Wandering and Wondering

We had a horse on our farm when I was growing up. She was not an endearing animal. I respect horses, but they have not been consequential in my life. I have never had a good equine relationship. Recently, however, my appreciation for horses has expanded.

The “One Book, One Valley” nomination this year in Estes Park was The Ride of Her Life: The True Story of a Woman, Her Horse, and Their Last-Chance Journey Across America. I fell in love with the two horses that are integral to the story. I felt the connection the author described and the sorrow when one of the horses died.

I was not sad, however, when our farm horse passed. Betty was a gray appaloosa cross who really hated riders. My dad had to catch her for me as she was not cooperative about the prospect of a rider. We never had a saddle for her, so I always rode bareback. My dad said that it made me a better equestrian because I did not rely on a saddle to stay on her back. She would reluctantly trot and when she sensed we were headed back home, she would break into a full gallop. Betty was always in control. I never felt any bond, and I know that was what she wanted.

Nevertheless, I admire people like my friends Deb (see photo) and Chris who have had intimate relationships with horses. Horses have been unique in human history and culture. Their strength, grace, and intelligence are revered in the work they have done as well as the pleasure they provide for people. Before modern machinery, my grandfather used to talk about their role in agriculture as well as in moving around.

I am learning that what may set horses apart from some other animals is their deep unions with humans. Although I have never experienced it, people tell me that horses are intuitive creatures capable of reading human emotions through cues like tone of voice and body language. Horses capture humans because of their strength and nobility.

I doubt I will ever have such an inclination toward horses, but I appreciate them more because of reading this book. I am glad they hold a special place in the hearts of my good friends.

I see my mom every time I look into a mirror. We resemble each other increasingly as I age. I think about my mom every day. Since she passed almost six years ago, she guides me from above.

Most children hold an extraordinary place in their hearts for their mothers. A mother’s love influences and shapes who we are. One of the profound reasons my mother, and most mothers, are special is because of unconditional love. From the moment I was born, my mother’s love provided comfort and security from childhood to the turbulent years of adolescence and beyond. Through her patience and sacrifice, my mother showed me how to care for others and navigate the complexities of life.

I am grateful for the almost 70 years that I had with mom. As true with most mother-daughter relationships, it was not always perfect. The older I got and the older she got, however, the more we appreciated each other. I realized the role model she represented. I am a better person from what I learned from her. I am also aware that she was not flawless, and I give myself grace in that regard as we all face our journeys by doing the best we can do.

Seeing the changes that came with the deteriorating health of my mom in her later years was not easy. Although I have loving images of my mother in her declining years, I most want to remember the times when she was vibrant and healthy.

Many of my friends no longer have their mothers in their physical lives. Other friends, however, are fortunate to continue to share themselves with an earthly mom. After my mom passed, my good friend Deb let me share her mom as my MOE—Mother on Earth. Unfortunately, this MOE passed several months ago. When I interact with any person who is old enough to be my mom, I look for the connection I might get from a MOE.

Although my mom is no longer here, her heavenly presence is a source of comfort. I wish I could tell her one more time about my deep gratitude and respect for her unconditional love.

With the new year, I am buoyed by the hope of hope. “Hope isn’t always loud and obvious. Sometimes hope is a tiny, fragile thing. Something warm you hold in your heart and tend to so it can grow.”

I have been in a state of mourning for almost two months. Hope has been elusive. As I understand grief and loss, the feelings of bereavement may never go away but will become less frequent and less disconcerting. Hope is the antidote to the sadness I feel.

I have appreciated knowing the stages of grief described by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (1969) in her book On Death and Dying. The stages are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. When someone loses a relationship or a job, they often feel a loss of identity. Although I have not focused directly on politics in this blog, I cannot ignore the feelings that I now have. The United States I envisioned has disappeared. Therefore, as Howard Zinn encouraged, I am looking for strength and faith to do what I can to shape the world I want in the coming new year. I also remind myself that human history is not only about cruelty, but also about compassion, courage, and kindness.

Articulating the stages has helped me understand my feelings. I am aware that these do not apply to everything and don’t happen in order. For example, denial relates to difficulty I have had in understanding why politics have gone as they have. Anger continues to surface for me. Depression has been my most prominent feeling. I vacillate between feeling directionless and thinking things will someday be OK.

Painting by Albert Bierstadt

The final stage of grief is acceptance– learning to live with a loss, learning to live with hope—darkness AND light. Anne Lamott in a recent article described how Albert Bierstadt used both light and dark to make his paintings of mountains dynamic. In 2025 I want to continue to love others, and work to change what I can toward justice in my communities. I am seeking to spend time with those people who are good and kind, and to continue to do what I can in my universe to make it a better place to live. In 2025 I will live with darkness and act with the hopefulness of spinning the world in a light-filled direction.

Happy New 2025!

I am not one to jump on bandwagons for media stars. Even though I am a grateful Iowa State Cyclone alum, I am enthralled, as are millions of people, with the success of Caitlin Clark and the Iowa Hawkeyes women’s basketball team. I am a college basketball fan, and the Iowa women have provided amazing excitement this winter.

I played Iowa high school basketball. I have had an affinity for basketball ever since I played forward using “girls’ rules” with a 2-dribble limit on the half court. It was the only sport available in my small rural school and was just as popular as boys basketball. In college I played field hockey and volleyball because they were the only team opportunities for me. Iowa State did not have women’s basketball in those “old days.”

I do not know what more I can say about Caitlin Clark other than what has been reported on social media as well as national sports shows. I am thrilled that women’s basketball is getting such attention. I know Caitlin has her detractors and she is not perfect, yet I am a fangirl.

The breaking of records has fed Clark’s stardom especially on social media. Caitlin, however, has impressed me most with her passion and humility as she plays the sport. I am biased and cannot watch her and her teammates play without feeling the emotion and joy of women’s basketball games. Caitlin wears those emotions on her sleeve and seems to express the same delight whether she makes a logo 3-pointer or assists one of her teammates in a great play. She expresses her frustration too and tries to smile quickly when things change.

I am most impressed by Clark’s apparent humility. When interviewed, she is quick to acknowledge the contributions of her teammates, coaches, family, and the fans. One of my high school teachers told me, “When you’re great, you can afford to be humble.” Caitlin knows she is outstanding, but she lets her actions speak for that greatness and gives credit to those around her. I admire this trait above everything else that she does.

I have long loved the game of basketball. Caitlin Clark’s skill and demeanor have added to my admiration for the way that women and men play the game. Regardless of what happens in the NCAA tournament, I am grateful for witnessing the skill and role model that Caitlin portrays.

I love that Christmas manger scenes involve animals adoring the baby Jesus. I am always excited to see sheep as part of the menagerie. Jesus is referred to as the lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world. Although the idea refers to the sacrifice that Jesus would make, just as lambs were sacrificed in Judaic traditions, I love the innocence of lambs related to Christmas traditions.

I think about lambs not just during this Christmas time. I was lucky enough in 2024 to see baby lambs twice in two hemispheres. What a treat! My most favorite aspects of our hikes in the United Kingdom in the spring the past few years has been seeing the baby lambs. I was delighted and unexpectedly thrilled that Chile has a large sheep production. Being there in spring, December, allowed me to see lambs for a second time in one year.

My father loved the sheep that we raised on our farm. Not many people in our area had sheep so we were somewhat of an anomaly. I raised sheep for 4-H projects for 8 years. I subscribed to The Shepherd Magazine for a decade and read each issue gregariously. I still have copies of those issues in my high school files. (I am going to have to purge them someday).

We sometimes had orphaned sheep that we raised. It was not unusual in March to have a big cardboard box on our back porch with a lamb or two in it so they could be bottle fed every few hours. Feeding continued twice a day for several more weeks when they were back in the yard with the others. All those sheep had names, of course, but we also knew that their plight in life was to grow up as meat animals.

I often fantasized about being a sheep farmer rather than the path I took in higher education. I would not have been successful in that endeavor. I remain thrilled, however, whenever a sheep appears in my life. Watching the shaking tails of little lambs makes me happy. Seeing sheep in Christmas scenes always elicits a smile.

I just returned from a two-week trip to Chile. The opportunity reminded me once again of how grateful I am to live in the United States. I am harkened to that privilege when I travel. At the same time, I become more adamant about being a global citizen. I do not believe this understanding is an “either/or” choice. My experience over time has reinforced how the two identities must co-exist.

Chilean Flag

Global citizenship is a form of transnationality. My identity transcends geography or political borders. My responsibilities and rights come from my beliefs in humanity. My nationality and global citizenship go hand in hand.

I am fascinated by other cultures. Recently I was sorting through grade school files that my mother sent to me years ago and discovered an illustrated report I wrote in fifth grade about Switzerland—even then other cultures, especially those connected with mountains, captivated me.

I extol the life-changing experience I had as an International 4-H Exchange (IFYE) participant to Türkiye 50 years ago. Living with 20 families from throughout the country over a six-month period, I learned the meaning of family ties and making the most with limited resources. I learned that all parents love their children with passion no matter whether they live in the US or elsewhere.

I have further articulated this global citizenship stance after meeting people from around the world both in their countries and as visitors to mine. I was on the Board of Directors of the World Leisure Organization and attended multiple conferences around the globe. Each time I visit a country, I meet people that are special. I hold them in my heart when I hear about disasters that occur such as earthquakes in Türkiye, wildfires in Greece, or tsunamis in Japan.

The International Camping Fellowship (ICF) uses the butterfly as its logo. The butterfly effect is the idea that small, trivial events may result in larger consequences. For instance, when a butterfly flaps its wings in India, that tiny change in air pressure could eventually cause a tornado in Iowa. Global citizens cannot ignore these complex issues. Isolating myself from caring about the world is impossible.

Global citizens are members of multiple, diverse, local, and non-local networks and not just isolated countries. My social responsibility is to act for the benefit of all societies, not just my own.

I went to see my parents’ gravesite during my recent visit back home to Iowa. They have a stone marker with a small box of ashes buried on the spot. The rest of their co-mingled ashes are scattered at our family farm about two miles away. As I do whenever I visit, I spend a few minutes chatting with my parents about the state of my life.

The early November day was beautiful. Although all the maple and oak leaves had turned colors and fallen, it was sunny with a few wispy clouds. Temperatures were in the 60s. The Coggon cemetery is on a hill overlooking farmland on three sides and some of the homes in my little town on the fourth side. I took the time to ramble a bit in the little cemetery divided by a road into two parts with Protestants on one side, and Catholics on the other.

My mother’s parents are buried next to my folks on the west side of the Protestant area close to the road. My Henderson grandparents are interred in the center of the cemetery. I paid respect to those grandparents and thanked them for living into my early adulthood so that I got to know them. I have memories of my grandpa Henderson helping dad many days on the farm. My mom’s grandparents spent their retirement in Arizona, and I loved seeing them on those trips to the desert.

Strolling in the cemetery was like going down memory lane. I saw the gravestones of many of my classmates’ parents including the bare dirt of the gravestone of my friend Nancy’s mother who just passed two months ago. I reflected on my youth and the associations I had with these adults through school activities and church. I remember playing taps at the Memorial Day ceremonies at this cemetery when I was in high school. I smiled as I thought about those days and remembered my fellow students as well as their parents.

Rambling in a cemetery on a gorgeous fall Friday afternoon was not what I had planned, but I found it contemplative. I have not thought much about what gravestone marker I would like to have someday. Burying some of my ashes in this cemetery along with my parents, relatives, and friends feels comforting. I am not sure who might ever visit me at my final resting place, but I think I would find solace and harmony in the Coggon cemetery just as I did for an hour during my recent visit. I am thankful for all those memories.

PS Happy Thanksgiving to all. I am taking a week off as I head out on another grand adventure.

My first year in graduate school at the University of Minnesota, I took an introductory course about people with disabilities. Dr. Weiss was a brilliant instructor who, despite her passing way too young, continues to inspire me today. One of the assignments she gave was to write a paper called “On Being Different.” It could be about anything related to diversity. In 1977, female marathon runners were “different” as they hardly existed. The first female to run the Boston Marathon was in 1967. I researched the idea and interviewed two local Minneapolis female marathoners to learn of their stories. In the end, I got an A on the paper and became intrigued with the idea of running a marathon.

In 1978 I ran my first marathon in the Twin Cities. It was a horrible experience as my running buddy and I had NOT trained enough. The racecourse was almost dismantled by the time we crossed the finish line. I could hardly move for a couple of days. I swore I would never run again, let alone run a marathon. I started to think about what had gone wrong and I knew from my encounters with others that running these long distances could be fun. In 1980 we ran our second marathon in Wisconsin. It was fun. We were well trained and ran the 26.2 mile course over an hour faster than that first attempt.

Since those early days, I have run a dozen marathons and mostly enjoyed them with proper training: Marine Corps, Raleigh Marathon, Big Sur, Drake Relays, Honolulu Marathon, Estes Park Marathon, Grandma’s (Duluth), to mention only a few. I loved running through Washington DC with all the iconic memorials. Big Sur had astounding beauty, and I did it with my cousin, Mary. (see photo)

Fifteen years ago, I did my last marathon and opted for doing 2-3 half marathons each year. I wanted to preserve my body for hiking and other physical activities. Proper training takes energy. I gave up running and opted for fast walking and longer distance hiking three years ago. I miss training for marathons and challenging myself to prepare adequately. I like the discipline of the training schedule and the joy of going back to running just for fun after the marathon is over. I miss the excitement of marathon day and the aftermath of reveling in accomplishing the goal.

Nevertheless, I know my limitations today and am grateful for all those years of going the distance and the joys of movement. Today I move in slower ways!

“Super Unimpressed” These words were used to describe Rocky Mountain National Park by a visitor. Although hundreds of thousands of people would describe it differently, everyone has the right to their perceptions and opinions. Some people might not be enthralled by hundreds of miles of trails, beautiful wildflowers, incredible mountain vistas, and myriads of wildlife species. Nevertheless, acknowledging not so obvious summaries is interesting to me.

Amber Share published a book called Subpar Parks in 2021. She explained her surprise in recognizing that reviews of natural wonders in National Parks might not be shared by everyone. For those of us who love nature in many ways, noting a lack of inspiration from the outdoors is puzzling. Thus, Share set out to illustrate some reviews and refute the claims by showing the basic facts of specific parks. She offered ways to enjoy the park aside from those negative or unremarkable comments.

Longs Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park as seen from Bear Lake

I have visited numerous national parks. I recognize the irony in expressed reviews. Nevertheless, the observations are entertaining, and I answered with my perceptions about the parks I have enjoyed:

Denali: Barren land of tundra (An amazing humongous mountain)

Death Valley: Ugliest place I’ve ever seen (Things grow here)

Joshua Tree: The only thing to do here is to walk around the desert (The trees are in magical shapes)

Mount Ranier: I’ve seen bigger mountains (Surrounded by diverse ecosystems)

Olympic: No wow factor (Trees, mountains, and the ocean come together)

Arches: Looks nothing like the license plate (Rocks fashioned in geometric designs)

Big Bend: It rained on me in the friggin’ desert (A connection between the desert and mountains)

Capitol Reef: Somewhat bland (Fruit pies from the orchard are yummy)

Devils Tower: Just a big rock (A spiritual significance omnipresent)

Grand Canyon: A hole. A very, very large hole (Layers of geological history)

Grand Teton: All I saw was a lake, mountains, and some trees (The lake reflects the mountains)

Mesa Verde: Not much to look at (Cultural significance is clearly interpreted)

Saguaro: OK if you like cactus (Each cactus is unique)

Yellowstone: Save yourself some money, boil some water at home (Thrilling anticipation of eruptions)

Isle Royale: No cell service and terrible wifi (Hoping to hear the wails of wolves)

Voyageurs: There was no one except us (Solitude as seldom found in today’s world)

New River Gorge: Mist obscured the views (Lucious vegetation abounds)

Cape Hatteras: Nothing special (Sand and the seas unite)

To each his or her opinion, I guess!

“How many lives did we save today?” My colleagues and I joke about this as we volunteer positions at Rocky Mountain National Park. In my mind I am not inquiring about just human life but animal life as I think about the activities park service staff and volunteers do to make the touristic experiences of people and the everyday lives of animals in the park enjoyable and safe!

Every year, dozens of visitors are rescued from Rocky Mountain National Park. Some people experience injuries while others get lost. People often underestimate the perils of a mountainous area. Professionals respond to calls to rescue visitors in unsafe conditions. These Search and Rescue (SAR) missions can be dangerous for the visitor and the SAR response team. Preventive Search and Rescue (PSAR) aims to reduce SAR missions through preparation, education, and information.

I consider myself part of the PSAR team in Rocky. The information we provide makes our wondrous park the safest it can be. The efforts vary greatly. It may be discussions at a trailhead where we warn visitors of trail hazards or impending weather conditions. It also may be through educational programs provided such as campfire programs or through the Junior Ranger program. I hope the advice we give when people call the Information Office may be useful in them making smart decisions about how they will navigate the park.

This information, however, becomes incumbent upon the visitor to consider the suggestions. Preparation for a visit to the park or any other outdoor area is essential. Knowing one’s limitations and the challenges of the park are essential. Hiking requires having ten essentials: navigation such as a compass or GPS device, headlamp, sun protection, first aid kit, knife, fire matches, light emergency shelter, extra food, extra water, and extra clothing.

The quandary with any type of prevention work is that one never knows what difference it makes. Prevention is hard to measure. It is far easier to measure treatment or response rather than prevention. We can count the number of rescues done in the park. However, we cannot count the number of rescues prevented because of the actions taken by park rangers and volunteers to prevent incidences. Accidents are going to happen, but preparation is still key.

I advocated for parks and recreation throughout my career because these opportunities are central for the prevention of accidents, poor health, loneliness, and the list goes on. I like to focus on prevention in all its forms. I am proud to participate in these efforts. I have faith that our PSAR work makes a difference.