TRAIL DAY 125
Fri, June 24, 2016 Dr. K. was a little late – something with the dogs.
“Hey! No problem. I am very grateful for your seeing me and picking me up!”
We got to his office. No staff was in yet. He did all the paper work opening a file and filling in insurance forms himself. Amazing!
He took me back and took off my boots. He looked inside and removed the inner soles and put foam pads under each. He cut dead skin off my toes and removed an encrusted inter-digital blister. He put some lotion on my feet and rubbed it in with fingers that knew what they were doing.
Aaaaaaaaah and aaaaaaaaah and. . . .
That was worth the hike from Georgia! If he’d have kept it up, I think I’d still be there.
He educated me on foot and toe management, cut a small silicon tube which he put over my little toes, put a spacer in between 4 and 5 and then packed up a good supply of extras “for the road.”
Part way into my appointment Soren showed up in the waiting area and we called for him to come back to the examining room which he did. Introductions and more information. Dr. K. made a recommendation for breakfast and we were good to go.
We decided to go back to the Travel Center restaurant and sat in a booth to the left as you entered. Our waitress was nice and fun. “Orange juice, two fried eggs over light, hash browns, Scrapple, whole wheat toast and coffee later” is my staple. Ren, as he’s called, probably had lighter fare.
We chatted about his plans for the future which included letting his partners know his goals. When he moved to the CEO post, he was given 5 objectives and when he reported back with his aggressive approach to each, he was shot down on all of them. It was time to recognize that he was more willing to create and risk than his partners who were comfortable with the way things were. He’d fill them in when the time was right.
We talked of the trail and my feet for sure. Many miles back in Pennsylvania Ren had said to me on the phone that I should get off the trail and tend to my feet now or they could “square the whole deal” – put me off the trail for good.
Now, I should add that Ren is very quick. He can assess a situation in a heartbeat and get right to the essence of where things are and where they need to go. With that known, let me reproduce our short conversation:
“Dad, you should get off the trail and tend to those feet right now or you could square the whole deal.”
“Ren, I will amputate before I quit the trail.”
“OK, I’ll send a sharp knife.”
Always a lightning bolt response – I love it!
Being a little anal (“A little?”), I was once scrapping a drop or two of milk left in the bottom of my cereal bowl with Ren next to me. His comment was gentle and quick:
“Dad. It’s all gone.”
While I’m on loving one of my children, let me mention what I have called my logically impossible but absolutely true proof of God’s existence: Each of my children is my favorite!
It is simply fact. You’ve heard a little of Ren. Mare, the other bookend of the brood, who hiked with me near Carlisle, I have long called my TBM: Treasure Beyond Measure. A lithe, light, orderly, busy, compassionate, attentive and productive dancer and massage therapist with an angelic voice who knows how to ask her adoring daddy for (almost) whatever she wants. Fully in control of her faculties and knowing I’ll laugh, she bats her eyelashes and says “Daaaaaadyyyy. . . .”
Christopher: a super husband and dad whose denials help me prove my point. I would never have pegged him as a scholar in his early years but he has become one of the worlds most renowned authorities on the teachings of Saint Pope John Paul II. He teaches all over the world distributing the numerous guidebooks he has written and he has published a dozen or more books on JPII and the church and Popes since his time. He’s an avid skier, cliff-jumper, musician and vocalist, sometimes accompanied by his youngest son, Isaac.
I tell people it’s not a pretty sight to get me talking about my kids. . .but, I’m already started.
Emily has such a profound grasp of the human condition which is evident in her ceramics, painting, recorded songs, and her love for troubled students she has counseled in the Lancaster school system. It is hard not to grow in critical ways in the shadow of her keen insights and unfathomable love.
Now, Nathan, my favorite – yea, right! – they all are! Nathan has the driest, most culturally astute sense of humor that you don’t know is coming until the last word out of his mouth. It extends to gestures and performance of all kinds. He is an actor whose skills got him award and a linguist prompting his French “mother” to say, “Naton, could teach French to da French.” The same is true of Spanish and Creo spoken in Sierra Leone. Add to that German and a little Fond spoken in Benin Africa. Not to mention the music in his bones: his piano and voice for which he has also received high praise and his in-depth appreciation of classic vocalists and composers.
How did I get so fortunate as to have such loving and talented children?
Dare I get started on the woman who bore and raised them with more love than I have ever seen in my life? This woman thrives on beauty – in nature and in the home she creates for her family and friends. She, too, plays the piano and sings and is a meticulous actor. And as much as I love words, no one can put more heart into a sentence or paragraph than my dear wife. And she can cook up a tantalizing meal in minutes. She has many fans on many counts.
Me? I love and serve as much as I am able and I hike in the woods. But you know that and you know, too, how I love words as you slog through this endless re-hiking of the AT.
OK, you’ve met my family. I’ll spare you a review of my eight grandchildren. . .oh. . .it is so tempting – but, feet fixed for the time being, we MUST get back to the AT.
Ren brought me back to the Lodge, I got my gear and with Theo we headed back to the trail, back to 501 up on the ridge. Back to the rocks and the long straight trail – more and more of the same. Nature continued to astound the senses with brilliant colors cradled by an earth that seemed as if it wanted to protect the new arrival as a cave did once.
As the day wore on, there were long sections of straight trail through thin forests and a turn east down a hill to a campsite on the left. AWOL says “picnic table” but there was none. Water was across the trail down a steep bank. I filled up, set up camp and ate against a tree until it started to rain a little.
In my tent, I hit a deep, deep low. My feet were really hurting and the podiatrist’s efforts brought only momentary relief. Pennsylvania’s rocks and daily trekking were taking their toll. I wondered if my own state was going to take me down. My resolve was strong, even against the pain, but I wondered if my body was going to quit on me.
For the first time on the trail, I decided to tune into whatever I could on my cell phone. I went to YouTube and watched America’s Got Talent (AGT). I am deeply moved by the courageous souls who stand up in front of thousands and belt out a song or present other extraordinary talent to the world.
Golden Buzzer Moments were on. Any one of the judges can hit the golden button in the middle of the desk they all sit at and gold foil chips fall from the ceiling signifying that they are going directly to the finals with no need to appear at further eliminations – they are deemed that good. Of course, each judge also has a red button available to activate a thumbs-down buzzer. But this video was dedicated to times warranting the Golden Buzzer. It was thrilling. And the talent awesome.
I drank in each performance as rain pelted my tent and tears filled my eyes with joy for each beautiful moment of unrestrained affirmation.
It is my belief that every one of us craves that kind of approval. In my view, no one on earth can give a more affirming thumbs up than Simon Cowell. Sure, he can be very rough on talent he deems unworthy or downright inane and perhaps his all out bluntness can help a person get a grip and either improve or move to another plan. But it is precisely this tell-it-like-it-is honesty that sends you through the roof with his most sincere and compassionate approval. He truly cares for the brave souls who exhibit their wares to the world in his presence and he feels genuinely privileged to witness the magnificent moments he celebrates with abandon.
They were tears of joy that streaked my cheeks and filled my beard and tears of deep, deep hunger.
I have longed for what I call my Susan Boyle moment. If I could have such a moment signing, I’d be thrilled. Somewhere within is a Pavarotti. My stage so far has been the shower, my car, a little bit on the trail. There is an ocean of life and overwhelming abundance in my soul that longs to come out – to be ex-pressed – to be given away to salve the savage beast in all of us. To inspire. To instill peace. To trigger love. To create a sunrise over a mountaintop. To pierce a cold, dark space with light and warmth. I would need no more in life. I could step off that moment into the home that lasts forever.
My dear son Christopher shares these longings and has a worldwide audience as mentioned. He gives out all he has in his dramatic talks, singing some of his favorite rock songs that have moved him over time, especially from U-2 and Springsteen. He doesn’t shy away from putting himself out there. He has always been a very passionate person and many around the globe are benefitting from his gifted delivery of answers to the profound longings of the human heart.
In appreciation of my trek from Georgia to Maine, while I was still in the south, Christopher imagined that once I arrived at Katahdin – still a very distant goal – I would be ready to say, “Here I am Father. Take me home. It is finished.” A deeply Christian doctor I would soon visit in Wantage, New Jersey, would send me a picture of Christ carrying his cross believing that something of what I was doing partakes in his climb up Calvary.
Perhaps.
But back in my tent, in the rain, with sore feet, celebrating Golden Buzzer Moments, I was in tears, feeling that defeat was possible. Quitting was unthinkable but could my feet carry on? Somewhere within, I knew they would. I would make it all the way. In the conflict of my emotions, I cried out softly in ardent consternation: “I just want to walk to Katahdin.” Theo knew I was struggling.
Maybe the world would not applaud me. That was OK. I wasn’t asking for great talent. “I just want to walk. Can I not even do that?”
Drenched in melancholy, I fell off to sleep.
Day #125 Pine Grove (Route 501) > Hertline Campsite 5.6 miles