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I have always been a mapmaker. From my earliest drafting days in High School, I was fascinated by maps. I loved exploring and discovering places I was certain no footprints had trodden. Wherever I hiked, I would also mark my paths on old, tattered USGS topographic maps. I had many drawers of such folded histories. And over time, I got fairly proficient at drawing them. As I explored old, abandoned mines (see last newsletter), I would collect old maps of the Cottonwood Canyons and Park City, made in the 1920’s and 30’s, and update them with tunnels that were previously unmapped. In my career as a public water supplier, I trained as a GIS mapping analyst, and I took my mapping adventures into the digital world. Today, I still map pipelines, valves, trails, streams, roads, ditches, etc. But over time, I noticed that the markers of my older geographic treasures had changed, growth remodeled my world, and I found I had to learn to adapt. This past week, we learned that my beloved and perfectly healthy wife, Diane, has lung cancer, likely caused by Radon exposure in our home. By necessity, my maps needed to be redrawn—again. They will now be sketched with more colors of understanding and empathy. We will track the paths of others who are suffering on steeper climbs or who can teach us more. And we will trek closer to the living waters of rivers, fed by cold, clear, and deep springs. Our thirsts will be quenched now by faith, hope, prayer, and especially, family and friends. Like so many of your adventures, our path will now be a bit different or divergent, but it will still be beautiful, as we hope yours will forever be! Have a warm, blessed spring. Your friend, Doug.
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