Blog – Reminiscing About My Life

I remember those special days … when as a child, we would go yearly to Colorado camping. My father only had 2 weeks off per year. My father was a man of conviction and invented things that have saved thousands of lives of our fellow countrymen and women. He was one of the silent heroes that worked behind the scenes during the Cold War with others when knowing how to keep secrets was essential for the security of our country.

His job required ridiculous hours, and he was never offered any overtime. So, these two weeks was so very important for him. We would pack the car and camper the day before and when he got home from work … we would pile into the car and he would drive all night through the west Texas desert only for us to wake up in the beautiful mountains of Colorado.

It felt like magic.

Out of the flats of Texas into the glorious Rocky Mountains. Our favorite spot was the North Clear Creek Falls campground outside of Creede Colorado.

The Weminuche Mountains are a marvel to be in. Preserved by the National Wilderness Preservation System and Act in 1964. They are a testament to the continued support of our Congress that expanded this area of protection in 1975 and then again in 1980 and 1993. This is rugged country that continues to this day to be wild and free.

It was a great gift my father gave all of us to actually explore these untouched places that hold so much power and that continue to inspire us to remember those things that really matter.

My childhood memories are peppered with the most pleasant and magical moments because of these strikingly beautiful landscapes and places where my soul could run after rainbows, catch trout in the wild streams, and explore hidden waterfalls where muskrats lived.

While I was not really the fishing person, I loved to sit by the river and wiggle my toes in the cold waters of these high mountain peaks. I loved to explore the places where animals could live without worrying about humans invading and causing problems.

I loved watching my sister squeal as she would catch trout so fast that my father could barely get them off her hook and then onto the hooks in the river to keep them for dinner … before she would have another on her hook.

My father would later gut them and then it was my mother’s turn to make a flour and cornmeal breading around them and throw them into a huge cast iron skillet to cook over an open fire. I have never tasted trout as good as those from when I was a child. My mother knew how to cook them perfectly so that the meat fell off the bones and you could take out all the bones in one pass of your knife.

I celebrate the days where my father set the tone for peace.
I celebrate the days where simple things still shine brightly in my life.
I celebrate the days where exploring was the only path ahead.
I celebrate the days where being together mattered more than working.
I celebrate a childhood where my parents found ways to create memories over money.

Thank you, Dad, for knowing that driving all night was worth it to educate us in embracing our wild states.

Thank you, Mom, for showing us how to eat magnificently over an open fire.

I believe children need adventures and moments to immerse themselves into nature. Because of those trips I learned that I was safe in the wild because I too was wild. My father also gave us the great gift of a lake house on Lake Texoma, where every weekend we were gone to the lake house from Memorial Day weekend until Labor Day. Because of him, we had a childhood that was fun and we were able to bring our friends, have sleepovers outside, waterski, and swim.

My family worked very hard, but we also learned to play hard. We learned that life requires sacrifice and effort to make it glorious.

And now, as I sit looking at the endless forest in front of me at my home in northern California, I know my father would be proud. He would have loved this place. He would have loved working the land and being a part of this landscape. I feel him often as I sit looking out on the land. And I feel him smiling.

I know that the animals of this land and I know we are a part of each other’s reality. I am never alone here. The land whispers to me. The birds and I sing to each other. And the small creatures and I learn to share the abundance. It is how I wish this world could become.

I am in my small slice of heaven.

And I am at peace.
~Suzanne Wagner~