My dad gave me an appreciation of the outdoors by giving me experiences there. Throughout the 1970s our family took week-long backpacking trips in the Colorado Rockies. Here is one of my favorite memories atop a vista near Maroon Bells, likely in early August: I’m carrying a bag of pinecones, rocks, and lichen (which I was allowed to take ONLY if I agreed to carry it for the duration). I also had to carry some of my own gear, just like everyone else. My dad fashioned a sleeping bag stuff sack into a backpack for me. He passed away this year, and I’ll forever miss him.