William Marvel: Scientarians and Cheyenne

Nothing has reminded me for whom the bell tolls recently so much as Cheyenne Hill’s obituary. “Albert” may have been the only other person alive who prowled as much of South Conway as I have. He grew up in Center Conway in the long dusk of that day in which independence and self-reliance were the prevailing virtues of the local population. Back then, only summer people seemed to use the word “workman,” applying it to anyone they hired to do all the things they couldn’t.

I’m pretty sure it was Cheyenne’s truck on which I first saw “Flatlanders Go Home” as a bumper sticker, and it was not the only sentiment we shared. He always lived close to the bone, accumulating little in his life beyond progeny, and freedom always won out over constraint. I know he left behind some hard feelings here and there, but neither of us was unwilling to take risks, including the risk of engendering animosity.