It is the summer solstice and I am in Sun Valley, Idaho. Every year we try to take a little road trip to somewhere we haven’t been. We flew from Sacramento California to Boise Idaho, rented a F-150 and began experiencing.
Why Boise you might ask (and many did)? No particular reason besides the “never seen it” response. If I go again it would be because it is a great city. Amazing public parks, miles of bike paths along a meandering river, clean streets, great food, reasonable costs and some friendly people are all part of Boise.
Here is a video of the river outside one of our hotel rooms.
The state Capitol is Boise and the building is really impressive.
Boise really seems to concentrate on making sure children have the opportunity to play outdoors.
There is also a botanical garden where the old penitentiary used to be and now they also hold concerts there, which I think is a much better use of the land. The koi are so beautiful.
Then we headed down the road a couple of hours to see Shoshone Falls. Nothing like waterfalls to quiet the mind and stir the soul. I could have sat here for hours and just let the rushing water clear out my useless thoughts.
Finally, this afternoon we headed up to Ketchum or usually known as Sun Valley.
In this lodge, on the 2nd floor, Ernest Hemingway completed For Whom the Bell Tolls. Years later he shot himself in his new home in the same area. However one of his favorite watering holes in town was a tavern that was just 500 feet from our hotel room – so I went up there, sat at the bar and had a beer in his honor, to the creative spirit, and to the great struggle we all face sometimes.
The beer was good.
Today is Father’s Day in the U.S.. I miss my father, but thankful. Also thankful for all the other men in my life – those who coached me, taught me, cared for me, tolerated me, and prayed for me, all teaching me how to be a father.
What do you do on Father’s Day? We’re heading out to the river for dinner on a little island.
Maybe take a little snooze in the new hammock while waiting for the sun tea to brew in the summer sun. Happy Father’s Day which is just another way of saying I Love You.
Today I floated upon this rather over-sized pool floaty thing and I thought and felt…
It was really the first day of my summer vacation…and so I did what I have often done, for more than 20 summers now – I put Jimmy Buffet’s Banana Wind album on, turned up the volume and let it all just float on me, by me, with me.
I floated by Yesterday and thought about when I was sitting around in my office with 6 college students who are working with us this summer. They were laughing with that type of laughter that only the hopeful can laugh. I started thinking how much I have enjoyed working around hopeful young people these past 22 years or so and how much I will miss their collective spirit, when I finally retire. I almost got tears in my eyes thinking about all the young people I have met and have been a small part of their lives. I had to think to myself, “Don’t cry. You will never be able to explain it to them.”
I floated by my struggles to understand my spiritual beliefs. I have tried hard these past months and years to develop an authentic faith. I have “miles to go before I sleep.” (Poet, Robert Frost) Where am I with it all? I am thankful. I believe in God. I believe in God’s spirit. Two out of three ain’t bad. I still struggle with the presentation of Jesus by the Christian gatekeepers. So here is my prayer, ” ” (it is silence with a heart full of thankfulness.) I shall keep floating with this one.
Still floating, I felt the sun on my eyelids and thought, “You’re going to get skin cancer.” And then, I thought, “Tan fat is prettier than white fat,” and I floated some more.
I have 9 days off and hope to do some more floating. Might get some sunscreen lotion though.
I just finished Thomas Merton’s autobiography “The Seven Storey Mountain,” written in 1943, I believe.
It was quite a literary journey, but what touched me most was his description of his brother being shot down in WWII while returning to England after a bombing mission along with the poem that Merton wrote when finding out the news. Merton was just beginning his life as a monk in a Trappist Monastery.
The link will take you to a Goodread copy and paste of the short section. Formatting is a little odd, but you’ll see the poem about in the middle of the section.
A wonderful poem about loss.
Lately I have been writing songs that come from distant memories and feelings-simple melodies, simple words, with a mountain twang to them.
A Soundcloud follower commented on this song as being about “poverty and promises.” I think he nailed it.
A 64 year old man, a 2 year old dog, a new canoe, a beautiful lake in the Sierra Nevada mountains… all share an infinite moment.
In those infinite moments, I am a believer.
Let me share parts of my day with you.
This is what I see when I open my eyes in the morning. It is nice to start the day thinking how beautiful the flowers are outside the bedroom door.
We’re watching some grandchildren today and their grandmother has an arts and crafts project for them, so off we go to the arts and crafts store. I choose to go into Barnes and Nobles instead and get this really great tasting cup of iced tea, not bitter at all.
Then it is time to load up 4 kayaks for a trip up into the mountains tomorrow. Kind of excited because I got a new canoe and I’ll be able to take Gracie, our dog, with me. Even bought her a life jacket because she is a bit bottom heavy.
Then, one of my son-in-laws sends me a photo of a 28 pound striped bass he just caught this morning on the Sacramento River. Ok, I’m really jealous and kind of butt hurt-but that is a fisherman’s ego thing.
(On Friday, he and I went up to one of my favorite mountain golf courses, Fall River Mills, and really enjoyed ourselves. I think my golf score was about the same as my IQ score.)
Back to today- that craft project was bleaching out clothes using some awesome stencils. I was impressed.
Soon, it will be dark and I will be reading Stephen King’s new book. I am halfway through and that man is sick. He scares the heck out me and his writing is soooo gooood that I can’t put it down. In the middle of the night when I get up to get a drink of water, I’ll see shadows or hear a noise and I almost run back into my bed…and I am damn near 65 years old. The guy makes me afraid of my childhood boogie man all over again, but what a storyteller.