Park Rangers Unionize, and Jamaica Bay Refuge Mesmerizes

Oh joy! Just like that, the Sun is rising in my full view over the Blue Mountains, the first rays no longer blocked behind buildings.

Happiest day, beloved Joy Train Rider! I love you! Bless you! I affirm we are doing well.

Approaching my 75th birthday Friday, I am feeling ecstatic. I find it amusing that some people consider people “of a certain age” irrelevant and almost disposable, placing optimum value on technology and artificial intelligence. I have no issue with either, in their place. But I can’t help snickering at the fact that “artificial” literally means “made or produced by humans instead of occurring naturally.”

Near-worship of the artificial overlooks the fact that humanity is finite in a world of infinity we can’t even fully comprehend. To place our creation above Nature which has operated the world forever is so obviously jejune (teenage, lacking in substance) that we might all have a good belly laugh if we stopped long enough to think about how we are being programmed to advance the tools of our potential demise.

Among the wondrous things about almost having 75 years behind you is that we remember living close to Nature and understanding that fresh clean air, pure water, nourishing food and nurturing relationships are foundational blocks that humanity cannot live without. The artificiality of our current focus is reflected now in the fact that we can’t trust our food supply not to sicken or kill us, and while communication is rife, connection is scarce. So many people feel socially and emotionally adrift.

I’m really glad to experience both worlds and navigate the divide. I believe society can benefit from cross-generational discussions in the public square that share knowledge and promote understanding.

Similarly today I am so grateful to share that Park Rangers are unionizing! The National Park Service used to be the union, because those privileged to wear that uniform, the ranger flat hat and the arrowhead were so proud to be part of that fraternity, their mutuality was a living thing. Now that the agency has been politicized and many Park Rangers cast asunder, I believe it’s a great step in the right direction to have another entity that speaks with their one voice. We can support them here.

Two other important developments I want to mention before we take off are the Pattiz Brothers’ “What Fighting Back Actually Looks Like” and Anthony Christian’s staggering report, “The AI Poisoning Playbook: How a foreign government is using AI to hijack our reality and rewrite the truth.”

If a 75- year-old great-grandma can consistently strive to do something that spotlights the oneness of humanity and our dependence upon the natural world, I can’t imagine what a legitimate excuse would be for anyone refusing to do something positive that affects more than we and our immediate family.

Yet family connections in nature is where today’s tour is headed. Yesterday the first thing I read after my spiritual practice was this piece about the relationship of a granddad and his grandson nurtured through fishing, and it choked me up. It describes a relationship I can feel in memory. So I thought I’d take us on the RV-trip with our son, daughter-in-law and five grandchildren to Zion, Bryce and Grand Canyon National Parks in 2006 that we still talk about.

Sid Wilson is an icon in the outdoors world of the American west.

But while looking for it that trip in Pickup & GO! Spring 2006, this trip leapt out at me, and it’s even more perfect. Let’s join our brother Sid Wilson, at the time owner-operator of the outdoors tour company A Private Guide in Colorado, who has since been inducted into the Denver and Colorado Travel Hall of Fame and become a grandfather:

“In Brooklyn visiting my dad, a bright, brisk sun-splashed Fall morning induced that familiar Colorado restlessness that usually finds me heading up a familiar hiking trail for an hour or two of exercise, nature immersion and spiritual re-alignment. As our jetliner banked on its final approach to La Guardia, I caught a view of the 65 miles of Brooklyn’s coastline, from the Atlantic all the way to the boardwalk of Coney Island. In those moments I sensed that this visit would provide an opportunity to understand how my love of this coastline and its bays evolved into a love for Colorado and its mountains.

“Fueled by the urge to experience some of the old vibes, my destination is uncertain, but at the wheel of the rental I navigate by memory through Brooklyn’s heartland of immigrant ethnics, Bushwick, Flatbush, Bed Stuy, Crown Heights, Brownsville, Canarsie and East New York.

“Before long I’m traveling across the two-lane blacktop traversing the saltwater marshlands. The brisk Fall ocean breezes carry the smell of saltwater beyond the dunes impounding Jamaica Bay. With my FM station playing Smokey Robinson’s classic ‘Ooh Baby Baby,’ this day Brooklyn has no rival.

Two worlds separated by a Bay: Waterbirds frolic in Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge with Manhattan skyscrapers looming across the way. Photo: Don Riepe, NYC Bird Alliance.

“Along Crossbay Boulevard the sign “Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge 1/4 mile” reawakens memories of youthful adventures fishing with my dad in his motorized aluminum skiff among these same salt marshes, tidal creeks, isolated beaches, jetties and causeways. I turn into the parking lot and enter the double-wide trailer serving as the Visitor Center with a modest book and gift store.