Category: Uncategorized

Unlike the apocalyptic lyrics of John Fogerty’s Bad Moon Rising (“I see a bad moon rising. I see trouble on the way…I see bad times today”), I choose to focus on the positives of a moon rising.

About 15 months ago, I was feeling discouraged about the resurgence of Covid-19 and the inability to return to any semblance of “normal.” I was tired of staying away from people and being continually cautious. Although I was active outside every day and enjoyed the timeless beauty of my area, I longed for social interaction outside my tiny bubble.

I wanted to do something healthy for my friends who had been generous over the months with their time and efforts in making masks, sharing their handiwork, sending notes, and dropping off little goodies.

Something I missed from volunteering at the park was structured park activities such as the monthly full moon walks led by interpretive rangers and supplemented with volunteers. A gift I thought I could give my friends was to organize monthly get-togethers outdoors, fully masked, and socially distanced to enjoy the full moon as it rose at twilight in the park.

Rocky Mountain National Park has plentiful landscapes where people can observe the moon as it crests the eastern horizon and heads across the night skies.

I invited potentially interested friends to meet me for the first time at Sprague Lake for a ¾-mile stroll around the lake at dusk. I had no idea if anyone would show up. Thirteen people came. I had experienced the enchantment of the first moonlight edging over the horizon, but some folks had not recently had that experience.

We eagerly awaited the illumination on the horizon on that first cold November night. When the Beaver Moon appeared eerily through the clouds and shown down, a new world opened for us. The reflection of the moon across the partially frozen lake provided radiance to the area. Eventually the moon shadows from our bodies emerged as we made our way around the lake. We stopped frequently to absorb the moonlight, dance with the moon shadows, and take photos. Words were not needed to describe our experience.

Throughout the rest of the winter and into April, I led the full moon rising strolls at various places in the park. Each one was different. The moon appeared from behind the clouds almost every time. We experienced the Cold (December), Wolf (January), Snow (February), Worm (March), and Pink (April) moons aptly named by indigenous peoples over the centuries.

I am continuing the monthly walks this year. Social distancing and masks are no longer necessary as long as everyone is vaccinated and boosted. I love sharing these monthly strolls to collectively experience the brilliance and heritage of the moon. To rewrite Fogerty’s song, “Full moon rising, I see beauty on the way, I see good times this day.”

Although some people complain about the supply chain issues in stores and increasing inflation, I remind myself that I am blessed with abundance. From Earth’s Population Statistics in Perspective, Dr. Scout Cloud Lee shared statistics about the world’s population that caused me to wonder and think.

The population of Earth is around 7.8 billion. If this figure is condensed into 100 persons, the statistics are easier to comprehend.

Out of 100:
11 are in Europe
5 in North America
9 in South America
15 in Africa
60 in Asia.

49 live in the countryside
51 live in cities.

12 speak Chinese
5 speak Spanish
5 speak English
3 speak Arabic
3 speak Hindi
3 speak Bengali
3 speak Portuguese
2 speak Russian
2 speak Japanese
62 speak their own language.

Out of 100:
77 have their own dwellings
23 have no place to live.

21 are over-nourished
63 can eat full
15 are under-nourished
1 ate the last meal but did not make it to the next meal.

The daily cost of living for 48 is less than 2 US Dollars.

87 have clean drinking water
13 either lack clean drinking water or have a polluted water source.

75 have mobile phones
25 do not.

Out of 100:
30 have internet access
70 do not have the availability to go online.

7 received university education
93 did not attend college.

83 can read
17 are illiterate.

33 are Christians
22 are Muslims
14 are Hindus
7 are Buddhists
12 are other religions
12 have no religious beliefs.

26 live less than 14 years
66 died between 15 – 64 years of age
8 are over 65 years old.

Lee concluded that if you have your own home, eat full meals and drink clean water, have a mobile phone, can surf the internet, and have gone to college, and I would add have lived to Medicare age, you are in a small, privileged group (in the less than 7% category).

A privilege is an entitlement granted to a group or person, either by birth or on a conditional basis, and can change. By contrast, a right is irrevocable and inherently held by all human beings. Many privileges I enjoy such as education, healthy food, and leisure ought to be fundamentally available to all as their rights. As these statistics indicate, this social justice does not currently exist.

My status allows me to live a comfortable life, despite daily inconveniences. During this time of the year, I am deeply aware of the gratitude I feel for my earned and unearned privilege.

I enjoy Christmas traditions and this season of light. Sometimes it feels over-commercialized and extremely busy. In my older adult years, however, I reflect on memories of Christmases past—memories that bring me both joy and reflection.

I looked forward as a kid to what Santa Claus might bring me, and I learned at an early age the joy of giving to others. When I was early elementary age, I got an allowance each week for doing chores around the farm/house. I saved each year so I could buy Christmas presents for my family. I remember taking the $2 I saved and mom dropping me off at the Variety Store in Coggon to do my shopping. I could spend 50 cents each on gifts for mom, dad, and my two sisters. I always managed to find things that I hoped they would like that were within my budget.

A traumatic experience of my life was learning that there was no Santa Claus. I knew my parents couldn’t afford all the things I thought I wanted, but I had hopes for Santa Claus.

A most savored memory of Christmas was later in my adult life when I would come home to Iowa to visit. It was fun to help mom prepare for the big family dinner. As she got older, it was a bigger stressor than joy for her, but I knew that she felt confident when I was there. We prepared and cooked.

One tasty Christmas tradition my mother had was to bake frosted coffee cakes and take them to neighbors and friends on Christmas Eve Day. I helped her make the deliveries. She taught me how to make those sweet delicacies, but I didn’t inherit or perfect her expertise.

As I got older I loved Christmas eve with my mom and dad when we would go to church and then drive through town and the countryside looking at Christmas lights. After my dad passed, it was just me and mom going to church and then going out to Christmas eve dinner together.

Mom’s favorite thing about Christmas was the music and she instilled that love in me. When I hear certain songs, particularly sung by choirs, I harken back to how much she adored the sounds of Christmas.

Christmas present is different. I love my town with the Christmas lights that stay up until mid-February bringing light and life to the long winter. I revel in my Norfolk Island Pine with all the special decorations and especially the handmade ones my sister, Suki, has given me every year for decades. I miss deeply those Christmases past but am grateful to have the memories associated with the lights, family, and music. Christmas today is nostalgic and different.

I do not know what Christmas future may hold. I am confident that Christmases will continue to evolve, and yet remain the same, as I grow older. My hope is for PEACE (and JUSTICE) on earth.

One of my volunteer associates at the Information Office at Rocky Mountain National Park asked me in jest after a busy morning, “How many lives did you save today?” We like to think that what we tell people helps them to think through their park plans and assure they are prepared for their visit and especially for hiking. You never know if you made a difference and saved a life.

I think about the importance of prevention since I had a career in a field that was about enjoying life in healthy and safe ways. A story I told my students illustrated the difference between prevention and treatment. A beautiful cliffside was on the outskirts of a city. People loved to hike to the top but there was a problem. People sometimes fell off the cliff and needed medical attention. One solution was to station an ambulance at the bottom of the hill so immediate treatment would be available. There are, however, interventions to prevent these accidents. One radical means was to close the trail and not allow anyone to the cliff. That solution would deny the beauty of the experience to people. Other interventions might be better such as constructing a low fence at the top with appropriate signage to warn against falls. Educating people about the safe enjoyment of the area was also an option. This example illustrated the difference between treatment (having an ambulance available), and prevention (helping people enjoy safely).

Most parks have Search and Rescue (SAR). The idea of Preventive Search and Rescue (PSAR), however, is more important. My volunteer jobs in the park are PSAR—to give people information so they know conditions and to recommend appropriate options and gear to thwart possible negative incidences. All accidents are not preventable, but steps can mitigate them.

An issue with deterrence is that it is difficult to measure prevention. Unfortunately, prevention does not lend itself easily to experimental and control group designs. We cannot give some people safety information like teaching them how to swim, and not give it to others, and then compare the difference in terms of who survived and who did not. Therefore, we do the best job to encourage people to gain skills and information to make good judgments and not drown or fall off a cliff. Positive recreation experiences can enhance mental and physical health.

I am thankful that volunteering and working as an educator has had the potential to heighten the quality of life for people by minimizing negative experiences. I hope every day that my PSAR efforts offer an “ounce of prevention” to save lives even if I cannot prove it. As ordinary people, we often do not know what positive influence words and actions may have on others.

I want to put my bird feeder out for the winter. My kitties love to watch through the window as birds feast on the treats. I cannot put the feeders out, however, until I am sure the bears have gone into hibernation. I do not want to tempt them to visit and get themselves in trouble.

I did not have much association with bears until I moved to Colorado. I had a respect for bears in camping activities, but I didn’t know much about bears until recently. I am learning through my work as a volunteer Bear Rover in Rocky Mountain National Park.

I have the pleasure of volunteering at Moraine Park Campground once a week in the summer to do bear education. Volunteers rove campsite to campsite and remind people why keeping their food away from the bears by putting it in bear boxes or appropriately concealing it in their locked cars is important.

The bears we have are Black Bears, regardless of whether they are black, brown, or tan. These bears look and act different than Grizzly Bears that are in the mountains further north of Colorado. Grizzlies were once common in the area before the park was established but were extirpated at the beginning of the 20^th century.

Black Bears are afraid of people—they just want a convenient meal from people if they can get it. These bears are omnivores with a diet that consists of insects and plants. Opportunistically they will eat meat, but they are not hunters. In the fall, they go into hyperphagia when they consume as much as they can—up to 20,000 calories a day.

A myth about bears is that they hibernate by going into a deep sleep for months. They do not hibernate like some other mammals. Their bodies slow down, and they take exceptionally long naps, but it is common for Black bears to wake up during the winter. They usually cannot find much to eat so go back to bed until spring offers them tasty cuisines.

A local card store has advice cards for sale about what we can learn from animals and flora. I liked the ideas about bears. “Live large” and “eat well” is good advice. I also like bear advice pertaining to “living with the seasons.” I am not a napper but the notion of taking a good long nap does have salience on chilly winter days.

I enjoy knowing about bears and seeing them infrequently in the park. They live the best lives they can. I am glad I can protect them and help others realize the effort needed to assure that they do not get into trouble. Unfortunately, a fed bear can end up a dead bear. I’ll wait just a little bit longer before I put up my winter bird feeder.

I was on a zoom call during the pandemic with friends. The moderator posed a question that everyone could answer if they wished. She asked, “With what person living or dead would you most like to have dinner?” About half of the friends on the call concurred with me that the person was John Denver.

I spent the summer of 1971 working at a camp in Colorado. I fell in love with the wide-open spaces of the mountains, the music of running brooks, the sighting of wild animals, and the invigoration of hiking. I also fell in love with John Denver. “Rocky Mountain High” was released in 1972 and solidified my love for the mountains as expressed by the folksy singing and inspiring words about nature from John Denver.

A high school friend first heard John Denver in 1970 when she was a senior at the University of Iowa. One evening she was writing a paper at the Student Union. An official told her she would have to leave because a singer named John Denver was going to entertain in that room that evening. She plunked down two quarters and said she was going to stay for whoever this guy was. In the middle of the first song, she stopped working to listen. This guy was good. Months later John Denver had his first hit song.

For 50 years, John Denver’s music has inspired me. For example, in 1974 I went to Turkey for six months as part of an international 4-H staff exchange. The only cassette tape I took was John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High.” Listening to that tape helped to assuage the loneliness I sometimes felt.

Upon returning home from Turkey, I gave over 70 presentations throughout Iowa to crowds as small as six people to over 2000. I put together a montage of slides with music to show to give a flavor of the experience I had. “Back Home Again” was the lead song that expressed my joy in being back in Iowa as well as to acknowledge my homes in Turkey.

I heard John Denver in concert several times. I drove miles if I knew he was performing. I owned his every recording. I never tired of listening and loved the time of the year when I felt justified in playing his Christmas albums, including the one with the Muppets.

Several years ago, I was asked to write a chapter for a book entitled Making a Difference in Academic Life. I felt flattered to think that I belonged with the other individuals chosen from my field. Not sure how to frame this chapter, I found the phrase “the things that we believe in” from “Poems, Prayers, and Promises” to be a way to describe my commitment to my profession and its future.

John Denver left us too soon. When I heard the news on that October day in 1997, I sat and cried as if I had lost a close friend.

I think about John Denver’s songs as poetry bringing joy, peace, and comfort in my life. His songs bring back memories of good times, especially in the outdoors. Now that I live in Colorado, I get to listen to the recordings while I live the sentiments in the Rockies.

I was talking to a wise friend recently about her wellbeing. She remarked, “I have everything I need and most of what I want.” That comment has preoccupied me as I have thought about my life.

What one needs and what one wants reminds me of an idea that I came across 40 years ago–the notion of Voluntary Simplicity from Duane Elgin. I have thought about how I can live my life as simply as possible. Sometimes I am successful and other times not.

As Elgin defined it, voluntary simplicity is “a manner of living that is outwardly simple and inwardly rich, … a deliberate choice to live with less in the belief that more life will be returned to us in the process.” Voluntary simplicity is a way of life that rejects high-consumption and a consumer culture. This refusal recognizes that consumptive habits degrade the planet and can be unethical in a world of human need. The meaning of life does not necessarily exist in the accumulation of material things.

I am thinking more about what I need compared to what I want. All of us have basic needs, as Maslow suggested including shelter, food, safety, and meaningful activity. I have those things. I recognize that simple living is a choice that I can make because I have the means to have more if I wanted. Some people practice simple living as their only choice. When people have an adequate income to cover the necessities of life, additional spending is not necessary.

I am trying to balance the acquisition of what I need compared to what I want. I do admit that I don’t need to travel to experience the outdoors, and yet that is something I continue to want and will do in moderation.

I grew up with “Depression Era” parents who planted the idea of frugality. It did not grow quickly. I thought my parents were overly conservative and I wanted the American dream of money and a new car every two years. My attitude began to change when I spent six months in the developing country of Turkey during my mid-twenties. I realized then that I had so much and many of the Turkish rural people I got to know, had little, but were happy.

How much is enough? In retirement, I have time and freedom to pursue goals including community and social engagements, meaningful interactions with friends, intellectual projects, fulfilling volunteerism, spiritual exploration, reading, contemplation, and relaxation. I attempt to live a life of meaning with a sustainable and equitable share of nature. I strive to practice minimalism and functionality and the responsibility uses of natural resources.

I am not espousing a life of poverty or being self-righteous. Everyone has to decide what is important. I am, however, endeavoring to make conscious decisions. I try to resist the consumer culture and the daily messages that having more is always better. It is voluntary and simple, and not easy.

Most places have names. Sometimes they are logical names based on a feature. Sometimes descriptive names were given by indigenous peoples. Other times name designations were convenient, honorary, or just distinctive.

I grew up in a town uniquely called Coggon, Iowa that brags as being the only Coggon in the world. The story goes that when white people settled the community over 150 years ago, they could not agree on the town’s name. The compromise was to name the town after the next person who got off the train at the railroad station. It happened to be Mr. Coggon.** In addition, Iowa got its name from the Ioway people, a tribe of Native Americans who occupied the area before the European settlers arrived.

Before Estes Park was named, the Arapaho Tribe called it heet-ko’einoo’ – or “The Circle.” Most Arapaho names given to lakes and mountains have more meaning than their current names. For example, indigenous people called Mt Meeker and Longs Peak “Two Guides” because they provided direction when travelling from the plains.

Other examples of Arapaho names in Rocky Mountain National Park that have significance include Lake Haiyaha, which few visitors pronounce correctly, meaning “Rocks.” If you have been to this lake, you know how exceptional it is with all the big rocks around and in the lake. The Kawuneeche Valley on the west side of the park means “Coyote.” Tonahutu is Arapaho for “Big Meadows”—an apt description. I love how these names are a way to acknowledge the natural landscapes and the indigenous civilizations that preceded us.

When I volunteer at Bear Lake, people ask if they will see bears. The naming of Bear Lake, according to High Country Names by Arps and Kingery that I frequently consult for information, says that early in the white settlement of the area, a rancher saw a bear at this lake. Bears were uncommon and he named it Bear Lake. Cub Lake is nearby but not named for a bear. Early settlers thought it was so small that they called it a “cub of a lake.”

I enjoy some more modern references to names in the park. For example, the Four Tops on the continental divide are Gabletop, Notchtop, Knobtop, and Flattop. Each of them is descriptive of their topography. Named lakes in the Glacier Gorge area include the “bruise” lakes—Black, Blue, and Green.

I think it helpful that sometimes lakes and mountains is an area share a generic theme. For example, Wild Basin has the “bird” lakes—Bluebird, Pipit, Lark, Junco, and Chickadee. The indigenous people named the Never Summer Range for that reason. Peaks in that area are named after cloud formations: Cumulus, Cirrus, and Nimbus. “Lake of the Clouds” is a nearby alpine lake.

Although perhaps “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” places have meanings and I love exploring the origin of names wherever I wander.

**My cousin has advised me that I did not have the story quite right. Mr. Coggon did not physically visit Coggon. Two families were arguing on naming the town after themselves –the Greens and the Nugents. To find a solution to the squabble, Superintendent Spaulding of England, who was in town to  supervise construction of the railroad, recently received a letter from his cousin William Coggon of England. He suggested “Coggon” and everyone agreed.  Nevertheless, to our knowledge, Coggon is still the only place named Coggon in the world.

It is my birthday season. Birthdays are ubiquitous. We all have them—many if we are fortunate to live long enough. William Barclay noted, “There are two great days in a person’s life–the day we are born and the day we discover why.” I am grateful for each birthday. Each one leads me to a better understanding of why I was born.

When I was a child, birthdays were celebrated in my family by mom cooking a special meal with whatever the birthday kid wanted. A special cake was a treat on our birthdays. One sister always wanted red velvet cake. My favorite was carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. I chose grilled lamb chops for my meal, which wasn’t difficult since I grew up on a sheep farm. When we got older, we picked a local restaurant for birthdays. I always ordered shrimp as a birthday treat.

I have had a couple monumental birthdays. My first epic birthday was when I turned 16—eligible to drive a car. In rural Iowa I relished new freedom. My mother helped my friends throw a party for me on my 16^th. It was supposed to be a surprise, but one of my girlfriends nonchalantly said the day before, “I don’t know what I am going to wear to your party” and then gasped. I told her not to worry. I would act surprised.

People usually find the celebration of the “front number change” to be a special highlight. I have always thought that celebrating the “5” of a birthday was more historical. When a person turns 35, she is closer to 40 than 30, which I found sobering.

Birthdays overall had never been especially important to me largely because I didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. That attitude changed when I met someone who was battling breast cancer. Her prognosis was not good. She loved birthdays because she celebrated each like it might be her last. I was at her last party. Since then, I celebrate birthdays with unabashed gratitude.

As a recreational road runner for over four decades, birthdays were pragmatic as I moved into a new age category. For example, as a 45-year-old in the female 45-49 age range, I usually placed first, second, or third until the younger runners moved into the bracket. I looked forward to changing that bracket again in future years.

My most recent epic birthday was when I turned 62. I became eligible for a lifetime pass to federal recreation areas and especially National Parks—a great acknowledgement of getting older. I am about to add a decade to that coveted park pass.

With this birthday season, I aspire to be like Rachel Maddow who recognized that “life is better for each year of living it.” Each birth day celebration season is a recognition of discovering why I am alive. I am grateful.

I cannot imagine a life without reading. I appreciate the teachers who encouraged me to read and ways that reading enriches my life. I also subscribe to the wise words of Dr. Seuss: “The more you read the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”

I am somewhat of an eclectic reader although I do gravitate toward historical fiction, adventure stories, biographies and memoirs, and nature chronicles. I have never been a science fiction or mystery reader but from time to time I appreciate those reads. I also enjoy a no-mind romantic beach novel once in a while. Although I do like the feel of a book in my hands, I have used a Kindle for 15 years. It is convenient especially when I travel. The lighting means I can read anywhere. Words well crafted can exist in any form.

I experienced immense joy when I learned to read. The summer after second grade I drove my mother crazy because I wanted to go to our school library every other day to get more books to devour. I recall the excitement each fall with the book sale at school. My sisters and I got to pick out one book we wanted, and mom and dad wrapped it up as one of our Christmas presents. I loved owning books and building a personal library.

I also recollect the delight I saw in my mother as a reader. She finished her undergraduate degree in English while I was in high school. I envied her homework because she read classics that I hoped to read one day. I felt heart break for her when her eyes started failing a couple of years before she passed, and she couldn’t read like she had done all her life.

I enjoy reading the stories about other people’s lives and how they negotiate problems. Reading puts words on my feelings. As William Nicholson noted, “We read to know we’re not alone.” In addition, reading enables me to travel to places in the world without leaving home.

Reading has facilitated becoming a writer. Although I read quickly, I also savor slow reading and seeing how others put words together to enable mental pictures of their worlds. I appreciate how other writers construct and organize their works to keep me interested. I believe, as I have often told my students, being an observant reader instructs better ways to write.

Sometimes I can’t wait to turn the next page (or make the next click on the Kindle) when I’m reading a compelling book. When I near the end, however, I often don’t want the story to end. Reading the last page of a book sometimes feels like a forever farewell to people and things I came to love. Nevertheless, additional friends exist in books, and I look forward to meeting them in my next reads.