I had a chat with God the other day. We have occasional conversations but this was different. Not as if I was asking for a miracle like a below par golf round. This time He called me.

After the usual greeting formalities I asked, “So, wassup?”

“Well, I heard you were moving to Burns, Oregon and I’m interested in your place. I’ve looked at some aerial photos and it really looks nice. What would you sell it for?”

“Make me an offer,” I responded in my best corporate voice.

”No, you name your price. Anything’s fine. Shucks, I’ve got more money than...” He chuckled.

I contemplated for a moment. “Actually, I don’t think I want to sell it. My wife has balked about moving. She thinks it’s a pretty good place, in spite of what’s been happening here.”

“Ah yes,” murmured God,”wives. My wife Mary Jane feels the same way about Heaven. I tried to convince her that the Methow was like Heaven on Earth, but she’ll have no part of it. She says to me, “Hey! Y’all wanna fish or kick back, buy the place for a vacation retreat, but don’t thank for a minute you gonna drag me along.”

“She’s probably been reading the local paper,” I responded.

“Well, she IS the original liberated female,” He said, “She relishes her independence and goes into a tizzy reading about the alphabet soup of federal agencies permeating your valley. She wonders why I allow it to go on. Hell, half the population has a title ending in GIST.”

“You mean like, Bio, Icthy, Mamol, Herpo, and the like?”

“Yeah. And I have important things like the Middle East, starvation, global warming and correcting my slice to keep me busy. One would think you people down there could live with all those feds in the weeds.” He sounded indignant.

“Well, let’s talk about water,” I said, now somewhat heated my own self. “You made all the creatures and did a fine job, although I think you really blew it when you created humans. But that aside, what about the fish? Why invent fish and then have dams to grind them up and . . .”

“Whoa thar, Hoss,” he interjected in his best wrangler accent, “The dams weren’t my idea. Don’t forget, I have a counterpart, and really have to give the Devil his due. Them dams was his idea.”

“The Hell you say,” I responded, surprised.

“That’s right. I make fish, he makes dams. I make wildlife, he makes the Department of Transportation that makes highways that squish them. I created Isaac Newton to explain the bad things happening down there, and he came up with ‘For every action there is a reaction.’ And that’s what’s been happening. I make the Methow, he makes Seattle. I make wool and cotton, he makes Lycra Spandex. Hey Bobby, what’s a God to do? I can only do so much.”

“Well, I guess you have a point,” I admitted.

“I ALWAYS have a point,” He laughed. “That’s why I need some vacation property. Good Me, I’ve been battling old Satan for eternity. I need a rest every millenium or so. It’s time for you humans to do something for your own selves.”

“Well, I know you gotta expect change, but this is all happening too much and too fast.”

God sounded surprised. “Is that why you want to move to Burns? Did you know the feds have turned that place into a depressed area? Mining’s gone, can’t cut timber. If it were not for the birders and ornithologists, note that I used the ‘ists’ word Bobby,— if not for them there’d be almost no people.”

“BINGO,” I ejaculated, “Let’s hear it for Burns.”

“Well, I have to go. Mary Jane has a project for me. If you decide to sell, give me a call or send an e-mail to HisOwnSelf@pearlygates.org. I guess I’ll see you some time.”

“God forbid it is not soon," I laughed.

“Not a problem,” said God and hung up.