Some Things You Can’t Describe

July 28th, 2022

There have been a lot of times in my life, where I attempted to do something difficult that I had never done before. I replaced a camshaft in a 1968 Firebird 400 motor by reading a book. I learned to cast a fly line and how to do bicycle repairs from the frame up by reading about it. I taught myself to be a database administrator, and turned that knowledge into a 35 year professional career, without having ever received a college degree. I was able to do these things because of a single skill, reading comprehension. If somebody could successfully describe in writing, how to do any of these things, I could learn it.

When I was ten years old, I was diagnosed with Legg-Perthes disease. Without going into details, the treatment was to put no weight on my right hip for 18 months. That meant using crutches and wearing a sling that held my right foot off the ground. When you immobilize a limb like that, you must worry about atrophy, a muscle problem which basically comes down to “use it or lose it”. Without putting weight on my hip, there were two things I could do to use the right leg’s muscles, swim and ride a bicyle. The first reduces your weight to near zero when you are chest deep in water. The second places the weight on the knee. The hip just provides rotation. So, I would tie my crutches on to my single speed bicycle and ride the 2 miles to the local library (no internet in those days). They would let me check out 5 books. I would tie my book bag to the bike also, and ride home. When I read the 5 books, I’d make the return trip, checking out 5 more. I did this every 3 or 4 days for a full summer. I went through the children’s section of the library and progressed into the adult section (no, not that kind of adult section). When you read that much, your speed and comprehension increase.

So what is the point? Well I learned to discern different styles of writing as well as ability. Reference books and tutorials were written one way. Stories and novels another. Really good authors had an ability to transport you right into the story. They had the descriptive ability to do that. Others, not so much, you quickly tired of the reading.

So in language arts classes in high school, I did well, as I could get deep into a book, cover it pretty quickly, and understand the plot, symbolism, conflict, and other aspects of a story. Writing is another thing. While I received good grades on the theme papers and essays that I wrote, I think that was due more to the “BS” I could think up, then my skill at writing. I liked grammar and sentence structure classes, and all the reading gave me a pretty good vocabulary. But, my writing never progressed, as I never attended college full time. I did have a composition course at the local community college, but for work related reasons, did not finish it. It was an overloaded class filled mostly by journalism majors. Yet, at the half way point, I did have the highest grade in the class. My professor mostly attacked redundancy in my writing, not so much grammar.

Quite a few years ago, I read a book by Norman McClean entitled “A River Runs Through It” (later is was made into a movie by Robert Redford, starring a young Brad Pitt). There are a few paragraphs in the book, also a scene in the later movie, where the son approaches his minister father with an essay. The father reads it, crosses it out with red ink and slapping the 2 pages down on his desk, says “now write it in 1 page”. The son brings it back and hands it to his father to read. The father says good, “now half as long”. This repeats again with, “now a single paragraph”. After the final submittal, the father says “excellent”, crushing the paper into a ball and throwing it in the waste basket. That exactly describes my professor, always he came back with “make it shorter, but say the same thing”.

So, why is this all relevant? It is because a point comes when all you have learned is not enough. You can’t become an awesome writer if you don’t have the skill. No matter how hard you might want to describe something, you are not Norman McClean, Hemingway or Tolkien. You have to accept your limitations.

This day, I set up in a new campsite, high in the Flat Top Mountains of Colorado. The campsite is very nice, in a pine and spruce forest above Bear Creek near it’s outlet from Bear Lake and at the foot of the 12000 plus foot Flat Top Peak. After setting up, I decided to make lunch and read for a while. The sky darkened and a thunder shower passed down the valley. When the rain stopped, I needed to take a break, so I went outside for a walk. Much had changed since I parked the trailer. The air was saturated with the scent of pine, spruce, and wildflowers, as well as the rich, wet, earthy smell of rain. Birds were singing. While at my location it rained, a thousand feet higher, the flanks of the mountain were frosted with snow. The sun trying to peak through the clouds, reflected off the silvery runoff on the flanks of the mountain. I could hear the rushing stream down below, and the colors of the forest, trees, and wildflowers were saturated with tones enhanced by the diminished lighting. While standing there watching with wonder, a dark shape flew just over the treetops. I could hear the hissing of air through primary feathers as the large black, white headed bird passed over.

So there you have it. My single paragraph describing an awesome afternoon. But, I fail. No matter how many times I write that paragraph, I can not describe the feeling, or bring you to feel it too. It is the downside of traveling alone, as the experience is missing a key element. And that is a good friend or loved one with which to share the moment. A person whose eye you can catch, and know you are both thinking the same thing, “Can this really be happening”? A description does not do justice, and a photograph only contains a 2D image. Nothing conveys the scent, sound, or feel. You just have to be there.

Except for that, it was a magical day.