Vernal and Nevada Falls: A Family History in Pictures

Although I started my older kids hiking short distances early on, our serious hiking adventures began in 2010, when my eldest daughter (then age 6) saw a picture of the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park on the cover of my Falcon hiking guide. We started talking about doing the hike, and I told them that we would need to train if we wanted to start doing hikes like that. After all, it is a six mile loop, with a total climb of 2000 feet.

The oldest three were eager to give it a try, and willing to start hiking regularly. We began with a local trail, the Mill Creek Trail, which is a great cool weather hike. After making it six miles a couple of times, I figured we were ready.

Therefore, in June of 2010, we set out, along with a friend, to conquer Vernal and Nevada Falls.

This trail is one of my all time favorites, a trail I believe everyone should have on their “bucket list.” (I would also list the Angel’s Landing trail at Zion National Park.)

We revisited this trail in 2011, then again in 2013 with some friends who had never visited Yosemite, and then again in 2015 and 2016, as part of our “go hiking on Memorial Day” tradition. For 2017, a year of historical snowpack, we experienced the highest water levels I have ever seen in Yosemite. That first time, only the oldest three children came with me. After that, we added additional children, until 2015, when my youngest made it the entire way on her own legs. We try to introduce others to this amazing hike whenever we can.

Each year, we have taken a picture of some sort at the top of Vernal Falls, looking west toward Glacier Point.The pictures speak of the imperceptibly slow progress of geologic time, and also of the way that children grow up far too fast. 

2010: Ted, age 4; Cordelia, age 5; Eli, age 7 (Picture by an unknown fellow hiker.)

2011: Cordelia, age 6; Eli, age 8; Fritz, age almost 3 (he rode on my shoulders); Ted, age 5 (Picture by Peter Wonderly)

 2013: Fritz, age 5; Ted, age 7; Lillian, age 2; Eli, age 10; Cordelia, age 8 (Picture by Justice Gradowitz)

2015: Lillian, age 4; Ted, age 9; Fritz, age 7; Eli, age 12; Cordelia, age 10

2016: Ted, age 10; Lillian, age 5 ("Do we have to take another picture?"); me;  Cordelia, age 11 (Caught her off guard...); Eli, age 13; Fritz, age 8. Picture by Peter Wonderly.

And, for good measure, one of me (2016) by Nevada Falls (Picture by Cordelia).

 

2017: Cordelia, age 12 (who doesn't like pictures right now); Amanda; Fritz, age 9; Ted, age 11; Eli, age 14; Lillian, age 6; and me. (Picture by Elizabeth Haber-Lopez)

2017: This happened to be our 16th Anniversary, so we got a picture smooching beside Nevada Falls.

 2019: Ted (age 13), Lillian (age 8), Fritz (age 11), Eli (age 16), 
Cora - who still doesn't like pictures (age 14)

Reading with my Kids – Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain

Source of book: Of course I own this. Don’t you?

I am participating in an online book club, hosted by my friend Carrie, who has a popular book blog, Reading to Know.




This month, the choice was Tom Sawyer. I loved this book as a kid, and decided to read it to my kids rather than by myself.

While this book is a literary classic, it is surprising how few adults have ever read it. I imagine it used to be assigned reading back in junior high school, but it seems to have lost its luster. One reason is undoubtedly its use of racial terms that are now both outdated and offensive. I did have to stop and explain the use of “negro” and its variants, as my kids were unfamiliar with the term. They have learned about slavery, and have an age-appropriate understanding of racism, but this is probably the first time they have encountered the terms in literature. I discussed this issue a bit in my review of Pudd’nhead Wilson.

Another thing I had to spend time explaining was superstition. I had forgotten how superstitions Tom and Huck (and everyone else) are in this book. Also, I had not realized that kids are apparently less superstitions than when I was a kid. In our neighborhood, I remember plenty of weird conversations about the number thirteen, sports rituals, and the like. Maybe we live in a snarkier age, where even silly beliefs about meaningless things have vanished. About all my kids knew was “step on a crack, break your mother’s back” – which they learned from my mother!

My kids loved this book. They were alternately scandalized and amused by Tom’s inclination toward trouble. They cracked up at the scene where he misidentifies the first two Disciples of Christ as “David and Goliath”. I was surprised to degree that they understood Twain’s humor, particularly since there were myriad archaisms that needed explanation. They also enjoyed finding all the references to this book hidden in Disneyland, even though there are fewer than there were when I was a kid. 

In fact, this was one facet of the book that I had forgotten. Tom Sawyer isn’t really written for the average child. Perhaps at one time, it would have been at an eight grade level, but I doubt many kids these days could comprehend it. The ones that could would probably be too jaded to enjoy it. The language is sophisticated and complex. The vocabulary is large and varied. The literary and Biblical references are many.

On the other hand, Twain’s humor is fun for readers of all ages. This is not a “kids’ book” that is tedious for adults, yet the perspective is that of a child, not an adult.

More than likely, the reason that Twain was able to write so convincingly of the irrepressibly boyish Tom is that he drew from real life. Twain claimed that Tom was based on a combination of three boys he knew. The truth is that one of those boys was Samuel Clemens himself – the boy who would later write as Mark Twain. In his posthumously published Autobiography, Twain admits that he in fact did trick his friends into whitewashing a fence for him, and did dose the cat with painkiller, after the floorboard trick was discovered. In his typically dry way, he observed that the painkiller was intended to prevent cholera, and worked well – no cholera occurred below the floorboards. Aunt Polly and Sid were based on Twain’s mother and brother. Huckleberry Finn was based on Tom Blankenship, the son of the town drunk. In real life, the parents all tried to prevent their sons from associating with such a character, and thus “Huck” became that much more attractive as a companion. Likewise, Becky Thatcher and Injun Joe were based on real people, although Twain changed some of the events to suit his story. It is this personal experience that makes Tom Sawyer seem so real.

 Illustration by True Williams

There are some within my acquaintance that dislike the fact that Tom is rather naughty. By and large, these people are mothers. I wish to avoid sounding sexist here, but I believe that there is something in Tom that is in every boy, even those of us who were more like Sid. I would qualify here. I didn’t get into much trouble, excelled in school, and would never have dreamed of actually sneaking out at night. Boy, it would have been fun, though!

Is there really a boy alive who hasn’t dreamed of spending several days on an island? Of digging for buried treasure? Of ditching school to play “Robin Hood”? Which of us has not felt misunderstood on occasion when fed some bit of medicine? Ok, I did, at least. I wasn’t Tom, and never will be, but there is some of him in me. I still love fireworks – and love lighting my own. I wish they still sold real sparklers, not the “safe” version. I love Mythbusters, and would love to set off explosions for fun too. I like being out in the woods overnight. I like yelling and hollering when we score a goal in a soccer game. I like tweaking the sensibilities of the females in my life. It’s something that few women will ever really understand.

Tom Sawyer is firmly in a tradition of “bad boy” literature. The genre is generally considered to have been established by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, in The Story of a Bad Boy, published in 1870, although Horatio Alger wrote a few stories that might be considered precursors. Interestingly, Aldrich’s book was also semi-autobiographical. Booth Tarkington’s Penrod novels are later examples of this type of story.

It is my belief that one of the important functions of literature is to allow the reader to enjoy certain liberties vicariously. Times have changed since the 1800s, when a boy in a small town could safely wander the woods and turn up late at night, and nobody would think it unusual. But it sure would be fun if that chance at adventure still existed. For a boy like me, who always valued his independence, occasional solitude, and loved being out in nature, books of this sort allowed me to imagine. Just as (some) girls love the princess fantasy (it certainly sells merchandise!), many boys enjoy a fantasy of their own. To be free, like Huck, from the grind of civilization. To be able to be dirty without having to hear about it. To escape the responsibility and hard work of real life. (After all, isn’t this a key component of the princess fantasy?) And yet, we get up in the morning and enjoy hot running water, good coffee and food, go to work, enjoy the company of wife and children, and curl up with a good book in the evening. Twain himself, despite his loathing of school, became a world-renowned author, with a wife and kids of his own.

Still, that impossible, impish, impulsive “boy” is still there. So I take my kids to a cave each year. We climb mountains and go camping. We make noise, and blow off fireworks on Independence Day. And sometimes, we remember dreaming of running off to Jackson Island with Huck Finn the Red Handed with a stolen ham, some fishing gear, and nothing worse to fear than a thunderstorm. 

 

***

 

UPDATE 2022: 

 

Since my younger kids didn't experience this book during the first read, I made sure that they got a chance before they got too old. My youngest was the only one who hadn't read it for fun, but the others enjoyed it again. Truly, this book never gets old. 

 

In this case, we listened to it on audiobook, read by Patrick Fraley, during a vacation. My youngest is pretty much a female version of Tom, headstrong and independent and a bit feral. So she really enjoyed all the escapades. 

 

As I noted earlier, there are some wince-worthy spots, mostly the use of racial epithets that are either offensive or just inappropriate now. Likewise, there are racial stereotypes that are problematic, even though Twain was progressive for his time. I'll specifically mention the term "half-breed" as applied to Injun Joe (itself a racial slur), and Twain's tendency to dehumanize Native Americans. These are issues we have discussed together, of course. I'm sure my grandchildren will have bones to pick with my own writing (if they ever read it), and my hope is that, like Twain, I can at least be described as "trying to do better, and learning as I get older.)

My brother has read his kids both Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, and we talked a bit about that experience on the trip. For both of us, actually saying n-----r is profoundly uncomfortable, and we have had difficultly figuring out how to read the book. I have ended up changing it to "negro" most of the time, but there in some cases, I think you have to keep the original - its offensiveness in the mouth of a loathsome character is part of the point. 

This is definitely an example of how times have changed. In my youth, my parents were pretty freaked out about the use of "hell" and "damn," to say nothing of "fuck," and "shit." For both my brother and me, we don't even care about the first two, and the second two are not reasons to, um, lose our shit. But neither of us would ever let our kids say n-----r, or call someone a "retard."

 

I think this is actually a positive development in society. Whatever one may think about profanity (in the sense of using religious terms or names as expletives), the shift away from finding sex and bodily functions to be "unprintable," and towards the idea that what is really unacceptable is the use of slurs against other human beings is a good one. Demeaning humans is a bad thing, and I am glad that society is realizing that. 

 

On the other hand, there is nothing holy about shit. Holy shit only comes from sacred cows, and god knows we need to slaughter those. 

Reading A Christmas Carol with my Kids

Source of book: I own several copies. See below for notes on the edition.

Every year, for the last five years, I have spent the week after our insane week of rehearsals and performances of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker ballet reading one of Charles Dickens’ Christmas novels. Last year, I read the last in the series, The Haunted Man. My review of that book resulted in the first print publication of my writing. (I now have a weekly column for our local bar association’s newsletter. No, I don’t make a dime off it, but it starts conversations, which is surprisingly fun.) This year, I decided to introduce my children to the joys of Charles Dickens.

My first introduction to Dickens was when I was about 9 or 10. My mother loved David Copperfield, and read it to us as soon as she thought we could understand it. My sister must have been about 6, so I figured my girls at least would be ready. So yes, I came from a weird family, and am doing my best to carry on the family tradition.

We read this over a period of four days. The book itself is divided into five sections, labeled “Staves”. (A stave is one of the five lines in a musical staff. It’s a carol. Get it? All of the Christmas novels have some sort of internal reference in the chapter headings.) The last section, the epilogue, is short, so I combined it with the previous section on the last day.

I admit I had a great deal of fun using proper voices for this book. Grouchy old Scrooge is particularly fun, as are Marley and the Christmas Ghosts. That part of the story was easy for the kids. Where it got harder was when Dickens described the past and future events. The references are a bit elliptical, to say the least – best understood if one has both knowledge of the nineteenth century and familiarity with Dickens’ writing style. I had to stop every few paragraphs and give the kids a synopsis of what was really going on. Fortunately, they have good attention spans and were willing to let the story unfold slowly. Ok, so Fritz fell asleep a few times, but he is only three.

Since I became a parent, I have been amazed at how early children develop a sense of justice. This develops far more quickly than their speech. They know they have been slighted, even when all they can do is scream about it. Thus, Scrooge, with his “humbug” and “surplus population” and all was instantly a compelling character. So too were the ghosts, with each his unique appearance and voice. Or lack thereof. The final ghost is spookiest of all because all he does is point.

I imagine most people are already familiar with the plot. I did some online research last year, and found over a dozen movies based on this book. I even suspect that more people could recite the plot than could coherently give the original Christmas story. This is, after all, one of the most memorable plots of all time.

If you have not read this, what on earth are you waiting for? It is roughly 100 pages – easily readable in a few evenings. It is also a good introduction to the good and the flawed aspects of Dickens’ writing.

As a follow up, the kids and I watched A Muppet Christmas Carol this evening. While no substitute for reading the real thing, this version is remarkably true to the original in both substance and spirit. Having read the book immediately prior, I was impressed again with how many of the best lines from the book made it directly into the movie – a movie aimed at children, no less! The two versions I am partial to are the Alistair Sim rendition, Scrooge (1951) and the Muppet movie. Despite their different approaches, they best capture that actual spirit of the book.

Anyway, the kids remembered the plot exceedingly well by the time we got to the movie. I was impressed that Ella particularly had carefully noted what each ghost looked like, and was able to point out to Fritz who all the characters were. Perhaps next year we will read this one again, or continue with The Cricket on the Hearth.

For tonight, I will go to bed with the memory of the sound of Fritz saying, “Ebenee Scooge” and “Fozziwig”.

Notes on the edition:

I own at least three copies of this book. The first is part of a Heritage Books collection of Dickens that I have collected over the last 20 years. I received my first few from Dale Brooks, who was kind enough to introduce me to both P. G. Wodehouse and Anthony Trollope when I was a teen. The five Christmas novels were one of these first books. The second is part of the Reader’s Digest hardback series The World’s Best Reading. These should not be confused with the condensed books from the same publisher. These are all unabridged classics in a good quality hardback binding. I have collected nearly 100 of these one at a time from used book stores, eBay, thrift stores, and library sales. My first was Twain’s The Innocents Abroad, which is still one of my favorite books. The last is the edition that we read from this time. Published by Candlewick Press, it was a gift from my mother-in-law several years ago. (This alone should tell you how blessed I am to have her as a relative.) This book is gorgeously illustrated on at least every other page. Usually, I am disappointed by the modern illustrations in Dickens, being partial to the originals by “Phiz” and George Cruikshank and others. (A good website for the originals is: http://charlesdickenspage.com/illustrations.html) In this book, P. J. Lynch as done an excellent job of capturing the nuance of the prose. Each character looks precisely as he or she should, but with a more modern feel to the backgrounds and atmosphere. I can highly recommend this edition as an excellent hardback and an essential part of any serious library.