Last Saturday, Roo and I were running some errands and went to Petsmart to get Lando some more dog food. The problem is that we are a couple of suckers for animals and the pet adoption people knew it. Inside the store were a bunch of homeless pets, one of which was a one year old green-eyed cat. At first we just looked, then we held her, and before we knew it, we were buying a cat along with our dog food.
Lando has taken the new addition pretty well. He likes to nip at her until she swipes his face with her little white paw. I guess she's a little feisty--just like her namesake,
When they aren't chasing each other, they get along famously!
It is interesting how we are still getting to know our parents and our past even after years of living right next to them. Last weekend Roo and I went along with my dad camping with his side of the family. We drove up together in dad's pickup, Roo with Lando on his lap and me in the middle. It was cozy and made for excellent conversation. We drove through Park City up the mountain to Wolf Creek, the site of Wright family campouts and sheep herding for decades. My dad and his dad and his dad had worked and played here for years and years, and on the drive up we listened to my dad reminisce and retell the old legends and stories that happened here.
Wolf Creek is true wilderness, and the view to the valley below is breathtaking. After an evening of reminiscing and smore making, we spent the next day hiking. My dad led us into his family's old campsite, which has been closed to vehicles for years. As we walked through the woods, we found carvings made by my grandfather, my own father, and my many relatives over the years. Some call it vandalism, but it felt like seeing a part of my own history to see my grandfather's 1944 carving--like part of him is still ali
ve here. It was neat to see how thrilled my dad was to see the place of so many idyllic childhood memories. We were returning to the homeland. I'm glad he took us with him.
NORMAN WRIGHT 8/5/1944 (my grandpa)
JOEL WRIGHT '74 (my dad)
Dad next to the carving that tells the story of the bear grandpa shot from right there.
Dad pointing out the places heard of in years of stories
Me holding a filthy creature I caught that followed us there