I’m having trouble organizing my thoughts for this.  It’s been an adventure stemming back almost 30 years and will probably take the rest of my life to get through.  I guess it’s only appropriate, given my middle name.  I’ll have to ask my mom what she was really thinking when she picked it out.  I have an idea, like a story I’ve heard before, but it would be nice to refresh and clarify it.  I’ll talk about that more after I talk to her.

When I think about being little, I have  a lot of memories – a lot more than I have about being a teenager and probably a lot more than I have since.  My memory quit working well about the time I finished growing, but that’s another story.  The things I remember from being little, though, are crystal clear.  Tonight I realized that I’ve actually taken some of those memories for granted and that they are actually very important memories because they explain perfectly why I do some of the things I’m doing right now.

This idea of following my steps backward to see where I started comes from my having spent the night watching videos and looking at pictures of  Shoe Creek and Taskers Gap.  They are off-road trails about 3½ hours northwest of here.  I’ve been in the area a couple times before with different rigs.  That’s what I was originally going to write about until I decided that there was a lot more to it.  To an outsider, it sounds stupid.  My friends and I are going to drive 400 miles of highway to drive 2 miles of trail.  But to me, it’s the most natural thing I could ever think to do.  Why?  Because it’s in the woods.

In the woods.  I never wanted to be anywhere else when I was a kid.  Growing up, playing outside was like an Indian tracker looking for prints – I started at a given point and worked in ever-widening circles around it.  It’s  taken decades so far but it started, in my green turtle sandbox with a missing eye, as soon as I could walk.  It went to the fence line of the back yard and all along the back of the house.  I worked my way to the property lines of our yard.  And it just kept growing – Grandma Myn’s yard, Christina’s yard, Christy and Sherry’s yard, the gravel lane, Miss Peggy’s yard, the tower road, the whole neighborhood and continued to expand.  The adventure started on foot.  It grew to include hiking sticks, wading boots and bicycles.  Now it involves ATVs and Jeeps.

I am infinitely grateful of the sacrifices my parents made for us to grow up where we did.  I just traced my childhood stomping grounds with a Google Maps hack.  The area I explored as a kid was a little over 200 acres.  Mom and Dad would have killed me if they’d known at any given time I might have been so far away from home but I am delighted that I grew up in a time and a place that allowed me to do this.  Obviously I wouldn’t be the same without having done so.  And that’s what this post is about.

Jumping to the glaring conclusion as a natural evolution of interests nullifies all the things and stories contained within that incredible corner:  pine trees with charred bark from who knows when, stitches from the fence, the tire swing, pets missing for weeks at a time, derelict forts and paths from previous generations of kids, old trash piles at the end of even then inaccessible fire roads, water holes somehow supporting a type of shellfish, the impenetrable thickets of vines and devil sticks, the patches of running cedar, the wild grape vines, the trees I climbed, the bugs and wildlife I caught, cutting down trees for fun, the ladders, platforms and rope swings I built, finding an abandoned car and stolen safe, ice storms that dropped limbs and power lines, walking on frozen ditches,  playing in mud puddles and just having room to be a kid.

Just having room.  That’s something I’ve really missed being in the city.  I’m always happy when I visit my parents.  There’s room – nearly an acre just of their yard.  Room to breathe.  That’s how I always feel outside.

I’m no boy scout, I’m no serious camper and I’m no survivalist.  It’s not about staying out there indefinitely.  Overexposure would dull the magic, I think.  But next weekend, I’ll gas up the Jeep, pack some snacks and clothes, and meet up with my friends for a day in the woods.