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When the troubles mount, I recall my first hero. My dad and I explored the woods high above the Ohio River Valley. It was a place of legend.
The Sweetwater Indians had found caves that led down to the valley and under the river. With immense good fortune, we would some day emerge from the caves on the other side of the river.
It was an era when everything was possible.
Dressed for Woods
Thoreau's Journal: 26-Mar-1860
The walker and naturalist does not wear a hat, or a shoe, or a coat, to be looked at, but for other uses. When a citizen comes to take a walk with me I commonly find that he is lame,—disabled by his shoeing. He is sure to wet his feet, tear his coat, and jam his hat, and the superior qualities of my boots, coat, and hat appear. I once went into the woods with a party for a fortnight. I wore my old and common clothes, which were of Vermont gray. They wore, no doubt, the best they had for such an occasion,—of a fashionable color and quality. I thought that they were a little ashamed of me while we were in the towns. They all tore their clothes badly but myself, and I, who, it chanced, was the only one provided with needles and thread, enabled them to mend them. When we came out of the woods I was the best dressed of any of them.
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You do so well after all a great teacher (Lee Marvin)