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We feared for Les's mental health. Long-term unemployment, the possibility of cancer, his concern for his son's safety in Afghanistan, and who-knows-what-else had piled straws on his proverbial camel's back. Usually reserved and outwardly laid-back, My brother had become snarly and lower than down-in-the-dumps.
Les's uncharacteristic behavior startled the family, especially my nephew, who emailed me from Kabul. His message overflowed with confusion, helplessness, and fear for his dad. I replied with as much comfort as I could, knowing that there really wasn't much any of us could do. Les would have to work this out himself.
I did, however, advise my expat nephew of one strategy I knew would be beneficial: I would get Les out of the house. "I'm on vacation next week, " I wrote, "and I've vowed to take your father someplace every day."
While I couldn't make good on that vow, we did manage 4 out of 7. Day One (October 25th) found us at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo. Burdened only with cameras, we wandered at leisure. Les could take his time setting up creature shots. I was impressed with his photographic vision, his ability to capture the right scene from the right angle with the right light. "What are you shooting?" I asked more than once, puzzled by his aiming the camera toward a seemingly uninspiring scene.
Each time I asked, Les patiently explained what he was photographing and why. I learned that he could hone in on some amazing details while I could only see the big picture.
I don't know when it happened, exactly, but sometime during the afternoon at the zoo, my brother changed. He relaxed, talked a bit about the curves life had thrown at him. The tension melted away. Mission accomplished.
"So, where should we go tomorrow?" I asked when Les dropped me off at the end of our zoo adventure.
"Anywhere!" was his enthusiastic reply.
"Anywhere" turned out to be the Hinckley Reservation, the southern-most area of the Cleveland Metroparks system. Once covered by an inland sea, this link in the Emerald Necklace (as the Metroparks are known) boasts a lake and some interesting rock formations. When we climbed to the top of Whipp's Ledges, I discovered that my fear of heights made it impossible for me to get down. Les had to scout around to find a suitable descent. He exhibited remarkable patience as he tried one fruitless option after another. Nope. No good. Nope. Up down. Up down. Finally, he found a way off the ledges with no precipitous drop. I came out unscathed, but majorly embarrassed. And, of course, that hike took a lot longer than we'd planned.
In the days and weeks that followed, we hiked a number of trails in both the Cleveland and Akron Metroparks, as well as in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. And we intend to keep hiking throughout the winter. Maybe even try snowshoeing.
Both Les and I have become dependent on these outings. There's just something about being in the Forest Primeval--the aroma of fallen leaves, the quiet, the friendly smiles from passing hikers, and the awesome diversity of nature--that soothes our "civilized" souls. Makes me want to read Walden again.
Wednesday is now our outing day. When bad weather or appointments cancel our hikes, I get downright gloomy. I need my Forest Fix! I need more of Les's photos to relive those pleasant days. I need to feel good about increasing my stamina on the trail and developing my powers of observation.
Yes, getting out into the natural world is great therapy. And that's not a "Lotta Bouleshitte"!
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P.S. Les's medical condition turned out to be a nasty infection, not cancer. Thank you, Lord!
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