Teddy’s Advice

[This post is available as a podcast, too. Give it a whirl. Props go to Kelly for her hilarious description of the standoffish buffalo as “the Seattle-ites of the animal kingdom” – I’ve poached a bit of that below.]

I met Teddy Roosevelt in the North Dakota Badlands. Actually, to be more precise, we were formally introduced about 10 days prior at Devil’s Tower where he’d been out camping with some Indians. I saw him later at Mount Rushmore, but amidst all the shiny granite and flags and tourists, not to mention the other three he was keeping company with, Teddy and I didn’t really talk, he just gave me a funny little wink and went back to joking with Mr. Lincoln.

We had our first real conversation in a book store in Medora, North Dakota, a little town outside Theodore Roosevelt National Park. He looked at me from the cover of so many biographies, so many retellings of his time and the region. TR came to Medora to ranch and hunt and, after the death of his wife and his mother, to heal his pain in nature. I asked him what I should call him and he said he didn’t care, as long as I didn’t call him late for supper. I didn’t laugh at first, it’s such a dumb joke, but then, he was so amused with himself that it was infectious and the ice was broken.

I told TR that things had been less than ideal for me lately, that I was carrying around some heavy things, and he told me that I was in the right place to put them down. In the park the next day, we watched a few buffalo wander away. I said that I thought the buffalo acted as though they were the fancy girls at the party and we weren’t quite good enough for them. TR thought that was pretty funny; when he was done laughing he told me not to worry, that the buffalo were common in this area and, truth be told, not very smart. “Just get the hell out of the way if they’re running for you,” he said, “or have your rifle at the ready and don’t miss, for the love of God, don’t miss.”

The weather had been crappy the night before, but the day was nice. We stood on the edge of the meadow where the stockyard had once been, the grass scratching at my ankles. “You ought to get some decent boots,” TR told me in a teasing voice, nodding at my sandals, “and short pants are for school boys. You look ridiculous.” “Are you joking, Teddy?” I responded. “Have you seen yourself in that absurd buffalo hide coat? Plus, what does it weigh, anyhow? 400 pounds? You couldn’t outrun a kitten in that thing.”

I liked TR even though we didn’t agree on everything and I got the feeling he felt the same way about me. I trusted him and I told him some of my worries. He reached out and took a firm grip on my shoulder. “Get out of your tent in the middle of the night,” he said, dead serious for a moment,  “and look at the sky.” Two nights later, in St. Mary, Montana, I unzipped the tent fly, dizzily found the ground, and then, looked up. The stars were uncountable, the smear of the Milky Way was bright and close.

This morning, I sat at my desk reading my email and watching the hummingbirds at the feeder. A mama raccoon followed by one of her youngsters padded across the paving stones and then, paused and looked back. She returned to the low fence on the East edge of my yard. Another little raccoon was awkwardly trying to join her. His chin was stuck on the top rail, he was attempting to pull himself over.

“Teddy, is that you?” I asked, out the window, and he turned and looked at me. “You saw the stars, right?” he asked me. “Yes, I did,” I answered, “and you were right.” “Of course I was,” he said, and smiled.  He pulled himself the rest of the way over the fence and went to join his brother.