Jill, who’s too damn perky for her own good, and pretty much inserts being a Christian into every conversation. I’ve had to watch my words around her, not that I swear or anything, but you know. At least she’s the one who gets the church group hikes, which is a relief for me.
Alex, a Vietnamese Botany geek. He’s all about hybrids and conservation and studying non-native invasive species. Since he also collects insect samples, he makes me comparatively non-nerdy. He moved to Philly with about a dozen of his family members when he was five. He’s tried to teach me a few words in Vietnamese, but they get caught in my mouth and I don’t have a very good memory for languages, I guess. He snores like a buzz saw. I share a room with him.
So, we share a kitchen and a bathroom, all of us. It’s kind of cramped, but there’s an extra shower outside. I pretty much use that every morning. No, it’s enclosed, you perv.
There are other co-workers who run the gift shop and rangers who spend more time out around the northern regions of the park, but I’ve only met them briefly, and they either drive home nearby or live at other stations further away where I hope to go camping soon. But for now, I’m kept busy studying maps and learning about giving tours and leading short hikes for the day-trippers.
As you noticed, I’m typing this (duh). Yay! There’s an old manual typewriter at the cabin, and a lot of books on nature, so I do some reading and when I want to write you, I can take it outside near the cabin so I don’t bother the others at night. Sorry for any typos. I tend to write after sunset with only a Coleman lamp.
It’s so beautiful here, Ev. I wish you could visit me. I miss you so much.
I have to tell you I brought a few things like a few small copies of photos Holly took of us, your school sweatshirt (it gets cold at night), and a few other, um, items you sent (grin).
I’ll send you some photos when I have time to get them developed. I don’t yet have driving privs with the Range Rover, but I go into town a few times with Elliot or Amanda for shopping trips. We have to pay for our own groceries, but Elliot loves cooking, so we go in together for dinners.
For now, enclosed (and probably wilted and flattened, but hey) is a sample of the beautiful wild flowers that abide in the park; Bluets (Houstonia caerulea). I know no one is supposed to pick flowers in a park, but since I work here, I’m giving myself employee privileges. It’s amazing to come across a cluster of them, almost like a bed of snow.
Anyway, take care, and write if you can. My phone number’s below, but it’s in the hallway in our cabin, and not at all private, and there’s no answering machine. If you call, which would be best to do in the evening, you can whisper all the sweet nothings you want, but I probably won’t be able to whisper much back.
XO, Giraffe
June 23
Yo, Monk!
Still no driving privileges, but I’m keeping busy. I’ve been relegated to the gate for several days. It’s boring, except I get to meet pretty much everyone entering the park on the south side. People mostly know they have to register and pay for camping. I’m basically a cashier and I hand out maps.
Elliot gave me this tip, since he’s kind of justifiably paranoid about smokers. When he works the gate, he looks in the car for an open ashtray or a trace of cigarettes, then gives a stronger version of the fire safety lecture. Most people are cool.
Others, like the fathers –who are almost always the driver, so I talk to them– think they know everything, even though I’m required to recite my safety scripts.
No, there are no bears, Booboo. But there are a lot of scavenging animals that like to pig out on people food. Makes a mess if campers don’t lock up their food. I had to play janitor at three campsites. It upsets me how sometimes people can be so careless.
There’s a busload of kids from Erie coming up, I mean down, for the day next week. Elliot said I could give a talk on park safety and how not to get lost, all the plants and animals to see, that sort of thing. I’m kind of nervous about talking in front of our first group of kids. Wish me luck!
Your flower of the week is Woodpoppy (Stylophorum diphyllum). Its leaves are kind of rough, like kale, but the blossoms are (or were; by the time you get them they’ll be brown) a bright deep yellow.
XO, Reid
June 28
Everino,
Well, the kids’ talk went really well. I was nervous at first, wondering if I’d run out of things to say, but they have so many questions! I mean, it’s amazing. They’re so curious! Of course, I got totally upstaged when Rick, this guy with the fire prevention crew, came by in a Smokey the Bear costume. He does these appearances for the kids’ groups, and can’t really talk under his bear suit. So I kind of interpret for him. It’s hilarious. The kids all want to hug him and we take their pictures with him. It’s just so great knowing we’re teaching these little kids to love nature and respect da erf, ya know?
Actually, knowing there’s a cute guy underneath the bear outfit makes it kinda hot.
Yes, I am a total perv.
Yours in arboreal affection,
Ranger Reid
PS: your wildflower this time is Turtlehead, aka Chelone glabra, not to be confused with Lyon’s Turtlehead, aka Chelone lyoni. Wouldn’t want there to be any confusion. Besides, the Lyon’s Turtlehead have thick blossoms, and I’ll need a box to mail you one of those.
July 1
Everett Evergreen,
Hey, my sexy man, How are you? Ain’t heard from you, so I hope you’re okay and enjoying my silly letters. You know you can call me at night, too.
Enclosed are a few photos of me. I hope you appreciate the pics of me shirtless in my hot ranger shorts and hat and boots. I basically had to come out to Elliot, since I didn’t want my roommate Alex knowing just yet that I’m a homo. I figured Elliot would be cool about it, and he was. He asked if the pics were for a girl back home, and I told him no. He didn’t push it, but I just blurted out, “They’re for my boyfriend.” He laughed and took a few extras, so I guess he’s cool.
But, you know, I hope you don’t mind me calling you my boyfriend. I’m not sure what we are, except you’re the most important person to me. Well, you know, I’m supposed to think that about my parents, and in reality, the people you’re with are important, which makes my co-workers important. But anyway, I hope you know how I feel about you and that I miss you.
Speakin’ of which, we had a totally amazing rainstorm the other day. Practically, it was good, because believe it or not, people have been known to camp over July 4 holiday and set off fireworks – I know, idiotic, right? – and the woods are damp and wet and safer. The major cause of wildfires is lightning, Elliot said, and he was more worried about that, so there were a lot of phone calls with the ranger station further north, but fortunately no fires.
But the amazing thing was my little private adventure. I was out by myself when the afternoon rain hit. Some late campers had arrived before the gates closed for the night, and I’d warned them of the impending storm.
On my walk back to our cabin, the first droplets began to fall, light at first, then in heavy splats. Instead of hightailing it to shelter, I veered into the woods and off the trail. I’ve become pretty adept at going off-trail. My sense of direction’s become pretty good. And you know, it may sound odd, but I think looking at all these wide scenic views has improved my eyesight. I’ve been ditching the glasses more often.
I found this mossy grove near a stream, and the trees provided enough shelter, with just a light sprinkling of the rain coming down. The darkened skies gave the grove a beautiful glow.
Knowing I was completely alone, it didn’t take much for the longing to rise. I peeled off my ranger duds, and in just my boots and socks (Is this sounding familiar?) I had the most intense experience. It wasn’t just whacking off, you know? It was like I was communing with the trees, the moss and lichen, the wild flowers, the sod made of the remnants of wild animals from a hundred thousand years ago. Once I started thinking of you, and how great it wo
uld be to have you there, it got more intense.
Ev, I have these feelings for you that just won’t go away. I know we have to be apart, and I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but just know, every time I think of you…
Your wild flower this time is the Common Blue Violet (Viola papilonacea). Believe me, Monkey, when I found them, it wasn’t common at all.
Your Giraffe
July 12
Ev, Ever, Every, Everett.
Wow.
Wow, wow, wow.
Thank you SOO MUCH for the tape!! It’s so great to hear your voice. You’re a real great storyteller. That part where you gave me an audio tour of the facility was funny, especially when you dropped the tape recorder.
I understand about you not being able to write much. It sounds like they’re keeping you busy with the physical therapy. I didn’t realize there would be older people at the rehab center, but it makes sense. Really, your accompanist is 73? She sure can tickle the ivories. It sounds like you were all having a really good time. Do you do that very often?
It was very considerate of your mom to bring sheet music. I didn’t know you could sing so well! Well, I did, but not with so many Cole Porter songs. Pretty amazing. You are so talented. Did you ever do that at home at that big piano I saw?
It’s nice to hear that Holly’s been visiting you, too. She was so nice to me. It means a lot. You know she was the only person who called me after your accident. I really think of her as a sister. I hope to see her again soon when I visit, not until late August, of course. But the first thing I’ll do is hop on the train to Piss-bar and see you.
I’ve been listening to your tapes so much (I still have the other one), I had to give Amanda some extra money for more batteries on her last shopping trip. Sometimes I listen to it in bed with my earphones while Alex is snoring. Okay, that last part where you sing and talk so softly? I admit it, I did rub one out a few times. Just hearing your voice makes me all mushy inside. Well, not mushy in a certain anatomical area.
Your flower this time is Rue Anemone (Anemonella thalictroides). Cute, aren’t they? So tiny, yet so pretty.
XXO, Reidster
July 19
Ev, Everything,
I finally saw the most amazing deer. I know, it’s about time, right? In fall, they’re littering up the side of the highways like roadkill. Well, not like roadkill, but actual roadkill. But in summer, they’re pretty discreet. I’ve seen a few others animals, mostly birds: geese, osprey, owls, swallows and a few others. There was talk of a bear sighting, so I was wrong about that. Of course, we’ve seen raccoons, but mostly just around the garbage dumpsters. They’re locked to keep them out, but the smell of food draws them.
But the deer. Wow.
See, I had finally set up my tent in a remote part of the park the tourists aren’t supposed to use. It’s blocked off because the road leading to it isn’t safe for cars since the rainstorm. But I knew the trail to get there, and got permission from Elliot to set up my tent and a few supplies. I’ve been spending a few nights a week out there. I had a dose of cabin fever, since, well, I’m living in a cabin.
Basically, it’s all your fault. No, I’m joking, sort of.
It was on a Saturday night, and we had this big dinner. Elliot made barbequed chicken breasts, and Amanda made this enormous salad. We had a little wine, except Jill, because she’s a Christian, which made no sense to me, since Jesus was the one who made wine so popular. But anyway, Jill, who’s a Christian, reminds us of it at least once a day. Thank her god she likes being all perky with the tourists, and is usually elsewhere in the visitor center or thankfully acres away from me.
The rest of us got a little buzzed, especially Alex, who didn’t have much drinking experience. We got to talking about improvements and construction that are planned for the park (long after I’ll be gone). The first thing that popped out of my mouth was making the trails more accessible for the handicapped. And Jill went off on this bizarre tangent about God’s will and even though Jesus loves the crippled (Don’t you feel lucky?), she started babbling about “dominion over the lands,” how only people who were hardy enough to hike deserved to enjoy the upper and outlying parts of the park, so I just went off on her.
I called you my best friend, but gave a little glance at Elliot. He knew that you were the reason I got him to take those shirtless photos of me. So we’re more than friends. Right?
Jill’s point of view was shot down by Elliot and Amanda, who tried to play mediator. But I got a bit angry and said how wrong it was that you couldn’t enjoy this beautiful park in all its glory without some kind of mule pack dragging you along.
I’m sorry if that’s offensive or anything. I was kind of drunk.
Alex had no opinion, was practically asleep already from the wine, and he’s more interested in bugs.
That’s why I’m typing this from my little campsite with nobody around. And this morning, I emerged from my tent, stark naked with a pee boner, and there, about twenty feet away from me, was this beautiful, perfect immense stag, with about seven points on his antlers. We locked eyes for about a minute. I froze, wishing I had my camera, until he darted away and disappeared.
So, thank you for indirectly causing all this.
Ranger Reid, naked in the woods
PS: I finally got some larger envelopes, so here’s a big one; Pickerel Weed (Pontederia cordata). Pretty neat, huh?
August 12
Ev.
Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written. Thank you for the postcard.
It’s hot. And humid.
Oh, and I caught Scott naked in the outdoor shower. That’s pretty much the only interesting thing that’s happened. Yeah, he’s banging Amanda. From what I saw in the shower, she’s got good taste.
Jill has left our fair company a bit sooner than expected, probably to join a nunnery.
But enough stupid gossip. Let me tell you about the moon.
Since roommate Alex’s snoring continues (actually, he does settle down to a mild buzz, eventually), and my earphones always fall off in bed, I’ve taken to sneaking out of the cabin for some night hikes. It’s so amazing.
Yes, I do strip down to just my boots. Yes, I am a nature perv. Yes, I think about you and wish you could be with me when I hike up to the peak of nearby mountaintops, slightly winded, my sweat glistening in the moonlight. But you can’t be jealous of the moon, can you?
Seeing the vista, the green rolling hills, and once even, taking a cautious nighttime dip in a stream, it’s like I get completely lost, disembodied and yet so in touch with my body. I can’t explain it, but I’m trying. Naming a faith, a belief, is so beside the point when I hear some nearby animal rustling in the bushes, and get startled, then comforted, being so alone, yet completely filled with the presence of the glow of moonlight on the plants and the water. A few times I’ve gone rutting like some lone stag, or just lain in a bank or rubbed myself on a mossy tree stump, which I don’t recommended, unless you like ants on your butt.
The point is, I found god or whatever, you know, like you said that night in the woods at Pinecrest.
But then, I’ll hike back downhill, waiting to get dressed until I’m close to a campsite or the cabins, and take a peek at the photo Holly took (she made a wallet-sized and a big one; that’s back at home), and I see you and me together, you kissing the top of my head, and I curse that same god that made your accident happen.
I know you said you’ve forgiven what’s his name who hit you on the field. But it’s such a struggle, trying to make peace with it. So much beauty and so much misfortune.
Yes, I think I’m going a little crazy. I feel like my whole body and mind have changed.
Your flora of the week, quite the red beauty, is the Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis).
See you in a few weeks.
Love, Reid
Chapter 30
Returning home took some adjustment. All the buildings and roads, cars and gas stations struck me as extraor
dinarily ugly, almost obscene.
My parents welcomed me with enthusiasm, of course, and obligatory hugs. They marveled over my tan and my “rugged” new look, as Mom called it. I had barely seen myself all summer, other than perfunctory bathroom mirror glances.
Once fed, chatted out, and alone in my room, I took a long look at myself, naked, standing in front of the long mirror attached to my inside clothes closet door, and agreed. My hair had lightened and the trace of my day-old stubble was more pronounced. It was as if I’d grown a few inches, or browned to ripeness. I looked almost like a man.
Forced to wait a few days before my visit to Everett in Pittsburgh, I had to fill out university forms and select a course schedule. Once again, I called Holly in advance, asked to stay over. She said she’d give me a copy of her house keys.
I thanked Dad for the offer of a ride to the train station, but instead made a light job of it with my backpack over my shoulders. In the late August heat, I wore shorts and a T-shirt. I read a book on the train, eagerly anticipating my visit. Outside the window, along the train tracks, oak and elm trees stood tall in between the majority of evergreens.
When I arrived at Holly’s apartment, she warned me that Everett had been in a bad mood the past few weeks.
“He’s been really resistant to the physical therapy sessions. They tried a few different med combinations,” she said as we ate a makeshift lunch of sandwiches. “But the anti-depressants made him constipated. The steroids make him moody, and then they said they might operate again, and it got all our hopes up, but then they changed their minds, and, well. He’s not a happy camper.”
Every Time I Think of You Page 16