0
Thinking back over the types of activities my dad did to spend time with me and my brother, I realized that most of them had to do with being out in nature. I can think of only one glaring exception, which was the frequent trip to the movie theater.
By far the most common activity we did as a family was going camping. We went several times a year when I was growing up. Typical destinations included Yosemite, the Pinnacles, and Arroyo Seco. Camping activities included hikes, fishing, biking, rock climbing, etc. We went at various times of year, allowing us to see the waterfalls of Yosemite in all their phases, from barely a trickly to a torrential downpour.
Later, in my teenage years, my dad got me a telescope, and we'd go up into the hills to try to get away from city lights and see the stars. (On a sidenote, we went up into the hills to see Haley's Comet when I was perhaps eight years old, give or take.) I can remember seeing Venus when it was just a crescent, and it was truly fascinating. So much so that my dad bought a 4.5-inch Newtonian reflector, which we then used to see the stripes of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn, and once we even saw the polar ice cap of Mars (when it was at its closest a few years back). I even tracked down Uranus one time, using a planet finding chart to get the approximate location, then looking at all the stars in the vicinity and taking note of all the stars in the field of view. The following two nights, the one "star" that moved was then picked out as Uranus. Aside from being slightly fuzzier than the other stars, there wasn't anything about it to distinguish it as a planet. Alas, I'll need a bigger telescope for that!
Also in my teenage years, as I've previously discussed, my dad took us out shooting. His collection started off with the .22 rifle and the .22 handgun. Then he added the SKS, and finally the 9mm Ruger. According to my mom, in later years he bought her a .357 magnum revolver for personal protection, which she keeps for just that use now. And she also said he bought a .30-06 rifle. I've never seen it, but I'm curious.
Anyway, the last major outdoor activity that my dad added to the family schedule was boating. When I was in college, he bought a small speed/fishing boat of sorts, a little 14-footer that could get up to about 40-45 miles an hour, but which also included an electric trawling motor. My parents bought a house in Stockton, CA, right on a levee, and they went out onto the Sacramento River Delta levee system quite often, sometimes cruising, sometimes speeding around, sometimes fishing.
Of course, occasionally we did a combination of these activities. For example, we spent a week at a campground up by Clearlake, and while there we went boating for a day. Then we spent a day shooting in a valley about 20 miles away, with a large hill as a backdrop and plenty of abandoned garbage to shoot at (an abandoned trailer, a large tractor wheel about 150 yards from the random park bench we used as a bench rest, etc.). Funny story: my dad went shooting with my brother and a friend, and they recorded much of it on the video camera. In the video, there was a scene where someone ate a Snicker's bar and left the wrapper on the park bench. Then we went back a couple months later for another shooting trip, and the Snicker's wrapper was still there!
At the time, I don't think I really appreciated how much quality time we spent together on these outdoor trips. In some ways, thinking back on those times makes me sad, because my father is gone now. But in many ways, those memories make me happy, or at least comforted, because I know that I had those good times. I know I can't bring him back. Whatever I might do to help advance the end of aging, it's too late for my father. So while I don't want to take a deathist's position of accepting death, I don't think that being comforted by the good times is an acceptance of death. It's merely making the best of a really crappy situation. He's gone, but I have good memories I can hold on to, to keep him near me in some way. The more I remember him, the less his death was in vain. I can pass on that love for family to my children, and with any luck on the anti-aging front, they won't have to deal with losing their father.
By far the most common activity we did as a family was going camping. We went several times a year when I was growing up. Typical destinations included Yosemite, the Pinnacles, and Arroyo Seco. Camping activities included hikes, fishing, biking, rock climbing, etc. We went at various times of year, allowing us to see the waterfalls of Yosemite in all their phases, from barely a trickly to a torrential downpour.
Later, in my teenage years, my dad got me a telescope, and we'd go up into the hills to try to get away from city lights and see the stars. (On a sidenote, we went up into the hills to see Haley's Comet when I was perhaps eight years old, give or take.) I can remember seeing Venus when it was just a crescent, and it was truly fascinating. So much so that my dad bought a 4.5-inch Newtonian reflector, which we then used to see the stripes of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn, and once we even saw the polar ice cap of Mars (when it was at its closest a few years back). I even tracked down Uranus one time, using a planet finding chart to get the approximate location, then looking at all the stars in the vicinity and taking note of all the stars in the field of view. The following two nights, the one "star" that moved was then picked out as Uranus. Aside from being slightly fuzzier than the other stars, there wasn't anything about it to distinguish it as a planet. Alas, I'll need a bigger telescope for that!
Also in my teenage years, as I've previously discussed, my dad took us out shooting. His collection started off with the .22 rifle and the .22 handgun. Then he added the SKS, and finally the 9mm Ruger. According to my mom, in later years he bought her a .357 magnum revolver for personal protection, which she keeps for just that use now. And she also said he bought a .30-06 rifle. I've never seen it, but I'm curious.
Anyway, the last major outdoor activity that my dad added to the family schedule was boating. When I was in college, he bought a small speed/fishing boat of sorts, a little 14-footer that could get up to about 40-45 miles an hour, but which also included an electric trawling motor. My parents bought a house in Stockton, CA, right on a levee, and they went out onto the Sacramento River Delta levee system quite often, sometimes cruising, sometimes speeding around, sometimes fishing.
Of course, occasionally we did a combination of these activities. For example, we spent a week at a campground up by Clearlake, and while there we went boating for a day. Then we spent a day shooting in a valley about 20 miles away, with a large hill as a backdrop and plenty of abandoned garbage to shoot at (an abandoned trailer, a large tractor wheel about 150 yards from the random park bench we used as a bench rest, etc.). Funny story: my dad went shooting with my brother and a friend, and they recorded much of it on the video camera. In the video, there was a scene where someone ate a Snicker's bar and left the wrapper on the park bench. Then we went back a couple months later for another shooting trip, and the Snicker's wrapper was still there!
At the time, I don't think I really appreciated how much quality time we spent together on these outdoor trips. In some ways, thinking back on those times makes me sad, because my father is gone now. But in many ways, those memories make me happy, or at least comforted, because I know that I had those good times. I know I can't bring him back. Whatever I might do to help advance the end of aging, it's too late for my father. So while I don't want to take a deathist's position of accepting death, I don't think that being comforted by the good times is an acceptance of death. It's merely making the best of a really crappy situation. He's gone, but I have good memories I can hold on to, to keep him near me in some way. The more I remember him, the less his death was in vain. I can pass on that love for family to my children, and with any luck on the anti-aging front, they won't have to deal with losing their father.
