“Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit”

First two photos by Scott Hoober

There are two things that my Dad has always been passionate about (not counting politics) and that is photography and the outdoors. Both illustrate my Dad's ability to be a passive observer, a witness to things that maybe the rest of us don't see. As our lives get busy, and busier still, very few of us stop to take in the world around us. We rush from one job to another, to picking up children and bustling them to their various games and lessons. We're entertained by a myriad of gadgets - that in many ways connect us, as evidenced by me writing this and you reading it - but in some ways seems to make us also disconnected. 

As a child, Dad tried his best to make Steven and I appreciate the world and all it had to offer. He made us look at birds, at trees, at clouds. He wanted us to know the different names and properties. He would point to the night sky and which stars were out in summer, and the ones that would make an appearance in winter. I don't think I fully appreciated his passion until I was older, until I realized that most people don't.

I remember a few years ago, driving through Mission Hills, and the shadow of a Very Large Bird flew over my car. I looked up, and a few feet above me, soaring gracefully, was a Great Blue Heron. Not something you expect to see in suburbia. I pulled over and got out to watch it as it landed in a pine tree. A man rode his bike by, and I excitedly pointed it out to him. All I got was a strange look.

He didn't look at the bird. 

I called Dad and he was every bit as intrigued as me. Where did it come from? Where was it migrating to? After that, I began calling him about all my sightings: a wild turkey in my neighbor's yard (the bird, not the bottle), a red tailed hawk eating a squirrel, a grey fox crossing my path during an evening walk, a possum hissing at me before ambling away, vega in the summer sky, a full moon so low in the sky, you'd swear you could touch it, a chorus of frogs in the creek late at night, a family of mallards waddling down brush creek. I find myself doing the same thing to my kids: I once walked home from a long evening stroll carrying a toad to show the kids. It was dark and I carried that thing for about two miles. I woke up the kids to show them and determine if it was a frog or a toad. I have caught snakes in the backyard for the kids to look at. Picked up cicadas so they could touch their shells. Hung preying mantis eggs in the garden, and watched as hundreds of tiny baby mantis' hatched out and scattered in a few minutes. As a result, my kids are as fearless as I am: every creature, every part of nature is beautiful and curious and interesting. There are lessons to be learned in all of it.

I got a bike the other day, and I have covered a lot of ground in the last few days. And I think what I have enjoyed the most is how it makes me observe the city around me - a city I have lived in my entire life - with more clarity and focus. As I came coasting down Ward Parkway today, I reached up and grabbed a leaf off of a maple tree for Addie and her nature collection. I had a brief thought of how lucky I have been to had a Father that gave me this deep appreciation for the Earth. This is probably more deeply rooted in me than any religious dogma ever could be. It makes me feel more connected to him, more like him.