Goodbye, my friends, and thank you
Goodbye, my friends, and thank you. I cannot think about these last couple of years without thinking of you. You have born me over thousands of miles of wilderness trails. Together we have hiked through the Midwest, the Northwest, Southwest, South and Northeast. You have followed the tracks of Lewis and Clark, Johnny Fry, Davy Crocket, and Paul Revere – across this continent and back again. You have traced the path of my ancestors through the Cumberland Gap, the Ohio River Valley, and the Puritan Paths of Connecticut and New York. You have stepped upon the summit of the stolen site, the Black Hills, and dragged yourselves along the Trail of Tears; you have stood before Slave Auction Blocks in Virginia and sites of Native American slaughter in Massachusetts and South Dakota. You have hiked short portions of our nation’s most famous long trails, and hiked every trail in Westchester County.
You were my very first pair of trusty Merrells. But you are tired and worn out. You leak, and have lost your grip. You are as comfortable as socks, but no longer trustworthy outdoors.