Graduation

Two weeks have passed since the UW Law School graduation. To me, it was a special day, a glimpse perhaps of a better future, a tightly packed mass of people with a strong grip on reality, or realities rather. I'm going to keep my memories of the speakers and the ceremony in reserve, to take out in the future as needed. It was a strengthening experience, a leveling of sorts, a fond goodbye to yesterday, a hope for a better tomorrow, for all of us.

That night, there was a kickin class party at Frida's on State Street. Let me just say this: if on the first day of law school, every introduction was met with a handshake, then at the graduation afterparty, every good luck/goodbye was accompanied by a hug. It wasn't just the beer, or that we're a warm huggy group. It was kinda a realization, I think, that the softer school days are behind us. The next arenas are more real, the world plays for keeps, and no matter our differences in the classroom, you wish everyone well when life starts hitting back. Nobody gets out of here alive, afterall.

IF-

IF YOU CAN KEEP your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream-and not make dreams your master,
If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same,
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings-nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And-which is more-you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

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Last Tuesday, I was kayaking the upper Apple River in northwest Wisconsin. The Apple feeds into the St. Croix River, which divides Minnesota and Wisconsin that far north. The St. Croix feeds into the Mississippi, which separates St. Paul and Minneapolis, and from there flows south to divide the two states just south of River Falls.

We could tell from the paths that other people had put in where we did already this year. But it was still a good challenge, with enough downed trees to navigate around, and rocks creating ripples. The river is running fast this spring, so a six-hour trip in years past turned out to be four.

Four is also the number of bald eagles we spotted, and again, feral animals touch me with their freedom. The first nest had at least one eagle in it, poking its head up, and a protector who flew off its perch and circled, while calling out. The wingspan, the white head and tail, the talons, the sounds -- a cross between a crow's caw and a duck's quack, I'd say -- the nest! Twigs and sticks aren't really the right words -- think big-ass branches, overlaid to create about an eight-foot nest. The first one was in a living tree, only about 10 to 12 feet up, and soon will be hidden from the water as the leaves fully open. We kept quiet and just drifted with the flow, taking in the sight of an eagle aroused, but not really provoked, warning us not to mess with the nest but just to continue on.

The next one was around a few more bends, this time on a dead tree, no doubt fishing in the eddies formed after a particularly shallow part of current, complete with rocks and ripples. Unstill waters don't run deep. This one too flew off after a bit, again putting on a magnificent show. At one point, we could see 4 eagles circling at a distance down river, and their markings and sizes -- and seeing them in the sky together -- make me confident that we weren't just chasing the one pair along, like you sometimes do with ducks.

The last one was the most magnificent. Huge. The white head and tailfeathers. I spotted him way off, in a living tree where his dark body from a distance was too wide to blend in, even with the stout branches that high up in the tree. I stopped paddling and just watched him, steering with the paddle like a rudder. Finally, when I got close enough, he flew off, opening up those wings six or seven feet, and spreading wide the white tailfeathers. He didn't fly over the trees, or circle, just took off down river as we were in an open stretch, growing smaller and smaller until finally the white head and tail disappeared, and he looked only the size of a crow from such a distance.

I'm hoping to get back later this summer, with a camera and my binoculars. They were so close, to see the underbelly of an eagle as it flys over you, well, it was somewhat spiritual. What's that line? "Surely be a poorer man if I never saw an eagle fly..."