The son in Utah.

Dear Son,
When you grow up, people will tell you stories about me. Many of them will be true, some of them will be embellished and a couple will be outright lies. If you ask me, I’ll tell you the truth. Always. The things I’ve done in my life aren’t necessarily the things I hope you do in your life, so don’t be surprised if I seem a bit hypocritical. I had a hard time taking advice from otheres and had to learn everything on my own. Some of those things I hope you try once or twice.

For my 29th birthday I spent two weeks wandering around the desert in southwest Utah with four friends. We spent a couple of days at the Grand Canyon, a couple of days at Zion, a couple of days at Bryce and a couple of days at Capital Reef. The temple of the sun and the moon is where I reached one of the greatest (so far) epiphanies of my life. Jesse was there, and so was Chris Goodheart, and Kelly and Anita. I took your mom there and I’ve been back twice since. I plan to take you there when you are old enough, and I hope you take your friends there when you are old enough to travel on your own.

The drive is important. In the desert it’s the one place where you can see forever, and the sky is as big as the horizon. Blues and browns and orange and red--rain, driving fast down the highway out of New Mexico into Arizona, through the north country and into Utah (stop for a photo), get Kern’s in Kanab, stop at Best Friends (now—but not then), stop when you see the majestic canyons made of magnificent rock. Get out and touch the Earth, walk the canyons, wear funny sandals and wade through the Virgin River for miles. Take a walk in the back-country to the Subway (when you see it you will know why).

Bryce is like another planet. Orange, mostly, with amazing hoodoos, which—I think—means old souls. Wall street and canyon lands and the fairyland loop trial are all essential. A long day on the trial is rewarded with a good friend on the porch of the store.

A side trip to Devil’s Garden and Spooky, a night on BLM land with a rattlesnake, and then two nights in Calf Creek Falls. Swim to the falls even if it takes your breath away. If you don’t make a move, your life passes by your eyes like so many gallons of water over the edge of the dark green cliffs—touch the water, start your life renewed. Don’t be afraid to pet the dogs and if there is a bird there, it’s your great-grandmother (who I will tell you about someday) looking over your shoulder.

Look for the white birch trees as you drive north towards Capital Reef. Take a four-wheeler for miles into nowhere—it’s worth it—until you find the temple of the sun and moon. Watch the sunset there. Breath, relax and think about life.

If Jesse or Chris tells you I forgot the tent poles to my brand new tent (which the three of us were supposed to sleep in) they aren’t lying. When they tell you Chris slept with an ax after hearing strange animals outside the tent, that’s true too. It’s not an over-exaggeration that Nebraska, at 85 miles per hour with an overheated tape deck, smells like pig poop. And it’s not a lie that the desert in Southwest Utah is filled with an amazing amount of energy, and is a place to go to recharge, meditate and figure out your life.

I can’t wait to show it all to you.
Love,
Dad