Good ol' Maslow

“You can help us clean up the dinosaur bones,” my colleague said to me, a broad smile on her face. “Come on out to the museum on the weekend and we’ll get you acquainted with what we do.”

This is a dream endeavor, a real once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But I have to grade papers and lesson plan. “Maybe next week,” I promised.

Only…now it’s next week. Sunday night to be exact.

And instead of visiting el museo este fin de semana, I had to do laundry on Saturday. It cost me almost 40-bucks and a whole day. True…I did go do laundry all the way in Rifle, but their machines aren’t broken and dirty like the ones in Craig. And they have a dog wash. Buena desperately needed a bath! And I wanted to pick up those terracotta planters to make that heater in the Facebook video, the video that does the rounds when the weather starts getting chilly. “Heat your room with a candle and a flowerpot!”

So, I tried it last night. I tried the two-flowerpot method and made sure to allow for airflow to the candle and airflow around the interior flowerpot. To do this, I found some metal brackets I could use as lifts. An old colander served as the airflow portal for the candle. The result is that the interior pot and metal got hot. The exterior flowerpot felt warm, but it didn’t get hot. I let it burn three hours before going to bed, and nothing bad seemed to be happening. The metal and terracotta can all withstand high temperatures, and I was certain the candle would not cause the unit to spontaneously combust. I left it burning while I went to bed, hoping it would keep the entire RV warm. Between midnight and one, I could smell the candle pretty strong and started to worry. The air felt chilly when I went to check on the candle. Since it hadn’t made a difference to the temperature, I blew it out.

From about 3 a.m. until sunrise, I struggled to stay warm. Actually, it was more like a war between me, Buena, and the new sleeping bag.

St. George of Grand Junction gave me a new-used sleeping bag last time I passed through. “You need it? I got three!" At the time, something told me to take it. Thank God I did! Last night was the first night using it, and while it was toasty warm inside the sleeping bag, Buena kept wanting to snuggle with me. She crawled beneath the cover and leaned her full weight against about a third of my torso, forcing me to try to move her or move myself, which meant my arm got bent at some weird angle. Then, she pushed against the wall to get me to move over. I put her outside the sleeping bag twice in the night, but each time, she found her way back in. And I don’t blame her. It was cold. She sought heat. Sometime around five, I checked the temperature: 29-degrees outside and 48-degrees on the bedroom wall thermometer.

While Buena pushed against me, I worried about the pipes beneath the RV. Hopefully, the waste water and grey water wouldn’t freeze and burst the pipes. I’d need to empty the RV soon. Should I add new fresh water or just dry camp?

Camp. Ha! That’s a laugh. I’m parked at the far corner of the Quality Inn parking area. The older Hispanic manager let me park here. I asked her a little over a week ago, after spending two nights on the loud Walmart lot. She said I had until October 1. That’s enough time to find something else, right? But this is a good space…for now. The other day, I tried to show my gratitude for this space by donning a blue latex glove and picking up the paper and plastic trash that had blown onto the property in the wind. It had collected behind the RV, and I didn’t want the hotel staff to think it was me being trashy. I’m so grateful to be here. It’s quiet at night, and the lot lights come on at dusk, giving me the extra light I need to prep the vehicle for sleep, or to grade, or to finish projects.

Finally, at a little after seven, the sun came up. I usually wait a good 15 minutes for it to clear the horizon before pulling the blankets off the eastern-facing windows. This allows the sun to heat the interior and remove the chill. Within an hour, I’ve removed my stocking cap. It’s getting warm.

I piddled about for a bit on my phone, checking email, checking news, checking Facebook. I remembered it is Sunday and put on the gospel bluegrass and got ready for the day. Already too close to ten o’clock, I realized I wouldn't make it to church today. Maybe next weekend.

A sudden high-pitched hum drew my attention to the new solar controller I'd installed before driving to Rifle on Saturday. The controller was flashing crazy numbers at me last night. Now, the whole screen had gone blank. The high-pitched hum sounded from the small black box, increasing with intensity as the sun climbed in the sky.

I knew what I had to do, but it scared me. I really don't know a lot about electric.

Carefully, I followed the disconnect-instructions: first remove the positive solar panel wire, then the negative solar panel wire, then the positive wire going to the battery. And, finally, the negative wire going to the battery. I made sure to cap and tape all the ends carefully. I’ve got 300-something—watts? amps? solar units?—on the panels on the roof and two RV/marine house batteries. I know that these things are a form of electric that I don’t want to experience with a slight mistake or a crossing of wires. I carefully capped and taped the ends so they wouldn’t touch.

I'd received several texts and emails from my dear, dear friends and family, asking why I don't have heat. This is the clearest explanation I have been able to give, my short explanation of the RV electrical system:

The short end of it is that the house batteries run the furnace (spark and fan) and the refrigerator (spark). Although both these appliances require propane, the electric component is needed due to the way they are made.

Unfortunately, being plugged in won't solve either appliance dilemma because of that part Camping World said "coincidentally broke" while they were installing the new fridge. The part is called the converter, and it sits between the circuit breaker panel and the batteries. Normally, hooking up to electric would charge the batteries, but because it is broken and needs to be replaced, it won't charge the batteries.

Another way to charge the batteries is to run the generator. My generator last worked in 2020. I'm told it needs a new carburetor.

A third way to charge the batteries is by running the RV engine. With the radiator cracked and leaking, I have only run it a few times, but I can't afford to keep adding antifreeze to the radiator and have it leak out ten minutes later. I'm supposed to get this repaired in the near future. "Next week or the week after," the guy at the shop says. He isn't in a hurry to do it.

The final way to charge the batteries is with solar power, but since I put on those new panels, something is not working right. I tried replacing the solar controller, but I think I fried the new one I just put on. I don't know what's wrong with it all. I'm worried it could even be a fire hazard or something. On payday I'm going to see if I can find someone in this town who does solar to check it out.

I know you--dear reader--have got to be as sick of hearing about this broken-down story as I am of telling it.

At this point in my morning, I just had to get out of the RV.

Within two miles of the hotel, I took Buena exploring down a dirt road…not a road-road…more like a dirt path down the side of a small hill, across a field, and up a bigger hill. I tried to climb the bigger hill in the mini-van, but the front-wheel drive tires kept slipping on the dirt, and I felt myself rolling backwards. I gave up trying to climb it in the minivan and eased my way backwards down the hill. Then I let Buena out to run on the flatter parts.

From there, I went to the school for several hours to grade and try to prep my classes. A personal note from the school’s president sat in my email. How I was doing? That was so nice. I don't think I've ever had a president reach out to me with a personal message. I really like this school president, too. Her presentation the first week was inspired, and she made an effort to welcome me personally. Should I tell her how I'm really doing? I told her. I'm not well with being broken and cold, but I hoped she was doing fine. What else could I say? I wasn’t going to lie.

It all comes back to dinosaur bones and Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

According to Maslow, as humans we have needs. The needs follow a specific order. First, at the very bottom of the pyramid are our primal needs. These are the things we need to survive as a species, food, clothing, water, sex. The very basic things to propagate the species in our very basic mammalian human body. (And, yes, although we are created in the image of God, we still share a very basic physiology with mammals. I think this is why humans get along so well with horses, cats, dogs, elephants, etc. We don’t really bond as readily with fish. Birds have possibility, though. We’ve been able to domesticate some of those. Perhaps it’s because of the human desire for flight. To blast off this planet. But I digress…)

So, next up the pyramid is the need for safety. Once we’ve got our food, water, and warmth, we need security. We need to feel safe where we are. How can our biological need for sleep be met if we don’t feel safe in our surroundings? If we had to sleep under a bridge or in a strange forest? We need to feel protected from danger.

If we’ve got those needs met, physiological and safety needs, then we can move to the next level: belonging…or community. It is at this point where we can engage with others. We’re not afraid that our classmates or coworkers pose a threat or will take away our food/water. Now, we can begin to fulfill that need to belong. Community. This is where we share ideas, information, and experiences. We learn that we have things in common with others, that there are universal themes that run through our human lives.

Next up the pyramid is the feeling of respect. Like ants on the ant hill, we are accepted into the community and recognized for our contribution. We have confidence in our ability to function in a human society.

When all of those needs are met—physiological, safety, belonging, esteem—then we can begin to self-actualize. The way this can be understood is as a human, we are utilizing our own creativity and problem-solving abilities to contribute and inspire others in a way that is uniquely our own. Think of those inspiring individuals who have contributed great things to humanity. Who would it be for you? A great writer? Musician? Scientist? Entrepreneur?

So…Maslow’s Hierarchy…yeah. How can I work on dinosaur bones if I can’t heat the RV or sleep at night?

Sunday afternoon—when I needed a break from grading—I went to Walmart, bought antifreeze, and added it to the tank. An hour later, I saw the puddle beneath the engine. I’ll just have to drive it and empty the tanks on Monday afternoon. On the way, I might stop at another mechanic and see how long until he can get me in to get the radiator repaired.

Before the sun set, I took the empty water jugs up to the filling station. A quarter per gallon for fresh, filtered water. I’ve been told that the water around this town is crap. I’m not taking any chances. I need fresh water.

Maslow’s hierarchy strikes again.

Tonight, while typing this, the refrigerator light turned to red. I actually heard the click off which prompted me to look. The RV battery had drained into its own red zone. There wasn’t enough juice in it to run the refrigerator. (I have meat, milk, and yogurt in there! It needs to keep running!)

So, I started the RV engine. It ran fine for about ten minutes, but then it started making a strange sound. I jumped from my chair and turned it off immediately. Had I done greater damage to the engine by running it?

I don't know.

I don’t even know what to do any more.

I don’t even want to be here anymore.

So…dinosaur bones. I wish they could be part of my self-actualization journey. Maybe next weekend. Maybe life will get better.