My Personal Walden Revisited

I went into the woods...

I first heard this Thoreau passage "I went to the woods..."when my father read it to me as a bedtime story almost fifty years ago. I can clearly remember this passage from a time in my life when I was 5 or 6. I also remember him patiently explaining the ideas behind the words and discussing it at length with me many times in my childhood. Over the years, he read many classical books to me including that specific Thoreau passage.

I treasured those moments with my father. I can still hear my father's voice reciting many different passages from his classic books to me. He would read Longfellow's "The Village Blacksmith" and while he talked I saw in my mind the wide branches of the chestnut tree and the man's muscles bulging.And on another evening, my father recited "Life in the Woods" and I thought about living life for the real experience of what it could teach me and then hearing my father's voice continue with "I did not wish to live what was not life..."thinking it would be a shame to not live fully. Another time, I clearly remember my father smiling as he read Whitman's "Song of the Open Road" about the long path leading to where I could choose to go if I choose to. Another bedtime, I can recall my father's voice describing the art of sauntering from Thoreau's "Walking". I found myself thinking about how not to repeat my initial steps and still get back home.

I was privileged to enjoy many moments of fine classical music, good literature and being included in numerous adult discussions on diverse points of view while growing up. I can remember as a child borrowing and reading many of his books and preferring them to watching Howdy Dowdy or Laurence Welk on TV. I can remember times spent sitting and reading those books as the light dimmed in our living room. There were grand worlds in my father's books; some made by the authors and some created by me from the imagery I pictured in my mind. My solemn stillness while reading was something which always puzzled my mother. It was easy to be still when worlds from these books were inside my mind.