Coming Home
“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity”
— John Muir, Our National Parks
It is easy to become overwhelmed with our daily lives. Whether work, school, or social obligations, we often become occupied and do not take enough time for ourselves. Arguably the best way to care for one’s self is by getting out into nature. In his book “Our National Parks,” John Muir sketches and describes our nation’s western wildernesses to entice every day Americans to go and fill their hearts. He wrote this prior to the creation of the National Park Service, which came to be in 1916. Now, more than 400 units are managed by the park service with record setting attendance amounting to over 330 million visitors for its centennial year. Though the park service has existed for over 100 years, it remains as America’s best idea and the perfect remedy to the stresses of life. Having grown up ten miles from the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal NHP in Western Maryland, spending days at a national park were common during my chilhood. However, it was not until September of 2014 that I learned how much I needed national parks.
By 2014, my life had been through a whirlwind of changes, and more were to come. In May I got a job as canvasser for Environment Maryland, a nonprofit organization advocating for environmental protection. After one week, I was promoted to field manager and I lead a crew of about five environmental soldiers into battle in the Maryland suburbs, fighting for petition signatures and donations.
The more I did this the more weary my battle cry grew. We were talking to people with means and collecting their donations, but what about the people on the frontline of environmental degradation? Low income families in Baltimore were breathing in toxic air caused by trash incineration, small farming operations on the Eastern Shore were using polluted water from large scale chicken farms, and islands in the Chesapeake bay were seeing sea level rise take their fishing communities and bay pollution was hurting their livelihoods, yet here I was pandering to the wealthiest in the state. These are the communities that feel they do not have a voice next to the boisterous special interests with seemingly endless deep pockets. I took a step and began reaching out to farmers through the Maryland State Grange and farmers markets to engage them in the discussion of closing the loopholes in the Clean Water Act, and sign onto a letter to the EPA director and the president. While understanding the importance of raising funds for our causes, we must involve those who are being impacted the most and demand environmental justice. We would only be successful when we stood together as united front against the powerful fossil fuel lobby, and when we did, we achieved one important victory. In 2015, the Obama administration finalized the Clean Water Rule, protecting the tributaries used by small farms all across the country. It was truly a victory for the grassroots movement.
While spending the summer fighting for the environment, I found myself confronting two new battles. My aunt had been diagnosed with cancer and she would likely only live a few more months and I could not afford to return to college. These weighed heavy on my heart and mind. There was nothing I could do for my aunt, but I could make the best of my college situation. It was too late to apply for another university, and I enjoyed the work I was doing, so I applied for a director’s position with the organization. Within a few weeks I was hired to work in the New Brunswick, New Jersey, office, but I was also hired to work on the 2014 midterm elections in Colorado, campaigning for Senator Mark Udall. In September, I loaded up my Toyota corolla and started driving west.
I was assigned to the only campaign office in our opponent’s congressional district in Greeley, Colorado. This part of Colorado had seen significant growth in natural gas drilling, totaling more than 15,000 wells surrounding the city of Greeley in thirteen years. Our office had our work cut out for us as we canvassed for environmental protections in an area so dependent on the fossil fuel industry. We recruited more than 30 canvassers and volunteers to go door to door, call voters, and talk to Coloradans about Senator Udall. The hours were long, working seven days a week with days lasting 14–16 hours, and longer closer to election day. The stress of a campaign is itself enough to drive a sane person mad. One day I was out canvassing with two people on their first day when I got the call from my mother that my aunt had died. I managed to hold myself together through the day, but with this news I needed to take a day for myself. I decided to drive a little over an hour west to Rocky Mountain National Park.
The park was in peak late September foliage with the aspens a vibrant yellow. I set out for a day hike to Mills Lake, an alpine lake at 10,000 feet surrounded by stunning mountain views. Though I was an avid hiker, my usual pace was much too fast for my body at the elevation, and I was forced to take it slow. The trail went around steep mountain slopes, through deep forests, and along gentle streams. Suddenly, the trees opened and there the mountains stood boldly behind the peaceful lake. I sat on a boulder that likely tumbled down from the mountains above to rest along the shores of the lake. As I sat, I closed my eyes and took in the world around me. This was the peace my soul had yearned for. I let go of my troubles, the worries that plagued me for months, and allowed myself to just be.
John Muir, the father of our national parks, knew the importance, both ecologically and spiritually, of preserving these sacred spaces. I was a tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized person that found his home in the mountains. I would go on to dedicate two summers working for the National Park Service to give more people the chance to learn for themselves why we must protect this land. Each of us are stewards of our public lands, but also our communities. Though the struggle for environmental justice is a difficult and long journey, it is necessary. We must do all we can to preserve our environment and create a more just society, which can only be done when we stand together. By protecting our air, land, and water at home, we are protecting life and wellness for future generations.
