Nature Nearby

Tags

Beetles, birds, Hermit adoptee, Nature, Poetry, Reclusive

For New Mexico, the month of May is anything but merry. Nature “red in tooth and claw”as the saying goes. Last month, four wildfires merged into a giant blaze. The monster conflagration has consumed over 260,000 acres, including forest, wildlife, and homes. As fire information officer Ryan Berlin said last week, “We need help from Mother Nature to shut the wind down and a little rain.” Sadly, the wind rages on, and there is little rain in sight. Nature is on a rampage, reminding us that we must move away from fossil fuels. In the microcosm, however, there is much to cherish.

I’m re-reading books in my personal library, one of which is The Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson. As enchanting as the first time I discovered her! She captures beauty in the small things. Dickinson, who became a recluse, is one of the most original and passionate poets in American literature. Her profound insights into nature and life have fascinated readers for over a century.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) guarded her poems against publication during her lifetime.

A Bird, came down the Walk
by Emily Dickinson

A Bird, came down the Walk –
He did not know I saw –
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass –
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass –

He glanced with rapid eyes,
That hurried all abroad –
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head. –

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers,
And rowed him softer Home –

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.
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Join author Elaine Pinkerton for Monday Blogs on adoption, hiking and the writing life. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter (@TheGoodbyeBaby)  Check out her newest novel The Hand of Ganesh. Discover  adoptees Clara Jordan and Dottie Benet as they quest to find Dottie’s birthparents. If you are in Santa Fe, you are invited to attend my official book launch on Friday, June 10, 5 p.m. at St. John’s College/ Jr. Common Room. Or, you can order The Hand of Ganesh from Amazon or http://www.pocolpress.com. Thanks for reading!

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September ~ Such a beautiful month!

Tags

Adoptee Recovery, healing, Nature

In many ways, this is my favorite time of year. As in seasons past, I’ve been walking and hiking in the surrounding Rocky Mountain foothills, observing deer that roam through the backyard, harvesting apples. I am thinking about promotion for Hand of Ganesh, my newest novel. All good things, for which I’m thankful.

But as I write this, on 9/11, I’m reminded of the tragedy of two decades ago. This morning, the Santa Fe New Mexican published a dozen first hand accounts of New Mexican first-hand witnesses who were near the Twin Towers.

Santa Fean Noranik Zadeyan, then a graduate student at New York University, was walking to a dental appointment. Her downtown apartment was five blocks away from the twins towers. She recalls, “As soon as I stepped out, I felt panic all around me – people running, screaming, frantic. I looked around and thought there was a shooter or something, but then I saw peoples’ gazes were lifted to the sky. I followed the direction and saw the first tower was on fire. Then I heard a plane and saw it go directly into the second tower, and I felt in my being that what had just happened was not an accident.

I stood there in shock for a few moments, thinking about all the people in the towers, in the planes and down below. I saw all the papers flying from the office windows and I saw the poor, desperate man who jumped out of the building. I knew I had to get out of there because I felt like things were going to get worse.” Noranik made it to her dental appointment, but, she relates, “they checked me in, sat me in the chair and put on a bib and I finally snapped out of my trance and realized, what am I thinking, I can’t get my teeth cleaned right now.” She phoned a close friend who was living in Brooklyn and went to her house “for sanctuary and a “safe retreat from all the devastation.”

Barbara Gerber, also of Santa Fe, remembers that, as a friend was perishing in the north tower of the World Trade Center, she was emptying her dishwasher. A journalist, she was supposed to be writing a story on factory farming. She missed her deadline. She tells her story, relates watching Hurricane Ida tear through New York and then comments, “Perhaps it’s the way September feels brittle and expectant. Whatever it is, 9/11 memories have a life of their own.”

Hard to believe that twenty years have passed between then and now. I can’t say that I feel the world is safer. However, I can affirm that personally, I am enjoying a life filled with many blessings. My goal: stay within the confines of each day.

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Note from Elaine: Join me for monthly posts. If you have a 9/11 story you’d like to share, I will, after reviewing it, publish it as a blog post.

Poetry Monday: Nature up Close

Tags

Beetles, birds, Hermit adoptee, Nature, Poetry, Reclusive

Note: Though the coronavirus has not disappeared, the world seems to be “opening up for business.” Many folks are now out and about However, some of us (including yours truly) are basically stay-at-homes. For me, this makes sense. I’m completing a novel, The Hand of Ganesh, and the best way to move forward is to stay put. Also, there’s more time to follow beloved pursuits…I’m re-reading books in my personal library, one of which is The Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson. As enchanting as the first time I discovered her! Emily Dickinson, who became a recluse, is one of the most original and passionate poets in American literature. Her profound insights into nature and life have fascinated readers for over a century.

May Flower

Pink, small, and punctual,
Aromatic, low,

Covert in April,

Candid in May,

Dear to the moss,

Known by the knoll,

Next to the robin

In every human soul.

Bold little beauty,

Bedecked with thee,

Nature forswears

Antiquity.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) guarded her poems against publication during her lifetime.

A Bird, came down the Walk
by Emily Dickinson

A Bird, came down the Walk –
He did not know I saw –
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass –
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass –

He glanced with rapid eyes,
That hurried all abroad –
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head. –

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers,
And rowed him softer Home –

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.
*******
Join author Elaine Pinkerton for Monday Blogs on adoption, hiking and the writing life. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter (@TheGoodbyeBaby) Comments are invited. If you’d like to submit a guest blog post (subject to review), please send an email proposal. Thanks for reading!

Breaking Through Writer’s Block

Tags

Adaptation, adoption, Contemplation, Discipline, Nature, Novel-in-progress, Snow, Wildlife, Winter's Day

For months, I couldn’t write. Started a decade ago and worked on intermittently, my “novel-in-progress,” wasn’t progressing. Was it ever going to grow into an actual first draft? It had a title — The Hand of Ganesha ~ Clara and Dottie go to India— but after 200 pages, I’d stopped. The two protagonists, like me, were adopted daughters. Unlike me, they had not dealt with the issues of adoption.That’s what brought about their trip to India. I loved the idea behind the book, but it was not going to write itself.
Oh, there were plenty of excuses. Last Fall, I had the house updated: a new exterior stuccoing, fresh paint inside, and new flooring. I was engaged in a year-long decluttering campaign, selling or donating at least a fourth of my possessions. How could I write with so many demands on my time?
Then, just as I was about to knuckle down and get to work, along came the best ski season in years. I’ve loved skiing ever since moving to Northern New Mexico in the 1960s, and, like many of my friends who are still skiing, I want to enjoy the sport while still able.
How could I write with fresh powder snow in the mountains?
And so it went until one snowy morning when a blizzard made it risky to drive anywhere, much less up the windy ski basin road. OK, I told myself, time is running out. I don’t have forever.The clock is ticking. Our days are numbered. Driven by such thoughts, I gathered the photo albums of a research trip I’d made to southern India. I’d start by looking through pictures of the Shore Temple complex at Mahabalipuram. This would be the setting of my novel’s last section. Memories of the trip and of the novel I’d first envisioned came flooding back and I picked up at page 201, where I’d left off.
Just then outside my office window, four deer wandered into the snow-filled yard. Noses to the ground, they began grazing. Apparently there was new grass growing under the snow. They would find food no matter what. After watching them until they ambled on to feed in the yards of my neighbors, I opened my laptop and resumed. I wrote for an hour and continued each day throughout the week. The momentum will continue. In a mysterious way, the deer inspired me to get busy. and just write. Thank you, neighborhood deer.

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Have encounters with nature ever helped you in mysterious ways? Please send me your stories through this website. Especially if they relate to adoption or to writing, I’d be interested in publishing them. And join me on alternate Mondays for an adopted daughter’s reflections on adoption and life.

Adopting the Trails – “Take a Kid Hiking Day”

Tags

adoption, Children, Dale Ball Trails, Exercise, Fresh Air, Hiking, Nature, Walking

Earlier this spring, the publisher of Santa Fe on Foot-Exploring the City Different, Richard Polese, and I planned a walking with kids day. The City of Santa Fe liked the idea. Now, just before the official beginning of summer and a day before Father’s Day, it’s happening!

Santa Fe’s first official “Take a Kid Hiking Day” is this Saturday, June 17. Adults and youngsters are encouraged to get out of the house and walk together into a bit of local nature. Gathering begins at 8:30 am at the Sierra del Norte Trailhead, a short 2.5 mile drive up Hyde Park Road. Bottled water and snacks provided by local merchants. The planned hike is an easy 1.2 mile walk on trails through the forested wilderness. No heavy boots or packs needed, no cost, and reservations not required. The hike route will take about an hour. Come and enjoy nature together!   Information: 505-983-1412 or 505-629-5647

Excerpted from Chapter Eight of Santa Fe on Foot-Exploring the City Different

SIERRA DEL NORTE OUT AND BACK
Distance: 1.22 miles
Time: 45-60 minutes
The walking and bicycling paths of the Dale Ball system provide a gateway to the Santa Fe National Forest. Clearly marked with numbers, the Dale Ball trails interweave with other foot routes such as Dorothy Stewart, The Nature Conservancy Preserve, Dorothy Stewart, Atalaya, and Little Tesuque Trails. However, the 23.7-mile Dale Ball system are not just a gateway to the mountain forests, they are splendid in their own right.When I first began walking and hiking in Santa Fe, it also took a car with chains to get to the ski basin area for winter skiing or snowshoeing. In fact, the reason I wrote Santa Fe on Foot in the first place is because of the daunting nature of driving “to the top” in snow and ice.
Fast forward a few decades; enter retired banker Dale Ball, a man who grew up by the Oregon Trail and who envisioned nature trails that would not require fair weather and a 13-mile drive from Santa Fe. He wished for trails that would become an important part of the community and through ceaseless effort—collaborations and negotiations—he made that wish come true. Among others who helped create this hiking legacy were the City of Santa Fe, Santa Fe County, the McCune Charitable Foundation, the anonymous donor who gave $100,000 for the undertaking, more than 50 volunteers who contributed in various ways, and, of course the Santa Feans who granted easements through their land. The anonymous donor of $100,000 insisted that the trail system be named after Dale Ball.
One of the most daunting challenges that must have faced Mr. Ball as he sought access through private land was convincing homeowners to allow public egress. The persuasiveness and diplomacy he employed must have been driven by his passion to serve the common good.
Completed in 2005, the trails are truly a gift that keeps on giving. They give locals and visitors alike a treasure trove of pleasant walking, miles of, beautiful swooping switchbacks, cameo views of the high desert plateaus stretching out toward Los Alamos and the Rio Grande Valley’s mountain ranges, panoramic lookouts that open up to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, quartz-studded rock formations, wildflowers in season, and easy access to pinon forests.
The general shape of today’s walk has led some people to call it the “lollipop trail,” but actually it is shaped more like a westward facing tree. It follows this series of juncture signs: from trails: #1 to #2 to #3, then a long stretch back to #1.
After securing your car, making sure to leave nothing at all of value inside, start at marker #1 and walk on a low path toward the left. When you reach the juncture sign #2, take a right. You’ll be gaining elevation fairly rapidly, but the path is flat and spacious.
Except for the right hand choice at your first encounter with juncture #2, the motto for this trail is to always keep left.
You will see another path midway between juncture sign #2 and #3, but do not take it. Stay to the left until you reach the sign announcing juncture #3. Keep to the left. Following this point, you will be on the main part of your walk. In another 15 minutes the path will be intersected with another walking option on the right. Ignore it and keep left. Except for the right hand choice at your first encounter with juncture #2, the motto for this trail is to always keep left.
On your way back you will again come to juncture #2. This will take you back to the parking lot and dog park. If you accidentally happen to end up coming out on Sierra Del Norte Road, the worst consequence is that you will need to turn left and walk back to the parking lot. Meandering about is allowed. As J.R.R. Tolkien famously said in The Hobbit, “all who wander are not lost.”

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Join Elaine every other Monday for a new post — reflections on being adopted, hiking, books, and the literary life. Comments are invited!

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Adopting the Environment

Tags

Adopting, Coal, Environment, Forest, Nature, Pollution, Raven's Ridge, Santa Fe Ski Valley, Testimony, Tranquillity

Note from Elaine Pinkerton: Today’s guest blogger, attorney MARIEL NANASI, writes forcefully about a topic dear to my heart. Protecting our country’s great outdoors—saving the air we breathe and the earth we walk on. Read of the  battle she is heading up against the Public Service Company of New Mexico and their continuing coal and nuclear resources. Her story is educational and inspiring!

Mariel on Raven’s Ridge

*******

I’d never written an appellate brief to a Supreme Court before. More than 56,000 pages in the record. PNM (Public Service Company of New Mexico) submitted more than ten rounds of testimony by a dozen witnesses. The task seemed insurmountable; yet I knew the case better than anyone else and there were people dedicated to co-production and others offering assistance and cheering us on!

PNM, the state’s largest electric monopoly was forced to close half of its coal plant because it was polluting the skies as far away as Utah and Arizona with its toxic emissions. In real life there are no borders, pollution travels unrestricted. The contested issues central to the brief related to PNM’s selection of resources to replace the lost capacity from the retirement of the two coal units.

It is perhaps true that every generation feels that theirs is fraught with the most trying challenges, yet somehow I am convinced that the consequences from a warming planet, are more existentially baffling and crisis laden than any other.

So there I was 8am til 11pm or 1am day after day for more than two weeks glued to my office chair, papers strewn all over my desk, staring at my wide screen computer. Opening up countless files on my computer, searching through transcripts, reading and re-reading Orders and digging to find exhibits, weaving in the law from legal precedent, and trying to conjure up the perfect words to convince the highest court in New Mexico that the agency whose responsibility it is to regulate the most powerful company in New Mexico had failed to do so. PNM chose to replace the closing of coal with the purchase of more coal and more nuclear. The Public Regulation Commission (PRC) is supposed to regulate PNM on our behalf, but it abrogated its duties when it agreed to waive Commission rules in order to approve PNM’s coal and nuclear purchases.

The Public Regulation Commission must make decisions based on “substantial evidence”. Sounds reasonable. And, yes, in order for the PRC to approve PNM’s coal and nuclear acquisition PNM had to ask the PRC to waive its own rules and analysis requirements designed to protect ratepayers, and adopted as consumer safeguards. You may ask: how can there be “substantial evidence” if the PRC had to waive its own standards in order to allow PNM to generate electricity from the burning of more coal and nuclear? That’s the essence of our appeal.

My eyes were tired. The white in my eyes were graying. We filed the brief in the New Mexico Supreme Court at 4:56 pm on the date it was due. I texted my friend, Charlotte, to see if she would hike with me and we hiked the Raven’s Ridge trail, in the Santa Fe ski valley the next day.
I was so grateful for the softness of the million tones of green in the forest. Nothing was uniform: the multi-layering of tall plants, short ones, wild leafy bushes and shady protective trees was easy on my eyes. I felt held by my surroundings as if the green beauty was actually healing the strain in my cluttered mind and calming my heart. The gentleness was profound and I was grateful for my friend’s patience with my slow pace. Aah, this tranquility is what we are fighting to protect.

Reciprocity empowers.

Mariel Nanasi is an attorney and the Executive Director of New Energy Economy, an environmental advocacy organization based in Santa Fe, New Mexico. She is the co-author of the brief New Energy Economy v. New Mexico Public Regulation Commission, which can be found on the organization’s web site: http://www.NewEnergyEconomy.org

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Elaine blogs about adoption, hiking, and travel. Her guidebook Santa Fe on Foot, published by Ocean Tree Books,  will be out this Fall. 

All in a Day’s Hike

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Connection, Freinds as Family, healing, Hiking, Nature, recovery

“In the deserts of the heart, let the healing fountains start.”-W. H. Auden

Heartfelt wishes expressed in Nature

The day began with alarming news. A lifelong friend, a fellow author, had been moved from Santa Fe’s hospital to a “Medical Resort” in Albuquerque. She was recovering from surgery that removed a cyst on her spine. Her health was already precarious because of Parkinson’s Disease, and now this. I talked to her husband, conveyed to him my love and healing wishes, but I felt powerless to really help the situation.

Feeling disheartened, I phoned my friend Kay (not her real name) and invited her to hike Monte Sol (Sun Mountain) with me. She motored over to my house, and in 15 minutes we were on the path. We found heart-shaped rocks to place in what I’ve come to call our “memory tree.”

We worked our way up the narrow twists and turns to the summit, slightly less than a mile but an 800-foot ascent. The narrow trail up Monte Sol is a series of ever sharper switchbacks. At the top, one must climb boulders, scale gravely areas and step ever more carefully.

Two-thirds of the way up there is a lookout spot – some sofa-like boulders that provide a convenient rest spot. Kay, who’d just come from two weeks at sea level, decided that she would wait there while I went to the top. She needed some time at our 7,000-foot altitude to fully acclimatize. So she rested; I went onward and upward.

As she contemplated the sweeping vistas below – Santa Fe nestled in a high mountain

The Boulder Field

plateau – I hiked swiftly to the top. There, I visited what I’ve come to call “the memory tree.” She’s an old, weathered, dead piñon. Actually, she has a name: “Melanie.” I’ve used this tree for years as a repository. In its branches, I place heart shaped rocks, dedicated to folks who are ill or who’ve passed away. Sometimes I find them on the trail; other times I bring them from home. I placed a heart in one of Melanie’s branches for my ill friend and dedicated a silent meditation for her recovery.

Occasionally I find hearts already in the tree.  Anonymous others have discovered Melanie, placed their stone hearts and no doubt made petitions. It is a gentle way of helping when there’s nothing else we can do.

I said goodbye to Melanie the tree and sent get well wishes to my ill friend. Hurrying, but careful not to skid, I made my way down Monte Sol. Kay, waiting at the rest stop, had been meditating. We completed the downhill trail together.

Always one to come up with good ideas, Kay suggested we go out to lunch to celebrate

Going to a friend’s favorite restaurant

the day.We did, and it was delicious. Organic eggs whipped into an omelet, served on hearty bread.

Since then, I’ve heard that my hospitalized friend is doing better. Her recovery might take months, but she’s in the best possible place. Perhaps the hike I took and the heart I placed may have helped her. I am finding that we are connected in mysterious ways. As an adopted one, today proved to me that in many ways, “friends are the new family.”

Join Elaine on Mondays for reflections on adoption, hiking, and life

Adoption Reunions: Be prepared for ANYTHING

Tags

adoption, birthmother, Finding, Nature, Nurture, reunion, Searching, separation

Note from Elaine: Guest blogger Pat Goehe is a frequent contributor to The Goodbye Baby website. Meeting her daughter for the first time after 32 years was a life-changing experience. It has been two years since she first wrote about their reunion (http://bit.ly/1M2dGlW). Pat is now moving forward with personal goals, specifically writing projects.

Birthmother/daughter reunion – Pat knew the day would come and it did!

In Retrospect…

As I think about the reunion with my daughter after she found me, the thing that benefited me the most, was knowing that in fact she had been adopted by a wonderful couple.   Those who have read my original blog posts may remember I indicated  something had happened in one of my classes which made me wonder if my daughter had a negative experience similar to one of the students in that class.   So it was such a relief to meet her adopted parents and see that they were so wonderful.

I was pleasantly surprised at the time of the original reunion that she was involved in the arts, and that she had moved to California the very same year that I went there on a years’ sabbatical leave from my college.  Her field was music and also management and an agent for film composers.  I was dabbling in the film industry as well.   Another surprise was to discover we both were in love with the song from a Disney movie …. “somewhere out there….”    In fact, while celebrating one of my birthdays shortly after the reunion  at a favorite place, one of the singing waiters came and said there was another request for me.  He went on to say my daughter had called and requested it.  She knew I would be there that evening.

The old “nature or nurture” question was back in my mind.  At our very first meeting she ordered the same salad dressing I always do.  At one point where I excused myself to go to the restroom, she commented “So that’s where I get my pea sized bladder from!”.  And as originally talked about, when she called me for the first time, I couldn’t get over how much she seemed like me.  So much more than the daughter I had raised.  She’s also a “worry wart” like me, usually overbooked in the “to do” lists, and there’s no question that we are both sensitive, emotional people.

What advice can I give to adoptees or the birth parents seeking a reunion?  Be prepared for anything.   If you have a scenario developed where it’s a glorious reunion, it may not be.  If you have other children and you hope all will become one big happy family, that too may not be.  It hasn’t been in my case. If you are haunted by needing to know, then by all means search.  I hope you have a happy outcome.   To me, the not knowing was the most difficult of all.   I was prepared for whatever I would find, good or bad.  She found me,  and it has been good.  Perfect?  Is anything ever that?

Editor’s Note: Pat Goehe is a lifetime teacher who’s worked in all facets of communication and related arts. She teaches students at the secondary and university level. Perhaps the most meaningful communication of her life, however, occurred when her daughter Linda, after decades of separation, contacted her. Pat is a frequent contributor to The Goodbye Baby website and the author of a children’s book Annemarie and Boomer wait for Grandma, the first in a series. In keeping with National Adoption Month, Pat reflects on her reunion with daughter Linda.

Pat relaxes in Santa Fe’s Rose Garden Park

Haiku Monday

Tags

adoption, Adoption recovery, awareness, birds, haiku, Nature, reflectiveness, Snow, Winter

In dealing with adoption questions such as, Are my “real” parents my adoptive mom and dad or the parents who are biologically related to me?, I’ve learned that a lot depends on perspective. Some people, especially those living in the harsher climes, look at winter as tedious, dreary, uncomfortable. Others, ignoring the cold, choose to notice the beauty. Today’s guest blogger and poet Roberta Fine has adopted the season in all its loveliness. She’s chosen details that feed the spirit and imagination. As we begin the shortest days of the year, enjoy her Haiku Scenes of Winter…

Baldy disappears

Above the Clouds

Behind descending veil–

Birds crowd feeder.

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Brown, wrinkled, puffy–

Frozen apples still on tree

Feed the winter birds.

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Ravens trail coyote,

Hoping he’s a good hunter,

Will leave leftovers.

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Cooking up a stew—

Birds aren’t the only ones who like apples even if they’re frozen.

Sunlight streaming through window

In my warm kitchen.

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Mountain emerges

From cloud in late afternoon—

Sparkling, massive jewel.

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Winter moon shining

Softly on violet snow—

Dogs barking to come in.

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Shopping for some bread

In the store a stranger’s smile

Brightens the cold, grey day.

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Cutting wind shakes trees.

Scatters seeds from bird feeder.

Birds peck through ice film.

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NOTE FROM ELAINE: Adoption issues occupied up my psychological “real estate” for too many years. It was more than time to transcend them, to wake up and live more positively. Christmas and the holiday season, I propose, offer the perfect time to shed any self-images that tarnish and corrode. The luminosity of Roberta Fine’s winter haikus reminded me of the world’s beauty.  What are YOUR favorite winter images? I’d love to hear about them! Please comment below or reach me on Twitter @TheGoodbyeBaby.

See the world through adoption-colored glasses-Every other Monday.

 

Postcards from the Ledge

Tags

Diaries, Hiking, Nature, Practicing Silence, Rousseau, Sun Mountain

Recently I climbed “Monte Sol,” also known as Sun Mountain. After reaching the 600-foot summit, I sat on a boulder, taking notes, dreaming a bit, meditating. The sun was blazing, but the winter air felt slightly chilly. Overhead, a few ravens flapped in vast, airy circles. As I thrilled to the beauty below me—my town laid out in panorama—it occurred to me that reading leads to writing, which leads back to reading.

Hiking to the Summit

Perhaps because my memoir The Goodbye Baby-A Diary about Adoption focusses so strongly on my own diary entries, I plan during 2013 to peruse diaries from the past. The list includes Samuel Pepys, Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde, and Anne Frank. I’ve started with18th century author Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who also loved to walk in nature. In a way, we are kindred spirits.
A slim volume, Meditations of a Solitary Walker, published by Penguin, had been sitting in my overstuffed bookshelves for decades. The book comprises highlights from Rousseau’s Reveries of the Solitary Walker. I had tucked it into my daypack to finish reading during my hike.
The cover, impressionist art, depicts a black-suited figure waving his hat to what looks like a tan field or perhaps a sea. The man’s back is turned away from the viewer. Each chapter is an account of one of Rousseau’s solitary ramblings. In today’s terms, we might describe them as “hikes.” The descriptions are beautiful, the reflections are somber, poetic, tormented, and intensely personal. There is angst expressed, but also lyrical descriptions and an occasional bit of wry humor.

Monte Sol in the afternoon

In Chapter One, “The First Walk,” Rousseau describes his literary musings as “taking barometer readings” of his soul. He states that in his “decrepitude,” he will re-visit the readings and “shall live with my earlier self as I might with a younger friend.” Rousseau admits worrying about the “grasping hands” of his “persecutors” and transmitting his diary reflections to future generations, but he goes on to say that he is finally indifferent “to the fate both of my true writings and of the proofs of my innocence.”
Sitting on my perch above the city, I muse about the fate of my journals. Was I right to put them on death row? When I completed writing The Goodbye Baby, I had announced to friends that the diaries I’d used for the book were slated for burial or burning. Having made the announcement, I had to follow through. And now the annihilation is well underway. I’ve burned thousands of pages, saving only the covers. It is a veritable holocaust for those little books, the raw material for The Goodbye Baby. Devoid of pages, the empty book covers—flowered, patterned, quilted, and often beautiful—are being passed on to my friend Andrea, who plans to use them for art projects. All that writing has gone up in smoke. All that remains is what exists in the excerpts I used in The Goodbye Baby.
A comforting thought: there will be other diaries. After a lifetime of recording the thoughts and events of each day, I cannot stop being a diarist. The blank book will silently ask, “How was your day?” and as long as I’m still breathing, I will write my answer.
It is getting late.The sun is beginning to set and despite wearing many layers of insulation, I am feeling cold. Closing my notepad and Rosseau’s Meditations, I strap on my pack and descend the zig-zagging trail home.

Life seems better up here