This shot was yesterday morning, here at Henderson Mill, in Colorado, a little before sunrise. I’m really enjoying this assignment. My only complaint is that I had intended to do a lot of hiking, photography, and painting. Obviously, most of that isn’t happening. Below was the scene yesterday evening. It’s springtime in the Rockies, yeh?
Apart from a few minor snags, things are going pretty well. The Stew Wagon has been awesome, except for a window malfunction. (Nothing a little packing tape couldn’t fix, temporarily. I’ll fix it permanently over the weekend.) I’m sleeping in a pull-off at the top of Ute Pass, in the White River National Forest. We’ve had snow almost every night that I’ve been here, and temps have been cold. A few years ago, I was able to grab a big Peruvian wool blanket, and it keeps me very warm. If things get too cold, I also have a -20 sleeping bag.
Yesterday, I met a young man who told me a story, and I asked him if I could share it with you. We were talking about books and authors we like. After a couple of minutes, he said that, until a few years ago, he had only been reading on a grade school level. I asked him what happened, and he told me that he became a dad.
“I knew my reading wasn’t good”, he said, “and I wanted to read to my son, without sounding uneducated, so I picked up a Louis L’amour book and started reading.” After that, he read more, and kept on. Eight years on, I asked him how it had affected things for him. He said, “It’s improved everything in my life.”
Not only his, I’d guess. Because he reads, his son will probably be a reader, too, and his life will be improved. Maybe that seems like a simple thing, to you. To me, though, it is an incalculable act of love. I wish there were more dads like him.