Category: Uncategorized

“…and she’ll have fun, fun, fun till daddy takes the t-bird away.” That song has been running through my head ever since the recent death of Beach Boys founder, Brian Wilson. The Beach Boys certainly remind me of life in the 1960’s when I was in high school and cars were a big deal in my rural community.

Getting my driver’s license was the most important rite of passage in my life (closely rivaled by getting my National Park Lifetime Pass!) I was one of the youngest kids in my class so most had their licenses before me. I learned how to drive years before and often drove my dad’s pick-up truck when we were doing work on the farm. Having that license and my parents buying a second car for me to use to go to basketball practice and other school events was monumental for me as a 16-year-old. I loved that 1960 2-door International Scout that I used. Limits were placed on where I could drive and I had to cart my sisters around from time to time, but having the license and a car had made for a massive world of freedom.

Most young people remember their first car(s). In my second year in college, my folks purchased a used car for me to drive back and forth from Iowa State. When I graduated, they sold me that 1966 blue 4-door Nash Rambler and it was mine. Once I got my first job and saved money, I bought my first real car—a sporty bright red Dodge Challenger that cost $2000. My parents always bought used cars, so I thought I was cool having a fancy NEW car.

I planned to buy a new car every two years since I thought that was the sign of status. My values changed, however, after spending 6 months in a developing country, Türkiye in 1974. I altered my priorities as I recognized that new cars were not the most important thing in the world. Being joyful with what one needs is more important than fulfilling “wants.” Since 1976, I have owned only five new cars. Buying one every 12-15 years is enough for me.

I love my 2012 Subaru Impreza Sport but was thinking about a new car this year. Having bells and whistles (i.e., safety features) of back-up cameras, lane centering, and pre-collision braking would make me a better driver. Although I get decent gas mileage with my Subi, a hybrid would be a conscious environmental investment. However, a new car is not appealing now. I’ll continue to have “fun, fun, fun” with the car that I need, and hope that I am a safer driver than 60 years ago.

In Africa, tourists yearn to see the Big 5: African Elephants, Cape Buffalos, Leopards, Lions, and Rhinoceros. I was lucky enough to see them on a wildlife tour in Krueger National Park several years ago. People coming to Rocky Mountain National Park are often most interested in the big animals including Bighorn Sheep, Moose, and Elk. I love seeing them too.

Sometimes it feels like folks are checking these big ones “off their list.” In my travels as well as in Rocky, I have also become excited about other animals including dozens of birds as well as the flora that covers the landscape. Seeing big game is fun, but ecologically the little critters and the small plants enable those big mammals to exist.

Small is beautiful. Spring is the time of babies. Goslings follow their vigilant parents around at Sheep Lakes. Marmot adolescents make their appearances in rocky spaces along Trail Ridge Road. Female elk are forming nurseries to protect their young ones. All sizes of ground squirrels scurry everywhere. I never get tired of seeing babies as I say a silent prayer for their good long lives.

Spring is also the time of tiny wildflowers. As the days lengthen, larger flowers emerge easier to see and add to the diversity of the land.

One of my hiking friends, Susan, has helped me to see the uncelebrated smaller aspects of the natural world—butterflies, bees, mosses, slime molds, and birds. I do not know the names but am recognizing their importance in creating a kind landscape.

I just finished reading an interesting book, Raising Hare, which was recommended to me by another Susan that I know. This memoir is about a young British woman who co-exists with a rabbit in her home during the pandemic. She does not give the hare a name and lets it roam free in and out of her house. Over time, the rabbit teaches her to slow down and observe nature all around her. The book is a plea for people to be gentler with all creatures by granting them room to live. The author, Chole Dalton, emphasizes that “Coexistence gives our own existence greater poignancy, and perhaps even grandeur.”

I value fauna and flora in my life. I am blessed to co-exist with the big things as well as the small.

“Do dogs go to heaven?” I remember asking my mom when I was about six years old and the first dog I ever knew, Tippy, was run over by a car. Tippy was a German Shepard/Collie mix with a white tip on his tail. I didn’t understand death but knew he was no longer around. I don’t remember my mom’s response, but it made me think that our dog was in a happy place.

I am now grieving from the unexpected passing of my dear brown tabby soul cat, Mog. The story of a Rainbow Bridge eases some anguish. This metaphor gives me, as well as others, a form of heaven and comfort for pets who have left this physical world.

The notion describes a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth– the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. On the earth side of the bridge is a land of meadows, hills, and valleys with lush green grass. When a beloved pet such as Tippy or Mog dies, the pet goes to this place. There is abundant food and treats. Frail animals become young again. The animals play all day together.

Something is missing, however, at the Rainbow Bridge. They do not have the special people who loved them on earth. They run and play until one suddenly stops and looks up. This pet runs from the group and sees his/her special friend and they meet again. They cuddle and kiss again and again. Together the person and the pet cross the Rainbow Bridge together to heaven, never again separated.

The idea of the Rainbow Bridge makes me smile as I think about Mog being happy and patiently waiting for me as she had done every day in our home for the past 15 years. I don’t think the idea of the Rainbow Bridge existed 70 years ago, but it now represents heaven to me.

I know Mog is waiting for me as are the other animals I have loved over the years. My dad passed 11 years ago this summer, and I am confident that Tippy is now with him and they crossed over that Rainbow Bridge together. Someday I will be reunited with my dear friend Mog.

My mom used to say to me when I was upset about something as a child that, “This, too, shall pass.” I am not sure if that was the best advice sometimes, but it was a way to move away from obsessive thinking. Today I see the phrase as a precursor to what resilience means for me.

I wrote recently about how trees adapt to climate change–resistance, resiliency, and transition. Being resilient related to withstanding and/or recovering from difficult situations struck a chord for me.

Resilient people know that even when things are problematic, they can keep going until they make it through. Instead of despairing or hiding using unhealthy coping strategies, resilient people face life’s demands head-on. One of the concepts that youth development research frequently addresses is related to how to help kids be resilient. Children often face difficult situations that they have little control over, and yet with support, they can persevere and thrive.

I know people whom I admire for their resilience. Individuals have overcome illnesses to recover to a healthy life. Others have lost significant others both early and later in life and have managed to continue and find ways to be happy.

I feel fortunate to have not faced the catastrophes that others have experienced. The most challenging time for me was when I was denied tenure at the University of Wisconsin. I seriously contemplated leaving higher education and doing something else unknown at the time. I continued, however, into the career that I had desired as an educator and researcher. I was able to thrive beyond that setback. I am grateful that I was resilient.

Emotional resilience also involves regulating emotions during times of stress. Resilient people can calm their mind and manage their emotions when they are dealing with negative experiences. Even with unimaginable circumstances, resilience allows people to not just survive but prosper. I strive to be one of those people who have purpose, a social network, problem-solving skills, optimism, and the ability to act.

I don’t know what “doing thing” means. I have a terrible time doing nothing. My upbringing valued hard work. Retirement offers a reprieve from busyness and labor that I have yet to experience.

The Protestant work ethic, a concept popularized by sociologist Max Weber, is the belief that hard work, discipline, and frugality are morally virtuous and lead to success. It suggests that diligence and worldly success are signs of divine favor. This ethic played a key role in shaping my individual responsibility. I was indoctrinated by the ideas. I feel best when I have a full schedule and a moderate “to do” list. Yet, I also recognize that doing nothing could and perhaps, should, be a daily habit.

To “do nothing” has varied meanings. At its simplest, it refers to a state of inactivity—refraining from work, movement, or deliberate action. It may mean a lack of physical or mental effort such as resting or relaxing, simply sitting, lying down, or engaging in mindless activities like staring out a window. It can be effortless action rather than forcing outcomes.

Further, philosophically, “doing nothing” can also be an intentional act such as meditation, reflection, or simply allowing events to unfold without interference. Buddhists suggest that non-action allows for a sense of observing thoughts without reacting to them, which can be peaceful.

It’s easy to get caught up in the “doing” of life and not simply “being.” Yet, I long to rest, recover, and allow myself to be unproductive without guilt. Although hard to implement, I have committed myself to do “nothing” periodically. That desire comes from the privilege I have due to limited caregiving responsibilities and financial stability. Therefore, I ought to be able to consciously do nothing, hang loose, and enjoy rather than feel guilty about that time spent on what appears to be unproductive.

I am learning that doing nothing might look like idleness, but it can be a conscious way of engaging with life, avoiding unnecessary struggle, and focusing on deep reflection. I need that right now. After 75 years, that approach is not easy, but intentional inaction from time to time is worth considering.

The older I get, the more I recognize how complicated the world is. I am partial to the Chinese philosophy of yin and yang that describes the dualistic nature of the universe as well as the substantial relationships. It represents the idea that opposite forces are interconnected, interdependent, and constantly in flux.

Yin is typically associated with qualities such as darkness, passivity, femininity, and the moon, while Yang represents light, activity, masculinity, and the sun. Rather than being absolute opposites, Yin and Yang complement each other. They balance to create harmony in nature, human life, and the cosmos. The symbol of Yin and Yang, the Taijitu, illustrates this balance with swirling black (Yin) and white (Yang) sections, each containing a dot of the opposite color, signifying that within each force lies a seed of the other.

Similarly, the notion of “both/and” rather than “either/or” is a personal and professional philosophy of mine. Rather than focus on hyperbole, I acknowledge that like yin and yang, ideas can complement each other.

I was reminded of the yin and yang on my recent vacation. Although being away from home is a contrast to daily activities, I cannot help but think about both as I travel. I love being away and then I love being back home.

The yin and yang also remind me of other contrasts in my world. For example, I love the outdoors and the differing experiences I have with landscapes. I see order and chaos, solitude and community, and cacophony and harmony. Recognizing these differences is a way to realize the richness of where I live, as well as the larger world.

I am seeing the yin and yang, the “both/and” as I remember by dear sweet cat, Mog. I mourn her loss but smile as I remember our days together. To dwell on only one emotion is to miss the value of contrasts—happiness for 15 years with her, and sadness because she is no longer physically with me.

Contradictory to yin yang is the amount of hyperbole I experience every day. I am tired of hearing exaggerated statements or claims about things being the greatest or the best. It reminds me that life is not meant to be lived in exaggerations or in statements that are dichotomously right or wrong. Yin yang helps me understand my emotions in this complex world.

Mog Henderson, 15 (74 cat years), passed away suddenly at her home in Estes Park, Colorado on May 7, 2025. She waited for her mom to return home from a trip, enjoyed a few pats on the head, and then collapsed and died.

Mog was born in 2010 in rural North Carolina. She was a mini-me of her mother who was a brown tabby just like her. She had two sisters and a brother. Gitch Henderson was adopted at the same time as her. Nothing is known about the rest of the biological family.

Mog lived in North Carolina for 4 years before moving to Colorado when her adopted mom, Karla, retired. She led a normal indoor cat life longing to be outdoors but content to be safe inside with a cool breeze on her face and a warm sunny spot for sleeping during the daytime.

Mog was an independent cat and loyal companion to her mom. More than that, she was a daughter, sister, comforter, purring machine, sometimes writer, critical editor, snoozer, and cuddler. Mog was curious, agile, gentle, and affectionate. She was never aggressive to anyone (except her brother on occasion). She had beautiful big green eyes that were expressive and looked into her mom’s soul.

Mog was a lifelong supporter of her mom. She provided joy in her stately but quiet affection. She was a sounding board for ideas that mom verbalized. She loved to see her mom laugh and was by her side when things were not going so well. She endured her adoptive mom’s tirades about concerns in her life.

No memorial service will be held. Friends and family can give their darlings extra pets today and every day of their lives as the end can come quickly. Mog awaits at the end of the rainbow bridge for her mom and siblings to come and claim her again. In the meantime, she will frolic, meet new friends, and keep a constant eye on her mom, brother, and friends in Estes Park, North Carolina, and elsewhere.

Only three more sleeps until I am on my way. I am about to embark on a hiking trip in England. We have been planning for months. I look forward to getting away and to enjoying beautiful landscapes (and baby lambs) with old and new friends. As my professional and personal musings demonstrate, I appreciate the breadth of what people call the multiphasic recreation experience.

As a recreation professor trying to inspire students to facilitate activities for a diversity of community participants, I have emphasized that an experience is more than just the actual activity. The whole experience relates to a spectrum–the anticipation of the event, the preparation for a positive experience, travelling to and from, the actual activity, and the memories of the activity. Without those elements, the time spent during an endeavor may not be the same.

Since September, we have planned and consulted each other about the steps needed to prepare. Having others to share anticipation with as well as making sure all are adequately ready is important. I love counting down the “sleeps.”

Last fall I had a grand experience on a trip to Patagonia. Things went mostly according to plans, we had fun, and everyone stayed healthy. We could not have asked for a better trip. Moreover, my travelling friends continue to connect via social media and are planning a reunion this fall. Our recreation experience continues even though the Patagonia activity concluded five months ago.

One aspect that concerns me about people who experience memory issues such as dementia is the inability to fully appreciate the phases of the recreation experience. Looking forward to an event is part of the excitement. A friend of mine does not tell her aging mother about upcoming events because the mother will not remember. This situation is sad. Having something to look forward to is important. I also know that not being able to recall a major activity diminishes its importance. Although I seldom look back on previous entries to my daily journals, I know I can jar those memories if the details start to fade.

Having a remarkable recreation experience depends on many factors. I look forward to the entire spectrum as I embark on my upcoming trip. Anticipation and recollection are essential for a life well experienced.

Trees are a beloved natural resource as I learn more about them. I took trees for granted when I lived in North Carolina and sometimes resented the way they made it difficult to see the wide-open skies. Trees growing in Colorado have become a focus of my outdoor consciousness.

A recent program sponsored by the Estes Valley Watershed Coalition highlighted the future of trees. Research is conducted throughout the US to determine how trees are adjusting to climate change related to temperature warming as well as the result of wildfires.

The essence of the presentation was that populations of trees may go through three stages: resistance, resiliency, and transition. As I listened to the research report, I began to think that those stages also pertain to me as I contemplate aging and change in my life.

Many trees resist the changes occurring in their environment. Likewise, resistance is a common human response to changing environments. Change is good, but often not easy. I hate to be one of those people who talk about “the good old days” but I now understand how easy it is to fall into that trap. I want to resist the fact that my 75-year-old body is just not as good as it was when I was 35, or even when I was 65. Resistance, however, beats giving in.

Since resistance isn’t working for me, resilience has become a new mantra. Resilience is the ability to recover from or adjust to misfortune or change. Trees, as well as resilient people, know that even when things are difficult, they can keep going until they make it through. It takes time and intentionality. Mother Nature takes care of trees, and I am learning the importance of the core components of resilience including connections and positive thinking. My hiking is no longer as fast or as far, and I am adapting to those changes.

Transition is the third stage noted about trees. They thrive by adapting to new circumstances through a period of changing from one condition to another. Trees may find that they are better adapted to higher elevations, for example. Humans may find themselves in new environments such as moving from a single home to another living situation. When the time comes, transitions may be necessary. I hope, however, that I will continue to be active in some way even if it is different than my current routine.

 I recognize that circumstances evolve over time. I hope I can live in the moment, enjoying trees, as well as preparing myself for changes in my future.

As a young person, I loved hearing the deep-throated honking while looking up into the eastern Iowa skies to see V-shaped flocks of Canada geese flying either to the north in the spring or to the south in the fall. I do not recall that they ever landed nearby so I had no up-close association with geese until I moved to Estes Park ten years ago.

A resident group of geese stays year around at Lake Estes. The lake seldom freezes. Although usually migratory, geese in Estes Park stay due to food sources and milder winter conditions. During harsh winters, they may migrate to lower altitudes but that is not usually the case. I go to the lake almost every day to see what the geese are doing.

The geese in Estes Park graze on grassy areas, especially near the golf course and Lake Estes. They are social and congregate in flocks for safety. They nest near bodies of water to protect their babies from predators. Geese are vocal and honk to maintain contact with their flock, signal danger, and/or coordinate movements.

I heard a metaphor about geese in their migratory flights years ago and remember it as I observe the resident geese. The story goes that geese fly in V-formation because it creates an uplift for the birds following behind. This configuration improves their flying efficiency and suggests that teamwork and collaboration lead to greater results.

In addition, the flying geese rotate leadership. When the lead goose gets tired, it swaps back into the formation. Another goose takes its place. Shared leadership and trusting others to lead is evident. The geese in the back are part of the team as they honk to encourage those in front to maintain their speed and direction.

Finally, geese provide a means for support in adversity. If a goose becomes sick or injured and falls out of formation, two other geese will stay behind to help and protect it. They remain with their companion until it recovers or passes away. What a great lesson to learn regarding the importance of loyalty and mutual care in our lives.

I am grateful for the Estes Park geese. I am heartened by the lessons geese are teaching me about collaboration, support, steadfastness, empathy, caring, and resilience.