Yesterday, Two Loves Walked Out Of My Door

One of my loves walked out of my building and out of my life. It was a lovely late morning. I was handed $50.00. We parted with only a few words. Then, around 4:00 pm, a second love departed. I was left hold $150.00. Cash. Unmarked bills.

I know what your thinking, but it’s far worse than that. These ‘loves’ were not flesh and blood and mesh stockings. They were dreams and hopes I held for a long time…in my heart. One dream dating back almost sixty years.

Okay, I’ll end this agony for you (assuming you’re still reading this).

It all started when we left our Adirondack home this past October. We were moving into a one bedroom apartment in the City. We had to cull, cull and then after we had cheese and crackers, cull once again. I donated, sold or gave away about 50% of my cherished library. That’s okay, in a way, there was no way I was going to get through all those books anyway.

So, consider the challenge: Trying to fit years of accumulated objects into a small apartment. It was clear to me from the start that more had to go.

Yesterday, I took a reluctant step to cutting another boatload free and give something to the outside world.

The first to go, was my kayak paddle. I bought it in 2012 when we purchased kayaks to paddle around Rainbow Lake. I spent many hours, untold hours, alone or with Mariam or my son, Brian exploring the tiny bays and crannies of the large lake. Mariam and I and Brian would pass cheese, a beer, crackers or some wine while we held the boats together and drifted under dark blue skies with patchy cumulus clouds.

The halcyon days of my middle years.

[Lightweight. Functional. I never named them. Some things that you love, don’t need names. Photo is mine.}

I took a monetary loss on the paddle. But I consider it even considering the hours I held them and cut through the waves.

The item that walked in the afternoon was something that had a much longer history than this paddle. It was an Osprey Internal Backpack. I bought it around 2015. I had plans to hike the Northville Lake Placid Trail. Solo. I had a hammock, a sleeping bag, foam pad and light-weight stove…all on my list or in my possession.

There’s some history here.

I first attempted this trail (152 miles +/-) across the Adirondacks, in the summer of 1965. It was the summer before I went away to college. My father and I were going to do the whole thing in two weeks. The only glitch was that we each carried about fifty pounds (far too much for such a hike). We made it thirteen miles before we decided to bailout. We failed.

I tried to do it again sometime in the late 1970’s. Solo this time. Again, I had packed too much. I decided to walk out the same place where my dad and I had done, years before.

[The decision to end the hike on this trip involved some very strange occurrences. A bad feeling in my heart…and soul. Something evil, I felt was following me. I was running with a full pack when I reached the road where I would go into Wells, NY. Horrific and furious thunderstorms drove me to seek shelter on the porch of an empty cottage. It was a terrifying experience for me. I never wrote about it and It still has me thinking about what it was that was ‘after’ me that day. There’s really more to the story, I have to admit. And that part harkens back to the trip with my father. Another story. Another time. But, nearly as frightening.]

I wasn’t using my Osprey pack in those days. I had an original Kelty pack.(then considered to be the Porsche of backpacks). That pack was given to my son several decades ago.

[The Osprey. I took a major financial hit on this. Photo is mine.]

So many dreams.

Someone said to me recently: “We all have to give up our dreams, don’t we?”

I’m wondering.

“Why?” I do not want to go gently into that good night.