Wandering and Wondering

I was volunteering at Bear Lake one Saturday this summer. An older seasonal ranger was convivial with the visitors as I worked alongside him. A young woman walked up holding a 10-month-old baby boy. She started to ask the ranger a question. Before she could speak, he spoke to the baby, “Hey buddy. Are you living your best life right now? Well, it hasn’t been a long life, but it looks like it is the best!”

I thought what a sweet comment and began to think about how one answered the question about living one’s “best life.” I have never had children, but I would wish that every kid was able to live their best life as they grow up. In a world full of conflict and natural disasters, my heart breaks for those children that will struggle to find their best life. Being a baby at Rocky Mountain National Park seems to be a fairly good deal.

I don’t want a discussion of living your best life to sound like a poster that might hang in a dentist office, but the idea is worth contemplating. I am living my best life today. What could be better than living in a beautiful place, having caring friends, being in good health (most of the time), and seeking to embody service living.

I have experienced some (perceived) failure in my quest for my best life but dwelling on my inadequacies does not change anything. What I have is good. I know, however, that I cannot be complacent as life can change quickly. For example, recently I had the flu. I felt miserable. I was living anything close to my best life during those few days. My recovery was slow and I had time to think about how fortunate I am. I felt sorry for myself when I was sick, and yet recognized that I was lucky to have medicine and healthy food, even though I didn’t feel like eating. I wasn’t at my best, but I was still living a good life.

Now that I am over the illness, I appreciate my life more than before. I wish for that young Bear Lake visitor to live his best life so that in the end it is a “life well lived.” I hope he grows up to love public lands and enjoys them for years to come.

Dear Mom,

A day never goes by that I don’t think about you and dad. During this Christmas time, however, I am poignantly aware of how much I miss you, mom, as I remember Christmases past and the things that you loved about Christmas.

You instilled in me a fondness for Christmas music and yearly traditions. In your passing I have come to appreciate Christmas more than I did when you were living. My memories of you at Christmas are gentle in my heart. I recall Christmas with you when you and dad still lived on the farm, years on the acreage near Cedar Rapids after you retired, and your final years after dad passed.

Regardless of the time, I cherish the delight you experienced in giving to others during the season and especially your love of Christmas music performed by choirs and choruses. One of the Christmas eve traditions both on the farm and after you moved was to go to church, drive around looking for Christmas lights, and then go home for Christmas eve snacks and listening to the public television presentations of Iowa college choirs such as at Wartburg and Luther. Dad would snooze as we enjoyed those youthful holiday choruses on TV.

Certain tunes I hear remind me of you and I smile: Do you Hear what I Hear? O Holy Night, O Come O Come Emmanuel, Ding, Dong Merrily on High, and your favorite, All is Well with my Soul.

After Dad died, it was just you and me on Christmas eve since my sisters had their own family traditions with our whole family gathering reserved for Christmas Day. In those five years without Dad, I took you to the late afternoon Christmas service, we drove around looking for lights, ate dinner and had a glass of wine at a nice Italian restaurant, and watched the public television performances in the evening. I will never forget the last Christmas eve we spent together at St Mark’s candlelight service. As I helped you stand and waited for the benediction, I looked over at you smiling as the light reflected on your face by your candle. I will always hold that image in my heart.

With you no longer on this earth, I will go to a Christmas eve service this year to honor your love of that event. I will make myself a Christmas eve snack and listen to religious Christmas music that never grows tiring. I will remember you, mom, and know that “all is well with your soul” and you are now singing Christmas tunes with the angels.

Love, Karla

I am proud to say that I am a scientist. I was, and still am, a social scientist. Although different from being in biological or natural sciences, understanding human behavior is essential. I believe in science and how it can lead to better living.

I have always had a curiosity about why things are the way they are. I enjoy learning and exploring questions. As a young person, I loved doing “research” in the school library and remember how excited I was when I could go to the Cedar Rapids Public Library to collect in-depth information for a report. Although I got extra credit for participating in experiments when I took psychology classes in college, I found the topics exciting and wanted to know more about the outcomes.

I went to graduate school thinking that I would have a future in youth development education. During those years I discovered how interesting it was to conduct original research and to apply scientific methods. My dissertation on the motivations of volunteers provided a theoretical foundation for understanding the work I had been doing for years with volunteers. From that opportunity, I got to explore other issues related to the motivations and constraints for activities such as within women’s leisure.

I am frustrated with people who are not willing to believe the science generated every day. I recognize that research is not useful if it is not rigorously conducted. I am also aware that statistics can lie. On the other hand, science provides information that should be digested, critiqued, and revised. The value of science lies in the ongoing questions that it raises. I have never conducted a research project that did not result in dozens of new questions.

What I like about science is how it expands on previous science. Science is about building a body of knowledge (the BOK as my students liked to call it!) Science is never complete. The evolution of research on any science question is key to deeper understanding. For example, some of the early research about COVID-19 was later proven wrong. Nevertheless, the first studies had to be done to lead to new questions and conclusions. Conclusions once drawn may change over time with more research.

Everything we know and do today is based on science. Science cannot be discounted, and I am glad that I can continue to contribute to its value by being a consumer of good science as it affects my daily life.

Over the past several years, I have included at least three things I am grateful for each day when I write in my morning journal. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday for many reasons. I believe, however, that thanksgiving should be my daily exercise. As I reflect on the holiday, I reread my gratitude entries over the past year. I strive to identify the BIG and recurring happenings as well as the ^small and personal observances that brighten my life. I suspect you would have more to add. Here are a few examples from my journal. I am grateful for:

• Foggy mornings
• The sound of elk bugling
• My first sip in the morning of caramel colored dark coffee
• Timed entry to Rocky Mountain National Park
• The end of Timed Entry into the park
• Vaccines that I don’t have a reaction to
• A full moon rising
• A full moon setting
• A life of the mind
• Fresh garden vegetables
• Hiking to Chasm Lake
• Sweet cinnamon rolls
• Living in a warm house
• My friend’s recovery from poor health
• Electricity
• Aspen glow on Longs Peak in the early morning
• Birthday cupcakes
• Walks with borrowed dogs
• The opportunity to make music
• Philanthropists
• Talented and committed young people
• Zoom
• The quietness of nature
• Mountain lion tracks
• Wispy clouds
• Getting a year older and wiser
• A relaxing massage
• My Iowa roots
• My cuddly cats and their health
• A good night’s sleep
• Travel to interesting places
• A quiet night at home
• Clean air and water
• Ducks and geese on Lake Estes
• Good books and libraries
• Unclogged drains
• Kind people
• Pizza and friends to share it with
• March Madness
• Embodying service living
• Park Rangers
• Hot chocolate after a volunteer day at Bear Lake
• A negative COVID test
• The quiet of early mornings
• Old friends
• A dependable car
• Women’s basketball
• Sunshine on my shoulders
• Conversations with my sisters
• Open windows at night
• A safe trip
• Gentle rain
• Lightning in the distance
• Being able to adapt to change
• The professional career I had
• Humble people
• Rhubarb pie
• Babies of all kinds
• A kitty sitting on my lap
• Unexpected gifts
• Choices in what to do with time and money
• A new roof
• Friends for celebrating Thanksgiving and thanksgiving.

I pulled onto I-380 from the Eastern Iowa Airport. A farmer was harvesting corn in a nearby field. The clouds in the sky were gray with rain in the forecast. Either riding with a family member or renting a car, I have made this highway entry dozens, if not hundreds, of times since moving from Iowa in 1976. I feel anticipation, relief, and a bit of sadness that I am “home” for a while.

I felt something different when my parents were alive than I feel today. I looked forward to being back on the farm and to conversations with them over the breakfast and dinner table—catching up on my travels as well as what family news was happening. I used to think of home as a place, but as I head to my sister’s home today, I identify with the idea of home associated with a feeling or a connection.

A I am drawn to the popular song Elvis Presley recorded “Home is where the heart is.” He contends that home is wherever he is with a special person. For me, going home to Iowa meant reconnecting with my parents. Although I enjoy my family and growing number of great nieces and nephews, I feel a hole in my home since my folks are no longer on this earth.

I lived in North Carolina for 27 years, and it never felt like “home” to me. The wide-open spaces always called to me. Although beautiful, my house in North Carolina felt enclosed by the dozens of trees. Open spaces existed when I was walking on Atlantic Ocean beaches, but I realized after time at the beach that I am a mountain person. I wished for home, as a place, to be about peaks and valleys.

I now live in the mountains and yearn for this environment to be home. I love the landscapes but am realizing home is not about a space as I once thought. I have a community, and I appreciate the friendships I have gained through volunteering, hiking, and musical performances. On the other hand, I need more time and connections before Colorado will be more than a physical place.

Perhaps if I had a special someone in Estes Park, I would feel different. Nevertheless, Iowa will always be my home of origin as I value the potential of new opportunities in Estes Park as a choice for my heart.

Mom went away for four days and forgot to unplug her computer. Here I am writing with my hunt and paw entries. I want to write about my daily life as unremarkable as it is. My sister, Mog, has no interest and snoozes in the desk chair as I compose.

Mom is usually an early riser. I like that because it means getting breakfast sooner rather than later. If she isn’t up when the radio comes on, I irritate her by shredding whatever paper is laying on the desk. When she yells “Stop It!” I know it’s time to jump down and run toward the kitchen. She will get up soon.

Mom fixes different food for me than from Mog since I had my hospital episode this past summer. I like Mog’s food better, but mom makes me wait until my sister walks away before I can clean up her leftovers.

After breakfast I begin my morning patrol of the house, all three stories. I go down to the rec room window and observe if any mice or chipmunks have scampered across the outside deck. In the winter, when the bears have gone into hibernation and the bird feeders are up, I see if any ground feeders are looking for treats that fell from the main deck feeder.

After mom looks at her email and writes in her journal, I help her with her yoga routine. I admire that she has been diligent in following a program that she says makes her feel less stiff in the morning. I remind her that I have done downward facing cat for years and it has served me well.

I hang out with mom until she leaves to go volunteer or hike or whatever she does. Mog continues to snooze. I eventually curl up on the bed and relax unless I hear something outside that distracts me.

Mom usually comes home sometime during the day. If I feel like it, I greet her. If I don’t, I just ignore her until it gets close to dinner time. In the late afternoon, I am quick to jump up the minute she moves in case she heads to the kitchen. If I don’t get my supper by 5:00 pm, I get cranky.

After I eat, I take an early evening nap. Mog, of course, immediately resumes her snoozing. I must have a nap so that I can patrol again before everyone goes to bed and make sure the house is secure for the night. Sometimes I sleep on mom’s bed and sometimes I sleep on the couch downstairs depending on my mood. I will need to get up early so I can begin to shred paper, if necessary. That’s me. An ordinary cat, an ordinary day.

I have Imposter Syndrome. Although the term has been coined recently, I have struggled with this feeling all my life even though it has not prevented me from trying hard. I can relate to Georgia O’Keefe who stated, “I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life-and it never kept me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.” I am afraid I might fail. Worse, when I have succeeded, I have doubted the success. I fear being discovered as a fraud. Nevertheless, Steve Jobs reminded us that, “If you’re afraid of failing, you won’t get very far.”

As I read more about imposter syndrome, I recognized it is a common human experience and not a mental health issue. I have always felt that humility was important. I had a high school teacher who once told me, “When you’re great, you can afford to be humble.” I do not hold illusions of grandeur and I also do not feel comfortable “tooting my own horn” since my success might be questioned.

Imposter syndrome happens to me because I care about doing well. I have reasonable intelligence. I have worked hard, AND I have been privileged to know people who are brilliant. I can never measure up to them and I feel honored to be in their company. Even with doubts and the recognition of others’ preeminence, I am proud of what I have accomplished, and recognize that I have done my best with the opportunities I have had.

A colleague sent me an article recently that listed the top 2% of Sport, Leisure and Tourism scholars over their career ( https://elsevier.digitalcommonsdata.com/datasets/btchxktzyw/6). I was pleased to be on that list along with other distinguished colleagues that I have known in my profession. I am grateful for this recognition and realize that imposter syndrome niggles in my mind. My success is due to trusted mentors, supportive colleagues, encouraging friends, and enthusiastic students. I am trying to exercise psychological flexibility as I humbly revel in the recognition. Trepidation has made me try harder, and be humbler, in all that I undertake.

I love trees. I have written about them and how they inspire me. I recently read a fascinating book entitled, The Island of Missing Trees. I related to the story because it was about the Greek Turkish Cypriot war of 1974. I was on an exchange program in Turkey during that time and learned about the war from a Turkish perspective.

Aside from the story line about the war and the romance between a Greek man and Turkish woman, the story is partially told by a fig tree who possesses great insight about the world. The tree indicates that she does not experience loneliness. Trees are aware of and experience a sense of connection with other beings in their ecosystem, even those not of the same species. The book’s theme connotes the myriad dimensions of the interconnectedness of life.

The fig tree addresses how a person’s character can be discerned by what he/she/they first notice about a tree-the trunk, the branches, or the roots. The fig tree stated, “Some people stand in front of a tree and the first thing they notice is the trunk. These are the ones who prioritize order, safety, rules, continuity. Then there are those who pick out the branches before anything else. They yearn for change, a sense of freedom. And then there are those who are drawn to the roots, though concealed under the ground. They have deep emotional attachment to their heritage, identity, traditions.” For me, the first thing I notice is the trunk.

All trees are essential and merit attention and commendation. The fig tree noted that a tree exists for every mood and every moment. For example, “When you have something precious to give to the universe, a song or a poem, you should first share it with a golden oak before anyone else… If you want to merge stronger and kinder from your trials, find an aspen to learn from…. If you are hurting and have no one willing to listen to you, it might do you good to spend time beside a sugar maple… If you have too many regrets, a weeping willow will offer solace…”

Recently I was on a walk with an Indigenous park ranger who paused briefly to listen to the wind in the trees. He said he could hear the voices of his ancestors in those trees. This observation reminded me that life is not about independence or dependence. Trees illustrate the value of interdependence for life to flourish. Trees are not just trees. They have lessons to teach me.

Creedence Clearwater Revival had a propensity to sing about rain. “Who’ll Stop the Rain” as well as “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” Those 1970’s songs frequently float into my head when it rains here in Colorado. The songs praise the rain while also focusing on the importance of the sun coming out again.

Many people take rain for granted unless it ruins their plans. As Roger Miller reflected, “Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” Rain is different when you live in an ecosystem where it is at a premium such as in Colorado. For example, the average annual precipitation for the places I have lived vary greatly: Cedar Rapids, IA=37 inches; Madison, WI=34 inches; Durham, NC=48 inches; and Estes Park, CO=14 inches.

By those measurements, rain has had sundry (no pun intended) meanings to me over the years. Growing up on a farm meant that when and how much rain made the difference between successful crops or not. My dad taught me to always keep my eye on the sky and appreciate the weather regardless of what it might be.  

In North Carolina it rained plenty every month of the year. I enjoyed those rainy days. They felt calming. I loved the opportunity to be at home on my computer writing and not wishing that I was doing something outdoors. After several days of rainy weather, however, I yearned to see the sun again.

In Colorado, precipitation is a treat in this high desert where I live. It keeps the landscape green and brings the wildflowers. It is essential to reducing wildfire risks. Rain is often short-lived and shared with mostly sunny days.

Many perspectives define the value of rain. Langston Hughes poetically described rain, “Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”

I used to enjoy running in the rain and now the opportunity to walk or hike in the rain offers an evocative perspective on the world. I have joked that anyone can hike in the sunshine– special people appreciate the rain. I am one of those people who lets the rain kiss me.

We are fortunate when we have mentors in our lives. I had one in H. Douglas (Doug) Sessoms who will be inducted into the National Recreation and Park Association (NRPA) Hall of Fame this week. I first met Dr. Sessoms in 1980. He passed away in 2008.

Doug was a special person and huge contributor to my profession. The posthumous bestowing of this Hall of Fame honor is reserved for individuals who had vision and dedication to improve the quality of life in America through parks and recreation. Dr. Sessoms was a giant in our field. (In the photo, Doug is the one with hat.)

For over five decades, Doug helped build institutions that define the recreation and parks profession today. His early involvement helped establish the Society of Park and Recreation Educators as a branch of NRPA to build strong connections between universities and practice. Sessoms also helped develop formal accreditation of professional preparation in park and recreation degree programs. He brought awareness to the needs and rights for recreation and leisure for under resourced populations including people with disabilities and low incomes. His impact exists today through his early commitment to diversity, equity, inclusion, and social justice and his work with students, colleagues, practitioners, and public officials.

I am a beneficiary of Dr. Sessoms’ wisdom and action. While his accomplishments are important, my appreciation for Doug lies in his personal significance in my life. My commitment to recreation, particularly for the public sector, is tied directly to his demonstration of the value of parks and recreation to people in communities. Doug was my department chair when I was at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. I am not always sure he understood the nature of my feminist research, but he encouraged me every day and never stood in my way while offering quiet encouragement. Doug believed in me even sometimes when I wasn’t so confident in myself.

Because of Doug, I share a deep passion for my profession and for the importance of professionalism both philosophically and organizationally. He taught me to conduct myself with the highest of ethical standards. I have continued Doug’s work by being a leader and advocate for the quality of life that recreation offers.

I am honored to be a part of the induction of Dr. Sessoms into the Hall of Fame. My life changed because of his inspiration, and I am overjoyed to celebrate his life through this “Best of the Best” award.