The gear we bring makes us. I decided, in a fit of paranoia, to upgrade. I chose the Osprey Atmos 65. Hear me out!
The pack is substantial. I can carry all of my gear along with some of the boy's. And water. That's important. I don't want him jumping head first into "I'm responsible for all that I do and for the things I don't do" land. He is twelve, about to be thirteen (hands off ladies, his momma is very protective). No sense in ruining it all in one go.
I ordered up a Warbonnet Blackbird hammock, and I am in the process of determining the needs of my tarp. I do have a GoLite Hut1 sitting in the garage. Can I modify it? We'll see.
The biggest thing that is about to happen is a visit to my mother's place. She lives in Gulf Shores. If you know absolutely nothing about Gulf Shores you are about to be educated.
It is in Alabama, and it is on the Gulf of Mexico, and Mobile Bay. I went to school there (University of South Alabama, to be exact), as did my sister. I didn't finish, but my sister did. She is an RN there. Me? I went to Mercer University to study English Lit., and then diddled around with being a cop and school teacher.
Gulf Shores is great if you are a tourist. If you live there? I'm not sure. My wife is all about it. The ocean (despite her aversion to aquatic life forms), the sand (polluted by BP), and the atmosphere (high prices low value). My mom became enamored with the place as a result of her many trips to visit her children while attending school. The beach (which was pristine at the time), and the location (the Lighthouse condominium complex which was reasonable at the time, and still in existence). My mother retired to Gulf Shores. Many people would salivate over having somebody that lived that close to such a location.
I have been to visit my mom and sister (along with her family) several times, in Gulf Shores. Like I said I went to school there. Each time I try to introduce something new. The research facility at Dauphin Island. Hey, let's go to New Orleans (where I spent the bulk of my time). Pensecola? I had to check in there when I was EOD, and spent the best two weeks of my swimming around life there.
The point?
It is never what you see. The scenery can change, but the person has to as well. If the person does not change the scenery doesn't matter. It could be a creepy ol' house (see above), or a palace. The end result will be the same. A discontent human, with minor complaints, and crappy pictures.
My Mom contracted West Nile and encephalitis/meningitis. That is a result of living on the Gulf Coast. Nice.
You can hike hundreds of miles on the AT and come down with Lyme disease. That is a result of location. Earthquakes and hurricanes hit different locations. Your misfortune is a result of the scenery.
I wonder about that house (the creep one I posted). My son, the ever vigilant doctor to be, swears he never saw it. It might seem creepy. Haunted even. But is it? It might be a place where several generation interacted, cooked, cleaned, and lived. Maybe one of them went on to work at the railroad. Maybe that house is not haunted with anything ominous, but something decent, good. or even not haunted at all. Maybe it was a starting point. A family gave birth to children, a father worked a field, a mother taught, and one of those kids decided to do something different. Took their father's mechanical skills, and their mother's folk skills... Went on to make music, or paintings, or stories. Maybe an unknown Elvis lived there? Or a Frida? Is it still haunted?
A few miles later we came upon a concrete manufacturing plant. Solid. Right?
I thought about that house (the one my son insists was never there). Maybe there is somebody, somewhere, even in Gulf Shores, chomping at the bit. Wanting, yearning. The scenery does not matter.
I was a police for many years. I walked away from it. Practical retirement. I still have friends that are near and dear to me doing it. They are disgruntled, hurt, damaged. Maybe they are like that house?
When we hit the trail in late February it is with the intention of taking five million steps, or there abouts. What will I consider with those steps?
A life where sacrifice was the cause: I served in the military, and I served on the streets. I will walk off that. The R. Gilstraps of the world (how I wished he would be more concerned for his mother) and the poor people in that mill village.
A life of anger. Political in nature, and rearing its ugly head.
A spiritual life. We are all part of the whole. I am not sure what that entails, or what the end result will be.
God. I am sure there is one. I hope my son realizes it as well.
Dogs. If anything concerns me the most I hope to find out that Baptists are wrong in their assumption that they do not have souls. Thanks Gidgette, Belle, Molly, Ballew, and Abby (Chupacabra). This goes without saying, but I do have the inkling that all life is connected and has a purpose. That being said I wonder about the lives we consider lesser. I am still convinced, however, cats are minions of the interloper and Morris and Muffin went to their reward with the dark one. Sorry. My dog (Lola) made me do it.
Money. I do not think money is necessary. It is a joke and ploy distributed by those in power (see above, politics and anger).
Five million steps? That is an endeavor. Springer Mountain to Katahdin. Over 2000 miles. Can I pack all of it into an Osprey Atmos65? Don't know. Does it matter? It is only a pack, after all.
