Early Decision

I was on a Zoom call with an old friend, he lives in Duluth, I was huddled by my woodstove, Saturday night, this was the social event on my calendar. I was feeding bits of scrap lumber from Hansen's Sawmill into the fire. We went and visited several colleges, my friend recounted, his son on his search for what to do after high school.

We were on campus at Macalester for about ten minutes and he said yes, this is where I want to go, I’ll apply early decision!

My friend, the father of his son, said this with that parental, saturnine, unimpressed-ness. I was impressed, though. Not that I don't play the saturnine parent myself sometimes. I fed another sixteen-inch piece of scrap wood into the fire. That's the one constant – all the odd bits are sixteen inches in length. Yes! I said. Good for him. I get that. I think I chose my college by being, like, cool, its name starts with the letter O...that feels right!

I said this partly to be cranky and provocative, this was my one social event after all, why not make it fun, and anyway my old friend & I trade off playing this role with each other. Partly though — it is totally true. I do decide things this way…it's not wrong. It's intuitive. You can’t totally explain it on paper.

I was thinking about this conversation I'd had with my friend last week as I scanned, yet again, the results for Used Geil Kiln for Sale on Google. I do this every few weeks & have been at it for six or eight months now, not really believing I'll ever find one, a good used kiln, and not wanting to budget for a new one at the moment – upwards of twelve thousand dollars. Also – this is the hardest part, this is where you need a cranky friend to be provocative – not really believing I deserve another kiln. Not for students and not to share, a private kiln just for the pots I supposedly will make in the coming years on my own. Park City, Utah – six thousand for a used Geil. I called the seller. Can you tell me a little about the kiln you have for sale? I asked. How old is it and can you send me a couple pictures?

Sure, the man said. Well, I'm actually in Arizona this winter.

Hmm I thought. This may not be my next kiln. Just to be sure I said okay, great. So does it work? Is the kiln…uh…in service at the moment?

Well...I haven’t ever used it. The kiln is out back under a tarp behind my place. The place where I am part of the year.

I kept looking. Every few weeks I googled again. Stone Creek, Ohio – another used Geil kiln, just about what I want! Hello, I emailed. I saw your ad on Ceramic Arts Network...

Thank you for your email, the seller said. I have two people who looked at the kiln this week and both are interested...

Another month or two went by. Trinidad, Colorado – on Ebay this time.

Trinidad is a cool name, I thought to myself. I like that. I like this kiln. Something about it…this picture and the way the ad is worded…and of course that name. Trinidad. I have a good feeling! Hello? Can you tell me a little about the kiln you have for sale on Ebay? Does it work, and can you send me more pictures?

I asked these questions, but inside the decision had already been made. This was my next kiln. While I was supposed to be closely inspecting the images of the burner ports and calculating what would be a fair price, actually I was looking on Google maps to see how long the drive was going to be. The deal was done. I had only been on campus ten minutes – yup this is the place for me, early decision all the way.

Still. It was winter. Raton Pass gets closed regularly when a storm comes through. We're about two miles in on pretty loose dirt, and the road gets steep, the seller said in a text. Make sure to wait till it's been warm and dry for a few days...

I rented a trailer. I called the Mayordomo here in my neighborhood, he has a Bobcat, could he help lift something big and square off a flatbed trailer and into my studio?

Sure, the Mayordomo said. How heavy is it?

Good question, I said. I called Paul Geil over in Long Beach California. Hello? I have a question about your DL 16-F kiln? On the website it says the shipping weight is two thousand pounds...

Yes, Paul said.

But how heavy is it actually – is it really two thousand pounds, the kiln itself without the shipping crate?

Oh, said Paul. Actually it is seventeen hundred and fifty pounds.

Thanks, I said, and called the Mayordomo back.

The bobcat can pick up eighteen hundred pounds, he said.

Cool.

In January the weather got warm and dry. I got in the truck and four hours later I was lurching up a two-mile dirt road to a citadel-like home, mid-afternoon and the sun glittered on the faraway plate glass windows, high above me, a beacon in the wilderness. That can't be the place, I thought. I can never get up there with this trailer. That’s like…two miles of pretty loose dirt, and the road sure gets steep.

The kiln was still hooked up and I spent half an hour lighting it, checking the pilot ring, peering knowingly into the burner ports. Looks good, I said, dusting the knees of my jeans off. I'll take it! That sounded foolish, Ebay had already taken my money, I'd just spent half a day driving up here, was I really going to leave empty-handed? On a deeper level though I sounded foolish because I was just going through the motions as I inspected. Intuitively, the kiln was already back in the studio – I could already see it. I had already run the gas line, in my mind at least, and I was already glazing up a test load of pots. My intuition does this to me all the time. People who are good at thinking, weighing options, gathering information, these people look good when negotiating – they look professional. Intuitive people trip over themselves, show their hand too early, agree to the wrong price because...well...geez five seemed like the right number.

The seller nodded. Uh huh, she said, and I thought for a moment she smiled in recognition. Good. How about these books, and all these glaze chemicals – do you want to take these too?

The sun was setting as I tied down the load and then inched the truck toward the start of the dirt road – two miles of steep dirt back down to the highway. I waved. I figure if I get down your road I'm home free, I said to the seller, and she waved back. Then she signaled, and walked toward the driver’s side window.

You'll be fine, she said. And – thank you. I am glad my kiln is going to your studio. Really, I'll be honest – I had many calls about the kiln once I put the ad up.

Oh! I said. Thank you. I am...uh...

Yes, it's hard for me to let go of my studio, and of my kiln, somehow though, when I got your email, I knew you were the one!

I laughed. I waved again. Bravely I started the truck down the road. Turns out those soft patches in the shade were icing over now, and some of the bends were sharper, on the way down, than they felt on the way up – in one very tight corner I hit the brakes. The trailer pushed on the hitch with a saturnine unimpressed-ness. The trailer, two thousand pounds empty, now weighed in at around four thousand pounds, counting all those mullite shelves and bags of feldspar. Enough weight, easy, to skid the truck forward despite the brakes, the Nissan ABS system chattering in the icy gravel. I got pretty close to the edge. Hmm, I thought, what if...I drop just one wheel over the edge? It would be, like, impossible to get towed out of here. What if I even just get a flat? Imagine chocking the wheels on this grade...what if...

And then I waived those thoughts away. I'm going to be fine.

Intuitive people may not be good with thinking, but they're good at turning thinking off. Once they know, they know. Sometimes, that attribute is extremely useful. I took a deep breath and relaxed. I had my used Geil kiln! An hour or two later I was back to the pavement, and I pulled over to check the load – I knew it was okay though. I could feel it.

A few days later the kiln sat quietly in the studio, its flue plumb, or at least I think it’s plumb, under the skylight, a pile of iron gas pipe nearby. The kiln looked fine. I worked around it, trimming pots, wedging clay. The kiln looked as though it had been there years already. In a week it was time to try firing it. On my phone I scrolled back through the photos from that day, the trip to Trinidad, the scenery, the mountains, that wide-open landscape around Springer - two golden eagles and a rabbit. Oh — I totally should have gotten a picture of the seller’s firing log, she showed me that! A firing schedule that works for this kiln & gas pressures, damper settings. Ah geez. That would have been good information!

I put my phone aside and reached for the barbecue lighter. Sometimes you are better off without all the information - you can think better. Or not think - you can just know. This is going to work out fine! I knelt down and opened the gas valve and heard that woosh as the burners came to life – I peeked in the door and saw the blue-yellow flames. I can probably just make this work.