{"id":265,"date":"2013-06-13T23:07:04","date_gmt":"2013-06-14T07:07:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/?p=265"},"modified":"2013-07-14T10:50:47","modified_gmt":"2013-07-14T18:50:47","slug":"one-month","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sloop.net\/wordpress\/?p=265","title":{"rendered":"One month."},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Dad, Mom and Sasha.<\/p><\/div>\n

Today marks a month since Dad went missing.<\/p>\n

It, on one hand, seems like an eternity. But it also seems all of a few days.<\/p>\n

Let me first stop to tell you what we know, which isn\u2019t a lot.
\nThe police continue to do their work. Investigations are often slow. We hope that this one will bring us some good news. It can be hard, some days, being hopeful.<\/p>\n

The police tell us they are still investigating \u2013 but the word is always; nothing new, no new leads.<\/p>\n

All the thinking we, and all the experts, have done give us no real motive for why this would happen. We can\u2019t imagine any reasonable reason for holding him, or for harming him. It\u2019s hard to imagine someone having a vendetta against Dad either.<\/p>\n

So, we are left with the same horribly frustrating feeling \u2013 no rational sense for why, who, or even how.<\/p>\n

That is difficult. We all like to have order, logic and some semblance of the rational when we try to make sense of things. This event has left us devoid of all that \u2013 sense, order, logic, rationality.<\/p>\n

Yet we continue to have faith that \u201cHe is our God, and we are His people.\u201d We continue to pray for a miracle. We would love it, if you would travel with us; praying and asking God for his will to be done:, for his comfort and care for all of us, for Dad, and for all of you too. We all need it.<\/p>\n

—
\nI have a few words of thanks I want to give.<\/p>\n

Thanks to all of you who have already offered your prayers, your thoughts and care. Thanks to all who offered their time, their food, their kind words, thoughts, hugs and tears. Thanks for your email and posts. Thanks for the phone calls, the letters, the many thoughtful things you\u2019ve done for us.<\/p>\n

I should have done this long ago\u2026<\/p>\n

Special<\/strong> thanks to:
\nTyler Morgan
\nJeff Lamberton
\nEvan Kinne
\nRon Miller
\n{and all their families.}<\/p>\n

These folks dropped everything to go to Kiev and help out in the search. They went into a completely unknown environment to help. I\u2019m sure it worried their families greatly. We cannot say \u201cThanks,\u201d enough.<\/p>\n

And while Jeff Sloop is family, I\u2019ll say that I was incredibly impressed with his skill, level-headedness and generosity. His care for \u201cGranddaddy\u201d shows in his immense desire to find him in good health and bring him home. I\u2019m sorry Jeff that you couldn\u2019t \u2013 sorry for us all. But take pride in your effort. You did an incredible job, in an incredibly difficult task.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll also say that I\u2019m very thankful for Lora and Lois, [Mom\u2019s sisters] who came to stay with Mom, and help her. She too is incredibly grateful for their time and care.<\/p>\n

To Randy: You went and endured the long hours and the stress. You left no reasonable avenue untried. Then you had to leave without having Dad come home with you. That has clearly been very hard. \u201cThanks\u201d is such a small word. It seems inadequate. Though I don’t know what more one say? Really, \u201cThank you<\/strong>!\u201d<\/p>\n

Christine kept things going at work and home while Randy was away, and I know she worried \u2013 probably a lot more than I know. So, \u201cthanks,\u201d to her too for lending us Randy!<\/p>\n

Rick and Linda have watched over Mom this whole time too, handling a million details that only someone being there can do. Thanks for all you’ve done and continue to do.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m sure there are many others whose names I\u2019ve left out, who I may not know about, or who helped us unseen. I\u2019m sorry I can\u2019t reach out to each of you individually and tell you how wonderful you have all been \u2013 we\u2019ve been so very grateful for all your help. Thanks, so very much<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

—
\nNow I know this reads a little like an ending \u2013 but I don\u2019t intend it that way. I just don\u2019t want to forget to take the time to tell everyone thanks for all you\u2019ve done.<\/p>\n

We want all of you to know we noticed, we saw, we felt your care. And we appreciate all of it \u2013 such great helpings of care \u2013 we could never begin to repay. We just accept them, grateful to have such wonderful friends who care so much.<\/p>\n

Thanks!<\/p>\n

—
\nSo, let me tell another story.<\/p>\n

\u2026I don\u2019t recall exactly how old I was for this story, but I had to be in my late teens.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s in the same place I\u2019ve discussed before \u2013 due south of \u201cSourdough gap,\u201d not too far from the summit of Chinook pass.<\/p>\n

We had a \u201cfather-son weekend\u201d backpack trip with a group from church. It was a short trip, a weekend \u2013 hike in Friday night, and back out Sunday. It\u2019s not a long hike, but the trail isn\u2019t good either. There is lots of very heavy brush and slide alder etc. Much of the way, it\u2019s no better than a deer trail \u2013 if that.<\/p>\n

\u2026So, we arrive in the car, just as it\u2019s getting dark Friday night.<\/p>\n

This is typical Sloop fashion \u2013 at least these Sloops. Lisa and I can tell you about all the times we\u2019ve finished our hike-in, when backpacking, in the dark \u2013 by headlamp. We light the lantern to find a marginally reasonable spot to pitch a tent, and drop off to sleep, exhausted.<\/p>\n

[The upside is, when you wake up in the morning \u2013 it\u2019s like a surprise \u2013 you\u2019ve not seen anything farther than perhaps 30 feet around the tent. But hiking in the dark, tired and late, isn\u2019t the most fun you ever had. Just ask Lisa. J ]<\/p>\n

Dad and I get out our packs and things. We get ready to go, and realize that, yes, it\u2019s getting very dark, so even hiking very fast we\u2019re never going to get there before it is pitch black. And when you\u2019re hiking underneath such a thick canopy of brush \u2013 even a full moon isn\u2019t going to help much. [Not that I recall any full moon.]<\/p>\n

We look around the car. Hmmmm. No flashlights. No headlamps. No lantern.<\/p>\n

Ah! A candle though! You know the kind, a stick candle. It was probably half used \u2013 with no more than six inches left.<\/p>\n

What Dad had a candle in the car for, I\u2019ll never know. And matches\u2026 I suppose we *were* backpacking, but even then \u2013 having matches was practically a miracle.<\/p>\n

We didn\u2019t have any wind-shield for the candle \u2013 so the whole idea seemed crazy to me, but we thought we\u2019d try it. We\u2019d hike the one and a half to two miles to the lake from the trail-head by candle light.<\/p>\n

So, I hold the candle, and we get out the matches. We light the candle and then carefully walk along.<\/p>\n

As you can imagine, a candle doesn\u2019t give off much light \u2013 especially to the person behind. So, I\u2019d walk half sideways, holding a hand in front of the candle to try to shield it from the wind and the breeze of walking.<\/p>\n

Dad would follow along behind, trying not to stumble over too many things \u2013 trying to stay out of the spring\/creek that runs along through there. I\u2019d try to watch to be sure he got enough light while trying to watch where I\u2019m going too.<\/p>\n

Through all this, I\u2019m trying to be careful not to fall down; Not only because I didn\u2019t want to fall down, but I didn\u2019t want to get burnt by the candle. And worse, wanting to be very sure I didn\u2019t fall, drop the candle and start a fire in the brush. I\u2019m sure starting a fire wasn\u2019t likely, but it seemed there were more than just a few things that could go wrong in any given second.<\/p>\n

It seemed incessant that the candle would flicker and nearly go out. I\u2019d hold my breath, try to shelter the candle more, and stop to let the flame grow full again. Then we\u2019d start moving once more.<\/p>\n

We had the candle go completely out at least six times during the hike. We\u2019d stop, in the blackness, find each other, make sure we were close enough, dig out the matches and Dad would light the candle again. Often, the match would blow out before the candle lit, and we\u2019d try again [and again.]<\/p>\n

As we got near the end of the hike, the supply of matches we had in the book was getting pretty low, and the abrasive strip to light the matches on was getting pretty worn too. I, if not Dad, started to worry about getting stuck in the middle \u2013 where we weren\u2019t to our destination and not at the car either, when the matches or candle ran out.<\/p>\n

The wax from the candle was by now almost entirely coating my hand and we were down to less than an inch of candle left.<\/p>\n

Finally, not a minute too soon, we crested the ridge where the trail goes downhill to the lake, and the trail improves a lot too. It\u2019s a very short walk to where everyone was camped \u2013 a few hundred yards or so. We\u2019d made it \u2013 or almost.<\/p>\n

A few minutes later, with only one more re-lighting ceremony, we arrived where everyone else already had gathered. We were right on time \u2013 Sloop time, anyway.<\/p>\n

The fire was going and I think everyone else had their tents pitched and ready. We found a place to put ours [in the dark] and then sat around the fire. We cooked dinner and I recall roasting some marshmallows. Dad probably even ate a few \u2013 though I don\u2019t recall for sure.<\/p>\n

The rest of the weekend was uneventful. We hiked out Sunday morning, so there wasn\u2019t any risk of needing the candle again.<\/p>\n

But we had a comfortable time, and it\u2019s one of the last times I recall being out with Dad before I got married. It\u2019s one of those times you remember \u2013 a last time before a turn in life changed things so what was, is not the same again.<\/p>\n

But Lisa and I have come back quite a number of times to this same spot, both with Dad and without. \u00a0[I\u2019ll have to tell about the summer we were newly married and went with cousin Janet.]<\/p>\n

Remembering these places are impossible without thinking of all the quiet, peaceful times we have spent: Skiing. Backpacking. Day hikes<\/p>\n

Some alone; some with Dad. Some with much of the family. Some while young. Some not.<\/p>\n

In all of it, I see Dad and his love of the time outdoors. I see now, how he was different, more relaxed, taking life a little slower \u2013 though still more driven than I probably appreciated. But the times Dad got away from work, from caring for his patients, and spent them outdoors \u2013 I\u2019m sure those were some of his most cherished times. I\u2019m glad I got to be with him for at least a few of them.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m glad I did, and I\u2019d still love to have the opportunity to do so again.<\/p>\n

-Greg<\/p>\n

[Posted with almost no editing \u2013 so excuse the inevitable typo\u2019s and grammatical mistakes. I may come back and edit it later, if I get time. So, don’t be surprised if it changes some.]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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