A Couple Of Friends

It was the winter solstice of 2025.  It was brisk.  It was cloudless. It was a day of blue skies.  It was also a day with good friends.  I’ve known Scott and Justin seemingly forever.  They’re now both principals in their respective schools, but before that we taught together in the Prairie Hill School District.  Scott joined the staff in 2002 and Justin in 2011.  By that time I had a decade or two under my belt.

Over the years we’ve traipsed together through snow and over ice.  We’ve marched in swampy muck.  We’ve paddled down snaking rivers and across ripple surfaced lakes.  We’ve run together on black topped paths, along wooded trails, and in various races and marathons.  We’ve fished and we’ve cooked meals over a small open fire in remote areas.  In other words, I’m not sure I could come up with a sound number for the amount of times that the three of us have gotten together or headed out on an adventure.  It’s been a healthy plethora!

But it had been a while since our last get-together, so it made sense to reassemble over Winter Break.  Beyond “when” we went, “where” we went, and “what” we did, I found that it was more about “how” the trip transpired.  While enjoying the company, I found myself analyzing our time and the way we were interacting.  It wasn’t a formal case study or anything like that.  It bordered more on an out-of-body reflection.  We talked of course.  Each of us inadvertently shared what had been going on in our lives since the last time—all while we drove and hiked.

Once we had arrived at our familiar destination, deep in the woods and along moving water, we each went to work.  I found our efforts both interesting as well as refreshing.  When the time comes that I can no longer do such things, or am scattered to the four winds, they’ll easily know what to do to carry on with another generation of friends.  They don’t know all of my secret spots, but they know enough of them, and that’s all that really matters.

We set about finding dead wood, small twigs, and dried grass as tinder.  We did that automatically with hardly a word.  After we had brought our offerings to the river bank, we coaxed the fire into existence and cooked our food.  During the process there were times when it was actually quiet.  It wasn’t awkward. It felt natural.  We knew how this was all going to play out, so it didn’t need anything additional.  It simply felt good to mumble a few things and then stare into the flames while we waited for the food to finish cooking.  And while that was happening we each did a task that needed to be done.  It happened intrinsically because we’ve done this a hundred times together.  We know the next step is going to either be stirring ingredients, adding salt and pepper, putting some sticks on the fire, leveling the frying pan, or nestling the pot of water closer to the coals.  While eating, we remembered other such times when we had done this very same type of thing with funny or unusual sidebar events that happened simultaneously.

In the end we hiked and we ate.  But through it all we also did what simply needed to be done while enjoying the process of being together.  Friendships look different depending on a host of variables.  For Scott, Justin, and me it started a long time ago in a school building where as staff members we weren’t just colleagues, we became friends that shared common interests.  It’s the kind of situation that not only makes a staff stronger, it allows friendships to transcend time.  I suppose the connection that the three of us have is unique and a little out of the ordinary when it comes to the activities that bring us together, but it works, and we enjoy it.

See you along The Way…

And A Few Random Pictures From The Past:

Justin, Scott, & Me - Winter Of 2012 Or 2013

Paddling The Sugar River - Fall 2023

At My Daughter's Wedding - Winter 2023

Fishing The Kishwaukee River - Summer 2025

Generating A Generational Gathering

 

Sandwiched between Christmas and New Year’s, and on the backside of a small town in southern Wisconsin, I gathered two other kindred generations and headed out.  First we crossed a frozen lake, and then we climbed the far bank, before making our way up into the woods.

I’ve been there before, but this was my first venture into that locale with my Dad and son Todd.  Although I’ve taken each of them out individually to the woods, and on multiple occasions, it was our first outing all together.  For that reason they each knew the routine, quickly began packing down the snow, and set about collecting and cutting up some firewood.

Our Three Walking Sticks
All Carved By Dad

With the snapping sounds of the crackling flames, and the tantalizing smells of the sizzling food cooking in the skillet, we settled into the rhythm of a day camp in the woods.  We wouldn’t be there long, but we would be there long enough; long enough to generate meaningful conversations between father and son, and grandpa and grandson.  While my dog Kora settled in on her blanket, we sat and talked as I added various ingredients.  The food was typical, meaning that it was what I always cooked.  It’s become what’s expected.  I can appreciate that, even as the one who cuts and prepares it all beforehand.  When you’ve eaten several helpings of it outdoors, and in cold temperatures, you’ll know what I mean.

After indulging in the breakfast, and rinsing it down with some hot cocoa, we cleaned up, packed our gear, and erased any evidence of being there.  Being stealthy is important to keep such places sacred.  It’s why I’m always mixing it up as to where I go.  I suppose it’s like having a random generator that allows me to arbitrarily choose from any one of my special get away places.  In such circumstances I liken my decision making to being, “Crazy like a fox,” but I suppose it’s better described as, “Sly like a fox.”  Either way I’ll lose you if you try to follow me, and still manage to enjoy a great day in the woods.  And should you be so lucky as to be invited to join me, I’ll welcome you into the secret location with open arms; although on more than one occasion I have been known to wander in circles first to confuse people with directions or have them turn off the location on their phones.  As I said, it keeps places special.

For that reason, I’ll always hold that morning special.  Such an outing, in a sacred place, doesn’t happen often; and when it does you mark it.  Generating a time when you can gather generations of your family together for an outdoor experience can be memorable, especially when you each share the same spirit of adventure.  Perhaps that’s why I smiled to myself as I walked with my dad and son back across the lake, watching our shadows in the snow covered ice under the glare of the rising sun.

See you along The Way…

A Winter Day Road Trip

            When Justin pulled up, his car thermometer said minus eighteen.  It didn’t really matter what it said; it was cold.  Fortunately there was virtually no wind to drive the integers down further.  The air hung with what could only amount to relentless and penetratingly sharp knives.  Tyler, who had been sitting in his truck out in front of our house, got out and joined us; as did Doug once he parked behind Tyler’s truck.  The gear I had put together, and the food I had prepared, was loaded into the back of Justin’s vehicle.  Four guys in an SUV, on a road trip (for a few hours), in freezing cold temperatures; this was going to be perfect!

            We drove north of the Stateline border, and soon after, broke out the Clementine oranges I had brought for each of us.  This time of the year they are succulent, and that’s how they tasted.  We talked, and enjoyed the drive; arriving in a little less than an hour.

Myself, Justin, Tyler, and Doug

            We left most of our gear and the food for later, and instead pulled on our extra layers and headed out onto the lake.  The ice was thick, and coated with several inches of snow that was dry and powdered into fine crystals from the recent Arctic blasts these past few weeks.  As a group of four we crossed the lake and delved into the red osier thicket.  Keeping the sun on our left side, at a 10 to 11 o’clock position, we hiked southward.

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            A few years ago my cousin Sean had remarked that, “It’s like being birthed from a pine tree,” as we had pushed through a thick swamp into a newly found section of a favorite river to fish for trout.  Today we felt as though we were being birthed from the dogwood.  It required the lead guy to look for gaps in the network of branches as we followed behind in a snaking, single file.  A lot of bending, twisting, and maneuvering likened us to a yoga instructor; bent on limbering up every major muscle group in our bodies.  Somehow Tyler and Doug did all of this gripping onto their steel thermos of coffee, while Justin and I took turns thrashing through the brush.  Together, Justin and I knew what we were doing.  We had learned from our experience last year when we had endured the same exact thing.  To help Doug and Tyler fully appreciate what we were doing, we purposely repeated the same trek.

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              About a mile from where we had parked we burst out upon an open area with a frozen pond.  It was a relief, felt from all four of us, that we had made it through.  Each of us, however, was suffering with either cold toes or fingers to some degree or another despite our movement.  Our core was staying warm, but after taking some pictures, we followed an outlet creek that led back to the original lake.  Despite the bright sun, in a clear blue sky, we needed to get back and get a fire started to reheat our phalanges.  Luckily, as Justin and I had also known, the walking was much easier in this section of our return trip.

A Dead Deer

Coyote Tracks

            The sun on the frosted grasses along the creek side provided us some opportunities to take some great pictures.  Although it was cold, the creek with its moving water remained open.  We also found a frozen, dead deer which had been fed upon by coyotes, as evidenced by the crisscrossing and dog-like tracks.  It was a visual for the circle of life.  Pushing on, we returned to the parking lot.  We grabbed my sled, and loaded some firewood I’d brought, along with the chopped up food and cooking utensils.  We returned to the far side of the lake, just outside of the community of ice shanties, and quickly built a fire out on the ice.

            While we were in preparation, two fishermen came over to see what we were doing.  They had caught one fish so far using their tip-ups.  We explained that we were just out to cook some breakfast.  Laughing, we all agreed that it probably seemed crazy to anyone that might be looking at us out on the lake on a frigid day like today, whether we were fishing, hiking, or cooking.  When we mentioned that we were teachers from just over the Stateline, one of the men mentioned that his dad had been an administrator at a small school district near where we all lived.  It turned out that he had been at the district we were each connected to.  In fact, I knew of his dad.  He had retired just two years before I had been hired.  Together, we both mentioned beloved teachers by name that he was familiar with.  They were the teachers that had provided the foundation for our school and district.  It was bizarre, and caused me to once again remember that the world is indeed small.

            Here I was on a frozen lake, for all intents and purposes, a long way from nowhere (which is why we like it), sharing memories of people from a time when our district was small and practically like family.  At the same time, here I was with a group of guys embodying an excerpt of that vision of unity, only decades later.  The vision or dream can live on.  The dream simply has to be an action step.  It comes in different forms, but an effective vision for doing life together is essential to truly be successful.  Actually, doing life together on any level must be relational if it is to be anything close to successful or hold any meaning at all.  And in order to be relational and family-like, people must have a desire to want to spend time getting to know each other.  We shook hands and waved goodbye as they turned to make their way back to their fish shanty.

            The four of us did our best to warm by the fire while cooking on the coals.  I’ve sometimes thought I should mix up the menu of what I prepare, but the other three quickly said, “No,” that it should remain as it is.  I conceded and agreed.  On the giant iron skillet, the food came out perfectly this time, and we let the meal and taste permeate the pores of our mouths and stomachs.  We topped it off with two cups of hot chocolate.  Tyler and Doug accidentally switched their monogrammed mugs, but they said that each other’s cocoa tasted just fine.  The warmth of the moment, and the experience of our little adventure, was just short of motivational.

            We kicked out the fire, packed our gear, and headed off the ice.  Once we loaded up, and climbed inside the SUV, we quickly felt the sun’s warmth through the windows coupled with the vehicle’s heater.  We each had one more Clementine orange together with a container of cookies from Doug’s wife.  To the background sounds of a podcast about a guy who had survived a bear attack, we talked and drove home.  Today was indeed cold, but it is destined to be long remembered as a classic road trip.

            See you along The Way…

An Epic Story

"We learn all of our most important lessons through story,

and story deepens all of our most important lessons."  

(John Eldredge, Epic)

     We live in the midst of a story.  It's a story that began before time.  It's a story that we get to play a part in.  I find comfort in knowing that.  Perhaps it's because I'm able to be a part of something.  But it probably leans more toward the fact that, although God invites me in to be a part of that story, it's not like a "wrench in the machinery" if I mess up along the way.  The wheel in the sky is going to keep turning regardless.  So am I important in the grand scheme of things?  He created me; created me with a purpose!  He can use me to make a positive difference; a difference in the lives of family, friends and acquaintances.  Whether you see it as the "Butterfly Effect" or the "Trickle Down Theory"; either way it's living life with a purpose.  It's living while knowing we leave behind an influential legacy.  Is that lived in perfect alignment?  Hardly!  (Insert raspberry sound here.) Disappointments abound.  Where others look to folly or drown their sorrows behind unfulfilling masks, I press on.  That requires learning from life's lessons; training while relying on an ultimate truth.  The Apostle Paul expressed this concept by saying, "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all surpassing power is from God and not from us.  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." (2 Corinthians 4:7-8 NIV)  Although frail at times, like an earthen pot (and at times "half baked"), I "Keep on, keepin' on".  Life is hard, but life is rewarding.

     I took my wife Cindy out to the woods today.  It was her turn I suppose.  Not because she had earned it or deserved it.  If that was the case, and taking her out was the reward, then I'd never leave the woods.  Hmm, that's an interesting concept there!  We went out to hang out and do something together.  She was apprehensive; rightfully so unfortunately.  In my zest to have her join me in my escapades, early on in our marriage, you might say I over did it a few times.  Gun shy?  Perhaps, but you'd hardly notice the twitch in her eye when I ask her to join me for an adventure these days.  I know better now.  I may be a slow learner but I do learn.  I simply need to preface when and where we're going and for how long.  We have different passions that spur us on, but have no fear; we also have our mutual loves.  Don't misinterpret her; however, she's no wimp.  She's a living miracle and inspiration despite her thoughtful, quiet disposition.  We share our love of humor and wit, literature, writing, family, sports and games as well as travel, nature, art, creativity and photography.  It's part of our story.  Not a perfect story, but definitely a story of ongoing grace and forgiveness.  Faith and hope are powerful entities that fuel us on.  They are entities that provide us with the life lessons we learn from and build upon.

We cooked our brunch over an open fire on the banks of a river while the dogs played and explored.  We talked about our stories and how they are being lived out while intertwining.  Sometimes it seems like we're not living the dream or where we thought we might be at this point in our lives.  But on this day we tried to encourage each other that this too was our story.  Although the river was hidden beneath a layer of ice, it was still flowing. Occasionally it would boom and echo to remind us.  Likewise, Cindy and I carry on; sometimes swirling in an eddy, sometimes in a stagnated side-channel, but in the big picture we're always moving.  Moving with direction and moving with purpose.  

     It was a good move to go to the woods together today.  It was a chance to talk.  And maybe when we look back, years from now, we'll see it as a notch in our family's stick; an important time when we saw life, and our relationship together, in a different light. Craig Nova quoted his wife, Christina, in his book Brook Trout and the Writing Life.  She said, "We always seem to see things a little more clearly after you come back from the river."  I'd agree.  Cindy and I have spent our fair share of time together on rivers.  It's a great metaphor for God's power and life in an epic story.  We're in the midst of one in the making.  
     See you along The Way...

Wanderlust: The Bewildered Blood Dance

        The concept of "wanderlust" is enticing and edgy but not a true description of what I feel within the confines of my heart.  I like it, but I guess it goes deeper than simply traveling and checking out interesting destinations and cultures.  It also goes beyond living without an agenda or time restraint.  Both are great aspects to fire the soul.  And it's exciting to dream without any cares or limitations.  But my feeling of exploration resonates deeper than that. 
        I grew up in an area that was a tourist's utopia.  I've walked those beaches, swam those lakes, browsed those shops, hiked those paths, skied those slopes, and ran those trails.  I've driven those two-tracks, biked those hills, paddled those rivers, fished those creeks, climbed those trees, and marveled at those sights.  I'd do it again right now at the slightest invitation, because I simply don't tire of it.  Being able to immerse yourself into both wild and tranquil surroundings, and live life to the fullest within those opportunities, is like eating tacos for me.  I don't get full of them, I simply stop eating them; but only after numerous helpings.  Perhaps Mark Twain described it closest to how I feel, when in his story Roughing It he wrote, "Even at this day it thrills me through and through to think of the life, the gladness, and the wild sense of freedom that makes the blood dance in my veins..."
        In a simplified fashion, my son Todd and I explored beyond my usual boundaries and exploits yesterday, to find a spot to cook out on the banks of one of my favorite

rivers.  Favorite, because I can get lost in some of the area's leading back into that moving water.  Most people try to avoid getting lost, which is understandable in some areas and situations.  In Northern Illinois and Southern Wisconsin, however, you have to work at getting lost.  It's work that's worth the effort though.  Once, in a blinding snowstorm, with flakes the size of small flap-jacks, a friend and I got turned around in a small wooded area in the river's bottom-lands.  We found ourselves back at our original starting point after 15 or 20 minutes of trudging.  We laughed, adding that mistakes that happen in the woods stay in the woods.  So I'll only reveal that between the snow and the wind it got really confusing for the two of us.  Was it fun in the end?  You bet it was.  Confusing fun.  Not quite the challenge of ultimate survival or hoping you can live to tell kind of fun, but it was genuine under the circumstances.  Even Daniel Boone once said, "I can't say I was ever lost but I was bewildered once for three days."  That's classic rhetoric from a frontiersman who saw an untamed wilderness that hadn't been seen before and will never be seen again.
        Our trip was only for a couple of hours, but Todd and I still marked into territory that was new to us.  Along the route that I had mapped out in my head, we walked through deep snow, saw roosting bald eagles and worked hard to get our fire started.  It was a good mixture of awe and strain.  Maps are handy like that.  They can help you find areas in which to get lost; if not lost in the terrain, at least lost in spirit.  Conrad Anker, of the North Face Climbing Team said, "It's nearly impossible to get lost these days.  So you have to find adventure within yourself."  Adding to that, mountain biking author Bill Strickland added, "But if you can get lost in spirit and don't, you'll be missing a whole lot more than just a few new trails."

        Todd and I walked and talked while our two dogs ran and explored.  Topics ranged from school to friends and dreams to life.  I found the bewilderment wasn't in our wanderings or destination, but in what was unfolding before my eyes.  I shouldn't have been surprised as to what my wife and I have been prepping and training for–for almost eighteen years.  The little boy who once dawdled beside me, jabbering a mile a minute while swinging a stick at some imaginary arch-villain, had moved well into being a man-child and was now on the precipice of entering adulthood.  More than once I've said my own Dad is one of my best friends.  We seem to understand each other.  He listens and offers advice, has similar interests and models life with a purpose.  I should be so fortunate as to duplicate that into the next generation.  These years, as a Dad myself, it has definitely been an adventure; one that will be ongoing along a trail I am not going to miss out hiking.  True, it is a trail that leads on ahead of me, bending slightly into the unknown.  It is an adventure in which I am not sure I always have the right knowledge or equipment for.  It was and continues to be, however, worth every bit of effort.  I'm proud of my son Todd, and having him hiking alongside of me makes the blood dance in my veins as we move forward into unmarked territory together.  Wanderlust indeed.  

        See you along The Way...