Bookworms

Just yesterday, Muluken and I finished the Harry Potter series. Seven books. Thousands of pages. More than a million words. It was quite an experience. And an accomplishment.

Tricia started it all about a year ago when she read the first (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets) and second (Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone) books to Harper and Muluken. I had already read the first book years ago during my first year teaching. Although I loved the book I resisted reading more due to the overwhelming popularity the young series was enjoying. It became a craze that I didn't care to become a part of.

However, after more than ten years the opportunity arose to give it a second chance - Harper and Muluken wanted me to read them the third book (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban). Trying to read aloud a 448-page book half an hour at a time is a rather slow process. It seemed to take months but, in reality, probably took five or six weeks.

When summer rolled around we all made a trip to the library to pick up four copies of the fourth book (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire). The four of us read separately and together, as well as listened to a significant portion while in the van on vacation. Ainsley put in her earphones when the story became too dark or scary and Ty even cried near the end. We figured out not to listen too close to bedtime. By the time we returned from vacation there were only a few chapters left to read and everyone finished nearly as soon as we got home.

Muluken and I then went to the library to get the fifth book (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix). At 870 pages it felt as though we were carrying around dictionaries. Still, we each finished it within a couple of weeks. There were days when Muluken spent three or four hours reading. I remember seeing him sit and read as those around him played video games, watched television, and threw toy airplanes. Certainly there's far more to life than reading a book but I have to admit that it was awfully fun to see him so engrossed.

It would have been nice to discuss the book but it seemed as though we were forever a hundred pages ahead or behind one another and fearful of learning something we shouldn't know yet. We both finished on the same night - staying up later than we probably should have - and were excited to finally talk freely about favorite parts the next morning.

Around this time we returned home from another of our summer trips and went back to the library for the sixth book (Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince). We were taking our final trip of the summer (the Appalachian Trail hike) and used our time in the van to push toward that inevitable end - the final book. If we could have fit the massive books into our backpacks during the hike I'm sure we would have. Once home we dug back in and finished the book within a week. Muluken was now reading for about two hours every night before bed and then waking up and reading another hour or so before coming down for breakfast. I struggled to keep up. I found that with preparations for the quickly approaching school year I had to steal as many small moments for reading as I could. While brushing my teeth. While eating lunch.  While waiting for the kids to get their shoes on to go somewhere. Soon we had finished and I wondered if we might just take a break.

The next day I was told that Tricia had requested the seventh book for Muluken (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows). I was hesitant to begin the book because school was starting, I had a graduate course set to begin, and there were a number of teaching texts I wanted to read. Time for recreational reading (beyond the newspaper and blogs) was scarce. Still, I couldn't see coming all this way - four books in four-and-a-half months, and then letting Muluken finish alone. So I started to read from Muluken's book after he had fallen asleep. Realizing there was no way I was going to keep up, I checked out my own copy from our school library last Friday. How in the world we were able to finish the book in these past seven days I do not know but I can say that the mere fact we wanted to is quite a credit to JK Rowling. Every chapter, every page made you feel as though you were mere moments from finding some secret or clue. You felt as though you were just a paragraph or two from a crucial confrontation. There was a night or two when Tricia fell asleep and I kept telling myself "Just one more chapter!"

While I would not say that Harry Potter is the best children's book(s) of all time I'm more than comforable stating that it's the most important. Thousands upon thousands of kids have learned to love reading because of Harry Potter - many of whom were not ready for such a challenging text but, driven by the engaging story and characters, persevered so that they too could find out how it would all turn out.

Muluken was not ready for this challenging of a text. Not completely. He knew all the  names and understood the majority of the storyline. He made predictions as to what he thought would happen next and developed a strong affection, as well as hatred, for certain characters. Still, the vocabulary was tough and there were many parts where he failed to pick up on smaller storylines. He missed the meaning of a few parts. But this I know...it was worth every minute, every page he spent reading because he loved it. And because we were able to share it together.

I don't know that there will be another series that can so deeply consume the both of us - that will bring us together in this unique way. Time will tell. But in the meantime I can be thankful for Harry Potter. Because despite trips to the Virginia highlands and St. Louis, fifty miles on the Appalachian Trail, and a wonderful birthday trip to Lake Jocassee, my most lasting memory of this past summer just might be "The Boy Who Lived" and how he was able to weave an entire summer together for us.

For Ty

We were in the kitchen a few days ago working to get the dinner dishes cleared and tucked away into the dishwasher. Ainsley and Ty were busy playing on the floor just a few feet away. As I wiped the counters Ty stood up and walked off into the garage to play with Harper and Muluken. Ainsley looked up at me and said with a smile, "Ty is really kind to me."

What he had done to deserve this rather adult-sounding praise I have no idea. I do know, however, that he and Ainsley love playing with one another and can spend hours on end making up games and giggling at themselves.

Last winter my mom took the kids to the Sandhills to do some shopping and stopped by to let them see Santa. Santa gave them all a coloring book to bring home. Within a day or two Ainsley somehow managed to lose hers and did not take the loss gently. As we drove to the store a few days later she sat quietly beside Ty, who was busy coloring in his book. She said nothing but was clearly  upset.

"What's wrong, Ainsley?" I asked.

"I can't find my coloring book anywhere," she said, starting to cry.

Ty looked over and, without thinking twice, said "Here, you can have mine." He put away his crayons and handed the book across the aisle to Ainsley. She quickly reached over and gave him a big warm hug.

Ty surprises you like that sometimes. A teenager at heart, he has days or even weeks at a time when he becomes very argumentative and mischievous. And he understands this. Just the other day he was in my classroom and saw that I had a new beanbag sitting out near the library shelves.

"Can this be my new timeout chair?" he asked. He was obviously planning ahead.

"No, how about we just assume that you won't even need a timeout chair this year," I said.

Sometimes I fear it's hard for teachers to see beyond the occassional behavioral problems of kids like Ty. I fear they don't see how incredibly successful they are at so many things - things that aren't always so obvious at school.

Last spring we had two of our friends over for dinner. One of them, Mr. O, also happened to be Harper's third grade teacher at the time. After finishing desert, the kids ran upstairs to get ready for bed. A few minutes later they came barreling back down the stairs in their PJs, ready to offer everyone a hug or kiss goodnight.

As Harper made her way around the table she reached Mr. O and stopped to let out a small giggle, embarrassed a bit by standing before him in her pajamas. He reached out to put an arm around her shoulder and, hugging her, said "I don't know that I've ever seen one of my students in their pajamas before!"

It's funny how something so little can stay with you for weeks or months or even years. Over the past few months that one seemingly meaningless statement has popped back into my head a number of times. It's occurred to me that I've never seen my students in their pajamas either. Or at least not at their homes as they are giving kisses, accepting hugs, or crawling up into laps for a story. But maybe I should. Maybe all teachers should.

When you see your students in that way it reminds you how small they are. As teachers we talk about our kids as readers and writers and mathematicians and scientists and community members. Basically, we talk about them as students. Perhaps we should spend more time, though, talking about them as children. Children with lives that go far beyond the reaches of a classroom. Children who have skills and interests and experiences that sometimes struggle to find their way into a classroom. Children who are much more than what we see on the surface when worrying about things like classroom procedures or homework or handwriting.

Ralph Fletcher, who has written some really nice books for children, wrote a wonderful memoir of his childhood titled Marshfield Dreams. In it he shared the story of his brother's first year of school and how hard a transition it was for little Jimmy to figure this new place out. It's one of my very favorite pieces of writing.

I don't share it here to suggest that school is no place for Ty. On the contrary, he has had an absolutely wonderful first few days of kindergarten. He has come home excited about tree frogs and evaporation experiments. Already he loves his teacher and shows signs that he might be figuring out that there's room in his life for both school and hours spent riding bikes, playing catch, and catching bugs. He's fallen in love with the Fly Guy book series and is thinking about sharing his backpacking expertise with his new classmates.

He's going to be a terrific student. Thankfully, though, he has a teacher who's going to take the time to learn that he is good at a lot more than just school.

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School
by Ralph Fletcher

It was time for me to start first grade. Jimmy stood with me at the bus stop. Mom waited with us.

"What are you going to do in school?" Jimmy asked, frowning.

"I don't know," I said. "Learn stuff."

"Why can't I come too?"

"You're not old enough," I told him.

"Next year," Mom said.

Jimmy kicked a stone across the street. Finally, the bus rumbled up, huge and yellow. It opened its doors; Jimmy stepped back as I climbed the stairs. I found a seat next to my friend Steve Fishman and waved through the window. Mom waved and flashed a big smile, but my brother kept both hands at his sides.

I liked school. And on that first day I knew I'd be good at it. I could just tell. I was good at figuring out what the teacher wanted me to do and exactly how she wanted me to do it - add, read, copy letters (though my handwriting was terrible). I even liked the hot dog, wax beans, and fried potatoes they served for lunch. The day flew by. That afternoon when I got off the bus, Jimmy was at the bus stop, tapping his feet, eagerly waiting for me.

"Look!" He had a samll animal skull in his hands.

"What is it?"

"I think it's a beaver," he said. "Too big to be a cat. I found the bones in the woods. Here. It's for you."

The next day when I stepped off the bus he gave me an old wasp net. Every day, as soon as I got off the bus, he'd hand me a treasure he'd found in the woods.

I knew Jimmy would be going to school soon, and I was worried about him. I tried to get him ready for it.

"It's not like home," I said. "You've got to follow the rules, or you'll get in trouble."

"What rules?"

"Like, you can't just talk whenever you want," I explained. "You raise your hand if you want to say something. Okay?"

"Okay!" Eyes closed, he raised his hand and pointed straight up.

"This is serious," I told him. "Do you know the Pledge of Allegiance?"

"The what?" he asked. I made him stand with me in the kitchen, put his hand on his heart, and pledge allegiance to an imaginary flag on the wall. Jimmy groaned and rolled his eyes.

"They say the Pledge every morning, so you've got to know it, and you've got to know it by heart," I said, jabbing him lightly in the chest. "Better learn it now."

The following September, the big day came. Jimmy held my hand and giggled nervously when the bus arrived. We ran up the stairs together, and Jimmy sat on the edge of his seat all the way to school. When we go there, a woman met us and pinned a paper circle to his shirt. My brother shot me one last look before the lady led him away.

That day I spooted Jimmy only once, walking in a line with other kids, headed into the cafeteria. In the woods he always knew exactly where he was. But standing in that noisy cafeteria, with his freckes and thick glasses and cowlicky hair, Jimmy looked lost.

When Jimmy got off the bus that afternoon he went straight to the woods. I didn't see him again until supper time.

That night I asked Jimmy if he liked school.

"Boring." He didn't want to talk about it.

And that's the way it ws for him every day. He'd come home and go straight to the woods. He didn't even wait to change out of his school clothes or eat a snack.

School was fine for a kid like me, because I knew how to shut up and listen. But it seemed wrong to take an outside kid like Jimmy and lock him inside for six hours a day. They should have had a different kind of school for Jimmy, maybe a place with acres of unexplored woods and streams and swamps and steep rocky cliffs where he could spend hours making forts or digging for fossils and animal bones.

In November we got report cards. I sneaked a peek at Jimmy's. His grades were lower than mine, a lot lower, which didn't make any sense. I knew that Jimmy was smarter than me, but on that report card, there was no grade for knowing where snakes sleep in the heat of day, for being able to tell the difference between the skull of a cat or a beaver, a salamander or a mud puppy. It wasn't fair, but I told myself that the woods would always be the place where Jimmy learned best. In that school he would always be a straight-A student.
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Home Repair for Dummies

A few years ago I read this really wonderful book titled Other People's Words. In the book author and researcher Victoria Purcell-Gates spent two years working with an illiterate mother and her struggling son. Her goal was to come to better understand the cycle of illiteracy while helping this family to learn to read and write. Along the way she found that our society, as well as our educational system, often works to exclude the illerate. The parents of this child were unable to use public transportation, read labels on packages when shopping, or even help him with elementary school homework. Throw in the bulging sack of stereotypes this family, and especially their son, had to overcome at school and it was easy to see that the deck was stacked to all but ensure failure.

But this young boy was not alone. There were many, many more filling the seats of area classrooms. Together they comprised the group that consistently ranks lowest in terms of national education norms, have higher drop out and absence rates, and more commonly experience learning problems. Who are they? They are white, urban Appalachian children.

Over her two years Gates learned a lot. First, she learned that these families were not illiterate. Rather, they were low-literate. They relied heavily upon oral communication. Their heritage was rooted in oral stories and communication- to such a degree that print often had little use and and was of little importance. To help these children meant to first overcome cultural elitism and work to better understand the kids and their families.

One of the many things that Gates came to understand about these families was that while they struggled with print they were incredibly proficient in a variety of other areas. While their vast knowledge fell outside of what modern society seems to value most - being "book" smart or having a specialized area of expertise- they had learned the skills that were most valued within their culture; the skills that helped them to survive. For instance, they did not need to call a plumber to fix a leaky pipe, an electrician to install or repair wiring, or a mechanic to change the oil pan gasket. They were self-sufficient.

I thought of this recently when calling the Heating and Cooling guy out to check out our air conditioner. Tricia, the kids, and I had returned from our last trip of the summer to find that the second story AC was not working properly. Although air seemed to be coming out of the registers it definitely was not cold. The temperature on the thermostat rose and rose throughout the day. After topping out in the mid-eighties my mom took her PJs and fled for the comfort of the third floor while our friend, and housemate, Tim did the same, opting for the couch in the living room.

Being as close to immune to hot weather as two people can be, Tricia and I flipped on the overhead fan, threw open our bedroom windows, and found it rather comfortable. Still, despite having to dip into our savings,we were pleased to know that the AC guy would be showing up the next morning and that the unit would be fixed soon.

After a total of fourteen minutes spent looking at the thermostat, playing with the circuit breakers, and looking at the unit on the side of the house, he declared the air conditioner in good working condition again. As he made out the bill I asked him what the problem was. Keeping a straight face, which seems in retrospect that it must have been hard to do, he explained that there was a bad storm while we were gone and that one of the circuit breakers had tripped. As he handed me the bill I looked down and saw that I was preparing to pay in excess of $100 so that he could walk into the garage and flip a switch back to the "on" position.

I'd like to say this was my first time paying for a ridiculously easy fix. Heck, I'd like to say it was the first time I had paid someone to flip a circuit breaker back on. But it wasn't.

And I ask myself...should we, as a society, redefine smart?

On the Appalachian Trail Pt. 2: Neels Gap to Unicoi Gap

A few years ago there was buzz on the Appalachian Trail about a family who was undertaking a thru hike together from Georgia to Maine. With four children in tow, their small crew stuck out a bit like a sore thumb amongst the college-aged kids and newly retired seniors trudging along the five month trek north. They were not the first family to ever undertake this journey but they were perhaps one of the strangest. According to stories that traveled along the trail the mother was often seen breast feeding her two year old son at the trail side. He could walk right up for a full or self service fill-up. In chatting with them, soon other hikers learned that the family had decided, based on their interpretation of bible readings, to rid themselves of all bonds of identification - including last names and social security numbers.

In addition to daily downpours, the trail becomes saturated each March with an eclectic mixture of people that have come from all over the country, and even the world, to set out on a 2,175 mile walk. Some have spent months or even years meticulously planning for this trip. Others have thrown their things together at the last moment with little or no experience in the outdoors. They become a caravan of sorts, traveling shelter to shelter, town to town.

To want to spend what amounts to almost half a year squatting in the woods weeds out a large majority of the population. What's left is a combination of hard core hiking enthusiasts, hippie wannabes, and everyday people hoping to run away from, or perhaps toward, something. Like the family mentioned above, some stand out because they are an oddity among oddities. They're unique.

I thought of this family a few times over the past couple of days as the kids, Tricia, and I spent three days and two nights on the trail. We saw a number of people on the trail but few were women and none were families or children. Yet here were our kids strapped to bulging backpacks as they hunched forward laboring through each step, carrying them further and further up an endless chain of mountain summits. I wondered what they looked like to the other hikers. Did they look out of place out there? They must have because one of the first people we saw, a heavily bearded and tatooed guy who worked at the local outfitter, said to Tricia, "Well it's good to see they've got packs. Most parents don't have the kids carry their own shit!" Despite the colorful language in front of young ears, Tricia couldn't help but smile. It was a big task, a 20 mile walk spread out over the course of a weekend, and we hoped we weren't crazy for trying it.

Within seconds of starting I heard the first complaint of a heavy backpack. Just minutes later the darkening sky decided to make things even more interesting. What started as the gentle pitter-patter of rain falling on the forest canopy above became a steady rain that would last for hours. But the struggles were just beginning. Thankfully, we were each equipped with a journal to keep track of our travels.  As with our last trip into the woods, I'll use excerpts from everyone's journals to help tell the story.

Day 1: Neels Gap, GA to Hogpen Gap (6.4 miles today, 6.4 miles this trip, 37.3 total AT miles to date)

Ainsley, age 6
 We had lunch. Daddy took the van to the end of the hiking trail. Then we started hiking. It had a lot of uphills. Daddy helped me down the hard parts. I mostly carried the pack uphill. You have to bend over when you go uphill. I cried because I missed Grandma. We camped by a stream.

Muluken, age 9
 We started at Neels Gap and stopped at Hogpen. We did six and a half miles to get there. We had a couple of good views of the mountains on our way. It was great! We had to go up a rocky and steep, steep mountain but we made it! After we made the mountain we took a break and had to switch our backpacks to the next person. We went down a hill for a long time. After we started to go up a hill we got a snack and another break.

Tricia, age 35 (for a few more days, at least)
 Today we began a 3 day , 20 mile backpacking trip with the whole family. My pack weighed about 20 pounds, Chris' 30 pounds, and the kids shared two packs and each was about 10 pounds. We started hiking at about 1:00 and planned to hike six miles and stop at a shelter. Within the first half hour it began raining and rained for about two hours. After that the weather was nice, no rain, and not too hot.

 We climbed three mountains today. The first two seemed to be slow gradual climbs but the third was very steep and rocky. By that time the kids were getting tired and hungry and ready for a rest. We found a place to camp by a stream, fixed dinner, and went to bed. It is very dark and the insects are very loud. It was kind of a rough first day. Ty and Ainsley were tired and sore. I am sure tomorrow will be better.

Chris, age 36
After arriving back at Mountain Crossings (the endpoint of our last hike) I left Tricia and the kids to eat lunch while I followed the shuttle, a fancy name for Dartman's beat-up minivan, to Unicoi Gap. He then brought me back to Neels Gap and we headed out. Ty and Ainsley were sharing one pack and Harper and Muluken were responsible for the other. Each pack was really a bit too heavy but I was hoping that trading it back and forth would provide enough relief to make up for the few additional pounds. Before hitting the trail Harper and Ainsley were gung-ho to carry the packs. However, within just a minute or two Ainsley exclaimed "This pack is heavy!" But she persevered despite the fact that the trail started with a long steady ascent. We stopped every fifteen or twenty minutes to let them trade the backpacks back and forth.

Unfortunately, only moments later the sky opened up and what started as a light sprinkle turned into a steady rain. "I'm not to happy with you right now," I heard Tricia say from behind. I turned and gave her what I intended to be smile but probably looked more like a smirk. The three girls all pulled out their rain jackets and we covered up our packs with rain covers. A while later Muluken and I also dug out our rain jackets but Ty was content to get soaking wet. "It better not rain all day!" Tricia said. This time I didn't turn but kept walking.

Fortunately it stopped raining after about two hours or so. I decided to label it a "fun rain" because it was enough to make things interesting for a while but not so bad that we were all miserable. I tend to think I'm going to have to be a glass-half-full guy as much as possible over the next couple of days.

There were really no streams today which further complicated things. Despite the rainy summer we've had there just isn't enough to keep some of these smaller streams flowing. We were thirsty and hopeful of finding a good campsite with a water source.

Near the end of the day we came down into Low Gap, crossed by a road with very fast trucks passing, and headed up what must have been the steepest ascent we've encountered so far on the AT. There was a series of switchbacks that just kept climbing up and up and up at an incredibly aggressive pitch. Ty sighed and moaned and whined. Harper bent over at the waist with her hands on her knees and breathed heavily. Ainsley began crying that she missed Grandma but, though I'm sure she did, I would imagine she was just overly exhausted and maybe even a bit frightened by what still lie ahead. I wondered what I had signed my family up for. I worried about the miles and miles ahead. Muluken kept chugging away without complaint and I took comfort in that. I knew that if nothing else I'd be able to count on him to help the others along the way.

At the end of the day we finally reached the side trail that led off to the shelter we planned to stay at. However, the shelter was 1.2 miles off the trail so we decided to keep going. After a bit more walking we came into Hogpen Gap and pitched our tents near a very small stream. We are not too far from a road and we can hear cars and trucks pass by every so often. It's not ideal but the best we could do.

We made rice for dinner, brushed our teeth, and hung our food bags up in a tree about fifty yards from the tent. Our final few camp chores were completed by flashlight as the sun dropped down behind the mountains to the west. It was a really hard day.


Day 2: Hogpen, GA to Chattahoochee Gap (9.5 miles today, 15.9 miles this trip, 46.8 total AT miles to date)

Ty, age 6
We thought the water dried up. I hiked up a big big mountain.

Harper, age 9
 Today we woke up and had powdered milk. I kind of liked it. It was very watery. What we ate was one Pop-Tart. We packed up and started hiking.

We started hiking and suddenly went uphill. We walked a little bit and saw these guys at a campsite. We stopped and talked to them for about a minute. They said that yesterday they were doing Hogpen Gap, which we we had just finished, and they saw three or four wild hogs. That was cool.

We hiked on and played games as we went uphill. We played I Spy at Home to see how well you can remember your own house. You only get two clues: color and room. But if you have to you can give another clue.

We found a shelter and stayed there for about a hour to have lunch. We were playing in the stream and those same guys came by and got some water as well.

After lunch we kept on hoping to find some water in the next 1.4 miles but no. We kept on going but we did not have some water. Finally we found some coming from a pipe. Then we started to hike again.
At the end of the day we had hiked from 9:30 am to 7:15 pm. Nine and a half miles! It was a long day but we got a well deserved sleep.

Chris, age 36
We've heard stories from other hikers about wild hogs and bear cubs. This news scares the girls but the boys are itching to see something big. However, I'm not too sure this will happen because Harper has taken to humming loudly as she hikes whenever she fears there might be a bear nearby. Muluken, unhappy with this, turns to shoot her mean looks.

There were many easier climbs today. To pick up our pace Muluken has agreed to carry one of the two kids packs full time so that Harper, Ainsley, and Ty can share the other one and have longer breaks. I've taken three pairs of sandals and one of their sleeping bags and stuffed them into my pack so that their load will be lighter. This has made quite a difference. There's no more complaining about a heavy pack. They were really too heavy so it's easy to understand why they were struggling so much.

We had a scare today. A stream that was listed on my data sheet was nowhere to be found. It was getting close to 5:30 and we were miles from water and did not have enough left in our bottles to cook dinner. Harper was felling a bit panicky but held it together really well. We all stayed calm and just kept walking. Around 6:00 or so we came across a water source that hadn't been listed on my sheet. In fact, it was a spring running out from behind some rocks at the side of the trail. Maintainers had even installed a big pipe to route the water under the trail where it emptied onto some rocks down the pitch. Placing our bottle under the pipe almost made it feel like getting water from a faucet. How lucky!

Our luck did not run out there. We walked on for another hour or so and were amazed to find that we had walked much further than we thought. By 7:15 we were already in Chattahoochee Gap, 9.5 miles from where we started this morning. We couldn't believe it. We must have really been walking quickly.

We stopped and dropped our packs right next to the trail and proceeded to fix our dinner and eat right away. As we were eating a group of five or six guys came in behind us and sat to rest. They were moaning and limping as they collapsed onto the ground. I overheard them discussing whether they should stay here for the night or press on to the next water source and campground a little over a mile away. I told them there was plenty of room and they explained that they might need to move on to a more isolated spot because one of them had a backpacker guitar and that they stayed up until four in the morning singing the previous night. Given that, I was happy to see they were moving on.

After a rough first day, as well as a couple of rough hours this morning, it's nice to finish strong. Our dinner tonight was great and the kids had a lot of fun helping set up camp. There are three campsites here in the gap and they are set up shotgun style - meaning that you have to walk directly through each of them to get to the next one. The second site was already taken by two young guys who we've crossed paths with a number of times throughout the day. Muluken, Harper, and I scouted out the other two sites and elected to take the last one since it's set back by iteself and noone will be passing back and forth by our tent as they run down to the stream for water. As we made our way back to our site one of the two young guys asked me to hang back for a moment. "What do you need?" I asked.

"We were going to be lighting up a (recreational cigarette, let's say) a little later tonight and just wanted to make sure you're okay with it since you're with your kids." he said.

I almost laughed but caught myself. He was being very serious and I knew that regardless of whether or not I gave them the okay they were going to light up. Our campsite was at least a good sixty yards away and I really couldn't have cared less what they wanted to do as long as they didn't keep us awake.

"No, that's fine. I don't mind," I said.

"Cool," he responded. "Hey, and if you and your wife want to come back over a little later we'd be glad to share."

I couldn't believe it. This was getting more fun by the second. Again I suppressed a laugh and thanked him but explained that I was a little too old and had to get the kids to bed. Tricia enjoyed this story quite a bit.

The mood has changed over the past three or four hours. Everyone is having fun and excited to know that tomorrow will be an easy day. Just four and a half miles into Unicoi Gap where our van is waiting to take us for ice cream and lunch.

Chattahoochee Gap, GA to Unicoi Gap (3.5 miles today, 19.4 miles this trip, 50.3 total AT miles to date)

Chris, age 36
Today's four and a half miles were easy. Despite a few long climbs everyone did a great job. We came across a few day hikers who stopped to talk to us. One of them said that he tried to come out on the trail yesterday but that his dog chased a bear cub up a tree and he was hesitant to move on knowing that the mother would be nearby. Again we kept our eyes out for bears but didn't see any. Tricia and I heard a really loud cracking noise come from the woods once but weren't for certain it was actually a bear.

The trail today was extremely rocky. The going was kind of slow as we had to carefully plot out the course for our steps. Ainsley was hiking a few dozen yards behind me with Tricia and fell. She later rushed up to me to tell me all about it and show off her dirty scratched up legs. Covered in bug bites, scratches, and mud, her legs are definitely those of an outside girl.

After a little over four hours of hiking we emerged from the woods to find our van waiting for us. What a welcome site. We all rushed over to a large rock with an AT plaque to take group pictures commemorating the completion of this leg of the hike. After changing out of our dirty shoes and putting on clean shirts we drove back to Neels Gap for a celebratory ice cream. A perfect ending to a trip that started off very rough but finished wonderfully. Within two or three weeks the kids will have forgotten most of the trials of the hike and reflect fondly on the fun of being together in the wilderness.

We're now all back home and healed up from our hike. Tricia grimmaced a bit when going down stairs that first day back and my shoulders were a bit tight. Ty's feet were bothering him and Harper and Muluken were recovering from some type of bite or sting that had them near tears for a few minutes on the trail. After nice hot showers most of these ailments disappeared. Already everyone is back to their normal routines and games.

It was nice to get home but I miss being on the trail, too. It's hard sometimes to deal with the hike itself when you are trying to parent at the same time. There's always someone to encourage or a question to answer or a story to listen to. Though there are times when I would have loved to just put my head down and walk for a while I was appreciative of the time I had to do nothing other than talk to the kids and Tricia. Tricia was a wonderful cheerleader for those who needed it. She often hung back with whoever was struggling at the moment while I stayed near the front or middle. I've heard that parents spend an average of twelve minutes a day talking to their kids. Talking - not correcting or preaching or instructing. I'm thankful for the time we had to talk about books and friends and school and sports and nature and the trail itself.

We now have fifty miles down and 2,125 to go. The next leg, as determined by convenient road crossings where we can access the trail and get back to our car, will take us across the Georgia-North Carolina state line. I'm not sure who all will be coming along but I know that in time everyone will make it back out.

Technology Rant

Tricia has lost her cell phone.  After weeks now of waiting for it to show up somewhere I finally decided to give her mine. While this might seem a selfless act it is anything but. It was a pleasure to give it up. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not much for technological gadgets. Plasma TVs, Blackberries, Bluetooth, Skypes. I only know what one of these things actually is. And I like it that way.

I’m a bit disappointed that my brief ownership of a cell phone will forever serve as a blemish on what could have otherwise been a perfect record – a lifetime of NOT being available at the drop of a hat.

A few years ago I read this really great book titled Better Off: Flipping the Switch on Technology (Two People, One Year, Zero Watts).  In the book the author Eric Mende, a graduate of MIT, wrote about his concerns that he, as well as society as a whole, had become addicted to technology. He wondered whether the very machines that have been designed to save us time actually do just the opposite.

I’m sure this is true. I would bet that if there were a study conducted to show the relationship between internet speed (dial up, DSL, cable) and time spent at the computer you would find that the faster the internet connection (a supposed opportunity to save time) the more time spent in front of the screen. Rather than saving time at the computer we are lured into sitting and staring even longer.

 So, are things actually better when they’re slower and more laborious?

Mende was determined to find out. He and his new bride found a small religious community (Mennonites most likely) who  would take him in as an outsider amongst them for a year and a half. The Mennonites, in case you are unaware, make the Amish look like something out of a science fiction movie.

So during his “simple life” experience, Mende looked to see for himself the pros and cons of a life without technology of any kind.  His days were spent planting, weeding, milking, feeding, building, and mending. He worked from before sunrise each morning to after sunset each evening. It was hard. But he found that the best conversations he and his wife had took place when working alongside one another. There was no need for a gym membership because everyday life provided opportunity after opportunity to walk (no cars, although there was a horse and buggy for longer trips) and labor.

The kids in the community helped out as well. There were always a number of tasks for them to tackle and when they weren’t working they were running around the fields and barns playing. No television, no video games and, yet, no “I’m bored.” They learned how to entertain themselves rather than becoming dependent on the glare of a screen to do it for them. Certainly, they thought more and read more and imagined more. There’s already plenty of research out there showing the relationship between screen time and attention span and imaginative play. The results are far from surprising.

The experience wasn’t perfect, though. It got awfully hot in the summer without air conditioning. And as his wife became pregnant and neared her due date she worried about the possibility of complications and how well equipped the midwife would be able to handle these.  And after a lifetime of what they had come to accept as normal life there were a lot of change to adjust to quickly. So after twelve months, six months shy of their intended exit, they left the community and came back to “civilization.”

However, they came back changed.  Living in St. Louis, they still walk as often as they can rather than jump into a car for a ten or fifteen minute drive. When they can’t drive they hop on their bicycles. They do their wash the old-fashioned way . To supplement their small garden they walk to the farmer’s market (one of the largest open air markets in the country and just minutes from their front door). All chores are done as a family, alongside one another, and they figure they spend far more time each day talking with their kids than do the vast majority of families today.

While I harbor no dreams that I would like to return to the 1800s and their ways I do think there is something to be learned from that kind of life. I appreciate the convenience of a trip to Target and finding quick information on the internet. I’m thankful for new drugs, life-saving medical procedures, and elevators that can get me to the fifth floor in a snap. But I know, too, that sometimes it’s okay to take the stairs.

It’s with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek that I say I hate technology. I don’t at all. I just think maybe we should be a little more careful at times to think about the effects it has on us.  I hate seeing people texting while they drive. And in a movie theater. And while I’m talking to them. I hate seeing children needing to watch DVDs during a twenty minute drive down the road. I hate seeing that there are tours of beautiful caverns that utilize heavy doses of elaborate light shows and hidden speakers when just the cavern itself should be enough to leave us is awe. I hate seeing teachers use SmartBoards to show videos of the natural world without ever taking their kids out into it.

So maybe it’s not the technology itself that I hate. It’s the way we abuse it.