The Power of Imagination

Those of you who follow my blog, know I am very thankful my youngest is growing up at Elk Lake Resort. However, I'm also very thankful to report there are other children who are using their imagination for something more than Game Boys and video games.

We got an email this week from a friend (who, for you western coast and valley dwellers, lives in western Oregon) recounting the 'adventures' of her husband and boys. This is the friend whose son nearly blew up the house making bomb with his chemistry set. So, when she recounted the latest saga in the life of. . . I just had to chuckle.

Seems the boys and their Dad got the bright idea to float the nearby creek. They donned their wet suits, grabbed the canoe (oh, and the cell phone which they had the foresight to put into a ziploc bag), and headed for the creek.

"Pick us up. . ." (at their planned destination), were their parting words.

Not nearly enough time had passed when the phone rang. Guess what, they hadn't made it.

Really, that didn't come as a surprise. However, I still got a good laugh as my friend described the adventure's end.

Seems the water was rougher than they'd anticipated. There were rapids beyond their ability levels. In the end, the passengers were clinging to trees while their canoe careened downstream before wrapping itself around a partially submerged log.

Fortunately the cell phone had survived, and they were able to call for pickup. After all, as my friend noted, "No one in the right mind would have opened the door to a bunch of guys in wetsuits!"

Does that sound a bit like an excerpt from Tom Sawyer to you? It sure did to me. And, sadly enough, these boys are some of the few who still have an intact imagination.

Granted, I'm not so hep on my son blowing the roof off the house, but, by golly, I sure enjoy watching his imagination at work. Instead of living his life vicariously - through TV or a Game Boy - he fights imaginary (but real to him) battles with pirates and rogues. Flinging his sword (a 3 foot piece of PVC pipe he has claimed as his own) with gusto, he destroys all the dragons and villains who cross his path!

I'm so glad there are still a few around who share his passion for 'real' adventures. As I mentioned in previous posts, nature deficit syndrome is robbing our children of their childhood. Even more, I wonder sometimes if it isn't robbing them of their humanity.

After all, how many of us know (or have met) teenagers who cannot carry one an intelligent conversation, believe work is for those who aren't smart enough to. . .? (I'm not sure what they think the 'smart' ones do to make a living), and getting dirty is reserved for those without the brains to stay clean.

What a sad commentary on life. Sometimes it seems hopeless. I wonder what the future will look like as these 'children' become the movers and shakers in our world. Will they? Will they move? Shake? Care?

Then along comes stories like my friend told. Or the one my hubby pointed out in World Magazine today.

It seems a young man in West Linn (again in the western valley) got a hankering for some snow. I can't say I blame him. I like to play in the stuff, myself. Anyway, nature wasn't providing the desired 'want', so he went after it himself.

Apparently he begged the use of a power washer and a compressor. Viola! Overnight he produced over three feet of snow in his back yard.

I wonder how many of the neighborhood kids found their way into his back yard the following day? Hopefully many. That means they, too, were enjoying the great outdoors!

Most amazing, however, was the boy's age. With an imagination that developed and the knowlege to make his dream a reality, I expected the young man to be at least in his teens. Wrong! Our imaginative inventor was all of 10 years old! Keep up the good work, young man! You may find yourself president someday.

Lady of the Lake

Life on the "Wild" Side

I've finally gotten back into the swing - the daily walk swing. During the summer and early fall seasons I spend WAY too much time indoors. In fact, with a season as busy as our last, I don't have the time (or the energy) to get out and enjoy the incredible natural resources in my back yard. However, with the changing of the seasons, I'm back outdoors and loving it.

Lately, as I've been walking along, I've gotten to pondering the 'deep' subject of why it is some people find pure (not the 'Disneyland' form) nature so inviting while others find it overwhelming at the least, maybe a little inhibiting, or, in some cases, downright frightening. I'm sure I seem as alien to those who are more comfortable in the city (or at least suburbia) as they seem to me. But, I think, in reality, 'they' are in the majority while I'm somewhere nearly off the scale in the minority.

Seriously! Take for example the folks who move 'way out' into the country. They obviously are pulled toward something. Something draws them. Most likely it has something to do with the quiet, the privacy, the seclusion. But, what is the first thing they do? They install one of those big mercury vapor yard lights (or something similar) to light up their space. My questions is: why? Why move out where you can see the stars then drown their existance? Why settle in a secluded location then advertise your presence with a beacon?

I decided it is, in most cases, a reflection of our fear. We fear nature. At first this may seem odd, but dig a little deeper and the actions of most people support my theory.

Take Mr. VanBlaricom's article from an old issue of "The Wallowa County Chieftain". Years ago when Mr. VanBlaricom wrote for this small town newspaper, he was one of my favorite contributors. In recent years the new owners have decided a more 'politically correct' approach to news casting (isn't that an oximoron?) is preferred. Thus Mr. V's contributions no longer fit.

For all his 'unpolitically correct' viewpoints, Mr. V had a major dose of good sense. In the article to which I'm referring, Mr. V tells of a 4th of July weekend excursion he took with his wife.

Before I relate his story, a little background might help. Wallowa County, Oregon is a large county of which a vast percentage is public land (BLM, USFS, State, and the like). The people made their living primarily in the timber industry (until our national forests were closed to logging) or in agriculture (hay, grain, cattle). One final point of importance was the county's draw to the tourist. Boasting beautiful scenery, grand mountain ranges, deep canyons, and lots of wide open space, Wallowa County was a popular spot for those 'escaping' the city.

With that in mind, consider Mr. VanBlaricom's story. He says, one bright morning on a busy 4th of July weekend, he and Mrs. V decided to take a drive out north. Leaving behind civilization (and pavement), they headed into the hills. The loop they were traversing covered more than 100 miles, mostly through public land on gravel roads. However, in spite of passing two or three forest service campgrounds, the VanBlaricoms traversed a completely unpopulated piece of earth.

Having seen all the tourists rolling into town for the long holiday weekend, they found this just a bit odd. Especially as the county had been hit (again) by another push from 'environment lovers' to ban hunting of 'this' or close cattle access to 'that' or protect 'these' from 'them'. So, where were all those people who so loved nature and so desired to protect it for themselves and the future generations? Here it was, the land they were protecting so they could enjoy it. Why weren't they enjoying it?

Mr. and Mrs. V pondered this question into their dreams. The next morning, they decided to set the issue aside and take a drive to the lake. It is important to note that 'the lake' was one of the county's most beautiful attractions - but, it was also one of the most 'commercialized' pieces of real estate. However, people aside, the locals still enjoyed a visit now and again. So, off they went.

To their surprise, not only did they find the lake, they found ALL the people. The lake's campgrounds were spilling over. Side by side, people were crammed into every available nook and cranny.

In the end, Mr. V came to the only logical conclusion. Although some of those folks had probably fought for (or at least agreed with) the petitions to 'save' the wild areas from . . . . - they were too afraid of nature and too accustomed to their 'conveniences' and 'entertainments' to go out and 'enjoy' it. Instead they huddled together in their comfortable RVs listening to their neighbor's TV show or the argument down the lane instead of the birds twittering in the nearby bush, the wind whispering in the trees, the hooting of a solitary owl, or the yipping conversation of a pack of coyotes.

So, what's the moral of this story? Sadly, it supports the growing realization that many people are uncomfortable with or even scared of 'pure nature'. On the other hand, I can't seem to get enough.

Don't take that to mean I'm out there looking for bears and wolves with which to have up-close and personal experiences. My hiking companion - he's BIG, black, white, and tan, and furry - was picked to help avoid such confrontations. But, I don't like hiking the road (hunting season may make it expedient, but certainly not desireable). I don't even like hiking the same trail day after day - even my favorite trails grow old that way.

I do like exploring over the next ridge or revisting a spot I haven't been in a while. Listening to the elk bugle across the lake (or up the draw) sends shivers of pleasure up my spine. I get a kick out of watching a coyote watching me. Spotting a new bird species makes my day. Even the quiet pleasure of sitting on a hillside - me, the dogs, and no one else - soaking up a few 'rays and listening to the wind's whisper, the bird's chirping, and the squirrel's chatter beats out any 'civilized' form of recreation in my book.

So, does this make me odd? In a not so distance past I would probably have been considered the 'conservative', the 'hesitant', or maybe even the 'fearful' hiker. Today, well, things are just different today, aren't they?

Lady of the Lake

Home Sweet Home
Funny how traveling adjusts ones perspective. I know every time I leave Elk Lake - whether for a day or a month, I can hardly wait to get back. However, with my recent reading and research effecting my 'view' of things around me, I'm seeing things a bit differently (I'd like to say, 'more clearly', but I'm not that confident yet).

According to some studies I've been reviewing lately, today's children are negatively impacted by their lack of contact with nature. Now, that's not really the point of where I'm headed here, but I see it as a by-product of other issues - bigger issues. Because many of these children are growing up in homes where their parents love them and seek to nuture their development in positive directions.

Most researchers have chaulked it up to fear - fear on the part of parents. While I don't think, as a people in general, we consider ourselves a society of 'chickens', the signs of our all-too-abundant fear are abundantly obvious. Take the 'normal' home in the 'typical' subdivision:

Locks and usually deadbolts on all doors
Additional sticks of wood in any sliders
Alarm systems common place in many homes
Curtains and blinds closed against any prying eyes
High solid fences surrounding most yards

And the list could go on and on. Then add the 'typical' actions of the 'usual' dweller in suburbia:

After morning routine they head to their garage, get in their car, lock the doors, start the car, open the automatic garage door, back out, close the garage door, and head for town. Returning to their home they reverse the routine. And the result - not only are they, often unknowlingly, controlled by their fears, but they lose out on other levels as well.

A good gauge is our interactions with the great outdoors. Except for the person to whom yardwork is a delight, a hobby, a relaxation (and boy can you tell 'who' they are as you drive through the neighborhood), time outside is a 'chore', a 'job', an 'interruption' in their precious leisure time (and precious it is in today's fast paced society) if we're talking yard work.

And, time outside enjoying a physical activity such as camping, hiking, biking, and the like, is relegated to those rare three-day weekends or the annual family vacation (if the kids don't demand another theme park). How sad!

Another area we're loosing touch is with our neighbors. Having lived several months with my Mother-in-law - in downtown Salem, Oregon - a few years ago, the realities of city life hit me hard, right between the eyes. As a general rule, these people don't know each other. Most know few if any of their neighbors (even by sight - and even after several years in the same neighborhood). People don't look at each other, even in the aisles of the grocery store. And, heaven forbid you speak to a stranger. This just isn't done.

Now, I know this a generalization, and based on my own experience, but I found it interesting to read the following excerpt in Tony Hillerman's book, "Hunting Badger". Through his character, Joe Leaphorn, Tony says,

". . .Where I came from people didn't even know who lived three houses down the block."
"Lot more people in Baltimore," Leaphorn said.
"Not a lot more people on our block."
"More people on your block, I'll bet, than in a twenty-mile circle around here," Leaphorn said. . ."I have a theory. . .You city folks have so many people crowding you they're a bother. So you try to avoid them. We rural people don' have enough, so we're interested. . .Out here, everybody looks at you," he said. "You're somebody different. Hey, here's another human, and I don't even know him yet. In the city, nobody wants to make eye contact. They have built themselves a little privacy bubble - hard to get privacy in crowded places - and if you look at them, or speak on the street, then you're an intruder."

Our break with nature is sad - very sad - and it is bound to have negative impacts not only on us, but on the world around us, and more importantly, on our children. But our break with people is worse, for, in the end, no man is an island unto himself. We need each other, and if we don't know each other, we WILL fear each other, and this, is the ultimate society breakdown.

So, once again I am reminded how blessed I am to live in a place where people who live in a 50 mile radius are considered 'neighbors' - and neighbors, where I live, are always considered friends.

Lady of the Lake

Children and Nature
I find it interesting that in a day and age where we are concerned with many things - including 'saving nature for our children' - we find ourselves with a bigger problem most of us haven't even recognized (or at least acknowledged). Our children, for the most part, are afraid of the nature we are saving. Why? Because, for too many of today's children, nature - the wilderness outside their own backyard, or even outside their back door - is a foreign territory.

I remember one family which came to visit the Trumpeter Swans at the Red Rock Lakes National Wildlife Refuge here in the valley. Nothing unique about that, necessarily, except they came from Manhattan. When they first arrived, not only were the children afraid to get away from their cabin - or the lodge - or their car - but their mother (and maybe even their father) appeared to be terrified to let them.

After a day or so, and with the prodding of their own desire to play with our children, they began to stretch their horizons. As they made their 'baby' steps into the 'wilderness' (the resort yard), their mother tied bells to their pants legs and watched with obvious anxiety - clearly afraid of the unknown.

By the time they left - several days later - these concrete and asphalt children were running and playing in the 'wild' - with great abandon and overwhelming joy.

For me, it was like watching a butterfly come out of its cocoon. However, in light of my recent research on the benefits children derive from spending time in nature, this metamorphosis has taken on a deeper meaning.

My own children have been blessed, for extended periods of their growing up years, to spend hours in the vast and wild outdoors. We have lived in uniquely wild and natural locations. First in a place where our nearest neighbor was over a mile away and the great USFS was out our back door. More recently at Elk Lake Resort where our nearest neighbor is over 15 miles away and we are surrounded by undeveloped pure nature. In fact, my youngest knows no other life.

Such privileges have skewed my viewpoint, I think. It wasn't until I watched four young men (nephews by marriage) at a recent family gathering spend their entire time 'playing' with gameboys that I woke up to the rest of the world. These young men, all healthy (physically) and bright, had nearly no 'conversation'. They didn't spend ANY time out of doors. In fact, they showed their strongest skills were quick thumb reactions. What a shame! I got to wondering if we aren't raising a new generation - with quick thumb reactions!

That led to the remembrance of an article I read several years ago. Written by an old cowboy, this article lamented this very fact - but from a different perspective. The cowboy writer told of traveling into the back woods one busy summer holiday weekend. He covered nearly 100 miles - and saw nearly no one (and found all the backwoods campgrounds empty). He wondered to his wife where everyone was.

The next day he went to the local 'tourist trap' - the lakeside resort area near town. And - he found everyone. His sad conclusion: we are working so hard to 'save' our lands from development for our children, and yet, we are afraid to get out and enjoy the lands we are saving.

Personally, I think we've got a two-generation problem. We've got the 'parents' generation which are aware of nature, have probably spent time during their formative years in at least large back yards if not large fields or nearby woods, and realize (at least in a back recess of their brains) the need to 'protect' our natural areas from development. However, in reality 'we' are the problem.

We 'protect' the land, but we aren't really comfortable in the 'wild' anymore. Therefore, we don't come to the land. We don't bring our children to the land. We don't enjoy (and teach our children to enjoy) the land. We foolishly think by 'saving' the land, we somehow have done our duty. And, yet, will our children thank us?

As we 'save' this land, we close more and more land to public access. What have we gained? We are raising a generation which is afraid of the 'wild' because we have never taught them to enjoy it. And, we have created more 'wild' areas which won't be used (they are to foreign to our children) by the vast majority - and we've closed them to the generation who still remembers and would use them (our parents' generation).

I'm beginning to wonder if our future problem isn't the urban sprawl which is eating up our rural lands - but the great dichotomy which we are creating. The asphalt and concrete world where our children feel comfortable, and the 'wild' places we are protecting. From whom? For whom?

Lady of the Lake