Goodly and Good-Looking Parents

I figured a picture was worth a thousand words but Lissa's awesome comment proved worthy of upgrading. Here's what she wrote: "They did love to come to the ocean! Dad always turned into a big kid—chasing abalone in the waves and then the waves would chase him. I will never forget when he turned his back on a wave and got drenched from behind! Hilarious! And Mom—just plain loves the ocean—especially "Mom's Beach" at Vandenberg!"

Two Sweet Things

Count 'em.

1. Awesome birthday cake. I believe it is topped with White Mountain frosting.

2. Classic VW bus. We rode in that tricked-out jalopy all the way from Idaho to New York City! But that's a story for another day.

3. Oh, wait. The title just said two things. But she got sweeter as the years went by. ;)

Potential

Every time I look at this picture, I peer into the face of a little boy with his whole life ahead of him. He could be an actor, a police officer, an athlete, a college professor, a comedian, a writer, anything he set his mind to be. I feel some regret as I think of a more focused life I could have created. Sometimes I still contemplate being a fireman. That last thought alone might explain why that did not happen.

I was in the high school choir, part of the bass section. I sang only one solo; the rest of the time I performed in the background. I played leads in a few high school plays but mostly because I could memorize the longer lines. I never made the basketball team, but made it as a defensive lineman on the worst football team you can imagine. (I started off on offense but after discovering how bad it was, switched over so I could play against those guys in practice.)

I’ve always been mediocre at just about everything I’ve tried, never focused, never really outstanding.
I guess the point here is back in the picture. If you look even closer at the little boy in the picture, his big sister is holding his hand. The people who matter most are there for me when I need them.
I don’t need a big audience to be a success. I may be “small” but I’ve got family, both then and now. And that kind of support can’t be beat.

Respect and Love

That's all the words I've got for this photo. I've been digging through my archive and am going to post a few favorites.

Looking Over Hurricane Pass

We thought we ought to walk awhile

So we left that town in a single file

Up and up and up

mile after mile after mile.




We reached the tree line and I dropped my pack

Sat down on my haunches

and I looked back down

Over the mountain

Helpless and speechless and breathless.

These lyrics from the James Taylor’s song, Gaia, describe precisely the forced march through the Tetons undertaken by many of the Walker clan way back in August 1982. It was truly the most epic adventure I had experienced up to that point in my life. Many suffered on the trek and after but my 17-year-old body felt little gravity. What I would give to have those legs now. Youth is truly wasted on the young. Anyway.

Lorin Walker, Merle Egbert, Mike Walker (get a haircut), Doc Miller, and Randy Drake somewhere near Alaska Basin. This picture, like some pie, may be part of a different hike. I'll verify.

We rode the Jackson Hole tram up in order to gain some altitude; thankfully, because from there it seemed that for every time the trail dipped down, it would veer straight up twice as many times. We climbed hard for more than eight miles, sweating in the summer sun, grateful for every shady switchback and verdant alpine meadow. We camped near Fox Creek and woke up sore. We hit the dusty path again. I had no idea of the greater reward waiting for us just up the next incline.

As the trail disappeared, suddenly replaced by sky and thin white clouds, we leveled off into an area called Hurricane Pass (10,372 ft.). It is still the most beautiful natural panorama filed in my memory: looking over a glacier and the eon-sculpted valleys at the three massive peaks of the Tetons (the Grand Teton at 13,770', the Middle Teton at 12,804', and the South Teton at 12,514'). Cool air streamed up and over the glacier near the pass where we stood, adding to the neck tingling initiated by the beauty of the scene. Pausing, reveling, before the blue sky, mountains, and water, you could feel your soul expanding to fit into all of that space—helpless and speechless and breathless.

Not my photo but it’s the closest to what I remember . . . thanks Matt on Picasa.

I Used to Care Less

Have I done any good in the world today?
Have I helped anyone in need?
Have I cheered up the sad,
and made someone feel glad?
If not I have failed indeed.

Has anyone’s burden been lighter today because I was willing to share?
Have the sick and the weary
been helped on their way?
When they needed my help was I there?

Then wake up
and do something more
than dream of your mansion above . . .

I was whistling this tune as I showered for the second time on Wednesday. I tried singing it but I kept being reminded of my dad’s baritone voice booming out whenever this hymn was on the program at church. And when that happens, there’s no more singing for me. My dad was a hard worker, always willing to lend a hand. I aspire to be like that. Anyway . . .

Once a year the university allots half a day for any willing employees to volunteer with the United Way. It’s called The Day of Caring. I used to ignore it and call it The Day of Caring Less. But a decade ago I dragged myself over to the stadium and now I wouldn’t miss it. A pancake breakfast, a free t-shirt, and a chance to do something for someone else.

In 2007 I was putting siding on a house for Habitat for Humanity and got my picture in the local paper. What a poser! (Photo by ASHLEY FRANSCELL/Daily Herald)

This year I was assigned to the House of Hope, a refuge and rehabilitation center for women with children and a drug dependence. We cleared dry weeds and debris from a fence line, then cleaned screens and windows. (Upper left, you can see the university spokesperson cleaning some glass and the university photographer snapping her photo.) Looking through the shiny glass of one of the buildings, I could see a cute mom playing with some little girls at a table. She looked up at me and smiled. The work was suddenly totally worth it.

It felt great to do something for someone else, and it was a plus that it was outdoor, manly work and that I got to pitch in with a batch of colleagues past and present that I truly love to work with.

Last year we spent the morning cutting things out of paper for an elementary school. Working in the sun and getting dirty was much more satisfying.

If you get a chance to do some real work for someone else, jump at the chance. It might make you sing or at least whistle.

. . . Doing good is a pleasure,
a joy beyond measure,
a blessing of duty and love.