Strength of my Father

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Abstract

my father died I went out and bought a walking stick clipped from a two-hundred year-old California Redwood. It has a leather wristband drilled into the top and a compass — a compass that points the way across the Santa Monica Mountain Range to the northern tip of the Backbone Trail and up toward the southwestern loop then all the way back down to the blue Pacific.I’m

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fifteen years familiar with this mountain. I’ve been hiking it for the greater part of my life. But since I bought the walking stick, I’m lost without it.It supports me when I’m tired and when the earth slips beneath my feet. It gives me courage and strength to walk alone and endurance to find my way in the wilderness as I travel the path of the soul.</article></body>

1921–1997

The day my father died I went out and bought a walking stick clipped from a two-hundred year-old California Redwood. It has a leather wristband drilled into the top and a compass — a compass that points the way across the Santa Monica Mountain Range to the northern tip of the Backbone Trail and up toward the southwestern loop then all the way back down to the blue Pacific.

I’m fifteen years familiar with this mountain. I’ve been hiking it for the greater part of my life. But since I bought the walking stick, I’m lost without it.

It supports me when I’m tired and when the earth slips beneath my feet. It gives me courage and strength to walk alone and endurance to find my way in the wilderness as I travel the path of the soul.