I'm Officially Old

In less than 6 weeks I will turn 39 years old.  I am older than my wife, my siblings, and the majority of my friends.  They all remind me of this as often as they can.

It's certainly not easy getting old.  My body hurts more than it used to.  Last November I played flag-football with some friends on a chilly Saturday afternoon.  Urged on by large doses of bravado and even larger does of homebrew I flung myself into the friendly game.  In the end, I needed dental work and two full weeks to recover. I find that I need to workout nearly everyday to keep the stiffness and soreness out of my joints.  If I miss a day or two, the next time I hit the trail or the weights I feel like the Tin Man desperately in need of some oil.  I don't think my mind has deteriorated any.  I still have an extremely short memory so it can't get much worse.

Yet through all of these events of weakening joints, loss of hair, and the ever growing "spare tire" I've never felt old...until last week.  Last week one single event made me feel like I had one foot in the grave, the other in the nursing home.

On Tuesday of that week the boys were especially rowdy in the morning.  I let them go for a while until I couldn't take it anymore.  I thundered out the laundry list of things they were to be doing, "Are your chores done? Did you clean your room? Did you brush your teeth?  Why haven't you started your homework", and on and on.  The answers to those questions were obviously, no.  I continued on, "why do I have to run off this list every morning?"  So far, so good, but I took it a step too far with this, "I feel like a broken record."  It was at that point that the earth stopped turning, time stood still, and all the world looked sadly upon this old man.  The birds froze in the sky, toy cars stopped in mid-course, and even the water coming out of the tap for the dishes stopped bubbling.  And then, it came, like a bolt of lightning out of the sky, voiced from my wonderful 8 year-old son, "....Dad, what's a record?"

The bird dropped from the sky, the car crashed into the wall, and the earth resumed it's normal speed.  The world didn't wait for my answer.  I was no longer relevant.  I realized then and there that I was officially - old.  No answer in the world would have sufficed.  The world didn't care.  I just shook my old head, took a shot of Geritol, and proceeded to do the dishes.

The Big Burn

Ever since I read the book by David McCullough, Mornings on Horse Back about Teddy Roosevelt, I have been a huge fan of the former president.

Recently I read The Big Burn: Teddy Roosevelt and the Fire That Saved America.  I was fascinated to learn the role Mr. Roosevelt had played in the establishment of the United States Forest Service. This fascination was compounded by the fact that names of many of the men in the book were very familiar to me after having worked with the USFS and Wilderness Outreach.  These men, like Ed Pulaski and John Muir, were legends in my mind.  After reading the book, they became heroes.

I never realized that in the early 1900's the railroad and logging industries were treating these beautiful areas in the West and Northwest as a completely expendable resource.  They were basically raping and pillaging the land with no thought of future generations.  In fact, the ideas of conservation and preservation were completely foreign in that day.  Roosevelt and Pinchot worked against all odds, both in Congress and in the wild, to protect these wilderness areas.

The Great Fire of 1910, or The Big Burn as it is also known, was a forest fire of epic proportions.  The fire burned 3 million acres and killed 87 people with it's devastating hurricane force winds, flames, and smoke.  The newly formed USFS was grossly undermanned and underfunded.  The USFS rangers at the time worked hard to save not only the wilderness but the small towns as well often with little pay and a great deal of resistance from the inhabitants of the area.  The fire, which destroyed so much land and life, propelled the USFS and conservation into the spotlight.  When the rest of the nation heard the heroic stories of the rangers, public opinion moved to the side of conservation.  The Big Burn saved America by moving the people toward conservation and firmly establishing the USFS.

The Big Burn vividly recreates the disaster through the eyes of the men and women who experienced it, and does so with first-hand accounts.  I highly recommend this book!

A Walk on the Wild Side

I believe that there is a natural desire in men (and boys) for adventure. Danger, the unknown, exploration, all tug at the hearts of men. Every week my sons ask me to take them up into the little patch of woods behind our house that is no bigger than an acre. To them though, it is a serious adventure. It is probably all the more so since we don't allow them to go there by themselves yet. They beg to go to my grandparents piece of property on the other side of the county that is over 300 acres. Adventure seems to be in the DNA.

I agree with John Eldredge, God created man wild, and that's a good thing. The wildness of man has made possible all that we have today. His sense of adventure has led us to new lands and new frontiers. Man's quest for knowledge has given us the Internet (maybe not the best example) and modern medicines that basically eliminate sicknesses that once destroyed so many lives. Saint Irenaeus said that, "The glory of God is man fully alive." Man is most fully alive when he is living some sort of adventure, pursuing danger or greatness which are often intertwined, and making his way through an untamed world, and that, in my mind, is the glory of God.

Is it any wonder so many men are walking dead in our day? Our opportunities for real adventure have all but disappeared. My heart yearns for adventure when I read of Lewis & Clark, Teddy Roosevelt, and Kit Carson. I ache with a desire to find unchartered lands, dangerous jungles, and snow-capped mountains.

Now some may argue that getting married, raising children, and guiding a family is an adventure in itself. Others may argue the same about the religious life. I cannot argue. They too are adventures. However, it is a different animal altogether. It does not, for me at least, address the desire for clean air, danger, physical exertion, and natural peace. However, these "adventures" are not opposed. I have found that giving myself over to the adventures of the wild make me that much more prepared for the adventure of family. If I can survive on a mountainside with my wits and strength, I can deal with mountains of diapers and avalanches of homework!

What if you had the opportunity to do something really wild? What if you had the chance to go into wild country and test your mettle? Would you do it? Would you go? Would you put yourself, your manhood, your wildness to the test? What if I promised you that if you went, you would be a better husband, father, priest, deacon, or seminarian, and a better man?

Wilderness Outreach provides just that sort of opportunity and adventure. It is NOT a retreat in the traditional sense of the word. It truly is an expedition, an adventure not only into the wildness of the American West but also into the wildness of your heart. There, in the mountains, you will wrestle with your weaknesses and there, in the mountains, you will wrestle with God. If you have the desire to become "fully alive" as St. Irenaeus says, embrace your wild side, prepare your mind, heart, and body and then join a Wilderness Outreach Expedition!

Vince Flynn is the man

I have an hour drive to work so I am a big fan of Audible. I try to listen to a wide variety of audio books and not get bogged down in one particular genre. After listening the Act of Treason by Vince Flynn, I know I'm going to have a difficult time keeping that balance.

This is only my first Flynn novel but it certainly won't be my last. In fact, I already have his latest, American Assassin loaded onto my mp3 player. I would say it's a page turner but I'm listening to it. I will say that when I arrive at work or at home, I don't want to get out of the car. Act of Treason is the only audio book that I have actually listened to in my home with headphones. Usually the mp3 player never leaves my car except to be charged or loaded with a new book.

Mitch Rapp is the main character of the book and I am guessing all of the books by Flynn. He is a CIA operative that is one bad dude. He's the kind of guy every guy dreams of becoming. He is smart, a bad ass, and the women love him, well, most of them.

I won't go through the whole story, you can read the synopsis here, but let's just say most of the book reads as though it could be straight out of real life. Maybe that is what makes it so good. The book is only $9.99 paperback and well worth the cash, or you can probably get it at the library.

My only caution is that there is plenty of foul language and in Act of Treason references to some deviant lifestyles. So if you are reading it, be ready for that. If you are listening to it, make sure the kids aren't around!

The Cabin

During our Christmas visit to Louisiana the boys spent a lot of time in a small patch of woods beside the house. One day they came in complaining that the girls wanted to come into their "cabin" that they had created out of logs and sticks. They asked if they had to let the girls in.

Nicole took a diplomatic route and tried to encourage them to share the fort. She then turned to me and asked what I thought. I said, "no, they do not have to share and the girls should make their own if they want one." I was obviously the hero of the moment.

My reason for saying no was simple. They had made it and they should enjoy it. Not only that, boys need a place to call their own. They need a place that they can be boys in. They don't want flowers and a kitchen. They want holes to shoot out of and secret doors to use for entrance and

escape.

Shortly after I was interrupted again by please from the boys to help build their cabin since Uncle Sean was helping the girls and wouldn't help them. Uncle Sean helped the girls build their cabin (right) so I had to meet the challenge and exceed any dreams the boys might have of a cabin.

Without tools we constructed this rugged one room cabin complete with gun holes and a roof. The boys loved it and are hoping it is still standing the next time we head south. If not, we'll just have to build one better.

Deer Hunting

This year was the first year I have deer hunted seriously in a long time. I used to go deer hunting often when I was younger. However, the title of "dad" has stolen some of that dedicated time. As the boys get older though, I am able to take them, and I am able to slip out to hunt by myself as well.

I saw 6 does early in the morning on Monday but didn't get a shot at any of them. That afternoon, my brother, father and I decided to go my grandparents property on the other side of the county.

It's been a couple years since my grandparents died and I had not been to "the farm" since before my grandfather died. However, the familiarity came rushing back. As my brother and I moved toward our hunting spots we walked and talked about hunting there when we were younger. It was a homecoming of sorts. The old farm house and barns looked different, new paint and a little care, but welcoming. I was glad to be there.

I left my brother at the corner of the woods and moved on to my spot. It was a warm Monday afternoon and the smell of the woods and the crinkling of leaves underneath me brought back great memories. I sat just inside the woods where my father and I had often hunted squirrels. I laughed as I remembered the time that he told me that if I put cow manure on the back of my neck and behind my ears, it would keep the mosquitoes away.

The memory of hunting with my grandfather also came to mind. He was the first man that I hunted with other than my dad. I remember being so nervous when he put me in a spot to wait for deer. Luckily I never saw one or I probably would have been too scared to shoot. It felt good though, to be out with my grandfather, and be part of the hunting party that met each morning before the sun rose and enjoyed a breakfast that my grandmother would fix. It's a wonder anyone shot a deer in those days with us walking through the woods smelling of bacon, eggs, and coffee.

After an hour I signaled to my brother and we moved deeper into the woods for the remainder of the afternoon. I set up in a spot not too far from where my dad and I had one of the funniest deer hunting episodes I can remember. It was a cold, rainy day and dad had brought a couple of large trash bags for us to sit on and wrap over our feet against the moisture. We sat in the cold and damp for about an hour when two large bucks came down a trail toward us. Dad prompted me to take the first shot but I couldn't get a shot because of a small tree in the way. Within a few moments, the deer had spooked and began to run. Dad, forgetting about the trash bag wrapped around his feet, jumped up to shoot at the bucks only to find himself rolling over the bank toward the creek.

I did get a deer this year, a 4 point buck, but the memories of hunts long past was a bigger trophy and an inspiration to take the boys hunting more often. Hopefully, they too will feel the joy of the hunt, the companionship of men, experience the beauty and wildness of nature, and bag a life full of great memories in the woods.

Fishing

Here are some pictures from various fishing trips over the past couple weeks. Some were taken at my parents pond while others at Rose Lake (Old Man's Cave).