Adventures in Adulthood
A series of memoir essays by award-winning writer John Sheirer (www.johnsheirer.com). Whether you're just beginning the journey as a young adult, enjoying your golden years, or middle-aged (like John), you'll find something to enjoy in these unique looks at the one wild adventure everyone from 18 to 118 has in common: adulthood. (Updates will come online roughly once a week.)
Loop Year
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The following are two selections from my book Loop Year: 365 Days on the Trail, recycled here4 in the spirit of the recent Earth Day. Please check out my website, www.johnsheirer.com, for more information about the book.
Day 26 -- Saturday, June 11, 2005 -- 8:05 a.m. to 8:44 a.m. -- 39 minutes -- Sunny, 73 degrees
Not far along the trail, I discover a baby bird perched on the edge of a bog bridge. I'm sure Jerry or Ginny could identify the species, but to me, it's just a tiny black-and-white-speckled baby bird. Its little breast is hammering, and it doesn't even look at me as I approach. I search the trees for any sign of a nest or parent birds, but there's nothing. The baby shivers and sways unsteadily on its fragile feet, and I'm tempted to pick it up and … and do what? Call the game warden? Drive it to the local vet? Build a nest for it? Take it home? Adopt it? Knit it a sweater, cap, and booties?
Ginny has worked in veterinary hospitals for years, and she has told me many stories about people who bring in abandoned baby birds. These birds always die. Nature is beautiful and wonderful, but the sad reality is that cute little creatures die. Not everything can survive, and not everything should survive. If every baby bird at McCann's lived, the birds would take over. They wouldn't attack like in the Hitchcock movie, but they'd eat too many insects that eat other insects that are harmful to the trees, and then the trees would suffer, making it harder to support the nesting needs of so many birds. In a very real sense, unchecked birds could eat themselves out of house and home.
Ginny says it's best to leave the abandoned birds where they are. Nature has a purpose.
But my big stupid human heart doesn't want that. It's so hard to think about nature's complex systems, chains of being and chains of eating. I just want to cradle this helpless creature in my hands until it feels better, flies off to join its parents, and chirps a story to its siblings about the giant fleshy thing who saved it and sent it on its way.
I walk on. For two miles, I debate what I'll do with my little friend when I come back around to the bog bridges--pick it up or let it be. Even after two miles, I can't decide.
When I return, of course, it's gone.
*****
Day 36 -- Tuesday, June 21, 2005 -- 10:16 a.m. to 10:57 a.m. -- 41 minutes -- Sunny, 70 degrees
I see Jerry in the parking lot when I arrive at the trail today.
"I have some great advice for you," he says with a smile. "If you miss a day, just start over."
"Easy for you to say," I reply. Jerry is retired, so he has a little more time on his hands for starting over than I do.
Another friend told me not to worry about hiking the trail every day. "Bill Bryson didn't finish the Appalachian Trail, and he still got a book out of it," he said. "Sold a few billion copies too, I think. Made enough money to buy the Appalachian Trail."
I don't have quite the literary reputation of Bill Bryson, who could probably sell a million copies of a book about walking around in his front yard.
I had lunch with another friend yesterday and told her about my plan to hike each day for a year. She wasn't sure I'd be able to keep going for a full year.
"You'll probably miss a day," she said.
"I'll try not to," I replied.
"If you miss a day, then you can just hike twice the next day," she said. "Like with my birth control pills. If I forget to take one on Tuesday, I just take two on Wednesday."
"This is interesting advice from a woman with five kids," I told her. She ignored me.
"What if it rains?" she asked.
"I'll hike in my raincoat," I replied.
"What if it snows?"
"There's this new invention called 'boots.'"
"What if your car won't start?"
"I'll hike to where I hike and then I'll hike."
"The woods are full of deer tics. What if you get Lyme Disease?"
"God, Lyme Disease. That would be pretty bad. I didn't think of that. But I'll keep hiking even if I get Lyme Disease."
"What if you die?"
"Then I guess I'd have to put the project on hold for a little while. Or you can finish the year for me."
"Okay. Hey, can I hike with you sometime before you die?"
"Sure," I said. "With support like that, how could this project not be a success?"
"You're very welcome," she said.
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John Sheirer
John Sheirer (pronounced Shy-er) is the author of the new memoir Loop Year: 365 Days on the Trail, which received the Connecticut Green Circle Award for environmental activism, as well as the 2005 memoir Growing Up Mostly Normal in the Middle of Nowhere, a finalist for the Sante Fe Writers Project Literary Award.
He teaches English and Communications at Asnuntuck Community College in Enfield, Connecticut, where he has been honored multiple times by Who's Who Among America's Teachers and recently received the Distinguished Service and Educational Excellence Award.
John lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, with his wonderful wife Betsy Barone, terrific stepkids Danielle and Daryl, and Daisy the amazing hiking dog. John's website is www.johnsheirer.com, and he can be reached at jsheirer@acc.commnet.edu or (860) 253-3138.
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