so now it is all real. plans being made for my amazing future.

regrets of the past, though hard to digest, are sunk into the sea.

and i've changed a lot since then, you know, i've climbed off the path of status quo

and now i confess, at least God knows at best, how i'm evolving into peace

that's my name, i mean. and i think that makes a thing,

a mere human being

find comfort in this race. 

a long trail. minimal items. some cliffs. some water. no cars, coffeeshops, construction, or worries in sight.

right now leaving seems like the only option. where to? how long? these are only minor questions. small details in the overall picture of two people running because they can. we don't talk marriage because there are no good examples of that anymore. by the time you hit 30 you hear all the talk, from both sides, about almost everything. but if i find myself sitting under some tree in some wilderness, i will feel like i have finally found my career.

if we run out of money. if we can't find proper housing. if we break down along the way. nothing sounds too awful. if your goal is adventure, then nothing can really go wrong. everything that has happened, is happening now, and will happen ahead is love. the road is paved with intentions, some good, some bad. but all lessons, all stories, all soon to be memories.

pulling into the Hopewell Culture National Historical Park, where my dad worked 35 years ago as a seasonal Park Ranger, it seemed like just a field with a simple visitor's center in the front. but as soon as i entered the building i was amazed at the history i would find there. not only the history of the Hopewell people, but the history of my father, and his brief experience as a Ranger/Interpretor for the National Park Service.

the two working Rangers flipped through old books and pictures, asking my dad more questions than i can remember. "Aren't these people, these Rangers, supposed to be answering questions, but here they are asking my dad about this person here or what this building looked like back then, or what it was like to climb to the roof for a better view of the Hopewell mounds," i thought. one Ranger, Bruce, seemed to be very happy that my dad came in that day to share a bit of history about the place he now worked. my dad and i were shocked to find that two employees who worked with my dad so long ago were still working there at the park. and when my dad told them a story about a dead body from the local VA that he and my mom had unknowingly been picnicking by, the female Ranger blurted out that she had heard that story! it had been passed down, and 35 years later was still around.

so we started out on our tour. Myself, a newcomer to this park. My dad, an old guide revisiting the mounds that he once knew so well.

"Phil used to mow all these fields, and it would take him awhile to do it. And when he finished, he would have to start up again and mow them all over," my dad explained with a smile.

As we walked by a big sycamore, a tree that my dad walked by so many times in the mid 70's, he said, " I used to sit my tour down under this sycamore tree and teach them about how the pioneers used the bark to make paper." and then we started walking again, around the different mounds and earthworks, down along the Scioto river.

"People used to get real angry when I told them these aren't all original mounds, that the Army destroyed many of them to build barracks and buildings during World War I." i have to admit, i was a little sad to hear that too.

we concluded our day with a visit to the administration building, so my dad could say hello to an old co-worker. even though he only worked there for two summers, she remembered him well. she informed him of all the changes, how they have grown, how they have three times the amount of staff. my dad seemed pleased to see this place doing well still. still protected, still being funded, still growing.

the superintendent, back in the mid 70's, wanted to make my dad the first Ranger of the new Cuyahoga National Park. All was set for my mother and father to move outside of Akron and for my dad to step into a brand new National Park as the first Ranger, but things fell through, and the full time position he was promised turned into a part time gig, and they were forced to move back towards Dayton, and eventually Cincinnati. it makes me happy to know that my dad was so close to being a National Park Ranger for his whole career, but I am thankful to be from Cincinnati rather than Akron. And my dad did so much to help the Hamilton County Parks that it doesn't seem to matter where he was. Nature would be his career no matter where he lived.

and now i know that I want to work for the NPS, and I want a hat and pine cone belt, and I want to say that I am a second generation NPS employee.

+ as we are leaving, a young hippie couple walk into the park. the young man, barefoot, is entering the park in probably the most appropriate way, given his setting. i'm sure the Hopewell people appreciate him treading lightly as they once too treaded lightly on that earth.