Roscoe the Red-faced Liar

November SEAHA note from the editor

Ah, Christmas. Like most Americans I love everything about this season, except for a strange tradition of telling little white lies to our kids about a jolly bearded man and his antlered friends. And about those pointy eared folks. And the unbridled consumerism. But I like the rest of it. A few years ago we made the epic drive from Las Cruces to Helena, Montana. Scenery and adventure abounded along the route but there was a dry spell of excitement near Grand Junction. Then we saw the signs for the colossal Rimrock Adventures petting zoo. It seemed interesting in the guidebook, especially so to our animal-lover Amelia after I mentioned "Roscoe the Friendly Elk." To gauge the kid’s interest I asked if they wanted to visit and hand feed him. From my offhand attitude they must have thought this was something I’d done before. During the hour before we got there we didn’t stop hearing questions about him from Amelia. "Can we pet him?" "Is he really nice?" Amelia was basically psyched. But when we arrived it turned out Roscoe was gone, I was afraid to ask where or why. The guidebook was outdated. We didn’t want to hear Amelia crying and a logical explanation was to say he was doing the same thing we were, vacationing. Nathan played along. Amelia asked a barrage of questions about Roscoe: "Where does he vacation? Where does he sleep? Why did he take a vacation?" We kept answering and dug our hole deeper and deeper. This excuse worked so well that as we approached the Grand Tetons, we carried it further. "Roscoe is vacationing in the Grand Tetons, maybe we’ll see him." We decided the first elk we saw would magically be Roscoe and make her happy. Questions generated answers that begged more questions, until we were thoroughly SICK of talking about Roscoe the elk. It didn’t stop for days. Finally on the third day Amelia saw a cow elk from the car window. I hit the brakes, backed up and Sarah and Nathan and I all yelled; "there’s Roscoe!" Amelia was very happy and only asked a few more cute questions; “Does he know you?” Oh yeah, he remembers me, I said. "Does he know me?" No, he’s just meeting you now. And then finally, “But I thought you said boy elks have horns?” Do not toy lightly with a child’s intellect. Have a Merry Christmas and keep those white lies down to a dull roar.