How to Survive a Furlough without even Trying

Or trapped in a house with no one to talk to but my dog and my cat

I haven’t showered today but at least my coffee was good. Today is one week into the government shutdown and I’m on furlough. I had thought about posting initially some nice pictures of bison I took last week, but that’ll wait until another day. Instead, I thought I’d share a bit of what I’ve been up to with all this newfound time on my hands.¹

I suppose many of us knew this was coming, or least understood it was a strong possibility. This is my first shutdown as a federal employee. And hopefully it’ll be a long while before our next one. I must admit that it’s a bit surreal. I’m always working. I hate being late. So staying up past ten p.m. because I don’t have to be at the office at 8 the following day feels odd. So does sleeping in (I made it all the way until 7:48 this morning). Being on furlough has been an adjustment.

I knew when I accepted the position that government shutdowns can, do, and will happen. But one of the real motivating factors in coming to work for the United States Forest Service was the sense that I was giving back to my community. Our national forests and national grasslands belong to every American and are available for people from all over the world to experience, enjoy, and feel their wonder. I could help take care of them. Through my efforts, I was joining a legacy of labor that included the Civilian Conservation Corps, the Work Progress Administration, and other men and women who built upon the labor of still other men and women to actually make and shape America.

And I love working with Tribes. I like to think I’m good at it. The position of Tribal Liaison is so important because it aids the United States in honoring its treaty and trust responsibilities to sovereign nations such as the Kiowa Tribe, the Seminole Tribe of Florida, the Jicarilla Apache Nation, and the other 571 federally recognized tribes. Beyond that, I felt like though my own little specialized combination of historical expertise and the personality inherited from my mother (she’s never met a stranger), I could be an advocate for Indian Country within our office, ensuring that Tribal voices are heard and considered within the decision-making processes on federally managed lands that are also the homelands of so many peoples with ties to Colorado and Kansas. As I said the other day, physically being with Tribes makes my heart happy.

I get that lawmaking and especially creating federal budgets are messy processes. I certainly hate getting caught in the middle and have tried to make sure that I walk the line when it comes to talking about my role. There’s a law called the Hatch Act which was passed in 1939 that kind of limits what you can say about the government as an employee as a way of maintaining a politically neutral workplace. I like this law. You understand that working for the government is a service. And a service means that you make sacrifices. You make concessions. You do these things for the greater good. Administrations will come and go. You will like some more than others. Some you will disagree with. But underlying it all is a sense of trust in the American people. As a government employee—a civil servant—you are entrusted with carrying out the will of the people to the best of your ability. That’s the beauty of it, and I think in part, the beauty of America.

So what am I doing? I’m trying to make the most of my time, pouring myself into writing this substack, preparing the podcast for the new season lauching on Thursday, and reading. At the age of 48, there’s a fair amount of tinkering around the house. I fixed my smoker the other day, and the amounts of pork entering and exiting my home will no doubt excite my general practitioner. You’d think I’d spend more time fishing or doing “fun” things but frankly the demands of my writing and the pod gobble up most chances I have. That’s ok. I’m trying to build something here.

I smoked these wings the other day using a combination of hot sauce, stone ground mustard, and Tunisian chili paste. Best I’ve ever made. I’ll post how to do them soon. But darn, y’all. They were good.

I’ve received lots of calls asking how I am, more than a few from Tribal Members. This means a lot to me. It tells me that the relationships we have built together over the last two and a half years extend far beyond the boundaries of state-to-state dialogue. There’s an affection there that goes both ways. And that means the world to me.

Financially, I’m ok, though I won’t be participating in Amazon Days over the next couple days. I had just paid off two credit cards, aiming for some financial freedom. I’d like to buy a house in the next couple years, hopefully a new vehicle to replace my old truck—a 2012 F-150 with 235,000 miles (I love her and replacing her will kill me, but she won’t last forever), and injecting some advertising to build the podcast into a national voice that will eventually allow me to work more broadly in the issues I am most passionate about (Indian Country, public lands, eliminating Pepsi). But that freedom won’t last forever. I’m good for a few months. That’s about it. Then I gotta dip back into that damn credit debt I worked so hard to free myself from.

And I get that I’m lucky. A quick look around social media will tell you that there are tons of Americans who are living paycheck to paycheck, having to make real decisions about what’s for dinner or how to take care of their kids. And this scares me on a real level. Because for an economy that is supposed to be booming, how are this many people so insolvent? I speak for myself as well. I have no retirement savings. I’m only starting to make forward progress myself. And I’m not interested in critiquing this administration or the previous one. The reality is that our nation’s middle class working class is absolutely suffering. Where’s the disposable income? Where’s the retirement funds? Where is the ability to take the family on the Great American Roadtrip? More than likely, it’s sitting in bank accounts of Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and people you’ve never heard of. Did you know there are at least 900 billionaires in the United States alone? I promise you, they’re not worried about what’s for dinner or if they can visit a national park. They’ll have caviar on a yacht off the coast of Ibiza.

I think about the further damage to the national economy when the working class is holding on to every nickel. That old truck of mine? I can’t replace her right now. I can’t trade her in at the local dealership here in Pueblo. Too much instability to risk not being able to make a payment on basic transportation, let alone my frustation with the fact that vehicles and financing are so damn expensive these days. What happens when these farmers go belly up and have to sell out? Who can afford to swoop in and buy them? Mr. and Mrs. Ibiza. So my days, while sometimes whimisical, are filled with worry and dread for my fellow Americans, regardless of who they are and what they beliefs might be and who they voted for. I care about them because they are humans and they are my neighbors.

Christ, where was I? This started turning into a manifesto, didn’t it? Well, don’t worry. I’ve had too much fun and said too many stupid things to run for office. But I balance my days now trying to be proactive about my life: spending time in thought, reading, and sharing with you. I hope that our better angels prevail, and soon.

Jason

1. Let me go ahead and say that my thoughts are mine alone and not the opinions of anyone but myself and certainly not the United States Forest Service, the federal government, or Smokey Bear.