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Kuhns_Reflections@verizon.net

Bob's Blog
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Saturday, March 10, 2007
Correction to Changes...
I stand corrected. Another dear friend read my blog and she reminded me that it was about 25 years ago when I had
last seen my boyhood friend that I talked about in this blog yesterday. Yes, I have another long ago
friend that I must go visit. I'll work on that.
3:17 pm est
Friday, March 9, 2007
Things Change. Enjoy the Change.
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I am not very good at maintaining connections
with old friends. As my life took me different places from them, I tended to go on with the new current life and friends.
I did not like the feeling of missing old friends, so I focused away from that.
A best friend from my boyhood through college
days found me (through this website actually) and invited my wife and me to visit him. It was a short visit... to short.
It has triggered a whole slew of memories that I want to share with him, and his memories with me.
High School Reunions never appealed to me. This was different.
He has a very different life now than when we last saw each other 35 years ago. I was fascinated to see all the things
that have become important to him now. He is very active in his community, a small town on the Eastern Shore
of the Chesapeake Bay. Every one seems to know each other there. He does volunteer work, and he is part of the township management.
Community closeness like that is one of the draws that bring
me back to work for the National Park Service each year. The folks who work in the park tend to think of everyone as
family. That never happened to me in my corporate career. My friend’s associations with neighbors, local politics,
and local businesses are very appealing to me.
Another attraction for me to going back to the park each year
is the closeness of wildlife. White-tailed deer, American black bears, ground hogs, skunks, red-shouldered hawks have
all been visitors to the yard outside my quarters up on the mountain. That is quite a change from my suburban permanent
home outside Washington, DC. There
are typical songbirds drawn to me suburban yard by feeders. An occasional cotton-tailed rabbit nibbles on my grass or
a night-time raccoon will wander into the yard raiding trashcans in the night, but other than that, it is quite civilized
around my permanent home compared with my seasonal mountain quarters. My wife even talked about that to my reunion friend
during our visit with him and his wife. Ann described the wonder felt as a bear with four cubs walked within ten feet
of our cabin door.
Just as we arrived back home from our visit, around
5:30 p.m., an uncommon, but not impossible event happened. We
have lived at this address for 32 years without ever seeing this happen. A
wild animal was walking down our suburban street with houses on both sides every fifty-five feet of curb. There
was a red fox loping down the grass yards past us. I have learned on the mountain that I should always keep the
camera with the telephoto lens at the ready. This time it was in my car, so here is the evidence that yep, it is
a red fox.
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Photo by Bob Kuhns
Note the white tip of the tail.
No other native canine of the Americas has a white tipped tail.
Photo by Bob Kuhns
A red fox may be one of several color phases, red being obvious. However, a red fox may be black
or silver, or may have a black line across the shoulders forming a cross.
Photo by Bob Kuhns
The white coloring under the jaw and belly is characteristic
of red foxes.
My home, located a quarter
mile from Washington, DC's Beltway, is about a two-hour drive from that of my old friend. His home sits beside water just off the Chesapeake
Bay.
I have invited him to visit me
in my seasonal quarters in Shenandoah National Park, more like a four or five hour drive for him. I want him to
sense the beauty of Shenandoah Park and enjoy it as I do.
When we were boys and young men,
we spent a lot of time together in the outdoors. He may have saved my life once, although he may not remember it.
We were practicing our mountain
climbing skills in the old abandoned quarry near us. I was doing my first assent of a vertical pitch with no discernable
handholds. The climbing technology of that era was to drive metal pitons into hairline cracks in the rock and use those
as the connection to the wall. I had stirrups suspended from one piton while I drove the next one above me. My
friend was on belay, securing the ropes that tied into my waistband, passing through a karabiner (metal snap ring) attached
to the same piton that supported my stirrups.
Once I finished driving the higher
piton, I tested its grip in the crack, making sure it would hold my weight as I moved up. I was certain that it
was secure. The next step required me to move one of the two belay ropes up into a karabiner on that higher
piton, then move up one of the stirrups. Meanwhile my friend kept the other rope secured around his body so he
could support my weight if anything went wrong. It did.
I had successfully moved all my
weight up to the next piton. I called down to my friend to switch belaying to
the higher rope so I could bring the lower rope and stirrup up with me. At the
instant that he was switching belay, the upper piton popped out of the cliff. Nothing
was now holding me that twenty feet up the vertical cliff. Gravity works amazingly
fast. Although I only fell four or five feet before my friend arrested my fall
through the lower rope, my mind experienced the fall in slow motion. I remember
it as a long terrifying moment of my life. The laws of earth’s gravity say it
took less than a half second. My friend did what he was supposed to do. He clamped down on both ropes and let them run a short distance so the stop did not
jerk me with a possibility of injuring me. I bet he does not think he did anything
special. He saved my life.
I plan to bug my old friend and
harass him into coming up to the park to see what it has done for me.
5:00 pm est
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