Two Boys Changing America
The year was 1867 in NYC, pre-cars or electricity.
The Roosevelt Museum of Natural History opened its doors under the direction of founder and curator, sickly 8-year-old Theodore Roosevelt. Housed in his bedroom, the hodge-podge collection showcased his treasure trove, something reminiscent of what you find in your own 8-year-old’s pockets when you do the laundry. He collected bones, rocks, insects, and small animals, even hiring his buddies to acquire new specimens. Observing how his father worked, founder of the actual Museum of Natural History, he read, collected, and took notes.
Just a few states to the west, another boy, John Muir, sat in his bedroom at the family homestead. It was the middle of the night, and his candle secretly flickered. The house creaked under the weight of eight sleeping children and their parents, who recently arrived from Scotland to make a better life in America. But unlike Teddy’s encouraging father, John’s father didn’t allow him to study such frivolous things as nature. So John woke himself up to read nature books by candlelight, risking severe whippings.
Back in New York, little Theodore found that his frail, asthmatic body transformed when he went into the mountains. As he grew, he spent as much time outdoors as possible. Years later, when his wife and mother died on the same horrific day, he escaped to the western plains and slept under the stars for weeks. He returned from that season of total darkness, prepared to face the next chapter of his life. And in that chapter, he was so convinced of nature’s positive effects on the body and mind, he worked to protect the land, America’s national treasure. While Theodore is best known as a United States President, one of his lifelong passions was nature.
John too escaped to nature after a traumatic event that almost left him blind. During his time of recuperation, all he could think about was getting out West to the mountains and towering trees he had always read about. He did just that, leaving behind his work as an inventor and engineer to answer the call of the wild.
Several years later, as Teddy moved into the White House, John settled into Yosemite Valley, spending months at a time living in the wilderness, taking notes, observing. He watched loggers and miners moving in, felling the massive sequoias and digging into the stunning mountain faces.
After years of studying the forests and mountains, down to the smallest plants and flowers, he had a deep understanding of the spectacular natural assets of the US. He also knew if there were no regulations to protect the land, it would be completely stripped for its resources. Though he felt some would only see him as a Scottish boy with a mish-mash education, he began writing papers, articles, and eventually books.
Back in D.C., President Roosevelt began to read John's words and was captivated.
He wrote John a letter, asking if he would guide him through Yosemite for a camping trip and a chance to hear more about his thoughts. He wrote, “I do not want anyone with me but you, and I want to drop politics absolutely for four days and just be out in the open with you.” John accepted. The two men met in 1903 and set out.
Theodore Roosevelt and John Muir on Glacier Point, Yosemite Valley, California, in 1903. http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/93503130/
That trip, the meeting of those two men, was pivotal for our country. They walked and talked and sat around the campfire. They didn’t agree on everything, but they shared a deep respect for each other and for the land that was in their care. The Scottish immigrant educated the United States President. He shared his passion for the land and the need to preserve it for the generations to come.
Roosevelt said of that camping experience, "It was like lying in a great solemn cathedral, far vaster and more beautiful than any built by the hand of man."
And what came from that trip?
Teddy caught John’s enthusiasm and was convinced. He got to work.
Have you been to the Grand Canyon? It’s still there because the President saved it from obliteration by mining. We have Yosemite, 150 National Forests, and the five National Parks President Roosevelt established. We have birds that would have gone extinct if not for his 51 bird preserves across the states. We have the United States Forest Service and he got the ball rolling for the National Parks Service which provides the protection and upkeep of our natural treasures.
Those are the direct effects of the trip, and we’ll never be able to count the ripple effects.
We are the “generations to come” they were thinking of and I, for one, rarely think about how a hundred years ago people worked hard to keep these things around for me.
Now, we’re the ones with the 8-year-old boys and girls who are captivated by leaves and lizards, and we have the opportunity to encourage them and tell them they are right. Nature is a gift and we have a chance to steward it well, no matter our profession or acreage. It’s about having the humility to see that we are all small parts with the chance to leave something worse or better than we found it.
"We have fallen heirs to the most glorious heritage a people ever received, and each one must do his part if we wish to show that the nation is worthy of its good fortune." - Theodore Roosevelt
I did not set out to record this little bit of history, but came by it in a round-about way. When writing Miss Prim Goes Wild, I read some of the work of Doug Tallamy. His organization, Homegrown National Park, hopes to link thousands of tiny bits of ecologically-healthy space all across America to create the equivalent of a National Park in order to combat a threatened ecosystem. All he’s talking about is just the small healthy corners of people’s yards and parks.
So that led to me reading about our National Parks, which lead to President Theodore Roosevelt, which lead to the camping trip with John Muir. Then, of course, I had to know the stories behind the stories and traveled back to their childhoods.
And you know what? Once I knew those personal stories, I suddenly cared exponentially more about the National Parks. Because that’s what history does. As historian David McCullough says, “History tells us the stories of what people have been through.” And I think that’s what usually really makes us care.
(After writing this post, I was delighted to see there is a children’s book on the camping trip)
-MISS PRIM GOES WILD-
If you have little ones in your life, I invite you to look into my new picture book!
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