument, and tourists thronged here to get a glimpse of a hoodoo or arch before it was wiped away with a presidential stroke? As if humans had that kind of power. Perhaps we can’t add or take away structure from our scenery, but we do still have an impact.
About 50 years ago, a bull rider named Bill Neal bought a ranch west of Escalante. Like so many other ranchers, he ran his cows on the desert during the winter. After a couple of years of getting no calf crop, Bill told the other ranchers he thought the desert was cursed, literally. He’d heard the cussing. “Those damn cows; this damn desert; the damn weather, etc. etc.” The soil, the cows, and everything else that former cowboys had cursed had taken effect, and Bill was reaping the results. Words have power for the good and the bad.
He decided to do something about it, so he blessed the land, the feed, the land, the water, and the animals. He said a prayer over all of it, over everything that had been cursed. He wanted to reverse the damning influence and heal the land and cattle. Even people who may not believe in a higher power oftentimes acknowledge the power of positive energy. After that, it all changed. Bill Neal started getting a good calf crop by changing that one thing.
What legacy are we leaving? The hoodoos and canyons, gorges, ravines, watersheds, and arches will all outlast us. I think perhaps they don’t need us to protect them as much as we need to protect ourselves from the discord that could curse us and the land we all cherish.
– by Karen Munson
Feature image caption: Sunset over Powell Point, viewed from Upper Valley west of Escalante.
Read more about one’s individual influence over a family legacy in Legacy, Doing Our Part.
Karen M. Munson – Escalante
Karen is an associate editor at The Byway. She is fascinated and fulfilled by all things involved with writing. After graduating from BYU, she taught English at Escalante High School for three years. She pursues opportunities to write and support others in their writing. Karen has published three books with four more scheduled to be released in 2024. She and Reed are the parents of ten children and the grandparents of 35 grandchildren.
Karen is the author of the New Twist on Mental Health column in The Byway.