On the San Marcos River cleanup we go by a lot of hostile-looking barbed wire fences and the occasional truck with occupants watching us.. Now we’re here picking up trash, for Pete’s sake, but we can’t set foot on the river bank. Landowners don’t want us on “their” river.
Finally at a lovely unfenced spot one owner stands at the edge, greeting us eagerly with gratitude. We talk about the river and its magic. He remembers how in his youth he was a little down – he doesn’t like the word depression – but he was “kinda’ in a black cloud and couldn’t see out of it”.
Then someone took him out paddling a canoe and he found that peace a lot of us do on the river. He says “the lights just came back on for me”.
When we get back to camp, I write out a check for Hidalgo Falls. It’s not a big check but I’ll feel it a little. So why would I give money for a place I will probably never get to see?
Because I want to turn the lights back on for some other kid someday.
Don’t you?
Please send Tom a check.
Sherri
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