NOVEMBER 7, 2022 – This evening I ventured out to see the full moon emerge from its wanderings in the exotic East. Here at the Red Cabin, which faces the lake due south, deep woods obstruct the sky east and north. To catch the moonrise, I’d have to follow a woodland trail to a promontory affording better views to the northeast.
Darkness was fast wrapping the land in mystery, so I flicked on our yard lights as return beacons, grabbed my emergency whistle and hiked into the woods in search of the moon. Just below the top of Ragnar’s Way, my phone rang as “Unknown Caller.”
I answered reflexively—a version of Pavlov’s Dog developed over years of needing to be available anytime, anywhere for clients; or perhaps it was a subconscious need to reconnect with the “real” world after a week of solitary non-confinement in the great outdoors surrounding the Red Cabin.
The caller was a bank client, and the conversation took six minutes. When the call concluded, I realized I’d been walking the entire time, oblivious to how far I’d penetrated the heart of darkness—without illumination by the moon, since the cloud cover, thinning at sunset, had now grown thick.
I was hardly lost in any real sense, but I was unnerved by my lack of discipline to “be present in the moment”; my failure to pay attention to my immediate surroundings, instead of reacting to intrusion by a distant world, however “real.”
I scolded myself. A multitude of dangers can lurk in the deep woods—especially after dark and when you’re on the phone with someone in a reality quite different from the one you’re in. Countless obstacles—roots, rocks, logs—for which the senses and reflexes make ample accommodation in daylight, can in darkness trip the hiker, leaving him injured on the ground. . .To say nothing of susceptibility to ambush by a bear in hyperphagia.
I found comfort, however, knowing that at least I had full cellphone coverage. (I didn’t test the whistle—the equivalent of yelling “HELP!” in a pool just to see if the lifeguard can hear you. Alternatively, “Does a whistle in the woods make a sound if you’re the only one who hears it?”)
After my return to the cabin, our younger son Byron called. He asked if I was “staying off ladders.” (See my 11/3/22 post) “Yes,” I said, then confessed to my moonless moonwalk. He didn’t approve. I was proud of him for showing good judgment.
On my next two calls—friends, each named, “J. Oppenheim,” one from high school, one from college—I switched to a much more dangerous topic: Election Day. Suddenly, the risk of tripping over a log in the dark vanished from the list of “stupid.” Now in the lead, it seems, are voters stumbling over their emotions, ignorance, and misperceptions. Will the outcome be the parade of horrors that each side concludes it will be—if the other side wins? Yet, many candidates and their supporters aren’t so sure that if their side loses, the other side has legitimately won. What then?
Going into Election Day, each of us should turn on the yard lights, carry an emergency whistle, and confirm cellphone coverage. Just in case.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
