coloradomamma

[coloradomamma]

8 CAMP (part of the FIFTY series)

Dust, dirt, pine needles, pine cones, chipmunks, wildflowers... Sleeping bags, darkness, stars, flashlights, cold showers…

Fake meat, soft serve, striped candy sticks, huge dill pickles...

Freedom, independence, friends, boys, ah yes, boys...

Sleepover camp. Sure bliss. Heaven on earth.

I think I was ten my very first year. Must’ve been past twenty my last. The truth is, when I was little I dreamed of opening a CAMP for “troubled kids”. I thought about it all the time. I wanted to take all the kids who pestered me in school out into the wilderness. I was certain it would “change their perspective” and they would realize there were far greater things in life than bullying me. I just knew if they challenged themselves mentally and physically out in the wilderness (a place most of them had probably never been) they would “come back new kids”. I just wanted to give them a sense of BELONGING, a sense of peace and tranquility that didn’t exist in the city. I just wanted them out of their “comfort zones” and into the outdoors. The woods offered so much more than the city. I just wanted to find a way to help them realize this.

Well, I obviously never opened a camp but I have never stopped thinking about it. In fact, in college I had an assignment in one of my Urban Education classes to “create the perfect environment” supposedly for personal development. (There was very little attention given to social-emotional learning back in the ‘90s.) Yep, you guessed it, my entire project was based on the notion of dumping a bunch of city kids in the woods for summer. I had the location, curriculum, staffing, funding all worked out. It was destined to be, in theory, life-changing for every punk I knew.

My first experience with sleepover camp was the summer of 1981 at Glacier View Mountain Ranch with Chrissy. She was Seventh Day Adventist, as was the camp. (Hence the fake meat and the start of my twenty year long experience with vegetarianism.) But I didn’t care about any of that at ten. I wanted to be outdoors with my best friend. Little did my parents know, the can of worms they would help me open that summer would eventually shape who I would become. For every subsequent summer throughout elementary and middle school we went to Glacier View. First a week, then two, three, then the entire summer. I cannot even imagine how much money my folks plunked into that place. Either they really loved me or really wanted me out of their hair! Regardless, I learned everything about the outdoors (and my ten year old self) at GV. This is where my slight interest in boys and absolute obsession with horses were born.

Next up was Young Life. Once we hit high school life was all Young Life, all the time. Besides weekly “club” we had “snow camp” and “summer camp”. Frontier Ranch is in Buena Vista, CO, near the foot of Mount Princeton. Snow Camp 1986 was my first YL camp experience. It was a blast! The next summer I went back to Frontier for summer camp. This is where I learned survival skills, hiked my first fourteener, further developed my faith, met incredible people (some of whom I am still friends with to this day), and had the time of my life. The following summer I found myself at yet another Young Life camp, this time in the sticks of Northern California, at Woodleaf. I decided to give up my entire summer to volunteer at camp. (I was a teenager; this was a big deal.) The experience changed my life! Woodleaf was in a town called Challenge. It wasn’t until the end of the summer that I would realize how perfect a match. That summer would prove to be the most challenging (physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually) summer (thus far) of my life. I will never forget the kids I met, the staff I worked with, the closeness I felt to God, and the unfathomable strength I acquired. Everything about Woodleaf still resides in a little corner of my heart to this day, over thirty years later.

I would go on to work at various camps every summer of high school, during my gap year and even into college. (Hey, I didn’t want to grow up. So what?!) I went from Cali to Boulder to Seattle. Camp was fun, sure, but it is where I felt my truest sense of BELONGING. I “fit in” at camp. I loved everything about it. Every experience shaped who I am in one way or another. I learned how to navigate a kayak, tie every knot imaginable, identify every body part of a horse, how to (properly) pack a backpack for trekking, how to pretend I was excited about something (for kids’ sake) even if I was bored to tears. I learned that to have deep spirituality and genuine admiration of nature are not necessarily two separate things. I learned how to appreciate every single person I met, how to hold onto those who I needed and those who needed me and to let go of the rest, how to cherish every little experience, and that to be your genuine self is the best way to be. Oh, and a little dirt never hurt.

[coloradomamma]

7 HIGH LINE CANAL (part of the FIFTY series)

The High Line Canal is one of the longest (over 71 miles) continuous urban trails in the country. It runs from Waterton Canyon in the south to nearly DIA in the north. Supposedly over 300,000 residents reside within one mile of the Canal. It not only offers a great source of exercise, but it has a plethora of wildlife to enjoy. The workers who built the High Line Canal more than a century ago didn’t envision that people would be using their project as a recreational outlet in the midst of a busy urban area. In fact, to the builders, the Canal was solely a commercial idea to bring South Platte River water to settlers and farmers following a gold rush in 1859 near the confluence of the South Platte and Cherry Creek. Finally, in 1970, Denver Water lifted its restrictions on the Canal and began a series of agreements with municipal agencies to maintain and safeguard the recreational trail. Who knew what it would become? All I know is when we were growing up there was nothing better than “tubin’ down the canal” on a hot summer day. You see, we lived within STEPS of the Canal. It was awesome! We had the perfect set up. You see, we had two bridges in our neighborhood and both crossed over the canal. We would hop in the canal with our tubes at one end and float all the way to the other. We’d do this a hundred times a day in the summer. So simple, so fun! Sheer JOY. Do you have a favorite childhood “spot” where you grew up? Do you ever secretly go by that spot today and wish it was still as you remember it? I do.

[coloradomamma]

6 MS. PACMAN & MR. MISTY (part of the FIFTY series)

6 Growing up a girl in the 70’s and 80s meant Barbies, Shrinky Dinks, Cabbage Patch Kids, Strawberry Shortcake, anything and everything Star Wars, and of course Atari video games. It also meant riding bikes everywhere, “slip n’ slides”, water balloons, jumping on the trampoline all day long, “tubing” down the canal, and of course going to the arcade to play MS. PACMAN followed by a DQ MR. MISTY. You see, I grew up on the Highline Canal. We lived in “Hutchinson Hills”. When we weren’t outside, we ran around Tamarac Square causing trouble. We roller skated the carpeted hallways of University Hills Mall. We rode water slides at Celebrity Sports Center. But the best of all was that we lived directly across the street from a little strip mall with a PDQ (yep, “Pretty Darn Quick”) convenient store on one corner and a Dairy Queen on the other with an arcade sandwiched in between. Heaven? Yep.

Naturally all of us kids in the neighborhood made a pact to ask for our allowance in quarters. We spent ‘em at the arcade and at DQ. The arcade probably had an agreement with DQ to get all the quarters back to refill the games. For the summers of middle school, I swear our diets consisted solely of chili cheese dogs, fries, and Mr. Mistys! Who knows how I grew to be 5’9” in one summer on that crap.

At night, every kid in the neighborhood would come out to play games in the streets- “Ghosts in the Graveyard”, “Sardines”, “Capture the Flag”, “Pickle”, “Kick the Can”, “Spin the Bottle”... There must have been fifty or more kids some nights! We played from dusk until we’d hear moms call and the very last one of us had gone home. We’d sleep (mostly because we were forced to) and then get up and do it all over again the next day. We had an awesome childhood! If we wanted to find a friend we’d ride bikes to their house looking for them, screaming their name the whole way. If we wanted to go to the arcade we’d rush through our chores or beg for allowance early and head out.

Growing up we had garage sales, lemonade stands, and sold Girl Scout cookies door-to-door. We knew everyone in the neighborhood and they all knew us. The 70’s-80’s was a time of INNOCENCE. It was a time of trust and belief in the honesty & integrity of friends, neighbors, heck even strangers, to all do their part in raising good decent kids for the sake of society as a whole... Believe it or not, for the most part, it worked. At least in our neighborhood, it did. We rarely got in trouble. We rarely lost our minds. We rarely even got out of hand. We rode bikes, played games, jumped on the tramp, had sleepovers, and spent quarters like they were going out of style. Unfortunately for us they did, in fact, just about as fast as they came in. So long Ms. Pacman. We had a great run.

[coloradomamma]

5 LOST (part of the FIFTY series)

5 Have you ever been lost? Turned around on a trail in the mountains? Stuck in the wilderness overnight? It was 1981. I had been with my Great Grandma, Grandma & Mom camping for four days. We had bellies full of raspberries and small shiny, metal cups full of wildflowers. Great Grandma, Tilly was lying in the sun, Granny and Mom were playing cards. It was time for me to explore. I started down the ravine. I went through the stream where all the raspberries lived. I went through a grove of aspen trees. I navigated through a bunch of old, rotting logs. Suddenly, without notice, I was in a wide open meadow. Flowers, trees, bushes, bees, butterflies, everywhere butterflies. There were tall, wispy grasses throughout the meadow, middle of July grasses. The sun was high in the sky, no clouds in sight. The only sound was the quiet trickle of the stream and the incessant buzz of the bees as they moved from flower to flower. The ground was soggy from the stream, yet the air was hot and dry. The sweet smell of raspberries floated in on the warm summer breeze. Within minutes I was at the end of the open meadow heading back into the woods on the other end.

Wait. Woods? These woods? Those woods? Which way did I come in? Where is the stream? Uhhhh... All of the sudden my heart was in my throat! My mouth was dry yet the back of my neck was starting to drip with sweat, dripping down my back sweat. I glanced down to take a quick inventory: tshirt, shorts, sandals. No water bottle, no compass, no bug spray or sunscreen. I was only going out for a "little walk" after all. I had no plans of going far or for long. I took a deep breath. I immediately felt a wave of sheer PANIC fill my body, cloud my mind. I surveyed my surroundings. Every tree looked exactly the same. Every flower white or yellow, red or blue…My mind was racing. Stop. Breathe. Think.

"Mooooooooooommmmmm!" "MOM!" "Mmmmom!" "MOM!" I sat down in the middle of the meadow and cried. (I was ten.) I was scared. I was a kid lost in the forest. I had no skills to navigate my way out. I had no tools to help me find my way. I had fear and nothing more. I knew nothing about "turning fear into strength". I was ten years old! I didn’t care one ounce about "finding myself”. I just needed to find my mom. I was LOST.

For future reference, should you find yourself lost...

[coloradomamma]

4 STARS (part of the FIFTY series)

4 I have never been afraid of the dark. Have you? I’m truly not even afraid of the wilderness at night. There are creatures out there, I know, but they don’t necessarily scare me. I have always enjoyed camping, star gazing, night hikes, spooky haunted hay rides, anything fun at night. I guess I am the epitome of a “night owl”. When my Granny and I spent nights away camping we would stay up well past sunset, past that point (between sunset and moonrise) where it’s so dark you cannot see your hand in front of your face- until the STARS began to pop, one by one. Little by little the sky would fill with stars. Endless stars! Bright stars. Dim stars. Big stars. Tiny speck stars. Everywhere you looked there were stars. We often took blankets out to the aluminum lawn chairs and just sit and watch, silently, almost breathlessly.

This is when Granny and I first decided that stars were actually little openings in heaven allowing those we’ve lost to shine down on us. Granny thought the stars were kind of like a signs or messages from those we’d lost whispering, "Everything is fine." Of course, at the time I hadn’t lost anyone close to me, so I just figured it was God looking down on us. I suppose that was all the REASSURANCE I needed to know I was safe, cared for, loved. It would not be until many years later I would come to realize the gravity of those moments and the relevance of the stars yet to come.

Have you ever gazed into the dark night sky? How you ever lied in the grass for hours counting falling stars? Have you ever experienced a meteor shower? Do you believe in Heaven (or a place where loved ones go after death?) Have you ever lost a loved one, two? Next time you are out late at night, look up into the sky and think about someone you lost Look up into the stars and imagine your loved one peering down on you. I promise you will feel an enormous sense of comfort, relief. If you listen close enough you may even hear a reassuring whisper… “everything... is just fine.”

[coloradomamma]

3 WILDFLOWERS (part of the FIFTY series)

3 Growing up in Colorado we were taught the name of every “fourteener”, every type of tree, every bird, land animal, fish and every wildflower… Most true Coloradoans know their mountains, at least the “fourteeners”. Most know the difference between a Blue Spruce and a Lodge Pole Pine. Everyone knows the leaf of an Aspen. Some think the Colorado State Bird is the crow (“because there are so many of them”), but most know it’s the Lark Bunting. Most can recognize the “Rocky Mountain” trout as the “Rainbow Trout”, but only few can identify the Colorado State Fish. Can you? (Answer below.) If you’re from Colorado and can’t identify the Columbine, you had better do some studying (or just don’t tell anyone).

I have spent my entire childhood searching for, researching, photographing, drawing, admiring WILDFLOWERS, Colorado alpine wildflowers. If you look, they are just about everywhere! My grandma knew the name of every single one. As a kid, I would ask her, “What’s the red, spikey one called?” “Indian Paintbrush”, she’d reply without hesitation. “What about the dainty blue one?” “ Blue Bells, of course”, she’d say. I loved that about my grandma. She knew the names of every wildflower, every evergreen tree, every deciduous tree, every mountain, every river… she even knew the names of rock outcroppings- “Elephant Rock”, “Devil’s Head”, “Bird Bath Rock”. She taught me that to have a love for nature one must have an APPRECIATION, and with that comes gratitude. You must first notice, appreciate, and then show gratitude.

I think of my Granny every time I see wildflowers, especially our Colorado State Flower, the Columbine. I stop, notice it, appreciate its unique delicate beauty, and then quietly give thanks for the Columbine… and for Granny.

[coloradomamma]

2 RASPBERRIES (part of the FIFTY series)

2 Growing up I spent a tremendous amount of time with my mom, grandma and great grandma. Yes, we had four generations of females alive in our family for quite some time. We all had the quintessential German stubbornness that brought us together. If great grandma Tilly wanted to watch baseball, we all were watching baseball for the afternoon. If grandma Norma was making pickle relish a week from Friday, we were all expected to make pickle relish a week from Friday. If mom (a hair dresser at the time) was going to color, set & style granny's hair Tuesday, I was expected to get my Barbies and roller skates packed for a trip to granny's on Tuesday. Like it or not, this is how it went. This didn't bother me, for the most part, because I adored both my great grandma & grandma. I nearly always welcomed a visit.

The four of us were quite similar in many ways. We all enjoyed being outdoors, we all had a genuine love of nature, and (for better or for worse) we all had a hint of bitterness hidden beneath a thick layer of SWEETNESS. Just like the raspberry- we started out a tad bitter and became sweeter and sweeter the more time spent in the warm sunshine. The best quality we all shared though was a keen appreciation of our own company. This was not a selfishness, it was a sense of comfort and serenity that only came by being alone. Fortunately, we had the perfect place to hide away. Granny had a bit of land in the middle of Pike National Forest and thankfully she was willing to share it. As a kid, this bit of land was the best place on earth!

As soon as summer came to Colorado, the four of us would load up some water, snacks, games, and head to the hills. I think, technically, it was just over an hour from home, but as a kid full of anticipation, it felt like forever! Not five minutes upon arrival, Tilly had her aluminum lawn chair unfolded and ready for lounging. Norma had to hook up the make-shift water supply system, connect what little electricity we had, and clean up from the squirrel party that was had in our absence. Meanwhile, mom and I immediately set out in search of wild RASPBERRIES. You see, there was a small creek that ran through the property allowing just enough moisture for berries to thrive, and did they ever! We had an unofficial “eat one, save one” policy and regardless, our buckets overflowed. Whether we went in May or September, there were a gazillion raspberries all for us! Sweet, soft, plump, juicy wild raspberries.

Any chance I get to enjoy fresh raspberries, raspberry ice cream, raspberry yogurt, raspberry cookies, candies, cake... I take it and remind myself to always be sweet. What treat do you enjoy? Anything yummy remind you of a special time/place? Remind you of a secret or promise with a childhood friend? Go enjoy!

[coloradomamma]

1 BIRTHDAYS (part of the FIFTY series)

1 I was born on Thanksgiving Day. I was born in Denver, Colorado at what was Rocky Mountain Hospital. It was just about dinner time and when I was born my mom called my dad (who was not allowed in the delivery room) and said, “The turkey is done and it’s a GIRL!” I came home a week later in a homemade cornucopia. Just kidding.

The truth is, I have never really liked BIRTHDAYS. One, I despise the spotlight. Two, sharing a holiday with an over glamorized stuffed bird is somewhat deflating. I mean, I’m not one for attention, but to compete with the nation's most beloved holiday of the year, come on!

Instead of celebrating, I like the notion of designating birthdays as NEW BEGINNINGS. Instead of subscribing to the “New Year, New You” malarkey of January 1st, I use each November 25th as a day to let go of old, to embrace the new. Over the years it has become a day to set new goals and search for tools to accomplish them. Give it a try on your next birthday; you may just be amazed at what you find.

Happy Birthday to YOU.

[coloradomamma]

FIFTY

As I approach my fiftieth birthday, I keep thinking of incredible, life-changing experiences to plan for myself... get a new tattoo, go sky diving, hike El Camino, kayak the Grand Canyon, swim with dolphins... Then I realized that none of those things would mean as much as a genuine, heartfelt reflection on the first half of my life. This would be for fun, of course, but also as a cathartic exercise to learn, grow, and perhaps make the next fifty even better. So, I have decided to highlight 50 discoveries from my first fifty years. I'll be posting thoughts from my birth day in 1971 until my 50th birthday in 2021. I hope you enjoy my posts. May each be a new insight or a refreshing reminder for you. May each bring forth a fond memory or allow a dream of yours to take flight. May each cause you to pause, take a deep breath, sigh, chuckle, or perhaps shed a tear. Most importantly, may each encourage you to get up, get out the door and discover more!

Here we go...

I'm not the only one turning 50 in 2021...