Some Thoughts on Patriotism

(June 2017)

** this was crafted in preparation for helping a young Ryan with a high school project ** 

Patriotism is a term we use for devotion to one's own country and concern for its defense.
Patriotism is sometimes simply defined as “love of country”.

Our country – this United States of America, is made up of Land and our People. Both add to its greatness.  I love my county and consider myself an American Patriot. After reading this you may or may not agree.

I love this Land – this vast section of North America between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. I’ve seen much of it – from Florida to Seattle and from Maine to San Diego and from Montana to Texas. When I was 18, I set a life-goal of seeing all 50 states. To date, I have a decent storybook moment for 49 of the 50. We are truly blessed to have been born in such a place of wonder and bounty. The best of the best is perhaps our National Parks: Yellowstone, Glacier, Grand Canyon, Grand Teton, Yosemite, etc.… But, while that scenic beauty is magnificent, we should not overlook the more ordinary that serves to provide our bounty: the farms, rivers, ranches, mines, cities, towns, roadways, and factories. I am devoted to this great Land and concerned for its defense.  If someone tried to ruin the Grand Canyon or the Skykomish River, or the hallowed grounds of Gettysburg, I would feel it to be my moral duty to spring to their defense.

I love the People of the USA – we Americans. Well, at least most of us. Sometimes it’s hard to put up with the “bad apples” and “scoundrels”. But generally, we Americans have a spirit and resourcefulness and sense of self-reliance that I value. We are generally an honest and fair people, with a tendency to cheer for the underdog and desire to do what’s right.  It’s the People of the USA who create and make-up our Communities, our Government, our Military, our Business Enterprises, and all our institutions.  I am proud to be a part of all this and feel blessed to have been born into it. So, as with the Land, I would feel it my moral duty to spring to their defense. And, the closer danger comes to “my tribe” the stronger my feelings and the more fervent my defense – even to the degree of self-sacrifice, if needed.

So, from this initial explanation, I hope you can see that I am an American Patriot. I love my country, this great United States of America. I feel blessed to have been born here, rather than Poland, or Syria, or Spain, or Brazil. But, so far I’ve only touched on a small part of the overall story.

I love the Symbols of American Patriotism. I appreciate the beauty and meaning of the Red, White and Blue of our flag (the Stars & Stripes). I admire the glory of many flags flying, as on Fourth of July. And, I am proud to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, or stand straight and tall for the playing of the National Anthem. I enjoy patriotic songs like America the Beautiful and God Bless America, often happy to singing along. But, is flying the flag, pledging allegiance, or singing songs enough to make one truly Patriotic? Shouldn’t one understand and believe in the words and meanings… and try to live by them?

The official words for the Pledge of Allegiance have changed several times. I prefer the 1953 version.
       "I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands,
        one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
Powerful ideals: One Undivided nation, with Liberty and Justice for all.

Please notice it does NOT say:

•            a nation divided by social class, income, or color
•            a nation divided into gerrymandered political districts 
•            Liberty and Justice for some

How many of us really listen and appreciate the ideals expressed within the poetry of our patriotic songs?

America the Beautiful
O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesty, above the fruited plain.
America! America! God shed his grace on thee.
And crown thy good with brotherhood, From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet, whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare of freedom beat, across the wilderness!
America! America! God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved, in liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved, and mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness, and every gain divine!

Again, powerful ideals: Brotherhood, Freedom, Mend our Flaws, Liberty in Law, Love of Country More than Self, Success be Nobleness and Gains Divine.

I believe Patriotism is not only the devotion to our Land and our People, and not only respect and appreciation for our Symbols, but also (and perhaps more importantly) our devotion to the great Ideals of the Unites States of America. In my opinion, these are best expressed in the 3 greatest American documents:

     –       The Declaration of Independence

     –       The Bill of Rights within our Constitution

     –       The Gettysburg Address by President Lincoln

How many Americans, who claim to be patriotic, have even read these important documents, much less studied their historic meaning? In my opinion, simply waving a flag or singing a song is weak in comparison to understanding the American Ideals expressed within these documents. And, of course beyond understanding these ideals, there is the most important task – living them.  

My life experiences have taught me this simple truth: “Actions Speak Louder than Words”.
Regarding Patriotism, I have known many folks who “Talk the Talk, but Do Not Walk the Walk”.

There’s a common quote: "of all the isms, fascism is the most repressive".

“Isms” are defined as a distinctive practice, system, or philosophy, typically a political ideology or an artistic movement. We use the terms all the time, often without even thinking – Capital-ism, Commun-ism, Impression-ism, Terror-ism, Ideal-ism, Commercial-ism, Vandal-ism, Elite-ism. They are easy to say, but often hard to define as they take on the different characteristics of the people who promote them. And, so it is with Patriotism.

   

Over my near 60 years of life, I’ve become weary and suspicious of “Isms”. They often sound good at first, but tend be corrupted over time. The core ideals tend to be twisted by self-serving people of power, or by the raw emotions of a mob. Over time, the words lose all common meaning. Ask 5 people the question “What is Capitalism?” and note how different the answers will be. The same for Patriotism – ask 25 Americans and you’ll likely get 25 different answers.

I am familiar with a few schools of thought regarding Patriotism. One is simple, often expressed as “My Country Right or Wrong”. For some, this blind obedience to country has no moral boundaries. Anything done under the blanket of the American Flag is to be supported, whether Right or Wrong. This may work for some folks, but I cannot agree. I am a thinking person, with a reasonable moral compass for what is Right and what is Wrong. I appreciate doing Right and I dislike doing Wrong. I have a civic duty to try to do Right rather than Wrong. I wish the same for my countrymen, especially those acting under our flag - our government, our military, our schools, our courts, our communities.

 

John Adams, a great American patriot, famously said: “We are a nation of Laws, not Men.”
This recognizes that people in power are fallible and prone to errors. It reminds us that our Laws are intended to encapsulate and articulate our national ideals, far better than the whims and orders of any single person. It informs us not to blindly follow a President or Senator or Governor, just because they hold a powerful position and issue a personal decree. Rather, we must all follow the Laws – whether common citizen or powerful government official. And, taken one step further, it suggests that as responsible citizens, it is our patriotic duty to hold others accountable for following the Laws – especially if they are in positions of government power and try to misuse that power.   

Military discipline and effectiveness are built on the foundation of obedience to orders. Recruits are taught to obey, immediately and without question, orders from their superiors. 
But, does that mean ALL Orders?
Does that mean “My Country Right or Wrong”?

When one enlists in the United States Military, they take the following oath:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

United States Military courts have ruled that a soldier cannot commit an illegal act then try to use the defense of "I was only following orders". Many court decisions (the rule of Law) reaffirm that following manifestly illegal orders is not a viable defense from criminal prosecution. In United States v. Keenan, the accused (Keenan) was found guilty of murder after he obeyed an order to shoot and kill an elderly Vietnamese citizen. The Court of Military Appeals held that "the justification for acts done pursuant to orders does not exist if the order was of such a nature that a man of ordinary sense and understanding would know it to be illegal.”

This soldier (Keenan) was doing his duty and blindly following an order. On the surface, that sounds very Patriotic. Yet, the US Military Court essentially said that just blindly following orders was not enough. You must also consider if the act is legal or illegal. You must do what is Right and you must avoid doing what is Wrong. Of course, this further demands that you must know what is Right and Legal, and what is Wrong and Illegal. Doing Wrong is NOT Patriotic. Not knowing what is Right or Wrong is also NOT Patriotic. Given my understanding of this, I must reject “My Country Right or Wrong” as far too simplistic for the complex issue of Patriotism in our complex world.

There is a deep and obvious connection between Military service and Patriotism. Every community in America is impacted by every American war. Sons and Daughters serve and some are killed. And, perhaps nothing calls Patriotism into question more than an American military action that results in our countrymen paying the ultimate price. Did they fight and die for a “good cause” or did the purpose of the mission dishonor their ultimate sacrifice?

Before I was born, my great uncle Michael Wilk served in the US Navy during WWII. He was a Fireman on the USS Destroyer Meredith (DD-726). His ship served during the D-Day Invasion of Utah Beach. He was killed when his ship was blown-up and sunk 3 days after the initial invasion.

 

When I was in Middle School and High School, I was reminded daily of a different war, the ongoing Vietnam War. The American military was engaged in fierce battles for nearly 20 years (1955-1975). Over 58,000 young Americans were killed in Vietnam. Over 300,000 were wounded – many badly scared or crippled for life. Over 1,500 were just gone, MIA, with no trail or trace – just vanished forever. I knew guys who died while serving in Vietnam. There were some kids from my school and town – older than me by a few years, but still part of my community.

Today, I look back with pride on the service of my great uncle. He served, fought and died for a great cause – the defeat of Nazi Germany. He was surely a brave American patriot. He gave his life for a great cause – a better world.

But, I have a different feeling for the young man named “Thomas Wilk” who was born Jan 14, 1950 and died June 13, 1969 in the Long Khanh province of Vietnam. Surely he was brave and courageous. But, his death does not spark Patriotism within me. Rather, it sparks shame, anger, and grave disappointment in my country. More important it sparks serious questions:

·         Why did “Tommy” die?

·         How did his death help make our world or our great USA any better?

·         Was America Right or Wrong to send its young to the jungles of Vietnam to fight and die?

Some may suggest that my asking these questions makes me Un-Patriotic. They may offer the “My Country Right or Wrong” reply. But, I believe asking such questions to be my duty as a Patriotic American who loves my country and its people, especially those serving in the military. How can you love America yet want to see its young people die for no good reason?

When I was about 15, my Mom and Dad had a big argument in our kitchen. It’s one of the only times I can remember them having a really heated argument. It was about Vietnam and Patriotism. I told my folks that if I were drafted to go to Vietnam (to fight in that stupid war), I might run away to Canada. At the time, this was a very common idea and as many as 20,000 to 40,000 young Americans “dodged the draft”. Upon hearing this, my Dad was very upset. He called me: an ungrateful coward, unpatriotic, a deserter and a traitor. He said I would be a disgrace to him and my family if I ran away. He said it was my duty to serve my country, if asked (drafted).

Then, my momma (all 4-foot 8-inches of her) spoke the following with tears in her eyes and fire in her voice:
“NO! I don’t care what bad names you call him. I will not have my Son, who we have loved and cared for since we brought him into this world, DIE in some rice patty or jungle, in some faraway place called Vietnam, for No Good Reason!”

She then asked:
“Why is it so Patriotic and Heroic to simply get yourself killed because some idiot orders you to? If that same idiot asked our Son to commit suicide by jumping off a bridge, would we say that was Patriotic and Heroic, or just stupid?

This was an early example (for me) of how Patriotism gets connected with “Right vs Wrong” and “Good Reasons” and “Purpose”. It underscored the idea that sometimes “blind obedience” is simply stupidity.

By the way, when speaking about Vietnam-era “Draft Dodgers”, it seems important and appropriate to make sure these so-called “patriots” are properly called-out. They each avoided service, using their wealth and social standing to force others to serve and (in some cases) die in their stead:

·                   George W. Bush - 43^nd President of the USA

·                   Richard (Dick) Cheney – Vice President of the USA, under GW Bush

·                   William J. Clinton – 42^nd President of the USA

·                   Donald J. Trump – 45^th President of the USA

These folks are real good at “Talking the Talk”, but they NEVER “Walked the Walk”.
By the way should you ask: Where’s President #44 Barack Obama?  He was too young to be drafted for Vietnam.

One question that consistently comes-up when Military Service and American Patriotism are the topic: Why is it that throughout most of the history of the USA, the Poor and Ordinary citizens are forced to serve while the Rich and Powerful always seem to find ways to avoid service?
Is Patriotism only for the less fortunate or common working folks, while the wealthy and more fortunate get a pass on service and sacrifice?  That big question is worthwhile, but beyond the scope of this essay.   

In 1961, President John F Kennedy took office. I was only 4 when he spoke these famous words:

My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country."

Kennedy was connecting Patriotism with Service - to our county, to our communities, to our families.  Consider the Patriotism of being a great Mom or Dad. Great parents lead to fine, responsible kids. Such fine kids become good citizens and contribute to the greatness of their communities. And, all across the USA, strong, ethical communities contribute to the greatness of this nation.

It’s simple and easy to chant the hollow words “America, Love It or Leave It”. It’s much more difficult, and much more an act of love, to serve America by being the best Person, Student, Parent, Taxpayer, Scholar, Athlete, and citizen-contributor you can be.

If you truly Love someone, you want to help them be their best. Sometimes that means you must inform them of their mistakes or misdeeds, and help them correct. So, if you truly Love the United States of America, you should also want to see her at her best. And, you must at times call out her mistakes and ask that she do better. You cannot always be blind. You cannot always be silent.

Today, in the USA of 2017, Patriotism is again a major issue and controversial topic. We seem to have a federal government led by a “Draft-Dodger” President (Trump) who seems to disagree with the Founding Fathers. He seems to disagree with the core Ideals of America. He seems to prefer the opposite of John Adams, wanting instead “a nation of Men, not Laws.” He seems to want to re-define Patriotism to be: blind obedience to his orders and his opinions, no matter how wrong, crazy, or illegal. He seems to want to re-define the Ideals of America to be: Do whatever you have to do, including Lying, Cheating, and Stealing, to get as much power and wealth as your greedy soul can grab. He seems to want to sell-out America to the wealthy elite of Russia, China, and Saudi Arabia.

So, I ask you:
How can I, as an American Patriot,
  someone who loves my country and my fellow countrymen, and the Ideals for which this great

  nation was founded…  Someone who takes Duty and Patriotism seriously….
How can I simply stand silent while I see my beloved country being destroyed from within, by a powerful man who seems to have little respect to our laws?

In his autobiography, Rev. Martin Luther King wrote:
“I became convinced that noncooperation with evil was as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good.”  This idea was informed by many prior works, including one of my favorites, Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau.

Perhaps ultimately, Patriotism serves us best when it is a Question, rather than a feeling or an “Ism”. Maybe our constant questioning is required to help us find Right and avoid Wrong – just as our consistent reference to a compass and map helps us successfully navigate through the wilderness towards a desired location.

So for me, Patriotism means that I love my country, this United States of America, enough to strive towards being a good citizen and serving its ideals. It means I must strive daily to “Walk the Walk”, rather than just flying flags, singing songs, or “Talking the Talk”. It means I must continue to study our Founding Fathers and the foundations of our nation – a nation of Laws not Men.  It means I must courageously stand-up, no matter how difficult, and respectfully speak Truth to Power, especially when a powerful government official wishes to do Wrong under the blanket of our flag.    

 

In this time of political turmoil and deep divisions between my countrymen, I must remember the worlds of President Lincoln, and try to put them into action.

From his Inaugural Address:

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”   

From his Gettysburg Address:

“It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” 

     

July 2016

** A note to a young man of 15, as I give him the gift of a Franklin-Covey style Time Planner **

I'm doing something for you that I wish someone had done for me when I was about your age.

At this time in your life, I'm sure you are developing Personal Goals, Ambitions, and Dreams. You are starting to develop your own, personal sense of achievement and success. I respect these as very private and personal, and also very important to you. And, I fully expect that during the next 5-10 years, these will become far more important and challenging.

I offer this "Time Planner" as a means towards helping you reach your goals, fulfill your ambitions, and reach a level of personal success even beyond your current dreams.

Perhaps you are not quite ready for this yet? If I am giving this too early, just keep it for awhile so you can find it when the timing is right.

In Academics (High School & College), Athletics (Basketball & Track), Family, Friendships, Relationships, and Work -- setting goals and being able to discipline yourself towards achieving them is important. As your life moves forward into the challenges and responsibilities of manhood, I'm sure you will find goal-setting and accomplishment of tasks to be critical to your success. It's sad, but some folks never learn how to set goals and navigate towards achieving them. This "Planner" will help you develop these skills.

In today's world of Tech, many paper systems can be replaced by software. This "Planner System" is easily replaced with 1 or more smart-phone apps. But, how you do this planning really matters very little -- whether by "planner book" or apps on your phone or (as I still prefer) just a plain yellow legal pad. What matters is Your Thinking, Your Respect for Your Goals, Your Ability to manage Your Time, and Your personal investment of a few minutes every day or week.

There are only 24 hours to each day and we need at least 1/3 for sleep and personal care. Use the remaining 16 hours wisely. Do not squander or waste these hours, as they are vital for realizing your dreams of future success.

Good Luck!!

Papa Tom

My January Ritual

It's late January, 2016. It's a day of ritual. It's time to step-away from my ordinary routine and pause. It's time for a drink, some memories, and reflection.

I'm wearing black and sitting in an English-style pub. I'm ordering a double Jameson Irish Whiskey - Neat. It was her drink, so it's special. It's an important part of this January ritual.

Annette. It's now been over a dozen years since she passed - mid January 2004. If I want, I can still see her in the hospice bed, struggling for her last painful breathes. I can still hear that nasty death-rattle. I can still watch her pass from pain to peace. I can still feel her fingers go from warm to cold. Every day, I try not to allow my mind to go to these memories. Most days I succeed. Today I need to remember.

It's been even longer since my dad, Chet, passed in Asheville, NC. That's near 15 years ago already and the topic still comes up occasionally. And, it's approaching 30 years since Lois, my mom, left so suddenly.

The time does fly by. But, the memories and hurts linger, perhaps forever. The smiles and happy feelings remain as well, but sometimes it takes a special effort to bring them forward. I sip my whiskey and silently toast, wishing they were here with me just one more time. I tip my glass to the heavens and say "Thank You for Everything".

A small tear forms in my eye. I take another sip but accept the painful sting as the memories and visions flood in. I need the Jameson's to help - 'cause I don't want to remember them as they died, cold and ravished. I need to remember them as they lived and as they loved me. As they smiled, and spoke, and laughed, and went through this world on their life-adventures.

I've now crossed some strange tipping-point of age. My tribe is shrinking. I can now count far more loved ones who have passed from my life then loved ones now in my life. And, I know deep within me, I'm far closer to my finish line than I could have ever imagined. I'm now an elder - one of the next to go.

Statistical data shows world population at nearly 7.4 billion people. I cannot fathom that number. It's just too big to comprehend. Same for the 321 million estimated to live here in my United States of America. Those same statistics show that every day, an average of 59,000 die - about 6,700 in the US. My mind must work with much smaller numbers - each with a face and a spirit. The totals mean little, until the people they represent are up-close and personal. Most days the numbers don't touch us. They are like hearing about a traffic accident that occurs in a distant city or state. However, every once in awhile, usually by surprise, an accident occurs right in your neighborhood or directly in your path. That's when things turn REAL - really fast!

Last month, it was my step-mom, Ilona. Yesterday it was the shocking surprise of a family friend I called "Uncle Eddie". Every bit-of-news takes another piece of me. Someday there will be nothing left to take.

Nearly 2 years ago it was Kenny, my river-sensei and dear friend. There is still a hole in my soul from that. He was my age and had a beautiful family. One day healthy, a few days later, gone. I'd have gladly gone in his place, but life doesn't give us these options.

I order another Jameson's and lean-back on my bar stool. I can see Kenny and me, standing together on huge boulders, with a torrent of clean-green water racing through rocky channels directly underneath us. We compare ideas and plot our courses thru the raging whitewater of a class IV rapid. Then we hop into our boats, run ourselves to the peak of excitement, and meet at the bottom with a wink and a smile.

My mind drifts back to Annette. Our wedding was in Butte, Montana in July of 1987. Sure, I was partly hung-over and partly still-drunk when I stood at the alter and spoke my vows. It was embarrassing. Butte, Montana will do that to you - especially if you are care-free and well-funded for a night. But despite my haziness, I seriously loved Annette as well as my folks and family who attended.

My friends Roy and Ricky and Gary could not attend cause they were already gone. Already Gone - before 35. Good friends and good men, taken far too soon. And, at that wedding, I could have never known that my beautiful momma, Lois, would be gone within 12 months. The Gods and the Fates can be so cruel! The news of my mom's accident came by phone - across 2500 miles from New Jersey to Montana. Darn it, I need another sip of whiskey. I can still feel myself in agony, screaming to the Gods from the top of Rogers Pass, then again at Lookout Pass. Tears are starting to flow. I need another sip. I need my handkerchief.

Annette is gone. Her Mom and Dad are gone. My Mom and Dad and Step-Mom are gone. So many others, too. I'm the last man standing and I could have never guessed that's how it would all turn out. I want to see them all again. I want to laugh with them again - tell stories late into the night and exaggerate our adventures and importance and wisdom.

I want to know I've done OK by their spirit. From being a decent son and husband to running 200+ miles of the Colorado River through Grand Canyon, 4 times. From being a decent grandpa-model for the little kids to standing on my own 2 feet and being self-reliant since I turned 18. For being a caring "uncle" and helping others, especially family. I want to say "Thank You" to them for what they gave me. I want to say "I'm Sorry" for my mistakes and screw-ups. I am so flawed and imperfect - I know that. I am not a hypocrite. I am just a thankful, hurting soul, trying to get by.

There is a hole in my soul. It must be honored. It can never be filled no matter how much I drink, or eat, or otherwise try to escape. I need to get some food, because this Jameson's sure does go down smooth and easy. Good thing I only do this once a year.    

The real world is calling. The transition will be startling - like reaching Diamond Creek or Seligman, AZ after 18 days inside the Grand Canyon. I need to take a few more minutes to reflect and remember.

So, here I sit alone in an English-style Pub, wearing black and sipping the last drops of Irish whiskey. Holding back my tears and honoring my pain, as I try to let all their faces appear in my memory.
These people I have loved and lost.
These people who have so deeply influenced who I've become.
These people who's spirit I carry within my heart.
These people who's shoulders I stand upon.
These people who now know the mystery of the universe and also know that my drinking is foolish but my pain is real.
These people who appreciate my tears, as I raise a shot glass of Irish whiskey and toast their memory, and speak their names one more time. And say "Thank You".

~ tom









  

July Eleven Twenty-Thirteen

July 11, 2013

It's July 11th and the year is now 2013. My iPhone calendar reminds me it's a special anniversary. 26 years ago, I could have never imagined...

On July 11, 1987 I was dressed in a tuxedo, standing at an alter in Butte, Montana, vowing to "Love, Honor, and Obey, 'till Death do us part..."  My bride that day was gorgeous. Her dress and glow just made her more gorgeous.  Now, I sit on the campus of Temple University in NE Philly, killing time until I can meet my nephew, Shawn. He wasn't even born the day I got married to Annette. Wow, I could have never imagined!

The idle time allows me to reflect back upon the 26 years since that magic day - the Ups and Downs, the Peaks and Valleys, Life and Death, Adventure and Routine and Boredom, Love and Loss and New Love and Break-ups, Marriage and Divorce, Success and Failure, Joy and Sorrow, Dark and Bright, Yin and Yang.

It's been quite a ride. There have been so many strange, odd, surprising twists and turns. My river journey through life has been unpredictable and uncharted. I've been changed by all the experiences and lessons learned. Since the wedding, 26 years has changed me in so many ways, most unexplainable. Yet, when I search deep within, there is also a core part of me that remains the same since birth, or at least my early manhood.

It's cliché but true, I am not a rich man by popular monetary standards, but I am rich with fond memories, escapades, and knowledge gained from the school of hard-knocks. I've travelled across this great country numerous times, always with my eyes wide open and my ear to the rail. You might say I've tried to live a bit of the song "This Land is Your Land, from California to the New York Islands..."  Seems I've always had a touch of Kerouac "On the Road" spirit and Springsteen "Born to Run" defiance.

I've come to value skill and craftsmanship and self-learning. I'm accomplished as a river-runner, musician, software engineer, accountant, and more. Jury is still out on my efforts as a Husband-Partner, Uncle, Brother, Fake-GramPa, Sage and Seeker. No doubt in my mind, I've failed far more often than I've succeeded. But, oh how sweet the hard-earned successes have been! Emerson was right about Self-Reliance. So too, Thoreau, about the healing power of nature for the soul. From Glacier to Yellowstone, to Grand Canyon, I’ve been to church.

At 18, I adopted some famous quotes as my mantras. They have all proven true and served me well.

* "Security depends not so much upon how much you have, as upon how much you can do without."

* "I went to the woods to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could learn what it had to teach and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

* "I learned this, at least, by my experiment: That if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life he has imagined, he will met with a success unexpected in common hours."

* "What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us."

Perhaps I was wise beyond my years, but more likely I was just lucky (and maybe a touch stubborn). I took these ideas seriously. I refused to dismiss these ideas easily. Rather, I set-out to understand them by trying to live them, just as I tried to live the Boy Scout law and motto as a boy. Now, some 37 years later, I can report them as TRUE, at least for me. They have helped, like a flashlight, lighting my path in dark, confusing times. They challenged me towards becoming my best self. Of course, your mileage may vary...

I've learned that when you are young, you often think you've got it all figured-out and planned. You might even believe that your own ability to plan and control and evade trouble will guide your future and destiny. This feeling is natural and good to have. It's essential to every great adventure that the hero has some idea of mission, direction, and required actions. But, as I am now old (older?), I have learned that you can only control a very small portion of your life-adventure. The rest forces you to react and adjust, usually at inconvenient moments.

It's an eternal frustration of the old that we cannot easily pass experiences and knowledge to the young, especially those we love and care most deeply about. If we're lucky, maybe we can guide or illuminate just a little, like a small flashlight with worn-down batteries. But, so often even that small attempt is not wanted or accepted. Sometimes it's simply that what we have most to give, at any moment, is not wanted or needed at that time. Best we can do is catch them when they fall and help them get back up again. And always, we can love, even when we don't understand or agree.

Eulogy For KennyC.

(Memorial Service March 2013)

Like everyone here, I am heart-broken.

Kenny was exceptional - a fine man and a good friend.

Many people walk in and out of our lives, but only a few leave footprints on our hearts. Kenny was a good friend to all of us and has left his footprints on our hearts.

To Quote from Emerson:

To laugh often and love much

To win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children

To leave the world a bit better

To have played with enthusiasm and sung with exultation

To know even one life has been better because of how you have lived

This is to have succeeded...  

Kenny's life has surely been a great success...

   We will miss his smile, his wit, his ideas, and his caring

====

I first met Kenny on a freezing cold Saturday morning in early March, around 1990, at the Big Eddy on the Skykomish River. For our first day of river-guide training, we floated the flat water from Big Eddy down to Sultan. We got snowed on. We got yelled at by this guy who seemed to be an Army Drill Sergeant. That guy was Kenny. I wasn't sure we were going to get along for the weekend. I sure had no idea of what great respect & friendship we would develop and share for many years after.

Our finest moments together always had some connection to running rivers.  At times, our river running experiences served as metaphors & models for the other aspects of our lives. Kenny taught me so much about his approach to running rivers... and I hope I taught him a few things about my approach to living other aspects of life. We cared about each other and watched-out for each other. We came to trust each other in a way that is  rare & special.

Kenny was there to help me become a good river guide and even “Sky Pilot” [1]. He shared so much of himself to help me be successful & accomplish my goals. Then, when I had my first chance to run the Colorado thru Grand Canyon, I got back home and had new experiences to share back to him. After all, he had been "on my shoulder" that entire trip... like a martial arts Sensei... guiding my thoughts and reminding me of key principles, as I scouted and successfully ran those big-water rapids.

When Kenny & Dana found each other, it was a joy to see their love & relationship develop. For a short while, when we were all centered in West Seattle, it was common to find Kenny & Dana & Tom & Annette out together having dinner or catching a movie or just hanging-out together far away from any rivers. And, it was a joy-filled day when Dana & Kenny got married, shared by many of us on the banks of the Skagit.

As years passed, life sent us down different paths and channels. But whenever we had a chance to chat and catch-up, those old bonds quickly re-formed. I was hoping to get back on the water this spring with Kenny, maybe for an April or May trip.  Maybe a chance to take a few of the kids down the river...

Now, I expect that any time I might get behind the oars,

   Or drive along the Wenatchee or Skykomish or Sauk or Skagit Rivers,

   Or pause to watch an Eagle or Heron in flight,

   Or reflect upon friendship and caring and trust,

   Or consider what makes for a great River Guide & and Great man,

   I will surely think of Kenny... and thank the river gods I had such a fine friend.  

=======

<paraphrase from an old song>

Anybody here seen my old friend, Kenny?

  Can you tell me where he's gone?

He Touched a lot of people,

  But it seems the good they die young

I just looked around and he was gone...

Didn't we love the things he stood for

Didn't he try to find the best in you & me

And now, Any time I'm on a river

I will wonder where he can be...

Anybody here seen my old friend, Kenny?

  Can you tell me where he's gone?

Thought I saw him sitting behind the oars one more time

  Floating down the river to the sea...  

---

[1]  A “sky pilot” is a nickname given to those experienced river-guides in Western Washington who have earned the skills and trust to guide commercial passengers down the Boulder Drop section of the Skykomish River, near Index.   

Some thoughts on visiting Yellowstone...

May 2013

Context: This entry started as answer to a request for some info about Yellowstone NP, from an east-coast relative planning a first-time visit. The entry has been enhanced and modified as a more general essay. 

Quick history: Yellowstone was created as the world's first National Park. A fairly radical idea at the time (1872). Most people consider that 90% of the park lies within Wyoming, but I beg to disagree. As an "adopted Montanan",  I consider Yellowstone to truly be a Montana treasure.

Right off, I must admit my love for the American West and our National Parks system.
So, when you combine these ingredients into such unique places as Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, or Glacier National Park, I'm surely biased. I love the National Parks of the USA, and the Parks of the American West are my favorites. These places have fed my soul and soothed my spirit. They have sparked my imagination in ways too mysterious to explain in words. You may think it extreme, but I consider these places to be sacred - more sacred than any man-made church, university campus, cathedral, or holy-site.

I deeply appreciate the contrast of the Western US against the landscape of the east coast where I grew up. It's quite possible I enjoy (or can tolerate) the desolation and wild-ness of the American West more than many. I readily admit I am probably not "normal" or "average" in my emotional connection to these places. Many folks want to change the west. They want to "fix" it or somehow make it "easier" and more "accessible". I reflect back to the famous words of Teddy Roosevelt, from his 1903 speech at Grand Canyon:
"Leave it as it is. You cannot improve on it. The ages have been at work on it, and man can only mar it. What you can do is to keep it for your children, and for all who come after you, as the one great sight which every American... should see."  

I seriously believe the United States of America would be a better country if every citizen had the shared experience of a visit to the American West. It is part of our shared heritage. Yet, I would guess that fewer than 20% of all citizens have seen it. It's "fly-over" land to most folks. Too bad.

So far I think I've been to Yellowstone National Park about 6 times in my life. I can't wait for my next chance to get back. My longest visit was about a week, in 1987, as part of our honeymoon after our wedding in Butte, Montana. Shortest visits were probably during spring break from University of Montana, when we would drive to West Yellowstone and witness 20-foot walls of snow. I think my last time through was with my nephew Alex, as we drove back from east coast to Seattle. It was late June and we got snowed upon while driving the loop from Canyon Village to Mammoth.

Yellowstone is big. No, on second thought, that's not as accurate as needed. Yellowstone is huge! It's bigger than 2 states (Rhode Island and Delaware) combined. At a size of almost 3,500 square miles, with relatively few roads or trails, a person could visit for a lifetime and never see parts of it. So, for visitors, it's wise to enjoy scratching-the-surface and avoid trying to see it all on any one visit.

Yellowstone Park sits on a high plateau, average elevation is over a mile high. So, that can mean COLD temps anytime during the year. Light Snow in July is possible. Near Freezing morning temps are not unusual. Don't be surprised if it's 35 when you wake-up, 85 by lunchtime, then back to 40 as you retire. Afternoon Thunderstorms are also common. Generally they last a few hours, then give way to clear, fresh evenings.

For visitors, one of the biggest problems I'm aware of is over-crowding during peak season. More than 3 million people visit annually, almost all driving. That means traffic, parking hassles, jam-ups, and even accidents. My advice is drive carefully and expect delays. It's tough some days. As best you can, avoid being in a rush. When a giant Moose or Bison cross the road and cause a traffic mess, try to relax and enjoy the scene. But, it can get frustrating trying to be patient with idiot/careless drivers.

While I believe the human hazards are most dangerous, many folks feel the large animals of Yellowstone are to be feared most. It is important that visitors be careful and aware around wildlife. They are wild!
Most dangerous are the Moose and Bison, because for some reason many humans seem to think these are slow and docile. Not true. They can easily out-run you. They can easily get "mad" when you approach too close. My advise is to "Enjoy at a Distance" and use the close-up features of your camera. Yellowstone is not a petting-zoo (no matter how much some visitors try to make it such).

No discussion of Yellowstone wildlife can be complete without mention of Bears. They come in 2 varieties and I've been blessed to see both (at reasonable distance) within the park. Most park bears are Black Bears, some are Grizzly. Unless you are hiking deep in the back-country, you are unlikely to have a close-encounter with a Griz. That said, Bear Prevention and Precautions should be followed carefully, as suggested by Park Rangers. In '99, with my nephew Alex, we camped at a designated campsite for one night near Norris (western side of the park). A Ranger reported a Griz sighting near the campground and advised caution and awareness, but nothing more serious. That night I slept in the bed of my pickup, while Alex slept in my hammock, hung between two trees about 30 yards into the forest. Next morning, Alex reported a great sleep. Further observation provided clues that a Griz had passed near the hammock (and maybe even under it) sometime during the night. Guess Alex wasn't cooked well enough or seasoned to the liking of Mr. Griz...

Initial visits to Yellowstone usually demand seeing the most famous and fascinating attractions. So, it's hard to visit without seeing Old Faithful, Upper & Lower Yellowstone Falls, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, and the Geyser Basins. Personally, I enjoy Mammoth and Gardiner, but it's understandable that time constraints might limit this. If possible, I suggest the loop back through Canyon Village and along the west side of Yellowstone Lake.

I've seen some folks overwhelmed by the sensory overload of Yellowstone. And, some folks get so hung-up on seeing the most popular attractions that they lose sight of all the simple, natural wonder surrounding them. My suggestion, just go with the flow and take-in what you can. Don't stress yourself trying to see or do it all, just relax into the place and marvel at the magic. Personally, I like photos. I used to shoot lots of film trying to capture sights and experiences. Nowadays, I tend to stress less about always taking my own photos. For me, Post Cards are a fine substitute. They are professionally shot and allow me to enjoy the special moments and experiences, rather than miss the experience because I'm so concerned with my camera.

I wait with great anticipation for the next time I can visit Yellowstone. Best hope of all is to again be able to share the places and experiences with young east-coasters, like my wonderful nephews and nieces. I'd like to hope that someday that could feel the same as I do about the value of western wild-ness.


Getting to Yellowstone...

Coming in from the south, you can start with a visit to Jackson, Wyo. and view the Grand Tetons. From Rock Springs (I-80) to Jackson, it's about 3 1/2 hours drive. It's been a long time since I've been that way, but I expect the road is still fairly desolate and narrow. Jackson Wyo. is a gorgeous village. The Grand Tetons tower above it, as pretty as any saw-tooth range in the world. I must admit I've done very little within Grand Teton NP. Most of my enjoyment has come from the view, which is spectacular most days. The drive from Jackson to Moran Junction to South Entrance of Yellowstone is about an hour or so. Should be a beautiful drive! Once in Yellowstone, I recommend starting with the drive from Grant Village to West Thumb to Old Faithful to Madison to Norris.

Coming in from the north, I've entered at both West Yellowstone, MT and Gardiner, MT. Both are great. I especially love the huge Roosevelt Arch at the Gardiner entry, complete with the inscriptions: "For the Benefit and Enjoyment of the People" and "Created by Act of Congress March 1, 1872". To get to either of these entry points, you will drive 2-lane Montana highways that wind through subtle, river valley landscapes. Hard to go wrong, whether you pick the Madison, the Gallatin, or the Yellowstone river valley.

Coming in from the east... I've only done this once. We drove across wild Wyoming all the way from Buffalo to Cody, then entered the park near days end. I recall it being a long, mountain pass drive from the entrance to the first visitor center.

December 1971 -- The Year Christmas was Canceled!!

It's been 40 years, but the memories of that day remain vivid. I was about 13. My sisters and brothers about 12, 10, 8, and 4. Mom was always busy -- taking care of us kids, her husband, her mom, church activities, neighbors in trouble... Dad was busy too. He was only a year or two into his new business partnership, running local trucks in the NY/NJ area as "Jersey Overnight Express". As kids, we couldn't understand much of this. When you're a kid you don't see your parents for what they do outside the family-circle. You can't understand what they're going through every workday. If they're sad or stressed or mad, you think it's probably caused by you or something you did.

Anyway, this story is especially ironic because it's rooted in the 60's hippie culture of Peace & Love.

It was a Saturday afternoon in mid-December. There was a family plan for us to start decorating the house for Christmas -- putting-up the tree, the trains, the Santa figures, the lights, the stockings. Since we'd moved to Somerset about 2 years before, we now had all the "Christmas stuff" stored in boxes in the basement. Getting to the basement, or "cellar" as we called it, was simple -- just walk thru the kitchen towards the hall & make 2 quick 90-degree turns. Open the door. Walk down the 15 or so steps. Done. Easy.

Now, while all 5 of us kids were surely excited for the official start of Christmas season, Dad probably didn't share excitement of "pulling-out" all the stuff. No doubt he was tired from a hard weeks work. Sure, some of this Christmas set-up was fun, like the Trains. But many other tasks, like the outside lights, were an annual hassle. Most weekends up to now, Dad would be engrossed in a fix-up project around the house. Reflecting back, he and Mom probably had a "deadline" in mind for some of these projects to be done before Christmas. I'd guess there were at least a few projects not yet completed which may have caused a bit of extra tension. So, while Dad was half-smiling and seemed happy to go along, I'm guessing he was a little miffed at the thought of having to lug dozens of boxes of Christmas stuff from the cellar and then put-up outside Christmas lights in 20-degree weather, while ignoring a fix-up project he hoped to have done already.

Well, Dad starts heading down the steps and suddenly stops. All 6-ft, 260 of him freezes. Trouble is brewing and with my Dad, his temper brewed-up fast... way faster than a micro-waved cup of coffee...

"What the He** is this...?

The older kids already knew what he'd found. It had been there for at least hours, maybe days. Somehow we must have thought that if we kept quite about it, there would be no trouble. Maybe we thought he wouldn't see it. How wrong we were.

On the white-painted wall next to the steps, on the left side, about half-ways-down, drawn in large form with dark crayon or marker, was someone's unique artistic rendition of a PEACE Sign. For Dad, it was about 4-steps down the stairs, turn his head to the left, eyes look straight ahead. Can't miss it.

If PEACE was it's meaning & intention, that was immediately lost on Dad. Now, just as a footnote, I should probably let you know that 1971 was still a year of long-haired hippies and anti-war protests. Dad had little sympathy. Only now, as I reflect, can I better understand that many of those folks were closer to his age (about 32) than mine. His anger towards them was crisp: "A bunch of lazy, spoiled brats that don't have enough sense to take a bath or get a haircut...."

So, there's Dad, standing on the basement steps, stopped from getting the Christmas stuff because he's just spotted a huge PEACE Sign drawn on a white wall of the house he's been fixing-up with every spare moment of his busy, hard-working life. His temperature rises. The eyes narrow. The anger boils. Need a visual? - think Ralph Cramden of The HoneyMooners as he gets going on a "To the Moon Alice" tirade.

Up the stairs he comes. A complete 180. No Christmas stuff, Just yelling: "Kids, get in here right now".

One-by-one we arrive in the living room, right next to Mom's new piano...

"Yes, Dad?"

"You wanted me, Dad"?

"Hi Daddy, is Santa Claus gonna come soon"?

"Who drew a Peace sign on my wall?"

No answer.

"I want to know now... Who drew a Peace sign on my wall?"

Silence. Shuffling. Tension.

Uuuhh-tttttt Oooohhhhhhhh....

One of us broke the silence... with just the perfect blend of surprise and innocence:

"There's a peace sign drawn on the wall?"

"Really?"

"Huh, wonder how that got there...?"

"Ya know, I went downstairs last week and I don't remember any Peace signs..."

Dad didn't say a word. He didn't have to. He just gave us all "The LOOK".
Silence was instantly restored. The LOOK could turn air to stone. It could turn water into ice is just a second. It could freeze and scare kids right in their tracks... 

The next interplay was classic in our family.

Dad said something like: "So, Nobody drew that Peace sign on the wall, huh"?

Kids, in unison, say something like: "No, Daddy... I didn't do it..."

Dad says: "So, I guess THE PHANTOM came and drew that Peace Sign on my wall, huh"?

Kids want to say: "Yes, it was the Phantom", but we don't have that much courage & we ain't that dumb...

Footnote: “The Phantom” did come to our house a lot. We were special. From time-to-time unexplainable things would happen around the house that none of us kids did. "The Phantom" was the only logical culprit. Most times it was Mom that suggested it might have been The Phantom, usually followed by something like: "Go to your rooms and wait 'til your father comes home."

So, now things escalate. Mom gets involved. No one is gonna go anywhere until this gets settled. The TV gets turned off. The clock ticks away. The interrogation session continues with no resolution. Threats are made. There is true fear that "the BELT" might be next. The dreaded, unspeakable Belt.

Perhaps 30-minutes into this, Dad suddenly vents all his frustration and anger in a way never heard before.

"Ok then... No one wants to admit to doing this... all my kids are Liars... so CHRISTMAS IS CANCELLED!!!"

"Lois, get the presents Santa already brought and bring them to the kitchen. We're gonna give them to the church."

"There will be NO CHRISTMAS is this house."

"Oh Daddy.... Noooooo!!!"
"Please, Daddy... Don't cancel Christmas."

I'm sure that Mom tried to soften things a little, to no avail.

"Hon, don't ya think we better talk about this in the kitchen for a minute..?"

"Talk?? No, I'm done talking! There will be no Christmas in this house this year...!!"

Looking back, I can't help but laugh at the whole thing. But at that moment, all LIFE seemed to be over. This was real. No Christmas! Who even heard of such a thing? No baby Jesus. No Santa Claus. No tree. No Trains.

One of us protested: "This isn't fair".

Another joined in: "Why are you going to punish all of us?"

One of the younger kids said: "You mean Santa isn't gonna come to our house this year?"

There was crying and tears. Was it possible "the Belt" could be a lesser punishment than this?

More time passed with each of us stunned and shocked and silent, unless spoken to. Then we were sent to our rooms and ordered to be quiet.

Looking back on all this, it's funny to now know what a total bluff this had to be. There is no way Dad could have survived a year without Christmas. He loved Christmas. Mom too. Years later he must have laughed at himself for his foolishness of backing himself into such a corner. But, at that moment, I'm sure he saw it as a test of wills -- and Dad never lost a battle of will-power.

After some time, kids started to quietly emerge for private pleas, mostly to Mom. As part of this, the appeal for a "trial" was made. "We should have everyone draw a Peace sign on a piece of paper, then compare each drawing against the one on the wall." It was an idea borne out of TV's "Perry Mason" and detective shows like "Dragnet" and "Adam-12". There was surely a "Leave it to Beaver" element and a touch of "Little Rascals".

Somehow, Mom and Dad bought the idea.

We were all called back to the living room and asked to take paper and crayon and draw our own version. We were even allowed to look at each others drawing and the “art” on the wall. We dutifully wrote our names on the top of each paper-drawing, just as if we were in 3rd grade. Each paper was turned-into Mom for "analysis".

Now, as you probably know, a Peace symbol from the 60's is drawn as a circle, with a straight-line running top-to-bottom, that has two feet near the bottom.

So, it looks like this:

Well, the art on the wall was unique. It wasn't quite a perfect Peace Symbol.

It was off a little.

So, each of us draws a correct Peace Symbol, except for one.

To this day I still don't understand why the guilty party didn't at least copy the rest of us and draw their version correct. It would have meant stale-mate... no evidence... no self-incrimination... But, that's not what happened. Instead, the same flaw on the wall art ended-up on the new paper drawing. Guilty-party identified instantly.... Case Closed.... Christmas saved!!

After Thought:

Can you just image the bedtime chat between Dad and Mom that night? Hopefully the whole thing gave them a good laugh...

This story is mostly true, with names left out to protect both innocent and guilty.

Granted, after 40 years I tend to remember the funny parts more than the painful parts.

Some recall of exact events might be influenced by that tendency to focus away from the really bad stuff.

Today I love and enjoy each of my Brothers and Sisters, and the memories of Mom & Dad shine bright.

~ tom