Trek Observation # 2 - Please understand, I love you dearly, but you are delusional

The handcart pioneers traveled the Mormon trail between 1856 and 1860.Three thousand people from England, Wales, Scotland, and Scandinavia made the 1,300 mile journey from Iowa to Utah. One has to think that those people coming from four different European countries had different perspectives and personalities. They most likely saw things differently.

The same was the case for our trek last week.

We had six handcarts. Each cart was given to a "family" of ten people. Most families were composed of a married couple, the Ma and Pa, and eight mostly unrelated teens. Our family was a bit different as we had an eleven year old, his sister - both them my children, plus a set of cousins. Only four members of our family were not related to another handcart family member in some way. A story about that tomorrow.

Six families meant six Ma-type women: Ma Sherbet (her whole family had food nicknames), Ma Musically Melodic, Ma Ultramarathoner and Positive Thought Thinker, Ma Superfit & Beautiful Nurse, Ma Primary President who is also amazingly crafty, and me, Ma Miriam. More on Miriam later. We also had lovely Aunty Melon, Grandma EMT, and the Lead Woman. Naturally these nine women were diverse. Most women are. But as I conversed with them, I realized something; they were also delusional.

Not really, although the fact that you could convince that many women to go out into the dirt to experience 100 degree temps with teenagers for three days pretty much guarantees some level of insanity.

They weren't delusional, but we sure saw things from different points of view.

It became abundantly clear to me as I talked to two of the Ma's. I can't remember what Ma Sherbet said, but it was something like "Aren't the rainbows, butterflies and unicorns around us so absolutely BEE-YOU-TI-FUL?"

"No."

"Now Kristen, you need to cheer up. This is such a lovely place with sparkling rainbows, fluttering butterflies, and prancing unicorns."

"Rainbows fade. Butterflies die, and unicorns aren't real." I said that just to get her goat. And I really didn't say that exactly since she was talking about the beauty of the sage brush and the joy of the handcart journey, but I said something that was real and it got her goat. She wasn't amused. I'm pretty sure that she is convinced I am a pessimist. I'm also sure that Ma Musically Melodic, also thinks I am a depressing pessimist. (They are cock-eyed optimists - BTW.)

Here is the thing. I am not a pessimist. I am not an optimist.  I am a realist. A hopeful realist.

I hoped that no one would die. I had faith that no one would die, but then I worked to make sure that everyone that I came in contact with had water and drank that water. I sun screened the kids up one side and down the other. I taped feet and toes against blisters. I tried to cheer up the sad and make others feel glad, but I was also honest and agreed that this thing we were doing was REALLY HARD. And we were amazing for doing it.

And when I couldn't stand anymore, I sat. In the dirt because apparently pioneer women didn't bring folding canvas chairs along on their journey.

It was dusty. It was dirty. I hated it, but I knew I'd live and my stuff would wash, mostly. (That apron will never be quite the same.)

So let me share a secret with you in case you don't happen to know. Treks are hard. They are sweaty and dirty. They stretch you in ways you aren't normally stretched.



And by the way, just in case you didn't know, there are no unicorns...

Picture drawn by the talented Miss M.