The Reason

About six months ago, I drafted a list of life goals ranging from the trivial (“Master badminton”), to the grandiose (“Exhibit at the MOMA”). The list included hiking the Appalachian Trail, perhaps one of the more ambitious prospects on the list. To hike the trail requires four to six months of “free time,” a willingness to forgo showering, hygiene, civilization, and the ability to entertain oneself for hours on end while hauling a middle-schooler on your back up thousands of vertical feet. The appeal is obvious.

When the opportunity to take six months off presented itself, I made the decision to go. Some people say I am crazy, others say I am courageous, but they all have one consensus – I will surely be eaten by bears. For four months now, I’ve been researching, acquiring gear, and trying to convince friends to willingly throw themselves into the gaping jaws of grizzlies with me. Oddly enough, no one volunteered.

While planning for my trip, my grandmother died of complications from Scleroderma. Susan Dart was an incredible woman who remained active until her death, never accepting the limitations of her restricted mobility. She was the author of five books including, Market Square, Edward Dart Architect, and The Friday Club. Susan Dart was also a columnist for both the Lakeforester and the LA Times and a professor of English at Barat College and Loyola University. Determined to have her grandchildren speak and write correctly, she taught grammar classes, vocabulary lessons and manners tutorials over my summer vacations. These were more fun than you might expect and often involved prizes. Perhaps this is the origin of my love of language.

In the foothills of North Carolina, a stone’s throw away from the A.T., she lived a rustic life in a cabin without plumbing or electricity. With her husband, she would draw fresh water from streams, hot water from wood burning stoves and light from kerosene lanterns. Together, they developed a series of trails through their mountain property, which she hiked regularly. Eventually moving from the cabin to a house of modern conveniences, Susan maintained the cabin preserving its history in a book entitled, The Old Home Place. A fellow nature enthusiast, champion of natural foods and wildlife conservation, Susan Dart would have appreciated my desire to tackle the Appalachian Trail.

After her death the trail took on a new meaning for me. I saw the opportunity to make my hike count for more than personal satisfaction. I have decided to hike in Susan Dart’s memory and am hoping to raise a significant sum of money for the Scleroderma Foundation through pledged donations in her honor. This trip is a chance to increase awareness of Scleroderma while honoring a woman of great strength, energy and conviction.