Rock jumping with Boon

Here are some pictures of me and my dad at Hickory Run State Park in PA. I have foggy memories of this day. We went back there with my cousins at least fifteen years later; when I watched him jumping from rock to rock I knew something seemed familiar.

I was rock hopping a few weeks ago on my way back from Charan; instead of taking the path I came up the river valley. It sure is fun. I wonder if I enjoy it so much because I did it so much as a kid.

My parents usually make me crazy after a few days, but I miss them anyway. They must be real saints, because they sure put up with a lot of crap from me. I was an intolerable teenager. I didn’t get much better in college. These days I’m finally starting to appreciate everything they’ve done for me. I sure “took my merry ass time,” as my mom used to say.

My father's nickname is “Boon.” These days he's patient, good natured and silly, but when my brothers and I were growing up he had a short temper. When he was really young I think he was a real trouble maker. There was one time when he threw some dirty socks into someone’s water well. I think he also pushed a piano (or a stove?) out of a third floor window. I hope he doesn’t mind me telling these stories. I appreciate that he’s open and honest about his imperfections. If he can live with his mistakes, I can learn to accept my own.

Anyway. When I was little he taught me to play chess and speak some French. I think a lot of my values about respecting nature and treating others with compassion must have came from him (and of course from my mom, too). Like my mom, he’s an amazing artist. I don’t remember them teaching me a lot about drawing per se, but my whole family went out of their way to foster my creativity. Most of my childhood was spent in old Civil War forts, castles, Dungeons and Dragons, Tolkein books, make shift rafts in the ocean, magic talismans, home made video games, and hand-painted lead figurines (I just made a grammatical error but you get the point). I think the lead figurines contributed to my mediocre memory and occassional autistic behavoir, but everything else was good for my development.

The point is, I think I turned out pretty okay, my family fostered in me some neat qualities (and some weaknesses too, to be fair, but that's part of being human, right?) and I’m thankful for that.