Looking into the eyes of the past.

Over a three day period in July of 1863, Gettysburg Pennsylvania was the site of the largest number of casualties during the Civil War. Around 50,000. No typo there. Roughly 10,000 died during combat, another 30,000 wounded (of which probably died shortly thereafter) and then the remainder captured or missing. All of that over three days. Yesterday afternoon, my son and I toured the visitor center where you come face to face with the images and relics of battle. There were the requisite guns, sabers tents and clothing but what caught my attention the most was a collage of photos of soldiers who died in the battle. Images of young men dressed in their military uniforms; their names and hometowns written under their pictures. Some of the soldiers looked stoic while in others wore the face of dread and fear in their eyes. Naturally, no one is smiling. Life in the 1860's was tough enough. Add to that a horrific battle and you have hell on earth in a place called Gettysburg.

Back in Estes

Being in Estes Park, Colorado a few weeks ago brought back fond memories: As a twelve-year old, I remember peering out the window of our Winnebago motor home as we inched our way up Trail Ridge Road; my brother, sister and I us ooo-ing and aahing at the scenery which was immediately followed by my mom telling my dad… “Earl, keep your eye on the road.” My father loved the mountains. My mother loved the beach. We visited both as we grew up and had a blast no matter where we went.

Not-so-fast forward some twenty-four years later, and I’m back in Estes. This time with two goals in mind: Spend time hiking with my good friend Barry and scattering my dad’s ashes in the Rockies. He passed away three months prior to this visit from complications from Parkinson’s, dementia, two broken hips and 40 years of hard work. A little of dad is on the top of Hallet Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Thirteen years after that, I returned with my son on our first of many national park visits. We stood at the edge of Bear Lake and I pointed to the summit of Hallet and said Pa-Pa was up there. He smiled, but his attention quickly turned to hiking around the lake.

Today, I walked on water.
Bear Lake was frozen.
Dad was on Hallet.
Part of him up there.
A lot of him in me.

Lights Out.

It happens when I'm driving at night or walking through a lit parking lot. A street light will go out. I don't know why. It just does. Just the other night, three street lights shorted out in my presence: Once at an intersection, and the others times in the parking lot of the recreation center and then on the drive home.

Zap. Poof.

The lights come back on eventually, but I don't know why they go dark in the first place. It's a common occurrence that happens about six to ten times a year. Three times in one night is a record. Truth be told, my dimming "skills" don't go unnoticed because my wife and son have witnessed these incidents.

When it happens. I look to the sky and say hello to my father who passed away some 13 years ago. I've adopted it as a sign that my he is checking on me. Street lights have no particular significance with my father. They were not a part of his life. He didn't pass away because he crashed in to one. I've simply chosen to associate these occurrences with him. It triggers me to remember that he was important part of my life; to take a second out of the day and just say hi. At first "lights out" was odd, now they are comforting.

It's a big world, after all.

Nothing like starting a blog post with the obvious:

It's a big world out there.

Unfortunately, many of us limit ourselves to our own little sliver or to places that we have been before. Mind you, there is comfort in the familiar but experiencing new places stimulates the mind and feeds the soul. And the clock is ticking.

Most of our lives are spent going to places familiar: To work. The neighborhood grocery store. The mall. The gym. And it doesn't take long before it all looks the same (because it is) and you feel nothing. So, when the opportunity arises because you have the money and / or the time, explore. Find your inner adventurer. Discover the joy that lies in the unknown.

I do find it surprising that at many people go to the same place on vacation year after year: a house at a lake, Disney world for the gazillionth time, etc. But hold your horses, these travelers are quick to point out that each experience at that place is different. OK, I will give them that much. However, I am of the opinion you need to "double-size it" as often as you can. The experience should be new, AND the place should be new.

Admittedly, most of us don't have the time or the money to jet our way across the pond and wander among the hamlets of rural England or explore the lagoons of the Caribbean. That's fine. Then, seek out the "new" closer to home. Cross places off your list and move on to the next one. Some experiences will be better than others. But you will never know if you continue to go to the same places.