Scene from yesterday

It was a beautiful day. An unusual day. Remarkable, in fact.

I played hooky from work to take my son, Ryan, and my grandfather (whom Ryan calls "Bopie") to Dinosaur Valley State Park here in Texas, where some dinosaur footprints are fossilized.



Bopie is visiting from out of state, and I thought this would be a neat activity to get us out and about. Plus, Ryan craves all things dinosauria so I knew he would be up for it.

Driving into the park, Ryan pointed to the long prairie grass blowing in the wind and cried out "look at the waves!" It was one of those odd sights that you can't capture with anything other than your synapses. Okay, don't be so damn dramatic-maybe a video camera would do it, but we didn't have one on us, so just trust me that it looked like waves of the ocean.



Strangely, although they are already dying out in most of north Texas, the bluebonnets were still blooming here, along with black-eyed susans and indian paintbrushes. It was Bopie's idea to shoot a picture looking like the dinosaur was chasing Ryan, but I could mostly just get a look like he was being tickled to death rather than fleeing for his life. This was the best one.

The thing that was unusual happened when we went for a "hike" in the woods for a few miles.

Being an idiot, I put hiking boots on Ryan that barely fit over his big toe. Onto his bare feet, since he had already drenched his socks in the Paluxy River copying a family of morons who took their shoes off and trudged like elephants through the water, thoroughly soaking themselves. I had gone up to the car to get my backpack so I could cross with my hands free and take my (very expensive) camera--the last thing I said to Bopie is "Please keep an eye on Ryan." I had in mind, but didn't verbalize "please don't let him die in this dingy green river"--I guess I should have said it, because Bopie was high and dry on land and Ryan was halfway across the river by the time I got back, which completely freaked me out--luckily, Ryan didn't fall in--he got across just fine.



So Ryan's wet feet went into the hiking boots (a no-no) with no socks (also a no-no), and the shoes didn't fit well to begin with (and yes, I am an Eagle Scout with tons of hiking experience). We got a little ways down the trail and had to re-cross the river--this time we pretty much all got a little wet. After hearing Ryan complain as we hiked up the hill and down the trail about a mile and a half, we stopped for a quick snack and drink.



Funny interlude: After crossing the river the first time, Ryan flushed out a lizard, which scurried away quickly. I told Ryan "Think about it, you look like a giant to that lizard--kind of like a dinosaur looks like to you." He farted loudly and asked "Does that make me a stinky dinosaur?"

Finally, I told Ryan that he could call out when we stop and turn around and go back. About 200 yards down the trail, he did.

While we were hiking back, we were all kind of quiet. Then, I heard my grandfather singing a very old song ("It's a long way to Tipperary...") After a couple of minutes, he told me "You know, I bet (my great-grandfather) is here with us on the trail--that song just came into my head, and it's one of the few songs that he knew--he was in World War I and that was a popular song. Plus, he loved the outdoors--I'm just sure he's out here with us."

That creeped me out, big-time. You see, I kind of believe in that stuff, but I just don't want to know about it. Like the first time I went to the movie "Aliens" and I just couldn't watch that tense scene when the alien is chasing them at the end--I just don't want to see it.

Then we go a little way further down the trail and Ryan tells us, "You know, I think God sent me to you, daddy, because he knew that I would be special for you. And he sent Bopie to us because He knew Bopie would love me." This sent a shiver down my spine.

About 100 feet further down the trail, I found an indian arrowhead, crudely hewn, chipped on one side only. It had been previously told to me that my father, whom I've never met, had an uncanny ability to find arrowheads out in the woods. This was my first time to find one.

As we walked down the hill and through the swaying fields, it occurred to me that five generations of my family met for the first time and walked with each other quietly in the woods on this beautiful day.

It felt remarkably good.