of course there are lots and lots and lots of memories of my father, and so i may just be writing them down so i don’t loose them.
the summer of.. goodness.. after my junior year of college.. yep, between jr. and sr. year of college. i was supposed to work at a boy scout camp that summer in the outdoor program but during the raft guide training i broke my (lower) leg, so i couldn’t guide or work at the camp anymore.. so i ended up at home for the summer with not a lot to do..
… BUT i did figure out a way to boat, kayak. i got some great stuff to wrap my cast up in a nd was able to fit it in my boat. and dad – maybe in a bit of stupidity – agreed to go on a trip down the new river gorge with me like that.
i remember getting to the put in at cunard. he told me he’d help me get the boat off and get it down to the river and all that good stuff. but i didn’t have a lot of patience, so i think he got my kayak off the top of the truck, but i remember me getting dressed – hopping about on one leg, and getting that kayak the rest of the way down to the river.. the steep steps and getting myself in the boat which i did mainly on my butt.
BUT dad was there, and instead of trying to get in my way of doing what i intended to do, sat back and let me, encouraged me, and dare i say – he was proud of me for being so bull headed to do this myself.. which i got from him. i think he probably knew that if he tried to stop me from boating or from hopping around on one foot with a boat on my shoulder he would have had to go to battle with just a short, female, version of himself.