Musings: Third redux

2021 - Note to readers: This was written in 2014. Moving it and two other posts from the blog windwarddave.blogspot.com. There are 13 posts there about the Appalachian Trail but plan is to just move this one and the two others.

Hey all, this is it - post #12 the last one! Thanks for your encouragement and support all along the way! Am back home for good. Much thanks to brother Paul and Sister Susie for making the trip possible and to all their children and grandchildren which got to see on this trip. They are awesome people. And of course thanks to Betty. The very first post was titled "Third" and this being the last post tries to bring it back full circle. If interested in figuring out if I ever gleamed the meaning of being third read the narrative below . If not just skip to the pictures!

"HE's too big," the obstetrician in the summer of 49' told my Mom. So she got to pick the date (Aunt Ruth's bday of course) for labor to be induced which meant I joined the world a month early. No problems except was blue on arrival and needed oxygen.

Similar to what happened at the start of our hike on March 16. We began a month early and experienced several days of freezing weather with a few single digit nights. We turned blue a few times and even hitched a ride out of white out blizzard condition to resupply from a man with oxygen tubes!

In such fashion the whole hike mirrored my soon to be past 65 years. It also provided plenty of time to think, reflect, and ponder. Faulkner was right "the past never dies, it's not even past." Lots of the hills, streams, campsites reminded me of my two awesome brothers, former years, Mom and Dad, Mother and Father in law, Jenkins and Evelands.

Dad came from a long line of preachers. Paul and I talked a lot about how he loved to dream of but quite never made it to retirement. He had a heck of a life though with the respect, admiration, and love of hundreds as well as us. Mom almost got to 97 and was a saint of course.

Besides managing us 3 she took in one of her orphaned students as a foster parent for a year. Let us boys turn the house property into a giant jungle gym for the neighborhood with wrestling in the attic, sock bb in the living room, and backyard football/baseball with tons of broken windows. Never raised her voice but her hand, well occasionally that was another matter. Three boys what do you expect!

People came to our southeastern Iowa home all the time. Our parents were basically like trail angels for the Mississippi river hobo gang. No one was ever turned away from a meal. The price was listening to a short sermon while chowing down on the front porch swing. Church people also came unannounced to our home at least 1,2,3, even 4 times a week. Plenty of home weddings as well. At times socks could be seen on or even falling from the chandelier while the couples said I do.

One of the purposes of doing this hike was to try and figure out if there is any special meaning to mine being the third son of a third son of a third son. Well would ask Charlemagne, Genghis Khan, or Moses if they were around. Don't know if they could add much wisdom on the matter though as have no idea if they were third sons. So stuck with what can come up with on my own. One thing I know for sure it means is that I have two fantastic older brothers. The other is it means I was last born and as such you already know a big baby and still am. Older brother John made it somewhat difficult to follow in younger years. He was Muscatine High class president, a scholar, all star wrestler, great musician, and even filled in for Dad. Paul was popular, and liked by the girls whom he liked in return. I was lucky our family moved to Des Moines by the time started High School as my shortcomings compared to those two were not so noticeable in a bigger city. Hey my eye hand coordination is good but have trouble when add the foot so no great athlete. Plus my brain developed (some say never did) sort of late. Well that is pretty much it on the third business. Bottom line it means I am a third generation third son no more no less. Geez it took a thousand miles to figure that out!

To bring up to date on the hike. We started out in southwestern Virginia near the Tennessee border on March 16. At Greenwood Lakes New York June 15th went off the trail to try and get over a severe poison ivy infection which had kicked in on May 27. After a few unsuccessful days of that decided to go home and stopped in Arizona and Washington on the way before arriving in the islands on July 2. The second day home was doing great and Betty gave the okay to go back to try and finish up. Got a ticket but by the time left was having rash problems. So after just a few days back on the mainland decided that needed to get and stay home. The short trip back was awesome though. Got to spend time with niece Jennifer and Tom, red sox game at Fenway park, hiked two of the Boston Harbor National Park islands and climbed up New Hampshire's Mount Washington. Very disappointed will not get to the northern terminus in Maine but on the other hand very happy to have been able to do what did.

Paul had a special banner made for the two us to unfurl on the top of Mt Katahdin. But since I will not get there we did so in New Hampshire.

The photo on the banner is of us three brothers a long time ago. The wording honors Northern Wisconsin's Camp Manito-wish as that is where we first became captivated by wilderness. Paul is going to make it all the way to Maine for sure plus he is going back down south to hike from Georgia to Virginia! He is hairier than Grizzly Adams and stronger than Milk Monster!

The whole trip, every step of the way, the good and the bad (dang poison ivy!) brought to mind the organizations that this hike has attempted to raise funds for- Wisconsin Easter Seal's Camp Wawbeek, and the Friends of Ho`opono which benefits Hawai'i 's Services for the blind program aka Ho`opono. That feeling of pure joy from witnessing kids at Wawbeek having a ball has resonated with me my entire life. It is also thanks to Wawbeek that became an Army medic instead of John Wayne.

Ho`opono, is the program in Hawai`i that provides services to to members of the local and Pacific region blind community. What a place. Actually it is s much more than just a place from where programs are delivered and coordinated. Thanks to the efforts of participants, consumer groups and staff trans formative experiences are provided which often result in life long benefits. At times the work was more than challenging, but just like this hike it was the time of my life. The Friends of Ho`opono enabled the agency to do facility renovation, set up of camps on the north shore, offer youth wilderness trips and lots of other good stuff.

As you know by now bro Paul and I had lots of conversations. Hey I like to talk and he doesn't seem to mind listening too much. Most of what we talked about was sports stuff but at times we got to some other matters such as time-how much we have had and how much we may have left. Paul concluded that conversation with the observation "Its' been a great run hasn't it." I nodded my head while images of our three +1 and Betty came to mind and thought "amen to that brother and then some and then some."

What follows are pictures listed by the state/region they were taken and for the most part are chronological order or anyway as best can recollect! A few but not many are also found in earlier posts. After those shots there are pictures of people met along the way. At the end are pictures of us three at the south rim in 2010, the northern lights, backyard, and circle completion with Grandpa Jenkins.

Virginia and West Virginia