ASSATEAGUE ISLAND - A few years ago my friend Bud, Del and I visited this island by boat. The island contains over 37 miles of pristine beach, and more than 300 wild ponies wander the water around the beaches and salt marshes. Assateague became a National Park in 1965 and together with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service refuge and State Park, the land and water boundaries of Assateague Island total over 48,000 acres in Maryland & Virginia. We were impressed by the beauty of the horses, even though they never experienced the safety and protection of a stable. They seemed to thrive in spite of the scorching heat, mosquitoes, stormy weather and poor quality food found on this remote, windswept barrier island. Local folklore describes the Assateague horses as survivors of a shipwreck off the Virginia coast.
BOULDER, CO - About 12 years ago I attended a series of meetings in this town. After finishing early on the last day, we decided to hike one of the local mountain trails. Of course, Colorado mountains are not Pennsylvania mountains. The trail was steep and some people dropped out halfway up the mountain, since the air was really thin. A few of us pressed on to the top, where we encountered the sign (shown to the left). None in our group even thought about mountain lions, so it wasn't long before we decided to head back down the trail to safety. We spent the remainder of the day safely in downtown Boulder, which turned out to be a really neat town. There were lotsa' coffee shops, musicians and other talented people entertaining all of the guests in the town. It was also nice to be away from mountain lion turf.
TWIN CITIES SKYWAYS - Thirty years ago I was contacted by a local company, asking if I would be interested in a communications position. Since my responsibilities would involve fast pace and high pressure, I had to take psychological testing prior to being hired. They were willing to pay my plane and hotel fare so I said why not give it a shot? I was booked on a flight that would arrive at 1:30 am in the Twin Cities and my psychological tests were scheduled for 7:00am (All part of the company's sneaky plan). I arrived and stumbled through the interviews and got through this silly game. Turns out I got the job! Anyway, the thing I remember about Twin Cities was the above ground walkways. Since it was really cold I appreciated this safe and comfortable access to downtown buildings.
The birthplace of the modern skyway system (network of above ground walkways) was in Twin Cities, MN. Minneapolis was the first city to apply the idea on a large scale. The skyways take people 14 feet above the ground, allowing them to move in between buildings without having to go outside.
SAFE LIVING - Did you notice that I highlighted the word safe in each of these stories? There is a reason. I'll explain by sharing a story by Eugene Peterson in his foreword to Philip Yancey’s book, Church: Why Bother?
“A favorite story in our home as our children were growing up was of John Muir at the top of the Douglas fir in the storm. Whenever we were assaulted by thunder and lightning, rain sluicing out of the sky, and the five of us, parents and three children, huddled together on the porch enjoying the dangerous fireworks from our safe ringside seat, one of the kids would say, ‘Tell us the John Muir story, Daddy.’ And I’ll tell it again.”
“In the last half of the nineteenth century, John Muir was our most intrepid and worshipful explorer of the western extremities of our North American continent. For decades he tramped up and down through our God-created wonders, from the Californian Sierras to the Alaskan glaciers, observing, reporting, praising, and experiencing—entering into whatever he found with childlike delight and mature reverence.”
“At one period during this time (the year was 1874) Muir visited a friend who had a cabin, snug in a valley of one of the tributaries of the Yuba River in the Sierra Mountains—a place from which to venture into the wilderness and then return for a comforting cup of tea.”
“One December day a storm moved in from the Pacific—a fierce storm that bent the junipers and pines, the madronas and fir trees as if they were so many blades of grass. It was for such times this cabin had been built: cozy protection from the harsh elements. We easily imagine Muir and his host safe and secure in his tightly caulked cabin, a fire blazing against the cruel assault of the elements, wrapped in sheepskins, Muir meditatively rendering the wilderness into his elegant prose.
But our imaginations, not trained to cope with Muir, betray us. For Muir, instead of retreating to the coziness of the cabin, pulling the door tight, and throwing another stick of wood on the fire, strode out of the cabin into the storm, climbed a high ridge, picked a giant Douglas fir as the best perch for experiencing the kaleidoscope of color and sound, scent and motion, scrambled his way to the top, and rode out the storm, lashed by the wind, holding on to dear life, relishing weather; taking it all in—its rich sensuality, its primal energy.”
This got me to thinking. The horses on the island are thriving, in spite of not living safely in a stable. We hurried down from the Colorado mountain to be safe in the city. And I was drawn to the skyway to avoid the cold in the Twin Cities.
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