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January 11th, 2010 Hatah
Today is the birthday of a young man named Nathan, who happens to be our brother. (Well, Kenton's specifically, if you're counting by blood). Recently he helped us with a revision of the turkey story, and it led Rebecca and I to reflecting at how amazed we are to share our lives with someone like him.
Later, Nathan took adventuring to new levels. In college, he ventured to Nepal to live for a year, and he was kind enough to take me under his tutelage to guide me through that foreign land when I went to visit him for a month. Soon after he signed with the Peace Corps and spent two years living in Mongolia, residing in a ger and going half-crazy -- either from isolation or the lingering carbon monoxide from his cook-fires. In different lands he was given different names, each one like an arcane incantation that evoked a life-story -- he was weaving a tale composed of adventure and courage. There seemed to be no portion of this planet that wouldn't welcome him in, embracing him like an old friend and comforting him with tales of loneliness and forgotten ways of life. Even now, married and living near Madison, he finds adventure -- kayaking the lakes, traveling with his wonderful wife Max to distant lands to swim in nocturnally phosphorescent bays, or dealing with the sometimes violently mad clients at his place of work. It's difficult, occasionally, to remember that this is my little brother, who I once guided and protected (and, of course, mistreated at times . . .). In Nepal, he guided and protected me, and now he's the first person I'd want along in a sketchy situation or in strange and lonely places. It's always inspiring to share our
lives with a true adventurer.
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In
the earliest days Nathan and I spent a lot of time in the woods. He was
called 'Chipmunk', I was 'Red Fox', and we adventured with 'White Crow'
and 'Swift Fox'. We walked over beaver lodges, we hunted for a trapper's
traps so that we could dispose of them, we camped under Grandfather Tree
when the forest was flooded by spring thaws.