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How a Beaver Taught Me to be Free

© Karen E. Lynn

It seems a tad contrite in light of recent events in New York and Washington to discuss hiking gear, or favorite trails, or what kind of trail mix is especially tasty. As I sat down to write about an activity I love, I found myself at a loss for words. It’s been hard to think about hiking and recreating, my thoughts have dwelled more upon the senseless attack on our country. The loss of life, the pain of those who survive the victims, the fear that each American now tries to push down with every deliberate act of everyday life. I see flags on every house, on nearly ever car. People are wearing American flag T-shirts and pins and hats and patches. My house has a flag too. I bought it the day after the attack. As I shopped for a flag at military uniform supply store near the local Air Force base, I asked a man where the American flags were. Annoyed, he motioned past me and said “back there where all the other sleepy Americans are.” I walked past him and joined the other middle class citizens who had never owned a flag before and picked out a tough, all weather 3’X5’ flag. It was the last one.

Wide awake at my kitchen table, my girlfriend and I discussed the endless ramifications of going to war. Mostly, we discussed how we vacillate from feeling ridiculous amounts of fear to ignoring everything and continuing on. We wrestle with these two ends of the spectrum. To feel normal, we pretend nothing happened. But we know it did, and pretending doesn’t honor the dead. When we allow ourselves to feel, we become overwhelmed by the loss of life and what could happen next. Are water supplies safe? Should I cancel my business trip? What exactly are the symptoms of smallpox, or anthrax, and by the time I self diagnosis, will it even matter? You can see how the fear can snowball. But being this afraid doesn’t honor the dead either, so we’re left trying to strike a balance in this brave new world of terror.

Still distraught, I find myself driving to the nearest trailhead. I park my car next to another sporting a bumper sticker that read “Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of joy.” I couldn’t help but shake my head and smirk at the irony. Some of this stuff I just have to laugh off, I thought to myself. I wondered when Saturday Night Live

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