Simply........Tremendous!!!

In a message dated 6/26/2009 6:54:29 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time,
Enigma3742@hotmail.com writes:

Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the
time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences
in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried
it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to
post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I
imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty
putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a
try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have
experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.

When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd
already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long
road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire
travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely
taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable
"No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there
wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish
there was some way we could make it work."

You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in
Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously
absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite
pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot
easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with
Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty
of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of
those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering,
that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.

As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his
absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere
in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to
Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in
spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful
idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark
had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or
letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of
those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show
up.

DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be
there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating
only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to
the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He
mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't
remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always
described to me as "The Peacekeeper", the one who helped them all keep things
in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her
husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.

And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful
friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought
would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't
expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi,
Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must
admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind
ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out
thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who
hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped
wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old
friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine
he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not
every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan Davis
couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that
gathering to last a lifetime.

And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to
tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was
truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:

As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the
actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!)
letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have
too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and
we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little
free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one
box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the
first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for
the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful
rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of
"Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I
mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he
really feels was the first one was personal to share with others. But it's
such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I
thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without
making him feel quite so exposed.

It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a
confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic
table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short
logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks
and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the
all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether
we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey
tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than
we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying
about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a
woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking
toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous
"Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious and
polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman
looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking
perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and
waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first
words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new
carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers,
I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?"
To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the
original."

It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly
quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked
what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly
nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making
the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim
with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this
point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from
his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he
seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily
scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a
shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as
wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one
of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a solid
3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)

When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a
truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik
and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We
showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before
in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been
the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to
comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight
squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I
got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and
Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an
exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before,
and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a
mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has meant to
them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the
friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may
seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always,
always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.

Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that
coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place
meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to
try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something
was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that
day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be
visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by,
for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take
the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is
that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.

Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes
beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the
satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this
activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there
so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's
because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a
wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And
all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early
vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and
organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them
have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few -
and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very
special process that started over a decade ago finally come full circle.
Kismet.

-RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose,
multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)






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[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Well worth sharing.

Thank you.

--- On Fri, 6/26/09, Jenny wrote:

From: Jenny
Subject: [LbNA] A Letterboxing Story Worth Sharing
To: letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com
Date: Friday, June 26, 2009, 6:53 PM

















Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.



When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable "No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish there was some way we could make it work."



You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering, that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.



As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show up.



DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always described to me as "The Peacekeeper" , the one who helped them all keep things in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.



And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi, Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan
Davis couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that gathering to last a lifetime.



And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:



As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!) letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of "Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he really feels was the first one was personal to share with others.
But it's such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without making him feel quite so exposed.



It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous "Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious
and polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers, I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?" To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the original."



It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a
solid 3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)



When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before, and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has
meant to them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always, always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.



Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by, for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.



Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few - and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very special process that started over a decade ago finally come full
circle. Kismet.



-RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose, multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)































[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Jenny/RaqsEnigma,

That was a wonderful account. Thank you for sharing this. It choked me
up to picture Mitch meeting Susan at that site. Two great stampers and
two great people.

Tom

"The Game is Afoot!"


On Jun 26, 2009, at 6:53 PM, Jenny wrote:

> Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you
> have the time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and
> DMS's experiences in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last
> several days I've been worried it would get lost. Things seem to
> have blown over a bit, so I'd like to post it now. I'm sure Mitch
> considered writing about it himself, but I imagine his take on what
> happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty putting it into
> words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a try
> - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to
> have experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it
> did me.
>
> When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering,
> we'd already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for
> a month-long road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St.
> Louis, and our entire travel budget and vacation allotments for the
> YEAR had already been completely taken by these plans. So the answer
> to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable "No!" But still, the
> possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there wasn't a day
> that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish there
> was some way we could make it work."
>
> You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in
> Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only
> conspicuously absent member of that original founding American Clan
> of our now favorite pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and
> the travel distance was a lot easier for most of those other
> originators. So it was understandable, with Mark Pepe planning
> surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty of hints
> that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of
> those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary
> gathering, that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow
> making it out.
>
> As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with
> his absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting
> empty somewhere in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just
> make it work, a trip to Back to Our Roots might just be what he
> needed to finally fill it in. So in spite of all the reasonable and
> financial reasons for why it was an awful idea, we found ways to
> tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark had sworn us to
> secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or letting anyone
> know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of
> those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might
> actually show up.
>
> DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might
> be there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with,
> communicating only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a
> face and a smile to the personality he could only imagine he'd
> guessed at correctly? He mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent
> Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't remember. He wondered
> especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always described to me
> as "The Peacekeeper", the one who helped them all keep things in
> perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her
> husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.
>
> And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful
> friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those
> we thought would be there and those we hoped would, and so many
> others that weren't expected at all but who were just as delightful.
> Just to name a few: Choi, Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green
> Dragon (especially Brian, who must admit along with Mitch that they
> have shared as many snappish words as kind ones with each other over
> the years - it's about time those two found out thy might actually
> be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who hasn't been
> around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped
> wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged
> like old friends, even though they were meeting for the first time.
> I can only imagine he felt like he was surrounded by long lost
> family. And even though not every single one of those Killington
> Folk were able to make it - Susan Davis couldn't, and a few others
> too, there was enough magical experiences at that gathering to last
> a lifetime.
>
> And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's
> time to tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in
> to what was truly one of the most special moments I've ever
> witnessed in my lifetime:
>
> As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of
> the actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know
> it's pitiful!) letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault
> mostly - I have too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation
> was serving a dual purpose and we had other obligations to meet that
> week as well. But during the little free time we were able to devote
> to boxing, we made two decisions: get one box in Killington as we
> were passing through, since it was the site of the first gathering
> (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for the newly
> replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful
> rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our
> finding of "Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to
> describe. Like I mentioned before, I can only imagine that his
> experience in finding the box that he really feels was the first one
> was personal to share with others. But it's such a wonderful story
> that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I thought that
> perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without making
> him feel quite so exposed.
>
> It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings
> and a confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We
> sat at a picnic table visible from the road, opened the box, looked
> through the too-short logbook wishing we could have seen the
> original, before spreading our inks and books out for a luxuriously
> slow stamping in process. There was even the all-too-common moment
> when another car pulled in and we discussed whether we should put
> away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey tourists
> felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier
> than we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything
> lying about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of
> the car got out - a woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood.
> They started walking toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table
> lay between them and the infamous "Prayer Rock" that the clue is
> named for. But instead of a curious and polite nod as they walked
> by, they came up to us directly, and the woman looked blatantly over
> Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking perhaps these
> two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and
> waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But
> the first words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting
> to see how the new carving turned out." Realizing at last that these
> were fellow letterboxers, I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the
> opportunity to see the orignal?" To which the young man standing
> behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the original."
>
> It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed
> oddly quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next
> to. I asked what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to
> which she humbly nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all
> later that his delay in making the connection was because he was
> reacting internally to her carving claim with the thought, "No you
> didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this point, the truth
> finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from his seat
> at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he
> seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked
> momentarily scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead
> reaching out a hand for a shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der
> Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as wide as his did moments before
> and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one of them too badly by
> telling you all that they probably hugged for a solid 3 minutes,
> tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)
>
> When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and
> had a truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be
> Benjamin, Erik and Susan's son who had just graduated from high
> school a week earlier. We showed them the one other image of theirs
> that we had found the day before in Killington, and Ben reminisced
> about how he, at 8 years old, had been the one to actually do the
> hiding because he was the only one small enough to comfortably crawl
> into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight squeeze for us!).
> Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I got
> to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan
> and Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as
> an exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given
> her years before, and she laughed and told me about how all those
> boys really had needed a mom. And both of them also talked about
> letterboxing and what it has meant to them over the years. The
> people, the connections, the adventure, the friends made and lost -
> and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may seem, has
> been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always,
> always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.
>
> Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that
> coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just
> happen to place meaning on because they feel special. And I'm
> certainly not inviting anyone to try and convince me otherwise
> today. But I just can't deny it; something was in the air there in
> Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that day. When I
> think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be
> visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving
> by, for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for
> them to take the time out of their errands to stop and say hello -
> all I can say is that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.
>
> Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It
> goes beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the
> hike, the satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family
> fun. It's because this activity is a way for us to put our own
> special take on the world out there so others can see through our
> eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's because carving these
> silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a wonderfully pure way
> to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And all I can
> say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early
> vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each
> other and organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this
> outlet. Many of them have had the opportunity to meet over the
> years, but DMS had met very few - and watching him finally make
> those connections was like watching a very very special process that
> started over a decade ago finally come full circle. Kismet.
>
> -RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose,
> multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)
>
>
>
> ------------------------------------
>
> Yahoo! Groups Links
>
>
>

Very cool. Gives us faith that perhaps the current commoditization of the pastime may also pass.

Does DMS still have goosebumps? ;-)

LB


--- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, "Jenny" wrote:
>
> Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.
>
> When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable "No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish there was some way we could make it work."
>
> You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering, that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.
>
> As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show up.
>
> DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always described to me as "The Peacekeeper", the one who helped them all keep things in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.
>
> And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi, Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan Davis couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that gathering to last a lifetime.
>
> And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:
>
> As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!) letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of "Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he really feels was the first one was personal to share with others. But it's such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without making him feel quite so exposed.
>
> It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous "Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious and polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers, I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?" To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the original."
>
> It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a solid 3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)
>
> When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before, and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has meant to them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always, always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.
>
> Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by, for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.
>
> Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few - and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very special process that started over a decade ago finally come full circle. Kismet.
>
> -RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose, multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)
>

I have tears rolling down my cheeks!

Thank you, Jenny!

I figure you're probably very grateful for letterboxing & for those people's first efforts -- am I wrong in that you would not have met Mitch otherwise?

KuKu

--- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, "Jenny" wrote:
>
> Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.
>
> When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable "No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish there was some way we could make it work."
>
> You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering, that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.
>
> As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show up.
>
> DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always described to me as "The Peacekeeper", the one who helped them all keep things in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.
>
> And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi, Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan Davis couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that gathering to last a lifetime.
>
> And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:
>
> As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!) letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of "Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he really feels was the first one was personal to share with others. But it's such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without making him feel quite so exposed.
>
> It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous "Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious and polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers, I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?" To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the original."
>
> It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a solid 3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)
>
> When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before, and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has meant to them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always, always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.
>
> Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by, for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.
>
> Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few - and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very special process that started over a decade ago finally come full circle. Kismet.
>
> -RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose, multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)
>

Yes, Kuku, that's correct. We did meet through letterboxing while I was still livin in Illinois. It's a long story, how we started corresponding, but it was a slow process. We "met" through a letterboxing related endeavor and a mutual friend, and through early communications a friendship was formed that turned into more over about 2-1/2 years. Eventually, we decided to give it a real chance, and here I am now in Oregon!

--- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, "Susan Johnson" wrote:
>
> I have tears rolling down my cheeks!
>
> Thank you, Jenny!
>
> I figure you're probably very grateful for letterboxing & for those people's first efforts -- am I wrong in that you would not have met Mitch otherwise?
>
> KuKu
>
> --- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, "Jenny" wrote:
> >
> > Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.
> >
> > When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable "No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish there was some way we could make it work."
> >
> > You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering, that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.
> >
> > As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show up.
> >
> > DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always described to me as "The Peacekeeper", the one who helped them all keep things in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.
> >
> > And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi, Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan Davis couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that gathering to last a lifetime.
> >
> > And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:
> >
> > As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!) letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of "Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he really feels was the first one was personal to share with others. But it's such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without making him feel quite so exposed.
> >
> > It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous "Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious and polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers, I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?" To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the original."
> >
> > It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a solid 3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)
> >
> > When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before, and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has meant to them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always, always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.
> >
> > Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by, for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.
> >
> > Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few - and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very special process that started over a decade ago finally come full circle. Kismet.
> >
> > -RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose, multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)
> >
>

--- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, "Lightnin Bug" wrote:
>
> Does DMS still have goosebumps? ;-)
>
> LB

Yes, he does. --DMS

Wow! That is an amazing story! VT - Back to our Roots - you certainly were taken there literally! Memories for a lifetime. Thanks for sharing it with us. No reason at all for DMS to feel uncomfortable. That it a wonderfully touching moment. Sharing it with the only community that truly understands is meaningful and brings us all back to our roots, no matter how deep they may be.

Thanks again, RaqsEnigma! (and yes, it is a 'q' not a 'g'!) Great to meet you both.

Queen of Swords

--- On Fri, 6/26/09, Jenny wrote:

From: Jenny
Subject: [LbNA] A Letterboxing Story Worth Sharing
To: letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com
Date: Friday, June 26, 2009, 6:53 PM

Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.

When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable "No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish there was some way we could make it work."

You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering, that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.

As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show up.

DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be there.. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always described to me as "The Peacekeeper", the one who helped them all keep things in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.

And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi, Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan
Davis couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that gathering to last a lifetime.

And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:

As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!) letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of "Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he really feels was the first one was personal to share with others.
But it's such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without making him feel quite so exposed.

It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous "Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious
and polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers, I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?" To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the original."

It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a
solid 3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)

When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before, and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has
meant to them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always, always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.

Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by, for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.

Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few - and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very special process that started over a decade ago finally come full
circle. Kismet.

-RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose, multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)



------------------------------------

Yahoo! Groups Links








[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Thanks Raqs.

It made me go back and watch this:

_http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3349024452903984744&q=%22Letterbox
ing+North+America+Convention+1999%22+playable%3Atrue_
(http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3349024452903984744&q="Letterboxing+North+America+Conven
tion+1999"+playable:true)

Larry


In a message dated 6/26/2009 6:54:29 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time,
Enigma3742@hotmail.com writes:

Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the
time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences
in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried
it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to
post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I
imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty
putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a
try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have
experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.

When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd
already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long
road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire
travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely
taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable
"No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there
wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish
there was some way we could make it work."

You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in
Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously
absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite
pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot
easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with
Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty
of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of
those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering,
that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.

As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his
absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere
in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to
Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in
spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful
idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark
had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or
letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of
those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show
up.

DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be
there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating
only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to
the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He
mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't
remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always
described to me as "The Peacekeeper", the one who helped them all keep things
in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her
husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.

And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful
friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought
would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't
expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi,
Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must
admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind
ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out
thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who
hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped
wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old
friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine
he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not
every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan Davis
couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that
gathering to last a lifetime.

And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to
tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was
truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:

As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the
actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!)
letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have
too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and
we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little
free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one
box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the
first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for
the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful
rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of
"Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I
mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he
really feels was the first one was personal to share with others. But it's
such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I
thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without
making him feel quite so exposed.

It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a
confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic
table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short
logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks
and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the
all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether
we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey
tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than
we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying
about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a
woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking
toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous
"Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious and
polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman
looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking
perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and
waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first
words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new
carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers,
I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?"
To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the
original."

It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly
quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked
what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly
nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making
the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim
with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this
point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from
his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he
seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily
scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a
shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as
wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one
of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a solid
3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)

When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a
truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik
and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We
showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before
in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been
the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to
comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight
squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I
got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and
Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an
exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before,
and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a
mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has meant to
them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the
friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may
seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always,
always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.

Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that
coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place
meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to
try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something
was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that
day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be
visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by,
for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take
the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is
that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.

Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes
beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the
satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this
activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there
so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's
because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a
wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And
all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early
vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and
organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them
have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few -
and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very
special process that started over a decade ago finally come full circle.
Kismet.

-RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose,
multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)





**************Stay connected and tighten your budget with a great mobile
device for under $20. Take a Peek!
(http://pr.atwola.com/promoclk/100122638x1222405996x1201457362/aol?redir=http://www.getpeek.com/aol)


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

all i can say is , "OH MY GOD"!!

what a story and an adventure.
i think all my life i have been looking for something to belong to and to make my life have some sense to it and to have some sort of meaning.
i think it has been staring me in the face these past 4 years.
LETTERBOXING
i thought it was such an adventure for me to be at "Live and Breathe" and to be around so many letterboxers. to be part of something so silly as hiding tupperware in the woods and trying to find it again. geez..
but it all seems to make sense. this is where i belong. this is what i am suppose to be doing with myself. whether i am real active or part time active, doesnt matter. i still belong to this wonderful world of letterboxers. this wonderful family.

and now to hear this amazing story of going "Back to our Roots" and for Mitch to meet all the friends he has made in his lifetime, and the biggest thrill of it all to meet Susan Davis??
Stamping inat the location of the first letterbox in the USA?
WOW!!!
what more can you say?

typing this with a lump in my throat.
Goodfor you, Mitch and Jenny

dragonrider

--- On Fri, 6/26/09, Jenny wrote:


From: Jenny
Subject: [LbNA] A Letterboxing Story Worth Sharing
To: letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com
Date: Friday, June 26, 2009, 4:53 PM








Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.

When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable "No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish there was some way we could make it work."

You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering, that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.

As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show up.

DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always described to me as "The Peacekeeper" , the one who helped them all keep things in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.

And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi, Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan
Davis couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that gathering to last a lifetime.

And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:

As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!) letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of "Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he really feels was the first one was personal to share with others.
But it's such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without making him feel quite so exposed.

It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous "Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious
and polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers, I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?" To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the original."

It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a
solid 3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)

When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before, and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has
meant to them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always, always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.

Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by, for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.

Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few - and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very special process that started over a decade ago finally come full
circle. Kismet.

-RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose, multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)



















[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

--- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, "Susan Johnson" wrote:
>
> I figure you're probably very grateful for letterboxing & for those people's first efforts -- am I wrong in that you would not have met Mitch otherwise?
>
> KuKu

That's right, KuKu... and it brings to mind another subject that came up at the Back 2 Roots gathering... all the lives that have been touched by this hobby.

Raqs and I are hardly the first couple to hook up because of letterboxing. In fact, I met about a dozen couples during B2R that had met as a result of letterboxing, and I know there are many others around the country.

I recall talking to one particular couple who told me that letterboxing was the special "glue" that had united two very different people -- one who was an avid hiker and camper, and another who had a very indoorish crafty personality. Through letterboxing, they had learned to enjoy a bit of each other's lives.

I also spoke to several people who had discovered that letterboxing can be a real lifesaver during hard times. I can certainly relate, because I personally managed to get through an ugly divorce and my younger sister's death from cancer by focusing on letterboxing. At B2R, I talked to other people who had gotten through similar situations by using letterboxing as a coping mechanism.

Most notably, in the Prayer Rock scenario that Raqs describes, Susan Davis told us about how our early work to create the LbNA site had helped her get through the difficult period when Erik was going through chemotherapy. In fact, I have to get a little teary-eyed recalling her emotional account of how she would get up every morning and log onto this forum because she wanted to keep Erik's dream alive and see this project through until it reached critical mass and took on a life of its own.

Of course, I know there have also been several occasions where letterboxing has been used to help people who were in dire straits financially. This is a tradition that can be traced all the way back to Dartmoor, and I feel privileged to have taken part in several of these types of fund-raising events.

Okay... I'm re-reading this message before sending, and realizing that it sounds pretty sappy. I suppose our trip to Vermont has understandably put me in a rather sentimental mood. I guess I'm just trying to make a point that letterboxing is not only a quirky hobby for a bunch of obsessive geeks but, as Raqs points out in her poignant post, it can also be a wonderful way for people to connect and share a bit of their souls with one another. Never has this been more obvious to me than at the B2R event.

Sincerely,
Mitch, a sentimental old fool
(also known as Der Mad Stamper)

--- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, bret bridwell wrote:
>
> ...it all seems to make sense. this is where i belong. this is what i am suppose to be doing with myself. whether i am real active or part time active, doesnt matter. i still belong to this wonderful world of letterboxers. this wonderful family.
>

You and I both, my brother. And the rest of our wonderful family. We live, we share... we are letterboxers. --DMS

Wow - now I can really appreciate the "roots" of letterboxing after watching the video. It helps to put all of this into perspective. Thank you.

sobbing
donutz716

--- On Fri, 6/26/09, LundyandVickster@aol.com wrote:

From: LundyandVickster@aol.com
Subject: Re: [LbNA] A Letterboxing Story Worth Sharing
To: letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com
Date: Friday, June 26, 2009, 10:35 PM





















Thanks Raqs.



It made me go back and watch this:



_http://video. google.com/ videoplay? docid=-334902445 2903984744& q=%22Letterbox

ing+North+America+ Convention+ 1999%22+playable %3Atrue_

(http://video. google.com/ videoplay? docid=-334902445 2903984744& q="Letterboxing+ North+America+ Conven

tion+1999"+playable :true)



Larry





In a message dated 6/26/2009 6:54:29 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time,

Enigma3742@hotmail. com writes:



Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the

time. I've been wanting to give my own take on mine and DMS's experiences

in Vermont, but in all the drama of the last several days I've been worried

it would get lost. Things seem to have blown over a bit, so I'd like to

post it now. I'm sure Mitch considered writing about it himself, but I

imagine his take on what happened might be so personal, he's had difficulty

putting it into words. So as a third party observer, I thought I might give it a

try - because it's a story worth sharing, one that I feel so lucky to have

experienced, and one that I hope might touch some others as it did me.



When DMS and I first heard about the Back to Our Roots Gathering, we'd

already made our travel plans for the summer. We're leaving for a month-long

road trip centered around vending at LB-Con in St. Louis, and our entire

travel budget and vacation allotments for the YEAR had already been completely

taken by these plans. So the answer to "Can we go?" Was an unequivocable

"No!" But still, the possibility just nagged and nagged at Mitch and there

wasn't a day that went by that he didn't utter the phrase "Man, I just wish

there was some way we could make it work."



You see, 10 years ago, when the first ever gathering happened in

Killington, VT, Der Mad Stamper was, as I understand it, the only conspicuously

absent member of that original founding American Clan of our now favorite

pasttime. Oregon is a long way from Vermont and the travel distance was a lot

easier for most of those other originators. So it was understandable, with

Mark Pepe planning surprises up his sleeve, and with him also dropping plenty

of hints that those surprises were actually his attempts to get as many of

those early pioneers as possible to attend this anniversary gathering,

that Mitch was a bit obsessed with the idea of somehow making it out.



As the weeks passed, I became very aware that a hole created with his

absence at that first gathering ten years ago was still sitting empty somewhere

in his heart, and that perhaps, if we could just make it work, a trip to

Back to Our Roots might just be what he needed to finally fill it in. So in

spite of all the reasonable and financial reasons for why it was an awful

idea, we found ways to tighten our belts and make the trip. Of course, Mark

had sworn us to secrecy, keeping us from signing up on the AQ list or

letting anyone know we were coming. We knew he must be doing the same to many of

those other "old timers", but it was anyone's guess who might actually show

up.



DMS wondered aloud many times during the few weeks about who might be

there. Who, among all of those he's formed lifelong bonds with, communicating

only by computer, might he finally be able to attach a face and a smile to

the personality he could only imagine he'd guessed at correctly? He

mentioned Randy Hall, Tom Cooch, Silent Doug, Jay Drew, and several others I can't

remember. He wondered especially about Susan Davis - the one he's always

described to me as "The Peacekeeper" , the one who helped them all keep things

in perspective when early debates between all those boys, including her

husband Erik who's now passed away, turned petty.



And what a gratifying gathering it was! There were so many wonderful

friends to see again, and people to meet for the first time - those we thought

would be there and those we hoped would, and so many others that weren't

expected at all but who were just as delightful. Just to name a few: Choi,

Silent Doug, Silver Eagle and Team Green Dragon (especially Brian, who must

admit along with Mitch that they have shared as many snappish words as kind

ones with each other over the years - it's about time those two found out

thy might actually be able to get along!) And then there was Tom Cooch, who

hasn't been around much in recent years, and who Mitch really only hoped

wistfully might show up. And yet there he was, and the two hugged like old

friends, even though they were meeting for the first time. I can only imagine

he felt like he was surrounded by long lost family. And even though not

every single one of those Killington Folk were able to make it - Susan Davis

couldn't, and a few others too, there was enough magical experiences at that

gathering to last a lifetime.



And I guess if you've gotten through all my babbling so far, it's time to

tell you that all of this has really just been the lead-in to what was

truly one of the most special moments I've ever witnessed in my lifetime:



As Mitch mentioned in his own post a couple of days ago, outside of the

actual gathering, we only made time for two (yes, two - I know it's pitiful!)

letterboxes for the entire trip. That was my fault mostly - I have

too-rarely-seen family in the area so the vacation was serving a dual purpose and

we had other obligations to meet that week as well. But during the little

free time we were able to devote to boxing, we made two decisions: get one

box in Killington as we were passing through, since it was the site of the

first gathering (we chose "James P. Taylor"), and get over to Bristol for

the newly replaced "Prayer Rock". Well the Killington had its own wonderful

rainy adventures, as Mitch has already described, but it was our finding of

"Prayer Rock" that he seems to have chosen not to describe. Like I

mentioned before, I can only imagine that his experience in finding the box that he

really feels was the first one was personal to share with others. But it's

such a wonderful story that, even though he doesn't know I'm doing so, I

thought that perhaps my bystander account might be just as special without

making him feel quite so exposed.



It really was just a "find" like any other; a few compass readings and a

confusion or two before the final moment of enlightment. We sat at a picnic

table visible from the road, opened the box, looked through the too-short

logbook wishing we could have seen the original, before spreading our inks

and books out for a luxuriously slow stamping in process. There was even the

all-too-common moment when another car pulled in and we discussed whether

we should put away our mess, or at least consolidate it, before nosey

tourists felt the need to ask us too many questions. Being a little lazier than

we probably should be, we did none of these and left everything lying

about, and I proceeded to ink up the stamp. The occupants of the car got out - a

woman and a young man on the verge of adulthood. They started walking

toward us, which wasn't so odd since our table lay between them and the infamous

"Prayer Rock" that the clue is named for. But instead of a curious and

polite nod as they walked by, they came up to us directly, and the woman

looked blatantly over Mitch's shoulder at the stamp in my hands. Thinking

perhaps these two were just the investigative sort, I gave a polite hello, and

waited for the inevitable questions about what we were up to. But the first

words she uttered were an unexpected, "I've been wanting to see how the new

carving turned out." Realizing at last that these were fellow letterboxers,

I asked in reply, "Oh, did you have the opportunity to see the orignal?"

To which the young man standing behind her replied, "Yeah, she CARVED the

original."



It was this moment that I made the connection, although Mitch stayed oddly

quiet, given who we were obviously, magically, sitting next to. I asked

what had to be asked though, "Are YOU Susan Davis?" to which she humbly

nodded a slight affirmative. (Mitch told us all later that his delay in making

the connection was because he was reacting internally to her carving claim

with the thought, "No you didn't! Susan Davis carved that stamp!") At this

point, the truth finally sunk in with DMS and he quite literally leaped from

his seat at the table, coming close to mauling the poor woman before he

seemed to realize that she had no idea who he was and looked momentarily

scared to death. So stopping mid-embrace and instead reaching out a hand for a

shake, he said "Susan, I'm Mitch. I'm Der Mad Stamper." Well her eyes got as

wide as his did moments before and I hope I'm not embarrassing either one

of them too badly by telling you all that they probably hugged for a solid

3 minutes, tears and all! (I even took a sneaky picture.)



When the novelty of the situation finally abating, we all sat and had a

truly beautiful conversation. The young man turned out to be Benjamin, Erik

and Susan's son who had just graduated from high school a week earlier. We

showed them the one other image of theirs that we had found the day before

in Killington, and Ben reminisced about how he, at 8 years old, had been

the one to actually do the hiding because he was the only one small enough to

comfortably crawl into its hiding spot (and yes, it had been a tight

squeeze for us!). Mitch and Susan discussed old times, both happy and sad, and I

got to bear witness to it all. We stamped into the box, and both Susan and

Ben signed our books and gave us each their inky thumbprints as an

exchange. Mitch mentioned the "Peacekeeper" label he had given her years before,

and she laughed and told me about how all those boys really had needed a

mom. And both of them also talked about letterboxing and what it has meant to

them over the years. The people, the connections, the adventure, the

friends made and lost - and even how this hobby and its members, as odd as it may

seem, has been a lifeline to some in their times of grief. I will always,

always feel thankful for my opportunity to sit and hear these stories.



Now I'm not a person of faith. I'm not even one to believe that

coincidence is anything more than random occurences that we just happen to place

meaning on because they feel special. And I'm certainly not inviting anyone to

try and convince me otherwise today. But I just can't deny it; something

was in the air there in Vermont for our entire trip, and especially on that

day. When I think of everything that needed to fall into place for us to be

visible from the road at that moment that Susan and Ben were driving by,

for them to look over and recognize us as letterboxers, and for them to take

the time out of their errands to stop and say hello - all I can say is

that I believe in wonder that is letterboxing.



Because there's a reason this pasttime has taken hold so well. It goes

beyond the fun of carving or writing clues, the thrill of the hike, the

satisfaction of collecting images, the social and family fun. It's because this

activity is a way for us to put our own special take on the world out there

so others can see through our eyes - and so we can see through theirs. It's

because carving these silly stamps and writing these silly clues is a

wonderfully pure way to share a little bit of our souls with each other. And

all I can say is, thank goodness that a few people who shared that early

vision, as scattered about the country as they were, found each other and

organized it all, so that the rest of us could have this outlet. Many of them

have had the opportunity to meet over the years, but DMS had met very few -

and watching him finally make those connections was like watching a very very

special process that started over a decade ago finally come full circle.

Kismet.



-RaqsEnigma (who really does ask your forgiveness for her bad prose,

multitudes of typos, and ridiculous verbosity.)



************ **Stay connected and tighten your budget with a great mobile

device for under $20. Take a Peek!

(http://pr.atwola. com/promoclk/ 100122638x122240 5996x1201457362/ aol?redir= http://www. getpeek.com/ aol)



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]































[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

What a wonderful, heartwarming story, Raqs!
Thank you ~ sojourner :-)

Great story! Been too busy getting ready for our own trip to read many posts in the Groups I belong to, but had some time while eating lunch to try to catch up. Really enjoyed this; well told, and it was as long as it needed to be; I like long stories :-) Thanks for taking the time!

chaosmanor


--- In letterbox-usa@yahoogroups.com, "Jenny" wrote:
>
> Please forgive my longwindedness and please read this post if you have the time...

thank you raqs for sharing a very special memory. it is not very often that
posts here can bring tears to my eyes. this one did. we are truly one quirky
family.
smile
uneksia

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

As I have said to Mr. V several times in the last week, Back to our Roots truly was a magical event...Your story just proves it!
It was an honor to meet you both.