Tales from the Green Road: The Keeper of Fire

[Code Name D]

The Keeper of Fire

I have looked up into the sky line of Wichita to see the Keeper of Air. I have followed the path of the Arkansas River and have found the footsteps of the Keeper of Water. I tend to my very own back yard discovered an already existing connection that I have had with the Keeper of Earth. There is only one corner of the city for me to find, and perhaps this last corner of the city is the hardest to find of them all.

The Keeper of Fire,

Of all the elements found in the Native American circle of life, fire is perhaps the most powerful, and certainly the most mysterious of the four. We can create it, nearly at will, with little more than two dry sticks. But even the full might of our advanced and modern technology does not give us power enough to fully tame this formless spirit. We can not touch it, but it still manages burns our flesh when we try. It can bring forth light into dark places, and yet still brings mystery to lit places. It has no body, and yet it breaths. It does not have teeth, and yet it consumes… ravenously. It can preserve life in the deep cold of winter. But for the unwary or carless, it has the power to devourer entire cities. Our passions smolder it its glow, promising paradise, and yet can deliver perhaps the most painful death any living thing can know or fear. This is the force known as fire.

As with air, water, and earth, I must first solve the riddle of fire, before I may seek out the corner of the city where its keeper dwells. Where shall I look? And like the others, my first attempts to find this elusive spirit was to first find its literal form. But where could I find fire in a modern city?

I started to take pictures of electrical power substations, including a substation that can be seen from the Keeper Piazza. If I were the Keeper of the Planes, I would be very curious about the modern technology that heats and powers Wichita. But then again, that is still me.

Indeed, there is a deeper connection to the Keeper with the power company than many might suspect. It was in fact Westar, then known as Kansas Gas & Electric, which originally commissioned the statue in the first place, as a part of a riverfront beautification project.

But there just didn’t seem a way to photograph these things and keep them interesting. Despite how important they are to our society, that importance was strictly technical in nature, and seemed to be completely devoid of any kind of spiritual energy. Try as I might, the Keeper of Fire was not to be found around the city’s infrastructure.

The 4th of July calibrations seemed promising. As American’s, we celebrate our nations independence day with great zeal, and usually with colorful fireworks. Surly I would find the Keeper of Fire here, so I started taking pictures of fire works. There was a bit of a learning curve simply learning how to take pictures of fireworks. But while these did make for some spectacular pictures, fireworks displays seemed to be as spiritually dead as the infrastructure.

I ran into other problems with the 4th calibrations are rather hard to explain. More and more, this holiday is proving itself to be haunted, even more so than Halloween. When one considers our dying democracy being strangled to death by corporate powers, the fact that US power continues to rain random destruction on the citizens of the world, and the sadistic worship of death and suffering by the “culture of life”, is a far more terrifying spirit than any mythical zombie or vampire.

Obviously, I was being far too literal. With the other three corners, the Keepers I was looking for always resided next to that which was the human condition, not the element which was their name sake.

It is said that fire is a force for both creation, and destruction. The Great Planes Indians knew that when they set fire to the prairie, that the burning of the old grass made room for new grass to grow, which attracted the buffalo herds. The destruction of the old was needed in order for there to be a rebirth for the new. Indeed, the other Keepers were also about our place in the great circle of life. The Keeper of Earth was about our origins, and building for the future. The Keeper of Earth was about living in the moment. The Keeper of Water was about the journey of life itself. Perhaps the Keeper of Fire closed the circle?

Could it be that the Keeper of fire was also about change? Perhaps she is like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come in Charles Dickens’s A, Christmas Carole; a herald of our ultimate fate, that even the best of us shall all pass away into the dust of the very world around us. Is that the ultimate lessen I should take from my quest to find the four corners of Wichita? That we are born, we grow, that we should enjoy life while we have it – and then… die?

This may be inescapably true that all of us are destined to eventually die, but I do not believe that this fact truthfully represents the full nature of our existence. It was the message from the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come that finally helped Ebenezer Scrooge realize his redemption. Surly Scrooge had already come to terms with the nature of his mortality with the passing of his partner, Jacob Marley. But the Spirit of Christmas Future showed him was that his own passing would be unmarked, not because he failed to generate enough wealth, but because shared so little love with the people around him.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was about the redemption of just one man. But the Keeper of Fire is about the city itself, the human condition, our place within the city in which we grow, live, and ultimately die. The Keeper of Fire is the end marker for our place in the circle of life, the place where we must step aside and allow younger generations to take up our burdens, and to eventually leave us behind as they follow their own paths. This seemed depressing until I remembered when I was the one who took up the torch, when I was apart of the new generation. Only now dose it accrue to me that I may one day be forced to hand off the same torch.

Armed with this new insight, I began to find the Keeper of Fire everywhere, some times hiding in the most unlikely of places, the memorials and historical markers that populate the city.


The most obvious place to start looking was the few memorials that remember the city’s fallen police, fire fighters, and solders.

The fire fighter’s memorial can be found just next to a small museum, which itself is housed inside Engine House #6, which still stands behind a newer Fire Station just on the other side of the railroad tracks.


The Police Memorial is less than a year old, and was a part of the beatification and security improvements for the parameter of city hall. The stonework for the palisade resembles a giant police shield, similar in shape to the current Wichita badge. If you were to look just behind the monument, you would discover a gallery of empty, bronzed shoes and boots, each representing the absence of an officer who died in the line of duty.

But this monument is also an unpleasant reminder that some times these sacrifices are hidden from public view. If you were driving past by car, there is no way you could have seen the evidence of sacrifice that others have made.

There are plenty of war memorials too, dedicated to the men… and women, who have also sacrificed in the many wars that the US has engaged in. Just across the street in fact is a monument for the Civil War. About a mile to the west is the Veteran’s Memorial Park which features about a dozen monuments that remember World War One, Korea, Vietnam, the SS Dorado, the SS Wichita, and others, with ground work being started for WWII and 9-11 monuments.

But monuments that remember the dead is not the only place where I found the Keeper of Fire, there are others that remember and celebrate the past itself. One of the best examples that I have come across would have to be the Delano Clock Tower, a relatively new monument that is the center peace of the Delano shopping.

Delano used to be a sister town that existed on the west side of the Arkansas River, with a much younger and smaller Wichita existing only on the east side. It was believed at the time that cowboys returning from a long cattle drive needed an outlet for their rowdy tendencies. So the good and God fearing citizens of Wichita tolerated Delano, so long as they kept their depravity on their side of the river.

This moral isolation was easer said than done apparently as one year, the prostitutes of Delano held a race to the river, in the buff, and in full view of the residences on the other side of the river. One can just imagine the sort of uproar this must have generated. However, this may have been the origins of Wichita’s River Festival (Minus the nude marathon of course. Some things have not changed all that much over the years.)

The cattle drives came to an end, the brothels closed, and the ruckus nature of Delano quieted. Soon the town of Delano was incorporated into Wichita as the city began to grow both in size and sophistication. As Delano was built, and rebuilt, and rebuilt again, more and more of that history faded away, to become the echoes of the past. As the generations came and went, even the memories of culture and values begin to fade as well. Monuments such as the Delano Clock Tower help us to remember that history, and what the city once was.

We do this not for the sake of the past, but for our own reasons. It’s hard for any one not to notice that American culture, with Wichita being no exception, is afraid of death. The notion of existing, and then simply ceasing to exist, terrifies us. Our religions would have us cheat death by finding an immortal afterlife. But what terrifies us even more than ceasing to be, is the notion that we might be forgotten, that we might no longer mater. As we hand over the torch to future generations, we fear that our children will not only carry on without us, but thrive.

I suspect that one reason why we erect such monuments is more as a cry into the void, as we remember our forbearers, perhaps our children will remember us. I think that this is probably why we try to remember the names of our fallen fire fighters, police officers, soldiers, and even the names of victims of disasters and terrorists attacks. For what else can any moral being do in an immortal city?

This leaves us with a unique breed of monument that is perhaps even more important to us than monuments to our past, or monuments to the fallen defenders of the city. A kind of monument that not only speaks directly about the past, but actually manages to speak about the sort of people we desire to be. These are the memorials we erect to recognize the rare citizen, without the burdens of duty, who still give up their lives for others.

I think that this is probably why 9-11 has come to mean so much to us as a nation. Despite the magnitude of the tragedy, there were so many who stepped fearlessly into harms way to bring others into safety. Some even returned into the valley of death, until they stepped into destiny itself.

None of us can truly say that we would rise to the occasion if we were tested. But all of us still hope to be that person, for our loved ones, for our neighbors, and for our fellow citizens.

I do not know of any such monuments dedicated to any such citizen hero in Wichita. But I do know of at least one for the State of Kansas.


On August 30th, 2003; near mile post 116 on I-35, Jacob Creek had swelled beyond its banks and was topping over the freeway. Motorists were stopped at the waters edge, waiting for the waters to recede. What they didn’t know was that the concrete dividers was acting as a dam on the waters, converting the south bound lanes into a small lake, under which the north bound lane was waiting.

Al Larson, an engineer, realized the danger. Braving the driving rain, he went up and down the road pounding on car windows and warning the occupants that the divider could give way at any moment, releasing a torrent of water that would wash away every thing in its path.

Many recognized his warning and abandoned their cars for the safety of higher ground. But one remained where they were. Larson went back to try and plead for their safety, when time ran out. The dividers gave way; Al Larson and the Roger’s family were swept away to their fate by the flood waters.

On the Kansas Turnpike 135 is a rest area known as Matfeild Green. And there at the north end of the rest area, you will see a simple stone monument surrounded by trees and a weeping willow. The memorial itself is based on two circles, one that is closed, representing the completion of the life of both Al Larsen and the Rogers Family. The second circle is open, representing those who were saved on that day. It is such a simple and unassuming monument that one would likely drive right by it without knowing of its existence. Only if you were to get out of your car and visit the stone at the center of the green space, would you learn of its significance.

Perhaps it is fitting that when I managed to visit this memorial, and took these pictures, was on the anniversary of the 9-11 attacks in New York, a day when the entire nation remembers those who died on that day. It was on this day that perhaps I found the Keeper of Fire burning his brightest.

So I sat down at one of the benches and decided to reflect on what I had learned with my journey. Not just what I had learned here, but also taking stock with what I have learned with the completion of my quest. It’s perhaps even fitting that the Al Larsen monument is also so closely associated with the circle, to hearken back to the origin of my quest with the Circle of Life itself.

When we contemplate our own mortality, I think that we tend to assume that our mortality is about our end, and rarely do we consider our place in an immortal community.

It is a sad irony that many of us have become so fixated with our independence, self reliance, and individual nature, that we drive our selves to reject public education, social welfare, or the simple taxation that helps to support the community around us. And yet, still seek out that think that is “something greater than them selves” that is usually sought out for from the military, or through religion. It is profound tragedy that they can not see the greater community around them, to which they are already a part of.

The Angel of Death may remind us that we are only here for a limited amount of time, to enjoy life while we can. The Keeper of Fire is here to remind us that we should use that time to work not just for our own selfish gain, but to share our time, our talent, and our essence with those around us. It is the Keeper of Fire who truly explains why it is that it is the duty of the strong to fight for the week, why the price of liberty… is blood, why the price of freedom… is eternal vigilance. It is the Keeper of Fire that calls us to be ready to sacrifice even more of our selves for our communities, even our lives if fate demands it. In this way, the Keeper of fire has become the siren of freedom, perhaps begging us to our personal doom, but in so doing, inspires us to be more than simply animals fighting for survival.

Perhaps in this way, we mere humans can build a civilization truly worthy of the admiration of the spirits. And not just the spirits that make up the four corners of the circle of life, but a civilization worthy of the spirits of our ancestors, as well as the internal spirit of Wichita itself, the place which I call me home.

More photos can be found at my photo bucket page.

[Code Name D]

I pour my soul out here and I don't get even one comment?

[waiting for hope]

I was reading this last night - Good job Code. I like what you say about Wichita, there is so much about the human condition that we are not opened up to and your essays reminds us. I like what you said here:

"The Keeper of Earth was about living in the moment. The Keeper of Water was about the journey of life itself. Perhaps the Keeper of Fire closed the circle?"

I believe it is - closing the circle.

[Code Name D]

I am going to kick this back to the top

[madfloridian]

Great writing, Code. I tweeted you, hope you don't mind.

https://twitter.com/#!/madfloridian/stat...3982209024

[Bryn]

I love the pictures. They're all beautiful. I am going to go back reading the whole thing. Will also tweet this after I finish reading via Old Elm Tree. I had no idea how beautiful Kansas is.

[Bryn]

I love the way you wrote about the Keeper of Fire, Air, Earth & Water. Such haunting story about Al Larsen, how he lost his life to save others.

Very beautifully written. Deserves to be read by many others and more than once, too. Thank you.

[madfloridian]

(01-11-2012 10:13 PM)Bryn Wrote:  I love the way you wrote about the Keeper of Fire, Air, Earth & Water. Such haunting story about Al Larsen, how he lost his life to save others.

Very beautifully written. Deserves to be read by many others and more than once, too. Thank you.

I also just tweeted The Keeper of the Plains this afternoon. His work deserves more attention.

[Bryn]

Ah, I see what you mean, madfloridian. I went back there and read it. What a wonderful story! Tweeted it as well ...

[madfloridian]

(01-11-2012 11:01 PM)Bryn Wrote:  Ah, I see what you mean, madfloridian. I went back there and read it. What a wonderful story! Tweeted it as well ...

Glad you did.