A lifetime ago, at the very end of the beaver subcommittee, after we argued and agreed and nudged and persuaded all we possibly could. After Skip had installed his magic pipe and everything had started working as planned, two members of the subcommittee invited me to come present to the Watershed group.
It was a big deal held at the flood control office on the other side of town. It was full of REAL water folks, management with just a hint of advocacy. People who had worked on these issues long enough to know what an unlikely upstart I was. People who matter.
The talk went as planned, people were interested, had questions, concerns, doubts, appreciations. And I was completly out of my element, a lonely psychologist in a sea of hydrologists. ecologists. and civil servants. I finished and packed up my stuff and went out to my subaru and sat in the dark under the street light and felt my heart pounding.
And it was then, alone in my empty car in an empty parking lot that the shocking realization first occurred to me. It was terrifying. And exhilarating. It felt dangerous to even think it alone to myself, I am the first to say you should not jinx yourself, but there it was. Unmistakable. And the thought was:
Jesus Christ. we’re going to win this thing.
Why mention that now? No reason really. 
