It might have been

If you haven’t been watching the Ken Burns/PBS series on our national parks, you are missing something truly special. It’s a six-part series chronicling the history or our nation’s greatest natural and historical treasures. Moreover, the series delves into the untold story of people from every conceivable background who shaped our national parks. I find myself not only transfixed by the stunning visuals but the amazing stories of the people as well. For me, the series goes beyond its obvious entertainment and educational value. It slips into the emotional.

The poet and writer, John Greenleaf Whittier, is noted for the phrase, “For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been!” These simple words have proven to be somewhat prophetic in my own life. While I find the national park series both awe-inspiring and entertaining, I’m also saddened to a degree by something that might have been in my own life. As a child, I was never the most athletic or in with the popular crowd. I was the quiet kid in the back of the room daydreaming out of the classroom window, transfixed by the trees, grass, clouds, and often drawing on scraps of notebook paper. While the other kids were engaged in various games and activities, I typically milled about the playground looking at different weeds and poking at anthills with a stick. The center of my play world was a small drainage ditch behind my house teaming with frogs, minnows, crayfish, and an entire universe of insects. I contracted poison ivy almost every summer from exploring a wooded area not far from home. I climbed trees, picked Blackberries, built forts, and gathered insects rather than play Little-League like everybody else.

One of my most vivid memories from sixth-grade is deciding I wanted to be a Park Ranger during career week. I didn’t exactly know what a Ranger did, but the uniform looked cool and I knew they worked in parks with animals and lots of trees. My only previous reference to what Rangers do was watching Mr. Ranger chase Yogi and Boo-Boo around Jellystone Park, but that was enough for me. As is typical in life, the road forward branches in various directions and our decisions take us to new destinations. I slowly, without even realizing it, gravitated away from my career week decision as most six-graders probably do. As I watch the PBS series, I’m taken back to the sixth-grade and what might have been.