"Life is made rich by contrasts"

The thing about going backpacking to the mountains, is that coming back home is part of the pleasure - and it always has been.

I mean you can spend months listening to the wind in the pines, on the edge of the lonesome prairie, but I bet from the midway point on your thoughts are drifting to what you may do when you get back to town.

My take on it is that life is made rich by contrasts. One can love the solitude and freedom of the wilderness, and also possess a fondness for the in between visits to the city, to walk along a street full of people, to sit in a quiet corner of a full café and read a book or the newspaper, enjoying the busy of the city and the company of strangers.

And that is how it is with me. I am made humble by magnificent mountains and breathtaking scenery, by quiet wilderness nights and powerful thunderstorms. I am equally humbled by my favorite activity as soon as I get back from the mountains - bear with me as I get off topic for a second - and that is visiting one of America's treasures, the Saturday Night Honky Tonk, the local Country Western Bar with a Live Band.

Yes I love the excitement, the music, the pretty ladies. I even tolerate the smoke - it is all part of the atmosphere of Saturday Night.

The humble part of it comes from the response I get when I ask ladies to dance. Some scowl at me as if I just committed a crime. Others just turn their backs when I approach. I have had them put their hand up when I began to ask, and walk away. But the ones that are the hardest to take are those that go into a long explanation on why they don't want to dance, most of which I can't hear anyway, over the loud music.

When I came home last week, my daughter was sitting on the couch watching Saturday Night Live, and I mentioned to her about how it is so deflating to be turned down like that. Her explanation was threefold:

And my older daughter's advice is not much better. Her solution to my social problems has only two parts though.

So you might wonder why I am so anxious for the next Saturday night to go out dancing?. Well the reason is that not all the ladies turn me down, and once in a while I find one that has as much passion for the country beat and twostepping on a hardwood dance floor, and is as beautiful and mysterious as those mountain mornings or the deep woods, and that makes it all worth it.

And there is another reason. I figure If I live to be a normal age for men in this country, I have about 1500 Saturday nights left, tops. After that, they are done, finished, forever, for me. So do you see my logic - the passion, and pleasure, and celebration of life, on any given Saturday, at any given American Country Western Dance Hall, is not something that should be taken for granted, or wasted.

You know that sounds similar to why I hike up to the high mountains as often as I can - the beauty, in seeing the mountain meadows filled with lush grass and wildflowers of every kind and color, the purity, of a snow-covered forest, the intensity. of a summer storm, is also a celebration of life, of passion, something that should enjoyed while we can.

I think it really boils down to this one thing: A life well lived is the best prayer we can offer, in gratitude for being here.

And when mine is done, I want to be able to say not only that I have lived right, and shared, and treated others well, but that I have not wasted this mysterious gift of life.

Something tells me that will be ok.