The Priceless Gift of Childhood

A letter to my BIL and Sister ~

I think I haven’t thanked you enough for all our summer trips to the wilds of central Oregon in my childhood.  You awakened in me a love that will never die, for all things simple and elegant in the natural world.  It is the best gift you have ever given me and for that I deeply thank you.  The memories that linger still - I have put to words to express just some of what it means to me, to this very day.

‍ ‍Campfires at night with smores, and elk calls, and frogs croaking lyrical midnight tunes. Sitting out on the lake shore staring into the blackest of nights – lit only by the moon and acres of stars, some shining like beacons, others caught racing across the sky, sparking instant excitement over the glimpse, and sharing a moment of awe.

‍ ‍Hot summer days spent hiking through alpine meadows up to our knees and elbows, awash with brilliant colors of purple, red, white and yellow. And always the babbling brook we were following, thinly lacing through the ground beneath us, deep enough to hold the trout we were seeking, clear enough that we could often find them calmly resting, uninterested in the food we dangled above their heads and bounced off their noses.

Glorious floats down rivers wide and deep, teeming with our favorite German Browns. Dog at the helm, we sat pinching and squeezing wriggling worms on to hooks, checking bobbers, adjusting reels, then flinging the lines ourselves. Often not satisfied with the drop, you would masterfully throw our lines again, positioning them for us, increasing our confidence that we would feel the tug of a sleek, shiny, prize.

The day’s end, our limits met, our cheeks and noses pink from the sun, our snacks of trail mix and jerky gone, we would bump up to the shore with our haul, eager to gather up foil and butter to slather our now gutted prize, anticipating the wait until the steaming pouches were ready to be devoured.  Only in those most precise conditions did the flavors envelop the nose and land on the tongue in such a way to create a moment of ecstasy for young and old, never forgotten.

And when the days had run out and adult duties called, we would pack up, clean up, and gather any found treasures that had become our imaginary toys to head out, down the dusty, bumpy roads leading us out beyond the mountains, lakes, streams and infinite trees, to find cars, paved roads, gas stations, and the first town, where we would stop to pick out our grand size, double scoop ice cream cones to savor in the sun. Our faces aglow with layers of pink - now red, our fingernails and toes dark with dirt, our clothes still a waft with campfire, and in the folds of our palm, scents of fishiness tucked away.  The smiles on our faces, the lightness of our hearts, the memories made, were all that we saw in our mind’s eye, and all that lingered in our heads, all the way home.

Thank you for such a wonderful gift!  From these very beginnings, I now, partner in hand, have the gift of sharing my love of the wilds with someone truly special on a never ending wild adventure.