Faded Memories
I took the fourth of July weekend to spend time with my 18
-year-old. We have been trying to get this kind of trip together for some time and it almost did not happen. She was supposed to work this weekend and then at the last minute, they called her off, the trip was on.
Originally, I was going to go up to New York and finish the section of the Appalachian Trail I did not finish last year, but once I found out that my daughter could go with me, I chose a closer and more do able trail for her and me. A bucket list hike was the Susquehannock Trail system, nestled in Potter and Clinton Counties, Pennsylvania along historic Route 6. The Susquehannock Trail System “is an 83.4-mile loop hiking trail that offers a variety of landscapes and is known for its remote wilderness, making it a popular destination for hikers seeking solitude and natural beauty.”
The wilderness indeed was remote and to some degree, beautiful. The first half of our morning hike was uneventful, just my daughter talking my ear off as she always does, I so cherish this “yapping” as she calls it. The trail was certainly not what we get up here on the North Country Trail. As a maintainer, we are taught that the trail is 4 feet wide and 8 feet tall, with a clear tread way and overhead brush (hangs) are cleared. Much of the trail did have the 4 foot wide thing going on, but it was often overgrown, but cruisable.
We got to our six mile connector trail around 11 and had lunch. Part of maintaining your body while on long hikes is taking off your shoes and letting them air out. With this accomplished, we dug into our peanut butter wraps, granola bars and chatted, laughed and reminisced, the “do you remember this hike” comment was often this weekend. Memories made and memories remembered.
Lunch accomplished, we put our boots and shoes back on and got after the 6 mile connector trail that would connect the East Side of the Trail to the West Side of the Trail. Known as the West Branch Connector trail, it was more of a trace than a trail. I have seen animal trails in better shape.
Immediately, we ran into waist and for my daughter, head high and higher brush. I was immediately grateful for
choosing long pants for this trip as my arms were very scratched up from all the berry plants and other sticker plants that stood in the middle of the trace. In several sections, the trace was washed out or had huge hidden holes. By the end, my daughter had gone dark, too frustrated to talk and very excited to be very done.
Finally, we made our way out of the mess and came upon the East side of the trail, ascending the last hill that would drop us off at our camp for the night, the Dynamite House Shelter. Once camp chores were complete, it was down to dinner for more laughter and for my daughter, disappointment. Our camp meals never seem to work out for her, we often
eat dehydrated backpacking meals and she has a knack for choosing the worst tasting meals, which sound much more awesome than they really are. She comically choked down half the bag and then she was done. Done in the same way she was done with the tall brush on the connecting trail.
While I entertained myself with a book, I observed her entertaining herself with the flora and fauna in the area, in particular, a slug we named Sluggo the Ultrarunner and lots of butterflies. After 18 years, my little girl’s playful spirit still finds joy in the little things of nature.
It was the perfect end to a long day on the trail.
Day 2 was a much better hike. Up at 0500 to get back to our car by 12, I had a lot to do in the afternoon, which I subsequently did not do. I was too fatigued and it was too late to start anything new. As I was walking this morning, my mind was able to drift to the lesson I was learning this weekend. It brought me to my 18th summer and the lessons learned from Marcus Aurelius and his stoic thought of Momento Mori.
I graduated June 9, 1995, 30 years ago this year. On June 23rd, I stepped onto a bus and was whisked away to Missouri for Army Basic training. My 18th summer was marked by screaming, yelling, push ups, and other dumb stuff the drill sergeants could put us through. It was and will forever be a wild memory that will not fade. Quite a bit different that what my daughter is doing this summer as she gets ready to start her education in Environmental Science. For her, it is being a camp counselor, hanging out in the woods all day and backpacking with her dad.
I wondered out loud if she would remember this weekend at my funeral, reflecting on the concept of Momento Mori. She told me not to get ahead of myself and we had no more of this conversation. But Marcus Aurelius had a point, we must keep an awareness of our death at the front of our mind. While this momentarily became a melancholic moment as I considered my father and my father in law in their 48th year, both are now in their 70’s, it strengthened my resolve to buckle down on why I am here.
As Ryan Holiday offers in the linked article on Momento Mori, “Memento Mori,” or translated in English, “Remember you must die.” The point of this reminder isn’t to be morbid or promote fear, but to inspire, motivate and clarify. The idea has been central to art, philosophy, literature, architecture, and more throughout history. As Socrates says in Plato’s Phaedo, “The one aim of those who practice philosophy in the proper manner is to practice for dying and death.”
In a couple of weeks, I will return to the pulpit as a supply preacher. Stepping back into this role has reminded me of my why. While the disaster the church created for my families finances and my life dreams has not faded, I am committed to being a instrument of peace and an instrument of Christ for the building of the kindom.
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