The dust storm bore down like something out of the Sahara. Before being swallowed up, I turned my head toward the clear skies in which logging truck was headed at breakneck speed along gravel road, and had the brilliant idea of following. Serendipity’s nudge shortened my bike ride from 13 miles to 7.5. I’d no longer be pedaling through the Silver Creek Tunnel amidst Hwy 61’s Labor Day weekend traffic, riding through a dicey construction zone, or giving up all those elevation gains en route to the start of my hike.
A serene ride from Castle Danger to the Two Harbors trailhead into a stiff southerly breeze, I reached peak enthrallment in subtle forest and homestead beauties as a junkyard dog—justifiably vicious after apparently sleuthing out his master’s murderer—raced out snarling to give chase as I approached the Fors Road turnoff, apparently short for foreskin. I happily would have offered the red meat to raging testosterone-infused beast, but it had previously disembarked, brissfully unaware of the current conundrum. Adrenaline came to my rescue, but I reckon that a little bear or pepper spray on the hip might be a good choice going forward.
The walk back to my car (what a joy to have a car to look forward to instead of bike on a hot day) along the Superior Hiking Trail, was marvelous, per usual, but was wildly different than one I took with my daughter just two weeks prior.
- This time there were no berries. That hike, the famed Bean and Bear Lakes loop, was loaded with four edible varieties all along the way.
- There was no Emma. She has flown the coop.
Our hike atop some of Minnesota’s finest terrain was my equivalent to a friend’s recent backpacking trip out West with his son. Instead of several days, an entire afternoon would have to do. And you know what?
It did.
There are at least a half-dozen reasons we haven’t kept pace with the objectively awesome things routinely taken for granted by nearly everyone around us. But, we’ve done what we can. It feels good to rest in that.
Those last few weeks at home with her were marvelous. I’ve never felt closer to her, in fact.
Time moves on, having come into its fullness. University called. She answered. It’s a mighty fine one at that, but in-person visits will henceforth come through the miracle of flight. Funny how quickly life changes.
And, with a boyfriend in the picture, I’ve been relegated to 3rd or 4th fiddle.
What’s a Dad to do?
Wait, methinks. The wheel keeps turning. There are seasons to life, and this might be a period where I fade to the background for a spell. Focus on doing the work, contributing to society, and being available.
All our kids arrived at the same time. And now it’s time they launch. The other’s still at home, working on a welding diploma, and the most amazing thing has transpired in these waning weeks of summer.
I’ve been terrible about introducing things like fishing and hunting, although last year we did wander the woods with our fire sticks in search of grouse. A few weeks ago, Joey pushed hard to start wetting some lines. Instead, I told him to walk on down to the local fly shop with some of his graduation money and pick up the sport of fly fishing with the help of a master.
Though it went against his nature, he went down there and asked for help. Since then, I reckon he’s put in at least 40 hours perfecting his fly fishing technique, and has yet to catch a single trout.
Today, while I sat here writing this very post, he returned from a duck hunt with friends and we fried up two tiny breasts together. Delicious. I haven’t engineered any of this, but he’s figuring out this world independently. He seems twice as capable and confident as he did in mid-summer, when boredom forced him out of his comfort zone. I can hardly believe how positive all this has been. He’s receiving an education of another sort, an intensely practical one that I wasn’t capable of providing. Sometimes lazy parenting is the best approach.
I rambled on about this from a pleasant shade spot along a pine-studded ridge yesterday for my podcast.
Click the link above, search via Never Picked in your app, or go ahead and spare your ears the annoyance of too much wind hitting the mic. I suppose I’ll forever be a mediocre podcaster, and a good-enough parent, who cannot bear the weight of the entire world on his slender shoulders. I’ve learned to be content with a small sphere of influence, focused squarely on those few things, doing them well and as stress-free as possible. This is a lifelong endurance race. Hence, the recent episode’s title:
How we finish matters.
I feel it vividly, but find it difficult to communicate this truth’s full force. The race isn’t over when our kids turn 18. So much lies ahead!
Ed's Big Adventure 