Essays on life after 80 by a former poet laureate and musings on life at 56 by a random blogger of no particular note.
Definitely not whimsical. I wrote the first draft of this perhaps ten years ago and it reflects, as well as I could in hindsight, the funhouse mirror of my mind at 21. It wasn’t pretty. But if you love someone who is depressed, this might help you understand just a little bit better. If you are depressed, maybe it will give you a little bit of hope. For what it’s worth, I have not felt this way in decades.
The really good ones do anyway.
Love. A little about us. A little about them. A little about nobody I actually know. A little about some trees I care about.
Some simple things are easy to learn. Some simple things are hard.
When we “improve” a road, what exactly are we improving?This is a reflection on improving roads, both actual and metaphorical, in Death Valley and Yosemite and the slow loss of “natural” places with every “improvement.”
We have good camels in our caravan. Maybe not great, but good. But then we pile on too much, so the good camels leave and get replaced by slightly worse camels and we ratchet down, because too many camel drivers think their job is to make the camels adjust to the load, when usually their job is to adjust the load to the camels.
A farmer works the land for generations and, if careful, the land is worth more with each passing year. A miner extracts what he can from the land and, when done, it’s worthless. Most business people are either farmers or miners and we need both. The problem is miners who mistake themselves for farmers.
It’s not a long list. In fact, it’s very short. Unlike the list of things you don’t actually have to do every day no matter what people tell you.
Thoreau loved swamps. Modern Americans love swamps too, as long as they surround them with bug zappers. I think there’s a lesson in there.