Publisert av: For the Little Prince - Per | mars 18, 2008

Down Memory Lane or Daisy Pass Fast

Down Memory Lane or Daisy Pass Fast

Avalanche on Daisy PassAvalanche on Daisy PassAvalanche on Daisy PassAvalanche on Daisy Pass

**Daisy Pass-Yellowstone National Park

Top of Daisy Pass

The beginning of a friendship; of a journey:

Now, as friends telling friends about a friendship, we

sometimes look at the bright and shiny part of a person.

We see each other as we are, as we want to be seen- not as we

could have been; not as the trials and the tragedies and

the broken hearts. Not as the mistakes we made, but as the

sum total of all of the good things that we have done.

This describes the friendship between ‘Michael’ and ‘Sandy’.


We valued our friendship, and we valued each other; the

unique qualities that each of us brought to the friendship.

We respected our similarities; we accepted our differences.

We were intrigued by each other’s stories- the good, the bad

and the ugly.


And, to be honest, the things we’ve

done, the places we’ve seen, the mountains we have climbed

have not always been so very pleasant. When I think

of the deepest valley, the darkest cave, the scariest roller

coaster, the wildest bull ride, the coldest winter;

I think that we, Michael and Sandy, see eye to eye.

Bull Ride and Clown

And our story begins:

Hi, Michael, my name is Sandy. How are you doing today?

Oh, you are from Canada. Isn’t that nice. Where did you

come from, Sandy? Oh, you came from down on the farm.

Yep, that’s where I came from, too. Did you have any

neighbors, Michael? I didn’t either.


From time to time we meet some one who travels with us,

laughs with us, talks with us and walks on a tight rope with us.

My friend, Michael, is one of those tight rope walkers. Since

Michael is a world traveler, there were times when I lost track

of Michael. It was always my mission to ‘Find Michael’. Have

you seen Michael? What is Michael doing now? Where in the

world is Michael? These were/are frequent buzz words in my



Today’s to-do list: Google ‘Michael’.

Tomorrow’s to-do list: Call up the first five ‘Michaels’ on list.

Next week: Call the real ‘Michael’

Next month: Book a flight to Texas.

The following month: Have dinner with Michael.

Well, that dinner never came. The flight was cancelled.

Phone Call

From time to time, we did visit by phone. And, we did

talk, and we did laugh, and we did tell about the latest

tight rope walks.


It is now the year 2007:

I don’t think that I had talked to Michael in 13 years. That is

a very long time. I googled ‘Michael’ and found that

he was now a writer of civil war novels. I was hot on the trail.

He was a curator of a museum. He lived in Guam. He got his

Master of Divinity. He previously had lived in Texas. He even

lived in a commune in Los Angelos, CA.

foreign men

I would call and ask for ‘Michael’ and his room mates would

tell me in a foreign language and very broken English, «He not

here right now; he be right back.» Perhaps, this was not where

‘Michael’ lived after all. Michael never apologized to me about

the careless telephone receptionists. He had never lived in Los

Angelos, CA.


Michael tells me that he ‘googled’ Sandy S. Zoo and found

her. They exchanged quite a few e-mails and then, after

some time, Michael recalled a feeling that maybe this wasn’t

‘Sandy’ after all. It might have been the sweet little laugh or

the jokes that she told that were in poor taste. This was NOT


google search

One day, not so many months ago, Sandy did another search

on Humph! Look at that! ‘Michael’ works for the

‘FBI’ or something like it. She got right on the phone.


Wanting to surprise him, she had planned to start the

long-awaited conversation with: «Remember when those

hikers went skinny dipping?» or how about, «Do you

remember ‘The Grizzly Bear Story?’ as told by ‘Roger’.»

or «Do you remember the elk and calf visiting our tent

early in the morning?» or «Did my snoring really keep

you awake all night?!» or perhaps, best of all,

«Do you remember when we cross country skied down Daisy

Pass?» «Do you remember…?» On my first try, I only said,

«Oh, I am sorry; this must be a wrong number….» On the

next try, I left a nice message. ‘Michael’ called me back.

There was SO MUCH that I wanted to tell ‘Michael’. Where

do I begin…

FBI dude

I did NOT want to remind ‘Michael’ of the dreaded ‘Wild Berry

Pie’ or the hikers who streaked across the glacier. I had hoped

that he had forgotten. I tried to forget, but some times, I

would wake up in the middle of the night thinking…..»What

were those hikers thinking?!» That without a cell phone or a

phone booth, we couldn’t or wouldn’t dial 9-1-1?!


Well, when I finally called the right number, and when I

finally heard ‘Michael’s’ voice, he had the very best line.

«Sandy, you haven’t changed a bit.» That made my heart

flutter a little bit. Through hell and high water, I hadn’t lost

my sense of humor. I was ‘o.k’ in Michael’s eyes. Nothing

had changed.


We talked about a lot of things…life and love, mid-life

crises, puppy chow, dirty laundry, and favorite movies.

And then, we said, «Goodbye» and promised to keep in touch.

And, we will and we do.


Today, I receive an e-mail from ‘Michael’ saying,

«…and, we were going down Daisy Pass without a care in

the world, and no brakes either.»

Cross Country on Daisy Pass

The memories came galloping back into my mind.

We were cross country skiing down Daisy Pass and it had a

pretty good slope to it. The snow was soft and fluffy.

The scenery was just out of this world. We wanted to show off

to our friends and be the first ones to the bottom, and we

were. But, the way to the bottom was tainted by a poor

braking system and the excessive vegetation. We did not

score high in terms of skill or accuracy. We scored high

in terms persistence and sheer will. We narrowly escaped

a trip to the E.R. , wherever that was. I am sure that

it was more than 30 miles from Pebble Creek.

We laughed each time we fell and, each time, we picked each

other off of the forest floor. It was as dangerous, or more,

than our ditch diving escapades.

Jump Jetting

We both have families with children, and nieces and nephews.

It is best not to know how we accomplished ditch diving and

also that you not ask how far and how deep ‘Michael’s’ best

jump was. Let it be.


Memories deteriorate fast when one reaches 39 years old.

The details of yesterday’s adventures become blurred.

It is the marriage of fact and fiction, with disbelief

woven into the tapestry.


«I can’t believe we did that!’, was a common expression.

Daisy Pass II

«Mom- tell us about the time that you and your friend,

Michael, had lunch on a glacier by Going to the Sun Road.»

«Tell us about the time that you swam past the herd of

moose to get to the island where you jumped off of

the huge boulder….» «Did you really eat ‘Wild Berry Pie’?!»


«I can’t remember,» she responds. That was a long time



«Tell me the story one more time, Mom!»

«That sounded like so much fun!»

Glacier Outlook

It was fun.


Those were the very best ‘Days of Our Lives’.

Thanks, God, for a good day; for a good life… and for

joining us on those hiking trips. We kept those guardian angels





Sandy S. Zoo ©2008 Hugs to you both, Michael & Chad!

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