This weekend was a wonderful family reunion. Uncle Frank turned 70, and about 150 people gathered in Moab to cheer him. Amazing collection of folks from a lifetime of work and play. They all talked about Frank’s enthusiasm for life, his trustworthiness and adventerousness. The guy started white-water kayaking in is 60s. Whoa. I was so inspired by the curiousity, courage, and playfulness with which he’s lived.
Meanwhile, Max was falling in love with climbing. As a boy who loves rocks, of course scambling up them is a “must do.” The glorious red rocks of Moab are nothing short of stunning. 300 million years of rock revealed in these astounding striated towers, mesas, and buttes.
The problem is I’m pretty damn scared of falling. Probably b/c I fell off a little bit of a mountain when I was about 16… somehow the downward slip always looks just a hairsbreadth away. So that’s pretty challenging for someone who like adventuring around, and I’ve sort-of-learned to cope. But now standing on the edge of a rock with Emma and Max I’m barely coherent. Time for some serious emotional intelligence!
We had a lovely weekend, no one fell of any rocks, and I pushed some boundaries. Emma had about 4 different birthday celebrations — including a picnic perched up in the North Window arch. Then she was invited to join Frank when it was time to sing Happy Birthday – 70 to him, 7 to her. Both seemed to like that better.