I’m out in Portland today because my five siblings and I are immersed in a memorial for my dad, which will happen this weekend. He was definitely the person who nurtured my love of the outdoors. In Ethiopia, he cultivated a huge garden and would dig a raw potato out of the ground and pull his pocket knife out of his pocket to give us each a slice. Yum that taste of raw potato and dirt. LOL. He loved to take us camping. We would jam ourselves into the jeep and jounce down a road that had been built by the Italians and end up on the savannah, often by this vier where I’m paddling with an air mattress. One time, my dad was swimming in the river, came around a bend, and, as he said, was suddenly face to face with a water buffalo. He turned around and swam as fast as he could away…and delighted in telling us the story and laughing every time.
Remembering my dad