“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…” ~ Dickens
Do these oft-quoted lines apply to 2018? Probably. But they most certainly apply to 1968 – one of the most tumultuous single years in history, marked by events, both amazing and awful, that were intensely dramatic and lastingly consequential.
The Vietnam War dominated the news all year. In April, Martin was assassinated and, in June, Bobby. In June, the Six-Day War broke out. In August, the Soviet Union crushed Czechoslovakia’s Prague Spring. In October, hundreds of protestors were killed and injured in Mexico City’s Tlatelolco Square. In November, Richard Nixon was elected president.
While all this (and more) was going on, my dad had been dead from cancer for 4 years, mom was pressing forward as a single mom running her own business, and my days in high school were a less cheerful version of the Lord of the Flies. I was about to auger in. As a last resort, mom reached out to the Big Brothers organization and, after a couple of false starts, I got matched-up with Jerry: a scientist (geology), backpacker, hiker, desert rockhound; a wonderful person with a great sense of humor and the patience of a saint. Doing outdoor stuff was second nature to him and I was welcome to come along.
So, regardless of whatever else was going on in 1968, I will always cherish it as my year of outdoor firsts – first dayhike, first backpack (Marie Louise Lakes in the Sierra Nevada), first fish, first night sleeping out, first time at altitude, and (to be honest) first time really cold and miserable and bug-bitten – all things I’d spend the next 50 years doing as often and as much as possible.
Jerry and I were only together for about three years before I went off to university and he took a job in another city, got married, and started his own family. But he – and the outdoors – were there when I needed them the most. Since then, going outside has been the gift that’s been both an inspiration and a refuge. So, looking back across these 50 years, it’s obvious that one good person, stepping-up in the right place and at the right time, can make a difference.
BOOTS on the TRAIL 
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