Kate Potter-Barrow and I have both celebrated 50th birthdays this year; mine was back in February while Kate’s big day fell on the 4th of July. And for all that Kate and I share in common (which is quite a lot) the way we have commemorated our respective half centuries says a lot about our differences. My 50th year has basically been lived in business-as-usual fashion, and if anything I have pulled back just a bit, as if to catch my breath. Kate, by contrast, decided to celebrate her 50th birthday by embarking on an amazing adventure out west, accompanied only by her beloved golden retriever Pete. She spent months planning and preparing for what is turning out to be a magnificent adventure in which she is exploring beautiful new places and also returning to places which have meant a lot to her. Some of her nights are spent in motels that welcome dogs as well as people- and other nights she and Pete are sleeping in a tent- and her waking hours are filled with a wise mix of energetic activity and quiet reflection in some of the most beautiful places on earth.
As soon as Kate knew that Kathy and I would be out in Salt Lake City, she made plans to join us there for a couple of days – and eventually she and Kathy planned a little mini- adventure of their own, where Kathy would go off with Kate to help her celebrate her birthday in nearby Jackson, Wyoming. . . and leaving me back in Salt Lake City to hear lectures about vocal folds and pharyngal tension. If I sound a little jealous, you are right- I was- but on the other hand, I was thrilled for Kathy and Kate. I especially loved how their journey ultimately took them to Yellowstone and an encounter with the world’s most famous geyser, Old Faithful. A friendship like theirs is built first and foremost on Faithfulness, and there was a poetic perfection in how their visit just happened to coincide with one of Old Faithful’s beautiful eruptions. I can’t think of a more apt metaphor for the energy of their friendship or for Kate’s astonishing vitality (while I find my 50-year-old self reaching more and more for the Ben Gay.)
Maybe it was in reaction to Kate’s Great Adventure in the West that I found myself embarking on a little adventure of my own. . . although for most people it would register on the Thrills Meter somewhere between “changing shampoos” and “watching Toy Story 3 in 3-D instead of 2-D.” Then again, it was a first for me. . . and firsts at the age of 50 (other than “first swig of Geritol” of “first time playing shuffleboard”) are always worth celebrating. My little adventure happened when Kathy and I went on an excursion to nearby Provo – and eventually to the Sundance Resort (where the world-famous Sundance Film Festival occurs.) The helpful receptionist at the Provo Visitors Center mentioned that the Sundance Ski Lift runs all year round and gives a lovely view of the valley – and in a momentary seizure of what I can only describe as temporary insanity, I decided that I would ride that Ski Lift. It was a 45 minute trip up and back, and although there isn’t anything remotely dangerous or death-defying about it (there were little kids riding it by themselves, for pete’s sake) for someone of my temperament this was pretty wild stuff. (Actually, the scariest thing about it by far was the fear that I might drop Kathy’s new camera – which she allowed me to take with me. Had I dropped that camera, I would have had to walk home – and not just back to the hotel in Salt Lake City but back to Wisconsin.) So I rode that ski lift and loved every minute of it- and as fun as it would have been to do it with Kathy (she just couldn’t quite bring herself to do it, contenting herself to find thrills in the gift shop) there was something to be said for the absolute solitude of being on that ski lift all by myself, unreachable by phone or any other means (at least for most of the trip) able to just drink in the extraordinary beauty around me and the amazing quiet. (And when the camera’s batteries pooped out just past the halfway point of the trip, it was an even more satisfying experience, because I was drinking in the view through my own eyes only, and not through the view finder of a camera.)
It just goes to show you how Adventures come in many different sizes and speeds and specifics. What counts is the Joy of the New. . . whether riding ski lifts or trying the Elk, Lamb and Bison Burgers at the Acme Burger Company, or taking off on a two-month adventure in the West. It’s the joy of the New and the deep satisfaction that comes with being brave. . . and the gratitude one feels when the person who loves you most let’s you take your crazy adventure, whatever it may be.
pictured above: My view, mid-ride. This picture makes it look a little bit scarier than it really was.