112. Federalism

           

             One of the greatest aspects of our country, and one that we like to think is our greatest division right now, and certainly was during the civil war, is federalism. We are one nation made up of fifty states and additional territories that are as diverse as can be yet we unite under a common constitution. This strength is our federalism united under a single constitution. We are E Pluribus Unum—out of the many, one.

            Together we own land in a vast swath of North America. We represent every nationality, creed and race of this world and we unite under the central idea that “We, the people” can form a more perfect union. We strive for the idea that we are all created equal and we work, sometimes fight, to establish that equality. Oh, yes, we fail miserably, we lose faith and yet we continue to strive for equality and a more perfect union.

            Federalism allows us to have red states and blue states with blue blooded Americans in red states and red blooded Americans in blue states. Federalism allows people in Idaho to hunt and fish and hike and enjoy huge swaths of rugged roadless areas in the northern Rockies, yet representatives of all fifty states were allowed to decide whether or not those roadless areas would be established as wilderness areas where no motors are allowed thereby allowing people from New York City the right to go there if they so choose. And yes, sometimes those rights rankle us to the boiling point when the federal government gets to make decisions that completely go against the local sensibilities. We have seen that with grazing rights on bird refuges in Oregon, oil drilling in Alaska and nowhere more strongly and divisively than Fort Sumter in South Carolina at the outset of the American Civil War. But here we are, continuing to bicker and promote interests that are sometimes far from our goals of equality. This imperfect way to strive for a more perfect union is something I love, something I am so proud of, something that continues to frustrate me, yet give me faith in humanity. I love the diversity of this country and I love its established presence in our federal system of forming a more perfect union.

111. Mount Katahdin

            Another mountain in New England that has captured my imagination is Mount Katahdin in Maine. I had never even heard of it before I went to Maine with my wife in the early 1990’s. We went to Maine just to go see it and then this mountain seemed to loom over us in several parts of the state. It was like Mount Rainier in Washington. You can even see Katahdin on the coast at Acadia National Park. As someone from the Rocky Mountains and the west I always thought that to see mountains from so far away the peaks must surely rise over 10,000 feet, yet from spending time in the Appalachian east, I know that Mount Washington in New Hampshire was the highest peak in New England and that it barely rose above 6,000 feet. Yet there was Katahdin in Maine lording itself over all of that state and it doesn’t quite reach the 5,300 feet mark in elevation.

            It’s a really beautiful mountain at the center of Baxter State Park and we did go to the base of the mountain to see it. There were tons of cars there and people hiking onto the mountain. Like the highest peak in any state, it attracts plenty of climbers. If I had known about it in advance I probably would have set aside enough time to climb it as well but I didn’t know about it and was in no way prepared to climb a mountain that week that we were there. (We were, at the time, more interested in the coast.)

            I do, however, want people out west to know that our fellow countrymen in the east have imposing mountains just like we do out here. Katahdin is every bit as rugged as a peak in the Rockies and even though it may not be able to boast such grandiose elevation as a mountain in the Cascades, it still commands a presence over a large swath of country that is at sea level or slightly above. The immigrants who came to the New World in the 1600’s were not the little wimps who knew nothing about roughing it. New England is a rugged beautiful place that took its toll on early settlers every bit as much as did the vast expanses and rugged mountains of our western frontier. Katahdin is the prime example of that for me. Any smug superiority that I might have had before going to Maine was swept away by Katahdin.

110. Bread Loaf Mountain

            Mountains are things that I love. Some because I have climbed them, others because of their imposing stature, but most because of their presence in my life. I grew up in the mountains and I view them as protective and sheltering. One such mountain is Bread Loaf Mountain in the Green Mountain Range of Vermont. Sometime past I wrote about the Bread Loaf School of English in Vermont because that is where I did my graduate studies in English. That school sits at the foot of Bread Loaf Mountain.

            The mountain itself is not very imposing, especially for someone from the mountain ranges of the west, but it is very comforting. It is a long somewhat flat mountain that looks like a large loaf of bread. Who isn’t comforted by the sustenance of bread? And I spent several years in its shadow studying English, its history and its connections to the world. Everyone is comforted by their native tongue so my associations with my own language and that particular mountain in Vermont are indelibly entwined.

            Now I live at the base of a mountain in Idaho that looks very similar to Bread Loaf. It is Moscow Mountain and it is here that I have spent years teaching English to my own students. The connection is uncanny. So it is no surprise that I love Bread Loaf Mountain, a mountain that I have not seen in several years yet I see again every day when I look up at Moscow Mountain right out my back yard. All the alluring comforts of my home, my language, and my people rest at the base of these two mountains that are nearly 3,000 miles apart.

            I have climbed on Bread Loaf Mountain but its importance has differed to me in the sense that the thought of conquering or cresting the mountain has never carried any weight in my mind when it came to that particular mountain. Bread Loaf seems to be a mountain put into my life more to conquer me than the other way around. And its conquest has been of my being, my relationship with the world and others. So while it may not look like Mount Everest it seems to be much larger in calm assuring ways to me.

109. Mount Adams

            Another mountain that has always gained my admiration is Mount Adams, another of the Cascades between Mount Rainier and Mount Hood. It’s in the southern section of Washington’s Cascade Range. While I have never tried to climb Adams, I have spent plenty of time on its slopes picking huckleberries and enjoying the forest.

            Like both Rainier and Hood, Adams is cloaked in snow and glaciers. The thought of climbing it sounds a little more appealing to me, however, because it doesn’t require too much in the way of technical skills. You would probably want cleats and an ice axe to help yourself hold on in places, but there is no need for ropes or anything too technical. That would be manageable for me because I’m averse to the idea of hanging to the side of a mountain by a thread when I am so fearful of heights.

            Mount Adams gets the image of a horse on its side that you can see from the Yakima Valley in the end of summer. The snow gradually melts away to reveal the ground beneath in the shape of a horse. In fact, it looks very much like one of those Celtic horses that the ancients carved into the chalk downs of southern England. The difference is, of course, that Adam’s image is not created by any person and the body of the horse is brown from the earth instead of white from chalk. The white of snow surrounds the image instead.

            I don’t know if I’ll ever actually climb to the summit of Mount Adams, but the idea will continue to intrigue me. I’m getting old enough to realize such a climb is still easily in my grasp but there are still plenty of other things I want to do in the increasingly limited amount of time I have. Still it is one of those mountains that I love and hold onto as a citizen of a country that I love and feel privileged to have such mountains to climb. Mountains like Adams offer the possibility of ascending above the petty distractions that our country seems to use these days to try to divide itself. Great mountains like Adams and the others I’ve mentioned bring me great encouragement in a time when people would lead you to believe hope is fleeting.

108. Mount Rainier

The most glaciated mountain in the contiguous 48 states is Mount Rainier in Washington. It’s a mountain that I see all the time when I go see my family in Washington. It rises 14,411 feet above sea level, so when you are in Seattle that full mountain rise is what you see. The mountain looms over the entire state, so unsurprisingly it is central on the state license plate. Because of its presence it becomes a huge symbol of all things Washington and Pacific Northwest.

It’s not a mountain I have ever tried to climb to the summit, though I have hiked various trails on its slopes. I’m not a technical climber so I haven’t wanted to deal with ropes and ice climbing. The mountain is beautiful and symbolic of so much. It is part of the Pacific Ring of Fire. It is an active volcano so it inspires reverent respect, if not fear. Those of us who live in the Northwest know all too well the power of volcanoes since many of us can still vividly remember when Mount Helens blew its top.

But the mountain also represents a sense of beauty and sublimity. All across this country, and probably much of the world, people adore the staining red beauty of the delicious Rainier cherry even when most people don’t associate the cherry with its namesake mountain. And that state license plate? It’s clearly a source of pride that all Washingtonians celebrate from the desert Columbia plains to the rain forest draped Olympics. This is a mountain that never loses its snow. This is a mountain that glows with the midnight brilliance of ice and the burning magma of Vulcan, the classical god of the forge.

Not only is Rainier the uniting force of Washington from east to west, it is also representative of the dividing force of Washington from east to west. It represents that ever present Cascade curtain that divides both Washington and Oregon and makes them classic examples of all the Western States that seem to have such geographical divides.

For me Rainier represents all of those things as well as the vastness and various uniting and dividing forces of this great country of ours.  If the mountain ever underwent a name change my vote would be for Mount E Pluribus Unum. It is, out of the many, one.

107. Mount Borah

            I have lived in Idaho pretty much all of my life with the exceptions of trips away—a couple of extended trips to North Carolina and England. And just like I love being able to say I’ve been in every state in the union, I like to say I’ve been pretty much everywhere in Idaho.  But, of course, there is a lot of wilderness and roadless area that I haven’t been to, though I have attempted to at least take a look at every spot. As much as I have been to Lewiston, Idaho’s lowest point, I had never crested the summit of Idaho’s highest peak, Mt. Borah, until I had turned 50.

            Mt. Borah, all 12,665 feet of it, is in the Lemhi Mountain range, a desert range in east central Idaho with several peaks rising above 10,000 feet and a few over 12,000. It is the place of Idaho’s single glacier, though that may no longer be true even as I write this. My good friend, Doug Richards and his son Devin (who used to always want to be a mountain climber, but our Borah trip cured him of that) decided they would climb the mountain with me. This was seven years ago and just a little over a year after my heart bypass surgery. That little warning that I was limited in time told me I needed to do the climb. So we did it.

            I can’t really tell you how long of a climb it is, but like most Idaho mountains you just climb pretty much straight up the slope. At the base you are already around 7,000 feet so the climb can be difficult if you haven’t been acclimated to the higher elevation and we were all accustomed to 3,000 feet as an average. As a runner I can’t say I noticed much until we got to the point known as Chicken Out Ridge. This was the point that tested my fortitude because it is a more complicated bit of actual rock climbing where you had to keep three-point contact. A fall would definitely be fatal because the drop is probably close to 300+ feet. I’m terrified of heights. I took it one step at a time, never looking down, only forward. The bad part for me was completing it, looking down and realizing I would have to do it again to get down.

            Near the top after a snow bridge and the glacier, elevation started taking its toll on Devin and Doug who got headaches. They were ready to call it quits when I just took a couple climbs and realized I was at the top. Of course they finished and it was a gratifying moment filled with excitement. It’s a climb I’ll always cherish and I have to say I love Mount Borah.

106. Sun Valley, Idaho

           

           America seems to be a pretty divided country right now and the president seems to capitalize on those divisions.  But I’m not really interested in being divisive and that is what go me going on this blog after a hiatus and being disabled from my old blogspot blog. I don’t make any claims to writing great art in this space. I only hope to encourage myself and maybe some stray reader about all the positive things our country offers to everyone, no matter their political or philosophical persuasion. I made a lengthy list of things I appreciate and love about this country and set out to write about each one individually. Some of them just inspire a sense of national identity and pride in this country. Right now I’m thinking about Sun Valley, Idaho.

            Sun Valley is an addition to the old mining town of Ketchum and the two are just a few short miles north of Hailey and Bellevue. So sometime in the 1930’s the riches of mining were traded to the riches of wealthy men’s pocketbooks. And it is definitely an expensive place and a playground for the wealthy. I don’t personally think it is the most beautiful place in the state, but it is isolated and beautiful and that makes it a great place for famous people to get away. I’ve seen some pretty famous people there and they get to walk on the street without photographers ogling them or crazy fans asking for selfies. They get to live a portion of their lives outside the fishbowl.

            Of course anyone can still go there. It’s not beyond possibility, but it isn’t close to anything (even in Idaho) and unless you ski and can afford hefty prices for lift tickets, why would you want to? Just a short drive over Galena Summit and you are in the Sawtooths able to enjoy the most amazing scenery. But don’t think I’m talking Sun Valley and the Wood River Valley down. It still has appeal to me. I’m a big Hemingway fan and he lived and died there. I also like sports and even though I’ve never done anything more that go for a run or hike there, there are plenty of things to see in the way of the history of sports—especially winter sports. Sun Valley was the first downhill ski resort in the U.S.

            The reason I love Sun Valley and the Wood River Valley is because of all those things. It’s great to have an out of the way slice of fame and history that, like all of Idaho, shies away from the spotlight but has a great intersection with the bigger Americana. Just one more thing to quietly bind us together.

105. Cross Country Skiing

            I’m not tired of the summer yet, so don’t get me wrong, but I love to cross country ski. There are plenty of times when I can just hike a little way out of town with my skis and venture into the woods right outside my door. But there is also plenty of time to take little trips to the hills and speed along on the groomed trails around here. Winter is that time of year for me when it is really hard to get myself out for a run. I don’t like to run on icy roads because more than once I have fallen and injured myself. But with skiing none of that matters. Yes, of course I’ve fallen when skiing also, but landing in a pile of snow has never injured anything more than my pride. I guess I don’t ski fast enough to do any serious twists to injure myself either.

            But aside from all that staying fit stuff, skiing is just beautiful. Trees covered in snow, white vistas over the hills, sunny skies, cloudy skies—it doesn’t matter. I love going with friends and as I get older I’m prone to believe that is the best way. But I still enjoy it alone in the spaces close to my house.

            I know it’s not a particularly American thing. In fact, I think with its Nordic title it must be European. But in these northern climes it’s an activity that pretty much anyone who can walk can get out and do to keep themselves active and to see new scenes. It’s like one of those beautiful snow globe scenes and you get to be the guy who shakes it and the little figurine inside that gets to enjoy the falling snow. And it’s a pretty painless fee when you consider the fact that you can go almost anywhere where there is snow. So as an American of European descent who is a bit of a cheap skate but loves to be active, I highly recommend cross country skiing in the winter if you live somewhere where there is plenty of snow. It’s just one more way to enjoy our beautiful country and take pride in being American.

104. Sunbathing

            When you live in a northern climate the sun isn’t always around. Luckily I live in a place that generally gets nice summers, some days even get hot (like now in August). Because, like all of life, it’s rather short lived, I enjoy taking time to just lay around in the sun. Sometimes it might be in the morning sitting at a picnic table on the east side of the house writing in my journal like now. Other times it might be on a sandy beach at the lake or river just lazing about letting myself get just a little hot so I can dip into the water and get out and start the whole sun bathing process all over again. But most of the time it’s in my back yard after the day’s work is done and I just doze off in the late afternoon sunshine in a lawn chair. And I’m not picky. I’ll do that in the spring or fall as well if the sun is out.

            I’m certainly not a worshiper of the sun, but I definitely enjoy its presence. I feel most comfortable with life when I can just relax for a time and forget all the world and its troubles and bask in the warmth of sunshine. During those moments I don’t worry about anything except maybe the sentence I’m writing or the chapter I’m reading. I actually will stop and smell the roses when I’m in my back yard in the sunshine.

            I think perhaps if we all took time away from life and just relaxed in the sunshine we would remember that life is a gift, not a time to worry about the latest tweet of the president or the standing of the country in world politics. America is a vast beautiful country teeming with life and natural beauty that is largely due to the sun. Maybe if we all just found a nice sunny spot to remember that and to take stock in the wonder about us all the other silly things would just fall into place.

            I think perhaps my aspirations have always been to be a sunbather. So now I will be thankful for every patch of sunlight in my life.

103. Gardening

            I wrote about fresh garden tomatoes as being something I appreciate about being an American but I just love the entire aspect of gardening. I love getting out there, working the soil, planting flowers and vegetables, harvesting, watching the birds and bees enjoy what I’ve planted…I just love it all.

            I can spend five to six hours of a summer day just trimming hedges, weeding vegetable patches, redoing flower beds, tinkering in the shed and dreaming about what I’m going to do next. I love to watch viny vegetables from day to day. Squash and pumpkins will go from tiny little sprouts to green mounds in a fortnight. Then they start sprouting out tentacles, climbing into the corn, up the fence and into the hedges. Cucumbers are the same on a smaller scale. I will place wire near them so that they can climb up and be kept to a smaller area so I have room to grow other exciting things.

            The taste of fresh corn on the cob is something I love. There is nothing as sweet as corn picked just a few moments before you cook it. Candy cannot compare. In the autumn I cut the stalks down and put them into shocks to act as sentinels to our doors, blending with the colors of the golden leaves falling from the maples. If I’ve grown enough pumpkins, I’ll carve jack-o-lanterns and set them at the base of the shocks.

            And roses are always beautiful. Since most of mine are hybrids they keep me busy with pruning, winterizing, drying, and pest control. I love their beauty, their photogenic quality and their intoxicating scent. And there are always herbs. Fresh basil to mix in a salad with tomatoes. Sage blooming and attracting honey bees. Lavender, chives, tarragon, and mint all working together or apart in some concoction to sooth, make meats savory or refresh in a lemonade. And pansies and petunias and sunflowers and marigolds, iris, tulips, lilies—oh I could go on forever. Gardening is one of the best preoccupations of this American.

           

102. Garden Fresh Tomatoes

           

            I grew up eating lots of homegrown fruits and vegetables because we lived in an isolated area where it was hard to get good produce and the climate was relatively mild and conducive to good gardening. Where I live now is not quite as mild so it takes a little more work to get the same success with a garden, but I have a love for my home grown tomatoes. I know that’s certainly not an exclusively American thing, but it’s here and an enjoyable part of my life as an American.

            Grocery store tomatoes always look beautiful but most of them never seem to have any flavor. I don’t know why that is, but it is. The tomatoes grown in your back yard or garden always have incredible flavor. Ok, you can occasionally find a good pear shaped cherry tomato or a Roma in a produce aisle in winter, but even they made no comparison to those specimens you grow at home. A Beefsteak tomato vine ripened just before the first kiss of frost in September that you slice and salt reminds you just how wonderful summer has been and how bountiful the harvest is. But I never limit myself to Beefsteak.

            Because I live where winter is a reality and the summer growing season is short, I experiment with all sorts of tomatoes. Yellow Taxi are prolific and grow on smaller vines. Varieties developed for this part of the world out of local universities can also be successful. Why stick with traditional red when you can have things like Prudence Purple and Yellow Taxi? Give those green striped tomatoes a try. They may not look quite ripe but you’ll know when those stripes pop and the flesh has lost that hardness only to give way to a soft delight. Any of these can be cooked down to a wonderful tomato sauce. Got some stale French bread? Snip some basil, chop the tomatoes, slice some fresh mozzarella, and mix it all up in balsamic vinegar and olive oil for a great bread tomato salad. Let the end of your summer be a tomato paradise. We’re a melting pot so we should enjoy our American heritage of fresh garden tomatoes.

           

101. The Constitution

           

           One of the greatest things about the United States and being an American is our constitution. It makes us a nation that is open to debate ideas and even battle them out with rancor in courts that can dissipate that rancor, but all of this is conducted with a belief in the rule of law. We aren’t a people who just accept what’s given to us, but we have managed to figure out how to fight for those things we deem fair. We are a very diverse people who sometimes can be at great odds with one another, yet our founders discovered sensible ways to deal with our disputes. In the country we do our best to abide by the rule of law that we have established in our constitution.

            I’m not one to think everything about our constitution in its written form or its living form is perfect. The opening lines of the preamble are the poetry of which I cling when recognizing this, as do all Americans, “We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union…” It may not be perfect what we’ve got here, but it’s pretty damned good.

            As a man of words I find great comfort in the American Constitution, its insurance for this people that we can abide together fairly peaceably even in the most trying of times. We are allowed to abide together from great diversity as one people: E Pluribus Unum. Sometimes it seems like we’re falling apart at the seams but that one blanket holds us together in our squirming, rioting, tumultuous beauty that one blanket that really seems to be seamless is our constitution. I know it is still more ideal than reality, but through it we can resolve our differences, hold onto our differences, soar like eagles or creep like worms but remain through it all one nation believing in justice even when we struggle to attain it. This is our constitution, we, the people, the American people.

            Enjoy this 243^rd American summer and our diverse independence.

100. Automobiles

          

            While I’m bragging up American ingenuity and inventions that make me proud to be an American I can’t forget the automobile, that most expensive of things that I haven’t figured out how to live without. I love my cars. Here in Idaho it would be very difficult to live without one. I couldn’t live as far from work as I do, nor could I do a zillion things that I do to live because there is absolutely no public transportation where I live. Second only to the train is the automobile for opening up the American continent to the countries that are now here. Luckily we still have plenty of places where cars can’t go, but even exploring those places would require a great deal of perseverance if you couldn’t get nearer them by car.

            I will say this. I am looking forward to the day that cars no longer leave such a huge carbon footprint and I’m quite glad that electric cars are becoming a viable option. But I still love cars because they get us around. I don’t think you’ll find a country in the world that doesn’t now use automobiles to get from place to place. And, of course, this clever invention all came from an American named Henry Ford.

            You know, I’m so thankful for my car that I think I’m going to take a drive today to see some of those trees that I was writing about in some of my previous entries. The automobile is just one more thing that reminds me of the many good things there are about this country of ours.

99. Telephones

            All Americans should be grateful for the telephone. Most of us now carry one in our pockets, no longer relying upon wires to connect us. But we also know that that is not how it started. Our initial connections were very dependent upon wires, little boxes and our voices. It was a step beyond the telegraph which was another step beyond the mail that had been our primary distance communication since ancient times.

            Now here we are in the twenty first century communicating with one another over vast distances with little pocket computers that we even use to broadcast our visual forms to others far away. Now we have combined our desktop computers, our televisions, our cameras, our radios, and that ancient mail system into that little pocket computer. And we tie all that together with our discoveries of radio waves and satellites so that we don’t even have to bother with connecting wires. Harry Potter’s wand has nothing over our cell phones!

            Of course, the phone part all started with our good friend Alexander Graham Bell, that very American of inventors. He’s the one who gave us the telephone. Obviously our little cell phone-computer-radio combinations were a collection of other inventions that we now carry around in our pockets. Most of it really is a conglomeration of American ideas, but the telephone is the basis of that little pocket computer and I’m quite glad to have one. It’s a nice step forward from the eight party land line I remember as a kid, but then I probably would not waste my money on a cell phone where I grew up in the Salmon River Canyon. They don’t get much in the way of cell service there. But, thank you very much, Mr. Bell, even there the telephone is still available and because of those wires so are computers and the internet. The telephone is, in fact, a great American invention that I am quite happy to use and I am thankful that it is available to me and a part of my American heritage.

98. Airplanes

        

           A teacher in Britain with whom I was working during my Fulbright exchange asked me, in a somewhat condescending tone, why we (Americans) called airplanes airplanes and not the more correct term of aeroplanes, as they are aerodynamic. This was in the spring of the year and I had come to realize the Brits often resent American English feeling we have somehow corrupted the language. As a native speaker of English and one who has spent a great deal of time studying the language I answered him in a proactive way: “We invented the bloody (yes, I inserted a British swear word) things. We can all them whatever we want.”  To this my British colleague responded, “Touché.”

            Of course I got to Britain by plane, even if it was a Canadian owned, American made airplane (which the Canadians also call aeroplane). The things really are American, and while they may be aerodynamic, the proper term is still airplane and that can’t really be taken from us thanks to those   famous brothers from Ohio who first took flight in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Orville and Wilbur Wright. Thanks to them we are able to get from one part of the globe to another in a matter of hours instead of weeks or months.  Because of these very American inventions we can experience the discombobulation of being in Seattle one evening and then London at noon of the next day within a third of a day. So if we had stayed in Seattle we would still be in bed. While jet lag can be a bit disconcerting, it’s overcome fairly quickly and we can quickly relinquish biscuits and gravy for beans and toast all because of this amazing invention that we know as airplanes/aeroplanes. (Beans and toast are not an appropriate breakfast food, but alas…) So yes, I am a love of the American invention that has made it possible to see other parts of the world for a few weeks and other parts of my own country for a few days. Thank you Wright brothers for your American ingenuity and your airplanes.

97. Television

           

           I was born and raised in Idaho, so was Philo Farnsworth. I make no claims to being anywhere as intelligent as Mr. Farnsworth but I am one who enjoys the invention of that somewhat famous Idaho inventor. I don’t know a lot about the man and I suspect, since he spent a great deal of time in Utah, that Utah might actually be the place he worked on his invention that we call television. But Mr. Farnsworth was from Idaho and his invention is American, though I have no doubt that others probably also worked on similar inventions. (As I recall, I drove through a town in Scotland that made similar claims to television.) At any rate, I like TV.

            I don’t wish to claim that television isn’t like every other technological invention mankind makes. I know its purposes can be both good and evil, but I try to enjoy its better purposes. I like how it can bring books to life. It can take real things happening one place in the world into another part of the world. I like all of those things. I’m part of the Baby Boomer generation, so I’m in that first generation of people who actually grew up with television. It probably is no great surprise that I like it.

            I wouldn’t say I’m a television addict because I don’t spend tons of time watching it. I am also very capable of living without it. I can easily entertain myself with a garden and books and, in fact, that’s what I usually do. But it’s still nice to spend some time watching some police show like “Blue Bloods” or a drama like “This is Us.” And I’m not shy about admitting to having been a fan of the old shows like “Sanford and Son” and “All in the Family.” Those are aspects of television and American culture that I have always been steeped in and I don’t have any problem with taking pride in that cultural heritage. So from one Potatohead to another, I thank you, Mr. Farnsworth, for inventing television.

96. Western Red Cedars

There are many beautiful trees in Idaho and northern Idaho is draped with forests nearly everywhere. This is my home and I love the forest. Growing up on the Salmon River made me realize that that river is a boundary in Idaho, not only for the time zone but also types of trees. You don’t see Western Red Cedar south of that river.

            Now I live north of the Salmon and cedar trees are everywhere. There are ancient cedar groves scattered throughout the state. The largest tree in the United States that is not on the Pacific coast or in the mountains of the west coast states is an old cedar tree in the Clearwater country just out of Elk River. While it is in an isolated area and doesn’t get the visitors of the Redwoods, it does command some respect. It’s not alone either. There are several giants surrounding it, but if you go you will know you’ve found the right one by the boardwalk that has been built around it. It’s over 3,000 years old.

            I love going to these old cedar groves that are scattered around the northern part of Idaho. Most of them are in fairly remote areas which explains why the lumber barons of the early twentieth century didn’t log them off. These groves always feel like you’re entering a cathedral. The scent of the trees is like incense, the tree trunks themselves are the vaults that raise your eyes to the fretted canopy of the ceiling through which you can often see the heavens. These groves provide a refuge from everything, so it’s no wonder I am in awe of them. Everyone should be.

            So there are varieties of trees that sprinkle our country that make our country particularly unique. One of those happens to be the Western Red Cedar, a tree that is especially prolific in the forests of the inland Pacific Northwest. Just one more thing to be particularly proud of in this beautiful country of ours.

95. California Redwoods

            I am a lover of trees. It comes from growing up in Idaho, the most forested of all the western states. As you have probably surmised I am fascinated by how such gigantic creatures can live so long. So, in mentioning gigantic, I have to travel to California and tell you about the Sequoia and Redwood trees. These trees are so large that they have had sections hewn out of them large enough to drive cars through!  To me they seem a close relative of the Western Red Cedar in my neck of the woods with their tiny cones and scale like leaves rather than needles like the other evergreens.

            The Sequoia trees of Sequoia National park are not quite so tall as their coastal Redwood brethren with their own Redwood National park, but they are still the largest trees—Sequoia National Park is where the largest tree in the world is. I haven’t seen those, only the coastal trees, but I am still amazed by the grandeur and age of these amazing trees.

            Whenever I get a little down about all the craziness of American humanity, the politics of our country in general, I just want to run away. And, living in Idaho, I’ve always been able to do that out in the woods so I have fallen in love with trees. We are lucky to live in such an amazing country where there are such amazing trees, the oldest and largest in the world. The California Redwoods and Sequoia are a sampling of some of those majestic trees and they make me proud to be an American even when other things might get on my nerves. A nice drive down the California coast and the Redwood forest is both an escape and a moment of great American affection for me, so I am very thankful for the California Redwood forests.

94. Bristlecone Pine Tree

            Some of the oldest living beings on our planet are the Bristlecone Pine trees. They grow in the mountains of the Great Basin Desert of the Southwest. The oldest known of these ancient trees has been found to be over five thousand years old. They are known to survive some of the harshest weather conditions from storms and extreme heat and cold. Not only are they the longest living creatures on our planet, they are the most resilient creatures on our planet. I suppose that goes without saying.

            Of course these aren’t terribly common trees but they are distinctly American and I see them as being very representative of America. I’m not saying they are necessarily examples representing our democracy. Some people still refer to that as the American “experiment” and almost every administration that occupies the White House brings out some doomsday fear in at least a part of our population. So it would certainly be unfair to compare such a majestically resilient tree to our democracy, but it’s not at all unfair to compare it to our people. We are made up of people who have survived incredible odds, suffering persecution from every part of the planet, and then landing on our feet to become some of the wealthiest and prosperous of all nations. And maybe that gamble is why so many of the Bristlecone Pines are in Nevada. J (Ok, I know that’s a stretch.)

            Bristlecone Pines are gnarly, twisted old creatures that can survive almost anything. That’s just one more reason to be really proud of our country. So if you’ve never seen one, go to Great Basin National Park in Nevada and have a look at one of these most amazing of creatures, most amazing of trees, the Bristlecone Pine Tree.

93. Raccoons

            There’s a nocturnal animal here in America that always fascinates me. It’s the raccoon. Their tails have rings around them and their faces have a little mask around their eyes as if they are little bandits coming to steal things. In fact, they are. If you have property anywhere near them and like to grow a garden be aware that they will come in the night and raid it.

            Raccoons have captured the imagination of many an American boy. When you live in rural areas hunting is a big thing and the hides of raccoons have some value. I can’t tell you how many of my students who aren’t normally readers have fallen in love with the books Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls and Rascal by Sterling North. And, of course, those were also both favorites of me as a young boy.

            My actual encounters with raccoons are infrequent, but I typically see them once or twice a year. The always seem to live near rivers as do I, so it’s not unusual for me to encounter them at night crawling into a culvert to hide from me. I’ve seen them while running in the cool of a summer evening or driving home from somewhere just after dusk. They are very elusive and encounters with them are not nearly as frequent as the two books I mentioned earlier would leave you to believe. I’m sure that’s why they have always captured my imagination. As a boy I used to think I might just befriend one and have it hang out with me like Rascal in North’s novel. But of course that never happened.

            Just like so many things in our lives, our imaginations are captivated by them. Raccoons happen to be very real but a part of their mystique isn’t real at all. They are something that always of a warm evening lurks just on the edge of my yard, my imagination, waiting to steal my corn or, just maybe, come over for a pet before sidling out of my dreams. Raccoons are a distinct part of Americana and I’m thankful for that.

92. Opossum

            While I’m going on about American animals that I am glad to have around—animals that I am glad to have around, animals that add to our American identity—I can’t forget the opossum, the only marsupial of North America. These little creatures are native to the south so I haven’t been around them a lot, but they have made it to the milder parts of the Northwest and can frequently be found as road kill in the Portland, Oregon metropolitan area. This is where I am familiar with these odd little creatures. More often than not they are illustrated as cute furry little animals with long tails that they hang by from tree branches. In reality they aren’t all that cute but more rat like. (As you may have gathered, I’m not a fan of rats.) However, they dwarf rats. So, perhaps I am more fond of the imaginative ‘possum than the real one, but there could never be an imagined ‘possum without a real one. So they have earned my respect as distinctly American creatures. They have added joy to our vernacular English as well because what American doesn’t know what it is to play ‘possum? There it is and then there it is not! Elusive and amazing little creatures that add so much to our identity in all its complexity as Americans. Ugly or not, who can’t be proud of these little southerners serving as Northwest road kill?

Running in just spring

            In just spring I want to get into better running shape but the world is so often puddle wonderful and I don’t want to go out because I get wet and I wear glasses and I’m rendered blind with them or without them. But then if I don’t run I just become a little lame balloon man that is overweight and out of shape and I can’t even walk and when eddieandbill come running from marbles they pass me by and whistle far and whee…

            e e cummings is a favorite poet of mine and I felt compelled to honor his poem “In Just” while I write about running. I’m not sure my running issues fall too in line with that poem but in some ways they do. Certainly I am tempted to just run away from running—to not do it (and in my interpretation the little lame balloon man is a sort of devil tempting the children into some sort of perdition). When I am out of shape running becomes hard. Spring rains are more-often-than-not cold and that can just add to the misery of out of shape running. And I do wear glasses so I can’t really see much when I’m running in the rain. Of course I can wear a hat with a bill to keep the water off my glasses and, of course, I do. But then I am forced to duck my head so that I still see nothing very clearly. To not run is a huge temptation.

            So in just spring I find running to be very labor intensive and I am not the dedicated young man I once was who seldom missed my run. But I still love the affect it has on my body, making me thinner, keeping my blood pressure low, and keeping those second guesses about hard work at bay. So while aging has made so many things in life much easier (teaching, speaking, reading, socializing, etc.) running is definitely not one of them. But the benefits are still outweighing the downside so I will continue to make myself lace up those trainers, throw on a water resistant jacket and a billed cap and go out and run in just spring when the world is mudlucious.

91. Armadillo

I go on about American animals that I like but so far they’ve all been from my part of the country. That’s because I’m quite partial to the Northwest. but there are other uniquely American animals (and when I say that I really mean North American) that also captivate my imagination. One of those is the armadillo. I can’t say I know a whole lot about them and I live where there aren’t any so they have no sense of being a nuisance to me. They just have that curious appearance of some kind of armored rodent. I’m thinking more in line with a gopher. I think an armored rat would be terrifying and armadillos aren’t quite so ugly. But, like I said, I live where there aren’t any armadillos and they don’t present any sort of nuisance to me. So for me, the idea of little armored gophers roaming the expanses of Texas seems kind of romantic. I know that’s not how it is, but that is the truth of imagination. And that’s just one thing an armadillo offers us Americans and that’s something worth having around.

90. Grizzly Bear

            

            An animal that captivates me in this country of ours is the grizzly bear. They aren’t so easy to find anymore, at least not here in the contiguous 48 states. In fact, I have never seen one in the wild anywhere but in Alaska. We were on a tour bus in Denali National Park and when we got to a spot where there were some grizzlies roaming near the road, the driver pulled over to let us observe the bears. The bears were every bit as curious as we, the tourists on the bus were, because two of them came over, stood on their hind paws, put the front on the bus and peered into the windows. They even playfully shook the bus. (Hungrily shook the bus?) None of us were overly alarmed as the driver had already told us that it was a distinct possibility that they would do just that. So we tourists took our time gazing at the bears that also took their time gazing at us, then they got tired or bored of us and wandered away. The bus driver then drove us on toward Denali peak.

            I have never seen grizzly bears anywhere in this part of the country, though I know they are still around in Washington, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. I’ve heard stories of grizzly encounters at Priest Lake, Glacier National Park and Yellowstone National Park, but it was never my experience. I’m glad they’re still around and that human encroachment upon their territory has not yet fully overcome them. In fact, I hope it never does. I like having places of intense beauty around with intense animals that can easily destroy me with a single wave of their paw. I also like the idea of never meeting one on a hike because I’m more enamored of the idea than the reality. My tourist bus encounter in Alaska was enough to convince me of the power of a grizzly bear and that’s fine by me. But I’m still quite happy knowing that I live in a country, and better yet, a part of that country, that is still wild enough to have grizzly bears roaming free. That’s part of being American that brings me a sense of pride and helps me keep negative thoughts at bay.

89. American Bison

            One of the symbolic animals of the American West that I really admire is the bison, sometimes known as the buffalo. I’ve never seen large herds of them on the Great Plains—in fact, when I’ve seen them in the plains states they were domesticated and being raised for their meat. Where I have seen them in the wild is in Yellowstone National Park and the surrounding areas of southern Montana. They always seem so benign that they deceive tourists. Sometimes they seem more statuesque than living, sitting or standing so still for great spans of time, usually near a geyser or a colored mud pot. Nearly every year someone in the park is trampled and killed by a charging buffalo. I can easily imagine it, walking along a park boardwalk, getting close to that statuesque creature just to see if it is really alive and then suddenly it proves to be more alive than you ever were, trampling you into a bloody mound in the mud of a hot spring.

I have never been the tourist who even begins to get so close to those extra-large cattle. I live where moose and bear have both wandered through my lawn, so I know they aren’t just larger versions of a stuffed toy. Sometimes I wonder if in that moment of charging the buffalo collectively remembers all the slaughter and carnage our species inflicted upon them and suddenly its rage can no longer be contained in some symbol we used to stamp upon our nickels. When I am envisioning this (for I have never seen a tourist succumb to such stupidity near wild animals) I can’t help but hold a great amount of respect for such a noble creature that represents a different era and a sense of freedom that no longer exists in the way it once did. Now they are confined to a few farms, and a national park and its surroundings. It doesn’t even roam free on our currency anymore. I probably am more reminded of loss when I see the bison, but I’m glad there are a few of them still around, still taking moments to exalt themselves above human stupidity. I am a great admirer of the American bison, a reminder of a beautiful, violent and tumultuous history.

88. American Sense of Responsibility

Typically, I am impressed by the American sense of responsibility and concern. We take care ourselves and our own and more often than not we take care of others. Whenever we fall into troubles over this sense of responsibility is when we debate about how or if we should take care of something or someone. If you consider our poor healthcare system you would think we were the worst people in the world for being responsible, but in reality we’re too caught up in debating how that care should be done. So in the meantime, while our policy wonks debate this problem, real Americans take up the responsibility by being first responders, doctors, nurses, neighbors who make meals for the sick or bereaved, and neighbors who raise funds to help those in difficult situations. Americans pitch in. We may blunder, make mistakes and stumble like blind people but we try to take care of ourselves and our neighbors. This trait allows us to be both loved and despised. When we are despised it is because sometimes we’re over eager to help the rest of the world and the rest of the world may not really want help. That same thing can happen at home. Sometimes people just want us to mind our own business. Personally, I can forgive a blunder here or there when I know it is out of concern for my wellbeing. I admire the American sense of responsibility, and aspire to it.

87. Climate Varieties

           This morning as I write this it is -5 degrees F here on the edge of the Palouse grassland where it meets the forest of the Bitterroot Mountains. It is cold and wintery here but I just spent the weekend on the Snake River plain where the weather was sunny and promising of spring. There weren’t any snow banks and I felt comfortable to be outside without a coat just soaking up the sunshine. I live in a state with a variety of climates from high desert to temperate rain forests.

            The United States has even more climate varieties than just the state of Idaho. Right now I could find even colder climates on the vast arctic tundra of Alaska or I could be sunning myself in the semi-tropical beaches of South Florida. We live in a country that has any climate the northern hemisphere has to offer. I feel very fortunate to have been to all fifty of these United states and to have experienced at least a portion of what those states and their climates offer. I am prone to loving all four distinct seasons so I’m lucky to live where I do. But at this time of year when it should be turning to spring yet winter has a firmer grip on us than it has all season, I dream of swimming with sea turtles on a beach in Hawaii. While work usually prevents me from doing that, I have had the chance to do it. I know all kinds of retired people who leave their northern homes to winter in Arizona or southern California. We are fortunate as a nation to have the opportunities that we do in regard to visiting and experiencing a variety of climates without ever leaving our homeland. This is just one of the many hundreds of things that I am thankful for as an American, so when I’m grousing about scraping the ice off my windshield or hearing the latest news about some idiotic politician I can imagine hiking amongst saguaro cacti and then when I’m by the fire with a cup of coffee I can plan my trip there and go for that hike in the desert.

My Winter Running

            It is still very much winter here. (The photograph is from January between snows when most everything was melted away.) We now have a couple of feet of snow and most days the temperature is not above freezing. It’s very beautiful but not so conducive to running and I haven’t gone for a single run the entire month of February. This, of course, means I’m getting out of shape.

            Don’t get me wrong, I love to run but when the snow gets so deep you can only run on the pathways that are plowed which means either the roads or the walking path in the park. All of those places are icy or there are cars and ice. I’m well aware of the fact that when I fall I easily break, having broken my hand a few years ago from a fall while (you guessed it) running.

            So instead of running, I’ve been going on walks. I walk for two or three miles about every other day, usually in the park. There are good things about walking and winter because it slows you down and you see more. I do enjoy that. And I also do some cross country skiing, though this year I have not because I am lazy about dealing with all of the equipment and paying for park and ski passes when I know I’ll probably only get to the groomed trails once or twice. And where I would go right around here by the river there have been moose hanging out so I don’t really relish the idea of a moose encounter on skis.

            So basically I am confessing a sense of guilt about not running (even if I have legitimate concerns) and regret for falling out of shape. I think I should probably consider gym membership for the winter months. I could run and bike for an hour every other day on a treadmill or stationary bike. I’ve never had a gym membership but I think it is time that I seriously consider it if I’m growing so old that I’m concerned about falling on ice. I can say my shoulders and arms are getting stronger. There’s lots of snow to shovel and I have been shoveling it. But March workouts are still probably going to kick my butt. (That’s the end of this week!)

Do not ask me why I am grouchy

Do not ask me why I am grouchy.

Youth should not question the depth of my age.

Quiet yourself and then I’ll be happy.

Though middle aged men may tarry

Hoping the young their minds to engage,

Do not ask me why I am grouchy.

Good students do not swear, are not cagey.

Their good deeds will be seen in my wage.

Quiet yourself and then I’ll be happy.

Urchins are caught in acts quite unruly

And learn too late they have earned my rage.

Do not ask me why I am grouchy.

Young men, tempting death, need not harry

Mine eyes could be softened like those of a mage.

Quiet yourself and then I’ll be happy.

And you, my students, there looking weary,

Curse, bless me now with your ability to engage.

Do not ask me why I am grouchy,

Quiet yourself and then I’ll be happy.

86. Unalienable Rights

            I spoke about American initiative and imagination earlier and I mentioned how it makes us an inventive country. It also makes us a contagious country. By that I mean that people want to come here. People want to enjoy the freedoms and ideals that we set forth at the founding of our nation. People do believe that all mankind are “created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

            Here in the United States we work to ensure those rights. And yes, it creates a steady stream of conflict. How do we assure those rights? How do we assure that everyone that has those rights doesn’t interfere with another person’s rights? We established a constitution that offers us recourse when our unalienable rights are being denied. We established a constitution that we use to organize our nation and our belief systems to ease the conflicts that inevitably arise from there being so many of us, so many individual ideas, so many conflicting ideas.

            I’m an American and I have a tendency to think there are quite a few crazy people in this country, but I fully believe they have an innate right to be crazy. And like most of the Americans I know, I fight to maintain those rights. My point in this little diatribe isn’t how much I love the constitution, but how much I love the structure and ideals of this country that keep our natural human selfishness in check. I think the American initiative to support humanity is commendable no matter how often it seems to fail, because Americans get right back up and try again to support humanity and to fight against inhumanity. Just one more reason to love America.

86. American Initiative

            While sometimes it gets us into trouble, Americans are imaginative and confident. We are the people who invent things and put them to use. Yes, others take what we start and run with it, but we imagine and create it.

            Most of us drive cars to work or on vacation. Henry Ford was as American as it gets. And then there is the airplane. Or what about that phone you now carry in your pocket? These things were all invented by Americans. Like the automobile, many of them have very specific people behind them: Orville and Wilbur Wright and Alexander Graham Bell. But others are just collections of people working together. Things like Teflon, the internet, and nuclear weapons were invented by teams of Americans. Americans take initiative and they don’t give up. So in spite of our almost severe individuality we still work together for common goals.

            This is something I love about my country and living here. And I never really considered that I, too, have this sense of being able to get things done. It’s human to just want to give up when things seem daunting. It’s American to say no to that and to look for help or just pull up our boot straps and do it. Now don’t get me wrong: before being American we are first human so we, too, will give up. But there are enough of us around that we won’t usually accept that from one another.

            So more than any other aspect of being an American, that sense of imagination and confidence in our lives gives me a great sense of pride. Sure we’re anything but perfect, but we try to solve those problems we seek out help. That’s what being American is all about. That’s why I am so proud to be an American.

85. Stable Currency

           

             It’s getting to be less and less necessary to have cash on hand if you want to buy something, so what I’m about to write about might date me. I like the fact that in the US if I have an old coin, say a wheat back penny, I can still spend it. (Though a wheat back penny would garner more value as a collectible item than the value of its coinage.) Once our cash is legal tender it remains such until it is removed from currency and that, in the case of coins, occurs most frequently by collectors wishing to preserve another era of Americana. Of course bills just wear out and are usually destroyed by banks though, of course, many of them are also retained by collectors.

            This legal tender aspect of our currency is not the same in other countries and I am often caught off guard in the UK when I return with cash from a few years back that is no longer acceptable for spending. Stores have sent me away to make cash trades at banks. I guess I can understand it in places like Germany and France where the Deutschmark and Franc have been replaced by the Euro but it isn’t something I would expect in Britain where the pound has been in existence for centuries. I guess the legal tender aspect of our currency makes me feel like maybe, in spite of our relative newness to the cast of nations, we might be one of the more stable countries. So there’s another little tid bit of Americana that most people don’t know, but I’m very thankful for it.