By Mary Beth Baptiste
Conscious that her early life is slipping by means of, Mary Beth Baptiste makes a decision to flee her lackluster, suburban lifestyles in coastal Massachusetts to pursue her lifelong dream of being a Rocky Mountain woodswoman. To the horror of her conventional, ethnic relations, she divorces her husband of fifteen years, dusts off her natural world biology measure, and flees to Moose, Wyoming for a task at Grand Teton nationwide Park. In those rugged mountains, unforeseen classes from nature and natural world consultant her trip as she creates a brand new lifestyles for herself. Set opposed to the dramatic backdrop and quirky tradition of Jackson gap, this superbly written memoir is a considerate, frequently funny account of a woman’s bumbling quest for objective, redemption, and love via wasteland event, solitude, and offbeat human connections.
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Extra resources for Altitude Adjustment: A Quest for Love, Home, and Meaning in the Tetons
Her hand feels like a sock filled with matchsticks. Tik-tik-tik. A ceiling panel, stained tea-colored, has sagged into a bowl shape. Water oozes at the bottom of the bowl and elongates into blobs that snap off and drop into a utility bucket on the floor. Brenda rolls her head. “The ceiling leak just started today. I’ve been cleaning. ” She tells me she attends college in Salt Lake City and is spending the summer working in the park’s Concessions office. It’s just a place to do an internship; she has no interest in getting out to explore the park.
I approach him. “I’m starting work here today. ” He offers a massive hand. “Tim Nichols. ” I connect the name with the telephone voice that offered me this job. The inside of the building smells musty, with an overlay of some other faint, rotten-y odor, definitely organic. Tim’s office is crowded with bookshelves, two desks, and a drafting table. Every horizontal surface is covered with documents and papers. Red lights flash on both telephones. “Oh, man,” he says. “More messages. ” He scoops papers off a chair and invites me to sit, then he reclines in his chair, arms bent behind his head, feet plunked straight out.
I expected better from Grand Teton. I dared to hope for something attractive, built of logs of course, where I’d put up curtains and raise a kitten. For courage I pat my jacket pocket. Inside is a bundle of five twenty-dollar bills wrapped around a Miraculous Medal of the Virgin Mary. When I visited my grandmother to say goodbye, she’d stood before me, all four-feet-eleven of her. On a chain around her neck was the tiny gold figa charm, a clenched fist with the forefinger curled around the thumb, that she wore to chase away quebrantos, Portuguese curses.
Altitude Adjustment: A Quest for Love, Home, and Meaning in the Tetons by Mary Beth Baptiste