Tradition

Some families maintain traditions steeped in historical, religious, or ethnic meaning. In our family, traditions usually come about as a result of having done something fun and the desire to repeat it again and again. Of course each time we repeat our traditions they take on a slightly different flavor but we savor them nonetheless.

Such is the case with our Easter tradition.

Several years ago we decided to spend Easter weekend at a small, semi-rustic cabin in the mountains. Our kids were getting older and increasingly busy with jobs, friends, and various activities. Family time became scarce, so we opted for a weekend devoted to just being together, bonding, and having fun. That year we enjoyed the time so much it kicked off a tradition of going to the mountains every Good Friday and staying through Easter weekend. With the five of us crammed into a tiny two-bedroom cabin there is plenty of opportunity for laughter, deep conversation, game playing, and soul restoration.

There's also time for our annual headgear photo. This is the first one. It is also my favorite because it captures a sponteneous moment when Steve said something that made us all laugh just as the camera shutter clicked.

Easter 2007

 

One hallway in our house is now lined with framed images from each of our subsequent holiday weekends. They make me happy every time I look at them.

 

This year our weekend had an extra little twist that added to our bank of memories.

 

Anna took the train home from college on Friday morning and after picking her up, packing, and loading the car, we set out on our journey. We didn't time our departure very well and ended up in the stop-and-go traffic of people headed to a Rockies baseball game. When we finally made it to Boulder we decided to make a quick biology stop. After a few minutes we were ready to make the last trek to the cabin but our Jeep had other ideas. It wasn't going anywhere. Steve checked everything he could think of under the hood but eventually announced that the vehicle needed to be towed to the nearby repair shop.

 

This was not part of the original plan.

 

Getting to the mountains without a car was going to be tricky.  Fortunately Parker lives in Boulder and has a Jeep of his own. Unfortunately he was working in Denver. We unloaded our belongings onto the curb.

 

Watched as our vehicle got towed away.

 



 

And looking a bit like refugees from the city, awaited Parker's arrival.  It was well after dark when we finally made it to the cabin but eventually we all arrived safely and ready to immerse ourselves in the joy and relaxation we've come to expect.

 

On Sunday it was time to take our annual Easter Family Photo. We had recently been having a conversation about eventual changes to the photo. Our children are now all young adults and we anticipate the day will come when 'add on' family members may be joining our little fivesome. Steve and I have discussed at what point these fictitious but anticipated, someday, additional family members will be invited to join the photo...and our expectation that they won't fuss about having to wear something on their heads.

 

Sadie was our additional family member guinea pig. Okay, she is actually a dog, but anyway, she was our first addition. I'd like to say she didn't fuss about having to wear something on her head but I'd be lying. She fussed. A lot. Should human additional family members cause that much commotion about it they will probably be thrown out of the family, but we cut Sadie some slack and she eventually complied.

 

Happily.

Easter 2014



As it does every year, Monday arrived much too soon and we were forced to leave our little mountain Utopia and return to real life. As we headed into Denver we got a call about our Jeep. It seems some little, but important, thingy had broken and the only way to fix it is to rebuild the engine.

 

Turns out the weekend ended up being a lot more expensive than we had anticipated but that didn't stop us from having fun, taking our annual headgear photo, and trying out the new family member requirements.

 

I'd like to go on record, however, by stating that as much as I love our traditions, if I get to choose, I think I'll take fussing new family members in bunny ears over engine repairs.

 

Some things just don't need to become traditions.

 

 

 







Blue Lips and Pink Gloss

I love hiking 14ers.

Okay, that isn't really true. I love having hiked 14ers. Hiking and having hiked are two different experiences. I can think of a number of things in life that feel that way; a heck of a lot of work to finish but once accomplished, well worth the effort.

Last week Anna and I hiked to the top of Mt. Evans with our hiking buddies, Tambra, Kristine, Jackie, and their ever cheerful dog, Ginger. As I took a rest (somewhere in the middle of a gigantic pile of large rocks) and looked up toward a 14,265 foot peak I couldn't even see, I didn't love it so much. In fact, I uttered some choice expletives and asked myself what I had been thinking.

Before every hike I wonder if this is the time I'll be too old, too fat, and too out of shape to reach the top. But then, eventually I do reach the top and the feeling is very different from the feelings I have looking up at a boulder hill with no discernible path except for the placement of a few cairns stacked creatively by helpful souls who sort of forged the way before us. At the top of the 14er the views are amazing and beautiful and majestic. At the top it feels like I can see forever. At the top it feels like I've done something special.

Of course a lot of people hike 14ers. At least a lot of people hike the 'easy' ones like I do. The ones that require walking and climbing but not dangling from ropes or scaling rock walls a'la Spiderman. Those dangling ones are better left to more athletic types. The non-technical hikes are plenty for me. And, seemingly, for many others I meet along the way.

I've noticed hiking people are a friendly bunch. They encourage and support one another in ways I like to hope they display when they aren't hiking up the side of a mountain. 

Once we met one group of hikers who carried a bottle of champagne and some Dixie cups to the top of an over 14,000 foot peak so they could celebrate a woman in their party who had conquered cancer. They offered to include us and the other hikers at the summit in their toast. I chose not to imbibe since considerable exertion and little oxygen were already making me a bit loopy. I cheered for her though. Their party started the hike long before we did and although we are slow hikers, they finished long after we did. It was a powerful and poignant ceremony as they raised their paper cups, cried, and hugged their victorious friend. Nobody watching that could have felt anything but joy for that woman and her companions. Nobody with a heart, anyway. Hikers all around admired her spirit.

Often hikers who are headed down the mountain stop and high-five hikers who are headed up the mountain, offering words of encouragement and estimates about the distance to the summit. I've seen total strangers offer food to others who hadn't brought enough. I've witnessed slower hikers graciously move aside to make room for faster hikers. In all, everyone wants to see everyone else succeed.

There are lessons about life in there somewhere.

Last week as Tambra and I made our slow but steady progress up the mountain we met up with a couple of other women who were hiking together. One was more experienced. The other was hiking her first 14er and struggling quite a bit. Periodically the struggler would stop to take a hit off her partner's oxygen canister while her partner applied pink lip gloss. I've never seen a hiker use an oxygen canister. But then I've never seen a hiker apply lip gloss in the middle of a boulder field either. Perhaps she just wanted to look pretty when she reached the summit. I'm not sure. I considered suggesting that she offer her lip gloss to her friend who was sucking oxygen from a can because at one point when I stopped to breathe and take in the view behind me I noticed the oxygen sucker's lips were blue. For a split second I was about to exclaim, "Oh my...your lips are blue!" but decided better of it. She seemed to be having a hard enough time without being told she looked a little dead. So instead, I pointed out the beautiful view from where we were standing, tried to take her mind off the nausea she said she was feeling, and offered her a Vitamin B capsule.

Lady Blue Lips eventually made it to the summit alongside Lady Pink Lips and I was happy to see that she had succeeded. There is something significant about completing an endeavor that seems insurmountable at points along the way. The first time I hiked at 14,000 peak  I was in the midst of completing my doctoral program. I wrote a blog post about how the hike felt analogous to the daunting work of writing a dissertation.

It is good to succeed and make it to the top. But it is good to see others do the same thing,too.

To say I love hiking 14ers isn't really true. I don't. It is strenuous and painful and at times a little scary. But along the way I've met people who were kind, gracious, caring, giving, encouraging...and now I've met one who even had glossy lips. At the top of a 14er the air is fresh, the views are spectacular, the sky is gorgeous, and the people are good. There are important lessons to learn along the way.

I don't love hiking a 14er. I do, however, love having hiked one.