Don Wood’s Wood
October 13, 2005  from A Life in Progress--Part One

It was at Gilpin, the hippie commune where I lived off and on for a few years. Don Wood had a load of firewood delivered. You see Don was one of the few hippies in Gilpin who actually worked for a living, and could afford to buy a few things. The firewood looked very wonderful in a big pile. I think Don had put a sign on it, "Private Firewood" or some such thing. Anyway, I was a big protester in those days, always ready to embrace any cause. The idea that a person in Gilpin would try to keep something for himself and not share it with all the other hippies, just didn't sit right with me at all.
So I pondered the situation a little, and then went into action. The firewood was still in fairly long logs, and I began piling. Fairly soon there was a substantial log cabin rising, right in the middle of the main path where everybody walked to get to the Big House, as we called the house where David Graham and Toni and the kids lived. The building actually looked quite substantial, built as it was with impressive looking logs. It looked strong but, you guessed it, it was built with -- no nails. Nor spikes, nor pegs, nor anything. Just logs piled up somewhat precariously one atop the other, each fitted in a certain way so as to not roll out of place, as long as they weren't too seriously disturbed.
Well the wonderful structure didn't take more than a couple of hours to build, although it was built under some stress since I was conscious of being a radical protester, and not sure what would happen if Don should come along. The marvelous building sat there all day until Don arrived home from work. I kept going back and forth admiring it. When you build something and it goes up that fast, it takes a lot of looking and admiration.
Anyway Don arrived home and I kind of went into hiding, to observe the effect. There is no question that Don was surprised to see a building where only this morning there had been just a woodpile. It took him a little while to act, but Don was, after all a man of action. From my secluded vantage point, I shortly heard the sound of a chain saw. Don was amazingly wealthy compared to many hippies in our commune. The chain saw roared and Don began to attack the log cabin. You see he assumed, and it appeared to a casual view, as though the cabin were what it looked like, a quite substantial building.
Well Don's chainsaw roared and he began to saw. And as he did, the building began to come down around him. In a trice the logs had all rolled out of their carefully  placed positions and they were on a heap on the ground, pretty similar to the way they had started that morning. Don gave a couple more cuts with his chain saw and then retired into the house, probably to get some supper.
We remained friends. I'm not sure what he thought of my building venture. I don't know if he knew it was a protest. Maybe he thought it was just a creative endeavor. No, he must have known it was a protest. Anyway he was a nice guy and didn't seem to bear a grudge.