I like funerals

My first cousin Mike, me, and my second cousin Neal at Great Aunt Ella Bell's funeral in Nemaha, Iowa, May 23, 2014

Yes, it sounds callous to say such a thing, but I really do like funerals. 

They are, of course, a time of great grief for friends and family of the deceased. A time to mourn the passing of one who was loved, admired, or simply held in firm friendship. The funerals of those who die young, die unexpectedly, die accidentally are less than happy events.

But funerals are also a time of joy. On a selfish level, funerals offer me a chance to see people I like but do not see on a regular basis. For some members of my family, a funeral is the only time I see them. Same for colleagues of previous jobs. It's a wonderful time not just to reminisce about the person who just died, but reminisce in general - most often about good times - and get caught up on each others' lives.

Good services, good eulogies, help everyone remember the best of person whose life is being honored. I don't think I ever attended a funeral where I didn't learn something new (and positive) about the guest of honor. The words of my second cousin still move me when, in eulogizing his father, my great-uncle, he stated that his father had never lost his temper with him, never said a harsh word, never yelled - despite deserving it many times. It made me think about my own parenting techniques.

Sadly/happily, I put on my "weddings and funerals" suit* this past week to attend the service of a fellow who worked with me in the school technology department for about 20 years. He was well-liked, well-respected, and over a dozen current and former co-workers attended the ceremony. It was wonderful to hug and say "hi" to these folks I've not interacted with for about seven years. But it was also quite wonderful to hear about the personal side, the family side, of this quiet, competent fellow. I recognize now just what a small slice of the man I knew. Sadly, he died too young. Happily, he died well loved.

Next time you have to put on your funeral clothes, mourn the loss. But remember to find the joy as well.

* I was over dressed. I guess people just don't wear coats and ties anymore to church.

The backpacker's dilemma

The sign above has hung in my kitchen for as long as I can remember. I don't remember how or why I got it, but it has always resonated with me. And never more than when preparing for a backpacking trip.

My younger grandson Miles and I are going to hike the Philmont ranch this July. While the hike itself is only about 55 miles over 12 days, the elevation is high and the temps will probably be warm during the day and cold at night in the mountains of northwest New Mexico. And I will be hiking with teenage boys who have a good deal more strength and stamina than this old man. 

I have found one key to a happy backpacking experience is to balance low weight and campsite comfort. Backpackers run the gamut from ultralight hikers who shave ounces from their packs by cutting the handles off their toothbrushes and taking a razor blade instead of a pocket knife to ambulatory glampers who hump folding chairs and cappuccino makers. I like to think I trend to the lighter side, but I am sure I would get laughed at by both ends of the hiking spectrum.

When looking at backpacking equipment, you quickly find that light weight comes with a high cost. For about every pound you shave from a tent, sleeping bag, or pack, figure adding about $100-$200 to the initial purchase. Hmmmm, is it worth $400 to replace my 3.1-pound bag with a 2.5-pounder? Perhaps if I were hiking the AT or for months at a time, but for 55 miles and less than two weeks? I don't think so.

Still, I will try to keep my "base weight" (everything but food and water) to about 25 pounds, knowing my final weight will be at least ten pounds more than that. Since some of the Philmont camps are dry, we will be carrying quite a lot of water. Each member of our 11 hiker group will also be expected to carry his part of the required shared equipment - tarp, cooking equipment, ropes, first aid kit, etc.

I sometimes project my strategies for lighter weight backpacking to my everyday life as well. Do I travel "light in life, taking only what I need"? Small house, small car, one set of dishes, and only a few pair of shoes. Collected art from my travels and a few family heirlooms, but overall, no more than could fit into a modest sized Uhaul trailer. Pretty good, I thought.

Until I read Nomadland* by Jessica Bruder about how economically challenged people (many my age or older) have figured out how to survive on their monthly $500 Social Security checks by being "house-less." living in campers, vans, and even cars, mostly avoiding formal campgrounds where there is a nightly charge (boondocking.) When I thought previously of the "nomad" lifestyle, I viewed it through primarily a recreational lens. Campers I ran into were - where else - in state and national parks - recreating. I've known one couple who has lived in a big motorhome for years, working remotely. But Bruder examines a whole new culture of those living on the road out of economic necessity.

I know I can fit my hiking needs into a 65L backpack that weighs under 35 pounds. But could I fit all my daily, everyday needs into a small camper trailer or van? I suppose. Though I'd miss my knickknacks, my recliner, and probably get pretty tired of wearing the same few sets of clothes everyday. Happy to travel light in life - I just don't need to take it to the ultra-light extreme.

*Not yet seen the movie which is based on this book.

Hiking Club challenge complete - except for bears

Thursday morning, my friend Heidi and I completed the Minnesota Department of Natural Resource's Hiking Club Challenge, after finishing the designated trail of the Red River State Recreation Area in East Grand Forks. It was the last of the 68 official trails in state parks across the state. I calculate that we hiked 195.9 miles total. But who's counting?

We started this undertaking about two years ago. Local-ish parks were day trips, but we also took a number of multi-day trips to places like the Iron Range, the North Shore, the far western, and southeastern parts of the state.

While visiting the parks themselves was a great experience, getting to see parts of my adopted state of Minnesota was what I appreciated most. While I had heard about exotic locales like Baudette and Roseau, I'd never before had a reason to visit. Now I have. It's pretty easy as a suburbanite to forget about the vast rural areas of this state. I love the variety of terrains - from farm country to flat plains to rolling hills to ocean-like lake coasts - and to be reminded of my own rural heritage. The people (despite their Trump 2024 farm caps and reluctant mask wearing) were genuinely pleasant and helpful, the food was good, and the lodgings were, well, at least adequate.  During the height of the pandemic, we stayed in old motor court type motels with outside entrances.

 The trails themselves ranged from one to six miles in distance, averaging, I'd say, about three miles. I sometimes questioned why anyone would drive hours to do a one mile hike. Some parks were more interesting than others. Some busier. Some more scenic. Some just plain buggy as hell. But all were worth a peek. Most trails were well maintained and usually fairly well marked with the distinctive Hiking Club signs. In only one park did we have any problems finding the sign with the password. For some reason, they put it inside a shelter along the trail. We made a game of where the password would be on the trail and what the password might be. We did well with the first; badly with the second.

The visits also increased my respect and gratitude for the accomplishments of the Works Progress Adminstration and the Civilian Conservation Corps. Shelters, lodges, piers, and other amenities these programs built are still in use nearly 100 years later. Some tax dollars are better spent than others.

So the challenge is done, the patches given, the booklets checked and signed by a park official. Now what's next? Maybe National Park Passport Club? Biking every trail in Minnesota? I am sure we'll come up with something. Give the Hiking Club a try!

Besides the badges, we will also be getting a plaque and received two free state park camping passes.

Slideshow 

Each time I go hiking, I hope to see a bear. We only saw one bear on our trips and that was while in the car, just outside Bear Head State Park. No moose or elk, but plenty of whitetail deer, pelicans, loons, eagles, egrets, and herons. And more than a few squirrels - both animal and human. Maybe I'll see a bear in Philmont hiking with the Boy Scouts in July. One can dream.