Wandering and Wondering

I was in Iowa at my sister’s house looking through old letters and memorabilia that my mother and grandmother had kept. Among the archives was a kindergarten report card for my dad. It had no date but would have been done in about 1928. I remember also seeing something similar from my own kindergarten days, although my mother didn’t preserve those reports.

I don’t know if these assessments continue today, but the criteria reported about my dad offered insight into what was important when I was raised by him more than 20 years later.

Report cards reflect a student’s academic journey. Yet, in addition to subjects and assessments, they once described the intangible qualities of good citizenship—kindness, fostering a sense of belonging, and lending a helping hand.

Citizenship as defined in my father’s youth was not about how much children raised their hands but about character and integrity within the school community. It spoke of empathy, responsibility, and respect for others. In kindergarten the reports seemed to suggest how that child functioned in society.

Growing up, I sometimes wondered how my dad could be “only” a farmer with no voiced aspirations to save the world, as I did when I was in my late teens. I now realize that citizenship occurs in big and small ways. My dad was soft-spoken and yet vehement about what it meant to live a good life. He cared about his family, his animals, his soil conservation practices, and giving back to his community. I learned a lot from him.

Reflecting on my dad’s kindergarten behavior underlined what I had known as an educator for over four decades. Education isn’t only about mastering equations or understanding research literature. It was, and continues to be, about nurturing individuals who know how to think critically and contribute meaningfully to their communities. Education is useless unless it focuses on using knowledge to embody good citizenship.

Five years ago on July 26, 2019, my sisters and I scattered half of the co-mingled ashes of my parents over the farm they owned for almost 50 years. Less than half also were buried in a small plain brown box at a granite gravesite marker in the Coggon cemetery. I also got a small urn of ashes bottled for me to keep. Those ashes and the memories of my parents have now travelled around the world.

My mom and dad loved to travel. I enjoy having them with me physically and emotionally as I experience the outdoors and travelling. They are in a sealed container in a soft blue bag that is easy to carry.

Last week I was hiking in the park. At the destination for lunch, I reached into my pack to pay a moment of homage with the urn. I realized I had left it (them?) on my dresser where I placed it after being out of town the week before. Something was missing in my pause.

I know that my mom and dad are eternally with me. They would have enjoyed my trips whether hiking or visiting miles away. I don’t have to have that tiny vessel with me to remember them, but I like having a physical part of them continually in my presence.

Since the ashes were comingled, they have been out of the country to Croatia, England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Italy, Switzerland, and Canada. In the US, they have been to Baltimore, Salt Lake City, Palm Springs, San Diego, New Orleans, Tolono (IL), Stillwater (OK), Portland, San Francisco, North Carolina, Iowa, New York City, Santa Fe, Orlando, Ft Myers, Dallas, Tucson, St Louis, and Chicago. The ashes are well traveled. In addition, they went on backpacking trips in the mountains as well as accompanying me on most of my hikes and recently, a Yampa River rafting trip.

I miss visiting with my parents about travelling. They were always interested in what I was doing. Therefore, I continue to “show” them my world. I know they approve.

I was backing out of my garage and pressed the door mechanism. Nothing happened. Darn! I was eventually able to lower the door manually. I was late for my volunteer work that morning as I reflected on how much I take for granted that everything will work the way I want every day.

My garage door got fixed the next day. With the irritating event behind me, I thought about things that I take for granted. Later that week I learned that my mother’s cousin had passed away. I had intended to visit her sometime this summer. I took it for granted that, although she had health issues, she would be available when I had time this summer.

We never know when something will go wrong or when someone will face a crisis. I walk a fine line sometimes between worrying that something might happen and remaining optimistic that it will all be fine. It reminds me to think about each day as a gift of thankfulness and to make sure I do not lose out on opportunities that may be fleeting.

My last living aunt had a 90^th birthday party near Chicago recently. When I received the invitation, my first thought was that I was not going. It was a long way to go, would be expensive, and I really did not want to make the trip. I reconciled that I would send a nice card. That decision, however, nagged at me as I wondered when, if not now, I would see my aunt as well as my cousins again.

I decided to go to the party. Using frequent flyer miles and assuring that I could get an Uber to and from the party was set. I would have a long day, which is something I would have done without a thought in my younger years.

My travel home did not go as well as planned but I am deeply thankful that I took this trip. Although I might know what I missed, I would have had a vexing regret that I had not seen my aunt at least one more time. In her retirement home family and friends surrounded her. Five of my cousins as well as my sister and her husband were there. The afternoon was a delightful chance to connect again, even though brief.

I am glad I did not ignore this birthday opportunity. I would have missed an occasion that will make me smile for days to come. Life is a matter of being grateful and not taking events, both big and small, for granted.

I downplay that I am getting older, but I cannot deny that my aging process is happening. Like many people my age, I recently underwent cataract surgery. In preparing for this inevitable procedure, my contemporaries had advice for me and indicated how happy I would be when it was over.

Most cataracts develop because of aging. My optometrist warned me two years ago that I was beginning to develop cataracts and I should continue to be vigilant about wearing sunglasses. During the past year, things were sometimes cloudy even when I wore glasses. It was time to remove the original lens and replace it with a clear artificial lens.

The surgery was painless and lasted for a short time with flashes of light and dark. I had to wear a patch for a few hours and my eye felt scratchy. Eyedrops and Tylenol seemed to help. For my first eye, I felt good by that evening. My second eye required almost 24 hours for minimal recovery. I mostly noticed how bright the sun was and welcomed wearing sunglasses.

The surgery interrupted my active volunteer schedule for a bit. I slowed down with no heavy lifting or playing my trumpet for several days. I returned to normal activities after a week. Although the changes had been gradual and I didn’t think my visual acuity was that bad or that I was not seeing colors as brightly as I could, the surgery resulted in a clearer world. My eyes opened to greater sharpness.

Eight weeks have passes since my eyes were “done.”  I am back to the 20/20 vision I had for the first two-thirds of my life. I now only use reading glasses. I am placing drugstore readers throughout my house.

I am grateful for the technology that has allowed me to see better. I am glad my eyesight was correctable and that I could go through this “once in a lifetime” experience. Now I can strive to make greater sense of my visual world.

“Rollin on the River” frequently entered my mind as I rafted down the Yampa River in late June. The song, originally written by John Fogerty and made popular by Tina Turner, described my experience on the river even though the lyrics offer more depth beyond the fun I had.

I learned years ago that I am a mountain person. I had the opportunity on occasions to go to the ocean when I lived in North Carolina. I also enjoyed rafting in the western Carolina rivers. Hiking in the tall mountain peaks, however, is my happy place.

Nevertheless, while I am lucky to experience those inspirational mountains every day, I also welcome opportunities for “water” breaks. The best of all worlds is a combination of the two as experienced in river canyons. The water provides a means for getting into the heart of areas that would be difficult on foot alone. The hikes we took along the traverse of the Yampa were my favorite as we saw spiral caves, pictographs, and Indigenous artifacts. The river, however, also had its own charm.

The rafted river inspired me in several ways:

• Lounging on a raft paddled by an expert provided relaxation when the water was calm. The Class II and III rapids raised the adrenaline level but also allowed for a huge rush when successfully navigated. The eddies provided the “pause” that became peaceful to experience.
• Going on this guided trip with old friends was a highlight and meeting new folks who also loved the outdoors was gratifying.
• Getting completely away from social media for five days was a blessing and a curse for me. I enjoyed not knowing what was happening in the world on one hand. On the other, I felt anxious NOT knowing. However, no choice existed so “unplugging” allowed me to open myself to all the senses of the experience.
• The six young river guides enthused me. Their leadership was exemplary. Their commitment to helping others appreciate the river and all it had to offer was reassuring that wild areas had a future.
• Two experiences were especially memorable. The 4^th day we paddled silently for about ½ hour with no talking. We could fully absorb the canyons that we travelled. The second experience was the 4^th night when a thunderstorm rolled through the canyon. One could hear the rain on the tent and the cadenced rumbling of the thunder throughout the canyon.

I appreciated the experience of excitement, peacefulness, and appreciation of culture and nature on this rolling river. I remain grateful for ALL the opportunities the outdoors has to offer.

I do not remember a time when I was not responsible for chores on the farm when I was growing up. My first recollection was gathering eggs every night and morning. We sold them to the “egg man” and I received the change each week. If my mom got $6.36, I got 36 cents.

Children doing chores on the farm is a tradition rooted in agricultural communities worldwide. The sense of responsibility I have today came from doing chores. This “opportunity” not only instilled in me a work ethic but also a strong connection to the land and the animals. The life lessons extended beyond the farm.

I loved feeding the animals. I learned quickly they required feeding on a regular schedule. Failure to do so was not acceptable from the standpoint of the animals or for my dad! If I could not do my daily chores, I would have to negotiate with my parents or my sisters to make sure those chores got done. There was no not showing up to take care of the animals.

These chores helped to develop a sense of empathy and compassion for living beings. I learned about the cycles of birth and death as well as an understanding of the relationship between fragility and resiliency. Feeding orphaned lambs was a joy but so was the sadness when an animal died. I learned problem solving and adaptability.

My parents were profound teachers of the work ethic. Doing chores requires hard work, dedication, and responsibility. These principles enabled me to be successful in my career and underlined how to be an appreciated volunteer in my roles today.

Today I have a regular routine of chores in the morning and evening that take about 10 minutes within the confines of my house—feeding the kitties, cleaning the litter box, and giving out kitty meds. Watering plants is needed one day a week. It is nothing like farm chores but reminds me of my obligations to living beings.

Although I was sometimes resentful of the responsibility of doing chores every day on the farm, I look back with appreciation. Young people gain these skills in a variety of ways regardless of where they live, but I am glad that the farm enabled me to gain confidence in myself and my ability to persist in making a positive difference every day.

PS I will not post a blog next week as I am going on an adventure.

Over twenty years ago I was dining with a new friend. We shared bits of our lives including the activities that we enjoyed doing. She remarked to me, “You certainly are an adventurous person.” Until then I had not thought of myself as adventurous, but it did resonate with my lifestyle.

My sense of adventure involves curiosity, accepting uncertainty, and stepping gingerly out of my comfort zone. I have traveled the world and experienced sights and people that have enlightened me. As I get older, however, I am losing some of that sense of adventure and I am grappling with that recognition.

I continue to be curious about the world. On the other hand, I am feeling more content to experience life through other people’s adventures. I admire friends like Stephanie who is riding her bicycle across the US for the second time and Sandy who is touring around the world solo. I value new undertakings but question whether I must experience them first-hand any longer. Armchair travel has advantages.

Uncertainty has never held me back in the past if I had enough information about something. I have taken calculated risks without hesitation. Trying unusual foods or a new activity has not deterred me. Yet, I am finding that I am less flexible in adapting to change. Although advantages to caution, I may be missing unexpected and thrilling opportunities.

I continue to dream about traveling and especially experiencing the outdoors. I like events that go as planned and recognize that something becomes an adventure when unexpected challenges arise, large or small. For example, a year ago I was snowshoeing with a friend. It was a lovely day until I dropped my favorite water bottle, and it skittered down the hill. As I tried to get it back, I fell numerous times into tree wells and eventually had to crawl back to the trail. A minor escapade, I guess, but it made the walk an adventure.

I do not want to lose my sense of adventure. I want to continue to have an adventurous mindset as I age. I seek to maintain a positive attitude and convince myself that challenges are opportunities for growth and not obstacles. Whether I travel or not, I hope to continue to find excitement and adventure in everyday experiences.

I asked one of the seasonal rangers who was returning to Rocky Mountain National Park if she wanted to get a permanent job in a park. She said she was hoping that someday she would have more material possessions than would fit easily into her car. Furniture was associated with her desire to “settle down.”

I remember graduate student days of beanbag chairs and stereo speakers as my furnishings. I now value the furniture accumulated over the past 50 years.

Furniture is not just a collection of objects. It reflects memories and one’s personality. At this point, I have all the furniture that I want or need. Other than the functionality of a leather couch that my cats will not tear apart, the furniture in my house reflects happiness about growing up on my Iowa farm and the joy that natural wood gives me.

My possessions reflect my emotions. I have the rocking chair that once belonged to my grandmother as well as the one that my mom used when we were babies. My most prized piece of furniture is the cherry secretary (see photo) that I refinished for my mom as a 4-H project when I was 12 years old. It now graces my foyer and was the one item that I wanted to inherit more than anything else from my parents’ home.

I also have pieces of furniture made in Estes Park by a local woodworker. I purchased the first pieces when I still lived in North Carolina. I was looking for a change in my life and I had always loved that rustic look. Through a lucky interaction, I was able to get the furniture made and delivered to my NC home. Having the furniture in my living room and bedroom brought joy for the anticipation of someday living in the mountains. Over time I acquired more of this woodsy design.

My house is a hodge podge of furniture with antiques from my childhood and the log furniture. It suits my eclectic personality and I enjoy its warmth. I know I would not win any awards for interior design, but the coziness wraps me in happiness.

The tundra in Rocky Mountain National Park is a metaphor for strength and endurance. Any day now as the snow melts from Trail Ridge Road, I will get to experience the beloved tundra again. At volunteer training recently, the supervising ranger asked why volunteering on the tundra was so important to each of us. I quickly responded that the fragility AND the resiliency makes this biome enthralling to me.

The tundra, also called “the land above the trees,” is known for its extreme environment and ecological dynamics. Although spring is evident in parts of Rocky Mountain National Park, the tundra will be the last to respond to warmer weather. In addition, the growing season for plants in this high desert area is only 8-10 weeks. The average daytime temperature in July is about 50 degrees F.

The contrast between the fragility of this area and its resilience captivates me. The climate is harsh with extremely low temperatures. The abbreviated growing season results in the ecosystem’s susceptible to disturbances with less time for recovery. Human activities such walking irresponsibly on the area can have lasting impacts. Recovery is a lengthy process.

On the other hand, the tundra is also highly adaptable to harsh conditions. Flora and fauna develop small stature, specialized root systems, and thick fur or feathers for insulation. Permafrost is a stabilizing force preventing erosion and providing a foundation for vegetation. The tundra can recover from disturbances quickly if it is not too severe or frequent.

The mission of the Park Service is to protect public land for future generations. I feel that mandate strongly on the tundra. The increasing pressures of climate change and human activities pose significant challenges to long-term stability and resilience. We can take steps to mitigate negative outcomes through education and awareness.

I love volunteering on the tundra and helping people understand the dimensions of both fragility as well as resilience. The ideas of fragility and resiliency are a metaphor for human lives. People can possess both traits at the same time. Despite times of distress, most of us can be resilient. Just like the tundra, I may be fragile due to some circumstances, but I also possess the ability to overcome those issues through adaptability and recovery over time.

“Is that statement always true?” “How can I fact check?” These are questions I ask myself commonly these days. So much information is available at the tips of our fingers. Evaluating what is “true” is often disputable and requires critical thinking.

As an educator, I championed critical thinking in my students. I challenged them to go beyond any written word to put it together with other information to come to enlightened conclusions. I admonished that the more people read, the more they know. The more known, the more people realize how much you don’t know. This realization is the beginning of critical thinking.

Critical thinking is the ability to objectively analyze and evaluate information and arguments to form judgments and act. Critical thinkers can recognize biases, evaluate assumptions, and consider alternative ideas.

Promoting questioning is not as easy as taking information at initial value. It takes time and energy to evaluate information. It is daunting to sift through different viewpoints and question assumptions.

I frustrated some graduate students because I dared them to put ideas together and consider alternative conclusions. To get an “A” on a paper required them to teach me something that I did not already know. I did not mean to be arrogant in that request, but I wanted them to go beyond regurgitating ideas to putting ideas together. I wanted them to think about alternative perspectives and interpretations.

We live in a climate that is politically divisive. I feel helpless in changing that situation in our country. I do feel, however, that I have a role in keeping myself informed about varying opinions founded in a thoughtful analysis of issues.

Although I no longer work with students, I challenge myself as I do others to reflect on thought processes, biases, and assumptions. This process sets in motion critical thinking. Approaching information with skepticism is necessary along with an open mind.

 I hope in my daily life and my informal interactions with others that I can support learning environments. I strive to foster my own as well as others’ curiosity and truth seeking.