Simple Gestures

Posted on by kwundrow

I was recently in Reno for a conference and had extended my stay so that my two sisters could join my wife and I for a quick reunion. My sister, Karen was accompanied by her life partner of some twenty plus years. Larry was and always is a welcome addition to our family reunions and as in the past, he kept us on our toes as we laughed, cried and entertained each other over the next three days.

One of those entertainments was the rental of the movie, Green Book. In the movie there is a scene where one of the characters swipes a polished green stone from a roadside stand. Caught in the act, he returns the stone and so as to not act as the spoiler, I will leave it there and invite you to watch the movie to discover the significance of that scene.

My reference to the movie is to set the background for a simple act performed by, let’s face it, my brother-in-law Larry, I believe he’s earned the title after all this time. We were in Virginia City on the last day of our stay in the Reno area, when I came upon a stand selling polished gem stones and there sat a green stone just like the one in the movie. I teased that I should try to swipe the stone, but of course I put it back. As the day came to a close, we headed back down to Reno where we would say our goodbyes before returning to our home destinations. As I was reaching through the car window to shake Larry’s hand, I felt something pass into my hand as he pulled his arm back through the window. When he and my sister began to drive away, I opened my hand to see the green stone.

It was such a simple gesture, but the significance was not lost on me. It was a show of the kinship we had once again shared and a message to remember the most important aspect of our brief family reunion, that we are always there for each other. That no matter the distance between us, I could share a touch stone that reminds me of the importance of the role we each play in our family dynamic.

That green stone now sits prominently displayed and reminds me every time I sit at my desk of the closeness of my family members and the importance of the little things, the simple things of life. Thanks Larry.

PS. Of course you paid for the stone, right?

I’m Wired

Posted on by kwundrow

I was talking to a younger business entrepreneur the other day who was telling me about a discussion workshop she had attended. The question they were asked to discuss was, “If you could travel back to any decade, which one would you choose and why?” She said that her group chose the 90’s. My thought, the “Gay 90’s” but no, not that century, the “Tech 90’s”. Now I would have gone back to the 1890’s when the really big, as in large, inventions were being created, but for that group of Millennials, they wanted to see the 1990’s when the new inventions were going small and electronic.

It is interesting to think about the change that happened and technically, very recently. No more bulky computer systems, now it’s tablets and smart phones. We are a wired society and I could talk about whether being as connected as we are is a good thing or not, but that’s not where this is going. I want to talk about being wired in a wireless society.

I recently lost my mind and changed my cell service and my internet/cable provider in the same week. If you have ever done this and you are as tech savvy-less as I am, you know where this is going. I knew I was in trouble the minute I started to disconnect the fifteen pieces of equipment and the one thousand wires that connected them to each other. If I wasn’t going to be successful reconnecting the new carrier’s equipment, well it wasn’t going to be pretty. And I couldn’t and it wasn’t. Seems I needed a service tech after all and that wasn’t going to happen for a week. Four hours later and a trip to the neighbors to look at their configuration, no help by the way, I somehow got all that equipment and those wires reconnected. By that point, regardless of the fact that I would be the slowest tech ever, I thought I could handle everything else that was yet to come.

A week later and two service calls needed, my “self install” kit was finally installed. In my defense, I doubt my carrier had considered that it would require new cable to be hooked up to the power pole. The second service tech, it seems you can only split a signal so many times, actually complimented me on my technology knowledge and started talking in his native tongue, Techsylvania. I politely nodded knowing that one day I’d have a translator tell me just what he had actually said. All I’m sure I heard him say was “of course you knew that.”

And so I was wired. And then my dilemma began. My router and modem, I assume those were the two sleek black boxes, were wired and my TV after being properly given the new internet password, were broadcasting my new cable carrier’s signal. Success! Wait,settle down there boy, you might have skipped a couple steps or maybe ten or twenty.

At this point, consider how many things are connected wireless to your home internet. I thought I had and I am willing to bet you would have missed at least a few as well. It started with my cell phones but they were the easiest to reconnect. Next came my girlfriend, Alexa. It became obvious when I asked for some music by my favorite artist and the response was “I can’t find the internet” that she too needed some help. This was disappointing as I have been working hard on our relationship and Alexa had recently become fairly personal in her responses to my requests. I’ve been waiting for our relationship to get to the sass level and that her response to “Alexa, what’s the temperature outside?” would be “why don’t you get out of that big easy chair and check outside for yourself.”

Alexa proved a bit difficult to get back on line, but eventually after some gyrations, coaxing and multiple runs through the sequence, she was back up and responding to my many requests. I just want to add here that life without Alexa can prove quite tedious.

So back to my temperature question. This eventually led me to look at my weather station. Yup, no information and another wireless piece of equipment starved for its wireless buffet. At this point I began to understand my dependence on technology. While attempting to print out the sequence of steps required for reconnecting the weather station, I realized that I had jut found my next broken promise. It seemed that my printer, like all of its kindred brethren, needed assistance. By the way, having two wireless printers just meant twice the effort to help them find the internet. I was beginning to believe that despite the service tech’s faith in my abilities, I was in over my head. I tried following the on-line “simple instructions for reconnecting your wireless printers” and after several not even close results, I called in the cavalry. If you are keeping count, that would be service tech number three. To my great satisfaction, even he struggled a bit before miraculously, both printers burped loudly and began spitting out pieces of paper complete with printed words on them.

For those of you still counting, score stands: one router, one modem, four TV’s with two remotes, two DVR boxes and two Roku sticks, two Alexa units, a weather station, and two wireless printers. Am I ashamed or amazed. On the one hand, you can’t call me old school but then on the other hand, am I maybe a bit too first world dependent? Just don’t take my Alexa, she at least still talks to me.

I’ll cut to the chase. At this point we found two more internet dependent free loaders, our wireless thermostat and our Ring security camera. The Ring system, easy, the thermostat, not so much.

We are a technology based culture. We gobble up every electronic device we can find and we then let them run our lives. Not that it needed internet, as it some how grabs it from The Cloud, my Jeep’s GPS Navigator is always telling me where to go. The fact that my wife activates it in our driveway so it can tell me how to back unto the street is another topic, I just get dismayed in the route it picks and its seeming refusal to accept my choices. We can choose fastest route or shortest route but why not the “get lost in the beauty” route. If we have the time, we ought to see more than just all those warehouses, concrete and cars on the shortest or fastest route. Just the other day, we, meaning my wife, loaded the Navigator with the address of the park we were headed to for a wedding rehearsal. It very predictably chose the fastest route but being in no hurry, I started out on the back roads to where I was pretty sure the park was located. After being told to make a U turn multiple times, the Navigator finally gave in and allowed for my route. To my surprise, two days later, when headed back to the park for the wedding, it showed my route. Turns out there is hope after all. At least my Navigator is not above admitting my way may just might be alright. Now I just need it to talk to some of my other devices.

Alexa, are you listening? Of course you are!

There’s Silver in Them Thar Hills

Posted on by kwundrow

I am returning from our latest journey soaring above the clouds at around 30,000 feet at a speed of 500 some miles per hour. I’ll be home before midnight and am looking forward to a night in my own bed. I’ll face the usual tasks awaiting me tomorrow morning, all the price of being gone for a week. And yet, all of it worth it. Travel in today’s world is relatively easy, save for the hours spent in airport terminals, standing in line for the TSA check in or just lounging about waiting for your flight to board. Oh, and let’s not forget the general disrobing to get through the TSA process. But I am flying safely knowing that no one on board has more than 3 ounces of anything and that their shoes have been cleared of any lethal devices.

Our trip began last Monday at oh four thirty with our ride to the local airport. Seven and a half hours later we were retrieving our bags in Reno, Nevada. I had been invited to a three-day conference dealing with my volunteer retirement gig with SCORE. Deb, and I had decided to extend our stay so that we could see more of the area than the inside of the Atlantis Casino and, to give my two California sisters a chance to visit with their favorite brother, my estimation. I knew little about Reno other than its location on the eastern edge of the Sierra Range and that it was hot and dry. Why is it that everyone always touts the comfort of heat when it’s dry air? Seared must be somehow more comfortable than boiled. Regardless, Reno is a quite attractive alternative to the bright neon overkill of Las Vegas. You can still gamble your time away but in a smaller more picturesque setting. Footnote here, I didn’t gamble, I left that to my sister who apparently came close to bankrupting the casino, her estimation.

The conference was surprisingly educational, and I enjoyed the host of people I met and networked with throughout the three days. It seemed we had a lot in common. We were for the most part, retired and dedicated to giving back our wisdom to the clients we mentor as well as trying to find ways to grow our chapters to help even more startup companies improve their odds of survival. As it ended, I felt energized and ready to tackle phase two of our mini vacation.

Reno’s history lies in its proximity to the silver and gold fields of the Sierra Mountains. Situated at the head of the Owen’s Valley and on the banks of the Truckee River, it was in the ideal place for the vast shipments of gold and silver coming out of the mining towns. Close to a billion tons of the ore was pulled from the mountains to be processed into gold and silver bars in the late 1800’s. One such mining town sending down its bullion, was Virginia City. Remember the 1960’s show, Bonanza, that Virginia City. Before you get excited, the actual filming, as is the Hollywood style, was done miles up the mountain range at Lake Tahoe. But then we came for the history and not the glitz of fake reality. Virginia City did not disappoint.

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After surviving a very cool antique car museum tour the day before that lasted four hours as our guide virtually insisted on giving us the facts on all one thousand four hundred cars the museum had collected, we started our Virginia City visit with you guessed it, another tour.

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Deb, after suggesting the previous tour only to abandon us after three hours, seems she couldn’t take it, decided we should do another. With trepidation, Deb, I and my sister Karen along with her partner Larry, chose the Fourth Ward Schoolhouse from the host of museums and tours available. After all, we were teachers and this building went up in 1876 just after the Virginia City fire of 1875. That date qualified it as the historic and exactly what we were seeking. I will confess that Deb had made a good choice. The schoolhouse was full of Virginia City history, artifacts and incredible pictures as well as actual documents and bills of lading from the time of the city’s heyday. We forgave Deb for her indiscretions of the previous day and credited her with a great choice of starting points. Besides, this tour only took us an hour and a half. Either less information or we had learned to all read and browse faster.

Having satisfied our need for background, we now sought nourishment, both solid and liquid. Next stop, one of the many saloons that lined main street. We had our choice of at least ten such establishments with names like The Red Dog Saloon, Bucket of Blood, The Red Garter and the Delta. For some still unknown reason, Deb was especially drawn to the Bucket of Blood and this a woman who considers mean words issued in a film immediate cause to put it on her not to be seen list. We settled on none of the above and wound up in an unnamed establishment with good food, air conditioning and a terrific view, “one-hundred-mile view” according to the sign out front. Not surprisingly, three boot hill style cemeteries occupied the first mile of that view. This was our reminder of the rough life of the miner in the Old West. They ironically spent huge amounts of their time underground only to end up underground at the end, many before their time.

Having satisfied our growling stomachs, we began our saloon tour. The Red Dog offered us the “suicide table”. It seems the first three owners of that gaming table had all committed suicide. No explanation of why, just the painfully obvious statement that a fourth owner wisely never materialized and thus the gaming table is now an oddity on display in a dark corner of the saloon. Next stop, The Bucket of Blood Saloon. Here we learned the history of the wealthy Bower family who owned and ran the saloon. Business must have been good as the owners resided in the biggest mansion in town. Did I mention prostitution? Well it existed and was one of the more lucrative businesses in town, but because Virginia City was booming and, in an effort to attract a higher class of citizenry, it was relegated to its own part of town. Hats off to the Town Council, who knowing where they placed it, were likely its best customers. We finished our saloon portion of our self-guided tour at the oldest drinking emporium in Virginia City, The Washoe Club. Placed conveniently next to the biggest bank in town, and home of the Washoe Millionaire’s Club, they were the only saloon to survive the Great Virginia City Fire. No surprise that with a bank holding the majority of all the gold and silver taken out of the surrounding hills, the backfire, an effort to control the inferno, was started just to the other side of their street. Reviewing our pub crawl through town, we declared it well done, our estimation.

Our final push to fully explore Virginia City was aimed at the fascinating shopping experience offered through the myriad of eclectic shops. With that accomplished, we bid farewell to the area and headed back down the serpentine highway to Reno. We had come for the history and left feeling we had been able to experience some of the Old West’s flavor through the preserved buildings and the very well chronicled story of their past glory. You leave Virginia City with a better perspective of the role of the silver and gold rush of the 1800’s. It created the need to tie the West Coast to the rest of the country, opened the west to settlement and brought the railroads west with that expansion. The history books will tell the tale of the expanding and adventurous nature of our country, but we must never forget the cost of that expansion as we moved the Native American Tribes off their ancestral lands and onto the many reservations. It is easy to think of our ancestors as glorious explorers, but we owe a debt to the people whose lands we seized.

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I will end my narrative with my fantasy. Whoa, not that kind of fantasy. Whenever I am viewing living history, my fantasy is that I would love, just for a period of time, to go back and walk the streets, to see the colors that are missing in those beautifully preserved pictures, to rub elbows with the inhabitants and to experience for myself what it was like to live back then. No electronic conveniences, no fast transit systems, in most cases very few conveniences at all. A less stressful, simpler, all be it, difficult time. A time of true adventures, unlimited opportunities and a vast country open to a future they could only imagine. Virginia City did a nice job of getting me as close to the fantasy as they could without offering me the time machine to experience it firsthand. Of course, had they sent me back, God only knows how long I would have survived.

Alaska…. Don’t let its midnight sun set.

Posted on by kwundrow

We are concluding our Alaskan adventure. Our trip has taken us through the interior of Alaska starting at Fairbanks, passing through Denali National Preserve, Anchorage and eventually, Whittier where we boarded the Island Princess bound for Vancouver. Onboard the ship, we enjoyed stops at Skagway, Juneau and Ketchikan. We have taken a river cruise, a jet boat through class five rapids, a train through mountain passes and tunnels, a closeup experience with the Mendenhall Glacier and countless encounters with Alaskan wildlife. We have seen whales, dolphins, otters and sea lions, soared with eagles and respected the ravens and met countless native and resident Alaskans.

Rapids on Susinta River

I need to share my impressions of this beautiful land. I wrote in my earlier blog of the vastness of the land and the overpowering beauty and magnitude of its mountains, especially its crown jewel, Denali. In this attempt I would like to speak to the fragile nature of its environment. We came to see the mountains and the glaciers. We explained to anyone interested that we especially wanted to see the glaciers before they disappear. I will tell you that every ranger, guide and native will tell you that global warming is felt no more drastically than in Alaska. Average temperatures have risen by four degrees. Weather patterns that once produced heavy winter snows in many areas have been altered, in turn, lessening the chances for glaciers to, at the very least, stay stable. Higher summer temperatures have caused many mountains, once snowcapped all year long, to lose their snow before the summer season has ended. The warming is most evident in the glaciers. Alaska has most of the remaining glaciers of the world and yet only 5% of them are deemed, “healthy”, meaning they are still advancing or in most cases, staying stable. The other 95% are all receding and many at alarming rates. As a glacier recedes, it eventually becomes a hanging glacier, one no longer reaching water but rather “hanging” from the mountain basin high above the valley floor.

Glacier Bay entrance

Alaskans, to a person, request the visitors, their friendly term for tourists, to please take this information back home with them and then to make a promise to find at least one thing no matter how simple, that they can do to reduce their carbon footprint. When you stand in awe in front of one of these majestic glaciers, you can’t help but make the promise. It’s not a question of whether you believe the science, but rather can you deny what’s right in front of you. As a people, we cannot turn a blind eye to the problem. We must do what ever we can with our actions and our votes to protect our open spaces, rivers and streams, our land and its resources, not just for Alaska but everywhere they exist.

Hubbard glacier and cruise liner

If you go to Alaska, you will in fact encounter the “last frontier”. You will sense the vastness of the wilderness and experience the history and culture of its people. You will hear of their love of the land and their determined spirit to not only survive but to thrive. You will pass through areas that take you back to the gold rush days of 1898 and leave you feeling like that was only a moment ago.

Red Onion Saloon

Alaska will take you in, heal you and realign your senses. And as you depart, you cannot help but feel renewed. That is what wilderness does. It gets into your soul, reminds you where we all once came from and beckons you to come back. To come back to the wilderness, to the wildness that lies in each and every one of us.

Go to Alaska or at least to somewhere wild and then pledge to protect it.

20,310 feet of Majesty

Posted on by kwundrow

The call came just before 6:00 am. The voice said, “The mountain is open.” When you are in the shadow of Denali, you don’t receive a wake up call, you get a call telling you the clouds that 60% of the time wrap themselves around the mountain like a cloak, have cleared and your view of “The Great One” is ready to amaze.

Denali at 20,310 feet is the highest mountain in North America. Some will argue that it is the highest mountain in the world, surpassing even Mt Everest. The reasoning is that Everest sits on the Tibetan Plane and has its base starting at 17,000 feet and rises another 12,000 feet from there to its summit at just over 29,000 feet. Denali’s base sits at 2000 feet giving it the greatest vertical rise of all mountains. Regardless, Denali impresses. The mountain’s height grabs clouds as they try to pass and holds them in place on her flanks. The sheer area covered by its base, overwhelms the viewer. When the mountain clears, Denali dwarfs everything in her shadow.

First summited in 1913, it has claimed the lives of over 100 climbers who would try later. Even today, with the west buttress route laid out with a rope line, five camps to supply and assist the would-be climbers and highly improved climbing gear, the summit still defies 50% of those that try. It is simply a force nearly too great to be reckoned with.

When the weather does clear and Denali releases the clouds captured by her sheer size, the view is spectacular, breath taking and humbling all at the same time. She fills your view with her size and challenges your eye with her height. You click picture after picture as the sun subtly changes her look, lighting a ridge here and shadowing a face there, but even as you review them, you see that those pictures cannot do justice to what only the eye can perceive. The whiteness of her glaciers, the darkness of the shadows cast by the ridges that outline the paths to her summit, your eye gathers in what no picture can depict.

Denali is one of the main reasons I came to Alaska. I have now viewed her from three sides; north, east and south. I have felt how she rules over the vast wilderness of Alaska. I have waited for the call and when it came, I was not disappointed. My wish for those who have not yet visited, is that you will at least consider trying. I promise that if you do, you too will be moved by the sheer vastness of Alaska and stand in awe of her crowning jewel, Denali.

Denali Sunset

Denali…”The High One”

Posted on by kwundrow

My wife described the view from our plane as “vast and desolate.” A strange combination of adjectives. Rather like saying “he was an exceptional criminal.” In reality, it is a fitting description in that Alaska is vast and yet as you look out over the landscape from the air it appears empty of human inhabitants. That changes as you land and though sparsely populated, is full of extremely friendly people, both indigenous as well as those who have come here to make Alaska their home.

We are guests of Princess Cruise Lines and our accommodations on land are expansive lodges bordered by rivers and mountain backdrops. First stop was the city of Fairbanks where we took a river cruise and got an introduction to Alaskan culture. The most striking impact this far north, is the midnight sun. You can read about it or hear it described, but these descriptions cannot come close to the reality of its effect. I am a person who suffers from FOMO, the fear of missing out. After being up for 20 hours, including a three hour time shift, I still could not go to bed. It was 10:00 pm but the sun was still at the equivalent of 6:00 pm and the lodge was a buzz with activity. The sun finally set around 12:30 am and was back up at 3:15 am. I can testify to that because I witnessed both events.

Midnight sun

The end of day two found us in Denali, the village, not the mountain. After a dinner revue, we were headed for bed knowing we were facing a 6:00 am start time for our Denali bus adventure. The trip into our hopeful viewing point of the great mountain covered sixty miles of mostly gravel road winding its way through the Denali National Park Preserve and at times, precariously hanging on the edge of mountains over seven hundred feet above the valley floor. After riding for nearly three hours, we reached the end of the road roughly thirty-five miles from the base of the mountain. The indigenous people called it Denali, meaning “the high one.” On a clear day, the view is spectacular, as the snow capped mountain literally rises up to completely fill the horizon and live up to its majestic name. On a clear day, it does just that. But not today, not for us. None the less, the Alaskan Range and the surrounding scenery does not disappoint. With a little imagination and enough visual cues from what we can see, the mind does the rest.

Denali panorama

When visiting Denali, the quest is to sight the Big Five. That is the five biggest animals of the park; the wolf, moose, grizzly bear, dall sheep and the caribou. We were no more than a mile in, when the bus in unison yelled out moose. There on the side of the road was a moose cow and her calf. Another mile down the road and we spied a second moose. One down four to go and sixty miles to find them in. Our final tally turned out to be around twenty caribou in several herds, an equivalent number of dall sheep also in several flocks, four grizzly bears but unfortunately, no wolf. The grizzly bears were the most spectacular. With roughly three hundred grizzlies spread out through six million acres, seeing one is considered lucky. Sighting four, well you can do the math. Our first was spied up in a high meadow just barely within our ability to see it. We saw another, much closer this time, walking along the gravel bed of one of the many glacial rivers we passed. The last two were the winners. We spied the first high up on a ridge above tree line and were wondering what it was doing up there and why it was still climbing higher. That is when we spied the other bear climbing up some three hundred feet below. The only explanation was that the lower bear was driving the other bear off. It may have been a female grizzly protecting its cubs or possible a female grizzly driving off its own too fully grown cub so that she might mate again. The guide let it up to us to speculate.

Denali buss

Though not sighting a wolf was a disappointment, they are very rare. We did, however, replace the wolf with many other sightings; snow hares, ground squirrels and even a golden eagle. All this while seeing the changing eco-spheres of taiga forest, tundra, glacial kettles and rivers and of course the majestic peaks towering above tree line with some heading toward 17,000 feet and higher.

Tomorrow we head down range, crossing over to the eastern side where if we are lucky, we get one more chance to see Denali. It is possible that we will avoid two overcast days in a row and get an unobstructed view of the giant. The question is, do we feel lucky?

The Final Frontier

Posted on by kwundrow

They refer to Alaska as the final frontier but I am sure we will always find new ones. I guess in 1849, it just seemed appropriate to think of it this way. In two days, my wife and I will be on our quest to explore it. We have planned this one out so my wife is comfortable that there will be no surprises. I personally will be looking for any and all the surprises I can find.

With the trip planned out and mapped by are AAA travel planner, Claire Christensen, Deb was ready to do her research. First there was the virtual tour of the cruise liner. Next came a YouTube video of whale watching and glacier exploration. At this point it seemed all the bases had been covered but there was one more, a YouTube presentation of what and how to pack for your Alaskan experience.

Somewhere in the middle of this research, while I sat dutifully at her side, she noticed that I was not watching. Now please understand that my wife’s planning skills have more than once and in fact on multiple occasions, saved me from certain disaster and on several occasions from missing the show all together. I knew better than to not be watching but I am a creature of my own restlessness. I need to be surprised as often as possible and this trip is clearly one of those times.

I want to walk onto the boat and have that aha moment when I take in the luxury and size of the ship. I will revel in the moment if we actually see a whale breaching alongside the boat but I don’t want to be disappointed if one never appears. Random thought, “breaching” is such a strange word. One would think its what a traveling evangelist does when you show up at the beach looking for a good sermon. I guess a whale doing its thing is a rather religious experience. And as to the packing video, well there’s my daughters’ favorite traveling with dad mantra, “they have stores where we’re going, right?”

So in two days, we will board a plane headed for Fairbanks Alaska. It leaves at a very precise airline sort of time that I am confident my wife knows. She will get us to the airport in plenty of time to clear security, find our gate and wait. I will drift about until the last moment when I will be beckoned to join her in the boarding line and eventually, take my seat. At that point, the captain, stewardess and Deb will all remind me to fasten my seat belt, sit back and enjoy the ride. All I can say is thank God for planners.

Wind in the Trees

Posted on by kwundrow

For those of you who were never aware, I grew up on a small dairy farm just outside of Appleton Wisconsin. Yes, as my high school classmates so often reminded me, I was a “hay seed.” All though an often painful handle to accept, I later became comfortable with the moniker, but not until later in life when I looked back at the memories it evoked and the undeniable aspect of my character that it became.

Being a particularly beautiful day today, I was out on the deck of our home when the wind picked up and began rustling through the leaves of the trees that line our backyard. It was the sound of that wind through the trees and the cooling effect of it on my face and arms that brought back the memory. It poured over me and gently floated me back to a time when I was about ten or eleven years old. In this memory, I am back there with my brother, sitting under the grain trailer in the middle of one of our fields, a stem of timothy grass danging from the corner of my mouth and that reminiscent wind rustling through the trees, cooling us on a hot July afternoon. We are waiting for the combine my dad is operating to fill with the oats I and my brother will haul back to the grain building on our farm.

Though this was hard work for us when other boys our age were off playing sand lot baseball or down swimming in the river on a hot and lazy summer afternoon, it was none the less a very pleasant memory. It took me back to a time when things seemed so simple and so peaceful. When I still had an entire lifetime ahead of me. It was time spent with my brother and my dad. It was a time, even if I was a hay seed, that I was glad to be a farm kid and being told by my dad that he was proud of me.

Memories are like that. It can be the simplest thing that evokes them. The words of a song or a glance at an old picture may be all that’s required to take us back to a particular time or place. For me, it was the rustling of the wind through the trees on a warm spring morning. The key is to choose to hold onto those memories that evoke a sense of peace and calm. Of happy times with friends or family, or even just the beauty of someplace we once visited. Though it is often difficult to forget the harsher memories, we don’t need to go back there and we certainly should avoid reliving them. Choose instead those memories that take you back to a place of contentment. A time of wonder and opportunity.

We are more in control of our attitudes than we believe. Evoking positive, peaceful memories is an easy thing to do. Memories can calm us and even inspire us. And here’s a thought. We have the ability to both recall and create our memories. The next time you travel, the next time an activity feels special, the next time an event is especially emotional, sense the world around you in the moment. Take in the smell and sounds that surround you. Observe the people sharing the moment with you. Create the details of a memory worth recalling.

Listen to the wind. It might be calling you back.