My Grandsons Wish

I have a grandson who is only thirteen years old. I once asked him what he wanted to do after his formal schooling was over. He said, “I want to move to Alaska and live on my own, in a log cabin in the wilderness. I want to hunt and fish and just enjoy nature. I don’t want to live where I can read any newspapers or see any televisions, because it’s the same old bad news every day. I want to live in peace with God and this earth.” Just think—all of that from a thirteen-year-old—but this is what our world today is driving them to.

I wonder how many of us really think this way. I wonder how many of us have had our fill of wars and the stench of politics. Even our level of trust with other people has been immeasurably harmed, and we seem more and more alienated. For us seniors who lived during the good times, and through our indifference to what was going on around us, helped usher in the bad times, it gives one pause. What makes a thirteen-year-old, with his whole adult life in front of him, want to go and hide. Yes, it’s apparent that he sees nothing out there to make him want to live in our world, and that is so sad

I wanted to ask him—why Alaska? It’s cold and forbidding. Life can be so harsh out there on the edge of civilization. But then, I thought for a moment about the differences, and I answered my own question. Americans enjoy the doodads, and an entertaining life, with 3D televisions, the Internet, IPods, cell phones, fancy cars and the like.  Alaska’s wilderness has none of that, but none of the problems that come with it, either. By its own nature it keeps life, for those who want it, pure and simple. Its ground water is not full of herbicides, pesticides and drugs. Its air is devoid of mercury and carbon monoxide. But, you might have to cut your own wood for heat, and worry a little bit more about where your next meal is coming from.

My dad had a brother who lived in the southern part of the United States. He once asked my dad, “Why do you live up there in the cold?” Dad winked at him and said, “It keeps the riff raff out.” Each weekend we, up here in the lake country, see this exodus of people from the urban areas coming up here to get away from the rat race back there. Now, we’re not Alaska’s wilderness by any stretch, but we are something somewhat in-between. Very few of us drive the other way—except for social reasons.

Will my grandson get his wish? I’m not sure, because so much can and will change for him in the years ahead. One cute girl can change all of that in a few minutes. As his body grows, his mind will grow, too. His reasoning powers, that weigh all the good and bad in his life, will show him the harsh realities of an existence like that. But, if things get too much worse, maybe I can talk him into a two-bedroom cabin. For now, I will go for a walk in the woods across from my house. I’ll try to leave what I know behind, and like a thirteen-year-old, maybe for just a few hours I’ll pretend that I’m somewhere on the Klondike and just enjoy this unspoiled land.