A Burning Bush in Yosemite National Park.

When I was seven, we lived in a little town called Rialto.

I went to Ramona Elementary. I was an average student. Mom worked part-time at Sages Grocery Store. Dad was an auto mechanic.

Both my parents loved the outdoors, and pitching a tent fit our budget pretty good, so we spent a lot of time camping. Mom, dad and I drove the blue Ranchero all across Montana, visiting every state park within a weekend’s reach.

Then dad got two weeks off at the end of May and we headed west. I thought we were aiming for Yellowstone, but mom and dad had something grander in mind.

Yosemite!

I was only seven, so I wasn’t thinking in spiritual metaphors (at least, not that I’m aware of). But looking back, I can say now it was a Burning Bush experience. Yosemite was holy ground, and I ran across it with a joy my parents had never seen in me before.

My mom wrote about that first visit in her journal. I still have her slim little books. “After two weeks, he refuses to leave,” she wrote. “Says he’s going to build a house in the valley. I wish now we hadn’t taken him to that John Muir exhibit.”

John Muir! Riding an avalanche off the rim of the Valley! Spending a storm-tossed night yahooing in the top of a pine tree! Setting off for the wild with just two loaves of bread in his coat pockets!

Other kids wanted to be astronauts or superheroes. Me, the moment I stepped out of that exhibit and back into the Valley, I wanted to be John Muir.

The last morning, when it was time to pack, I was nowhere to be found. Dad was frantic. He knew how easy it was to get lost in those endless woods. He ran for the Rescue Rangers while Mom waited at the tent, in case I came back.

As she waited, eyes raised in that instinctive and prayerful way we all seem to carry, she saw the sun ignite the spray atop Upper Yosemite Falls. A rainbow faded in and out with the breeze, like Nature’s holy ghost. Later she wrote, “Suddenly, I knew where Bobby was.”

She found me on the bridge below the Falls. “He looked so happy, so right, that I couldn’t take him away.”

Mom told dad we were staying.

Dad was furious, but when mom made a decision of heart and mind, that was that. So dad drove east to work while mom and I stayed another week in Yosemite. We would take a bus home.

Looking over what I’ve typed, I’m not sure how to end, or what to draw from all this. I just want Chip to know how deep Nature runs in me. I want him to understand why his dad takes him to Yosemite every year. I want him to realize, deep down in his heart, that Yosemite is holy to me.

When I stand in the mist of those mighty falls, I am baptized. I believe in God, I hope in heaven, but I know Yosemite. 

​I guess I just want my son to remember that.

Comments

Media Jean: Wow. I don’t think I feel like that about anything.

Chip: Maybe you can come with us to Yosemite. You’ve seen my dad in Nature, but he’s 10x that in Yosemite.

Media Jean: That’s funny. I can’t imagine your dad being any more Thoreau than he already is.

Chip: He’s like Thoreau with the annoying parts left out. He walks and hikes and smiles, writes poems and skips rocks. No sermons. He’s just there.

Media Jean: Thoreau without the annoying parts, that’s hard to imagine.

Chip: Media Jean, do you think we’re missing something?

Media Jean: What do you mean?

Chip: The way my dad feels about Nature. I wish I felt that way about something.

Media Jean: I know what you mean. I love technology, but it’s just a tool. It’s something I use. With Nature, it’s itself. And your dad is part of it.

Chip: Yeah. I wish I had that.

Media Jean: I never thought about it before, but I wish I had that, too.

Chip: I love computers and coding and and AI and YouTube and all that.

Media Jean: But they’re just tools and toys and stuff.

Chip: I think I’ll ask my dad to take us camping.

Media Jean: Yeah! Maybe it’s not too late for us!

Chip: Maybe we can learn to be part of nature, the way he does. Connect with what my dad calls his inner North Star.

Media Jean: My inner North Star. Wow. I love that.

Johnny: OK, before you say it, yes, I was lurking. Get over it.

Media Jean: What do you want now, Johnny?

Johnny: Nothing. I was just thinking.

Chip: Do you want to go camping with us?

Johnny: Really?

Media Jean: Really?

Chip: That’s what you wanted to ask, isn’t it? You feel the same way we do. You want that inner North Star feeling.

Johnny: All right, all right, I admit it! I want to go!

Media Jean: Wow. I thought money was your inner North Star.

Johnny: Capitalists are human, too, you know!

Chip: I’ll go ask my dad right now.

Media Jean: School’s out in a few months. Maybe he could take us to Yosemite.

Johnny: I’ve never been to Yosemite.

Media Jean: Me either.

Chip: Hold on. I’ll be right back!

Media Jean: I gotta say, Johnny, you surprise me sometimes. It’s like the Johnny-I-think-I-know just went away.

Johnny: Will your folks let you go all the way to California?

Media Jean: They’d let me go to the moon if Chip’s dad was the tour guide. How about you?

Johnny: My dad will see it as a great character building experience. He’ll say this trip will give me a story to tell when I’m a CEO. You know, something to dupe the worker bees into thinking I’m relatable.

Media Jean: And just like that, the Johnny-I-think-know is back.

Chip: He said yes!

Media Jean: We’re going to Yosemite!

Chip: He had already reserved a spot for our annual two week trip. It’s in Housekeeping Camp, so there’s plenty of room. He’s going to call your parents tonight.

Media Jean: I’m going to give my folks a heads-up.

Johnny: Me, too. This will be great!

Chip: Let’s get together tomorrow and read John Muir stories!

Media Jean: It’s a date!

​​Comic strip from the series "Chip's Upgrades"
(Kid, Inc. Volume 2: The Batcave of Childhood)

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