The End of an Accidental Hiatus
Some musing and cogitation on camping, hosting after-school student events, and mid-tier Wisconsin beer.
Well, reader. Here we are. If you didn’t know that I was on a brief hiatus from The Armchair, you can take solace in the fact that I didn’t either. In that sense you and I are in the same boat.
I hit a bit of writer’s block these past few weeks. Although, I suppose “writer’s block” is not technically the right phrase because I have plenty of ideas of things I want to write about but have been in a place where the idea of sitting down to research, draft, write, edit, publish, etc feels like more lumens than this 40w light bulb is able to emit at the moment.
But the whole point of me doing this is to be consistent and practice writing. So we’re going to jump into one of my favorite things of all time that I did this past weekend: camping.
“Going camping” is one of those activities that, if you think about it too much, is a bit odd. What our not-too-distant ancestors once called “survival” has somehow become “a fun thing to do on a week-end.” And yet I really really love the process of driving up to southern Wisconsin in the fall, schlepping the necessary camping gear alongside some luxuries (like pillows - an absolute essential) to go sleep in a tent on the ground for a night or two. But oh, is it magical!
C.S Lewis, a medievalist by training, talked a lot about the fact we have lost our sense of enchantment with the world. His fiction writing is shot-through with this idea, if you know to look for it. For their lack of quantum-physics1 expertise, the medievals had a keen sense of wonder for the world around them. The stars were something to be understood and consulted, of course, but they were also a bottomless well of stories, imagination, and fear that animated the lives of everyday people.
As we sat around the fire with two friends, I found it impossible not to look up and marvel at the pinpricks of light far above me that, somehow, are flaming balls of gas millions of miles away, beaming light at me that is somehow thousands of years old.
Whenever I go camping I also think of the painters that loosely belonged to what became known as “The Hudson River School.” Here are two of my favorites:
These mid-19th century masters of landscape drama fascinate me. I could look at their paintings all day, and it’s my favorite room to visit at the Art Institute of Chicago.
Cole, Beirstadt, and others were adept at using landscapes to evoke emotion and a sense of smallness, wonder, and awe. Take a look at Cole’s painting above. I bet you didn’t notice the small people sitting on the cliff at the bottom middle-right of the image - they are meant to be hidden, and when you see them the scale of the image suddenly becomes clear: sweeping, fast-moving rain clouds closing in on an old hoary tree shattered by storms of old, as the tranquil pastoral valley below lies within striking distance of this impending storm.
These painters were trying to evoke a sense of the sublime, this feeling of nearing the limit of approachability before tipping into something too awesome to comprehend, witness, or encounter. I dare say that they were successful, and while they had some poignant social commentary on westward expansion, industrialization, etc, they were also determined to help viewers connect with the Creator of the landscapes through the painting itself.
All of this played into the predominant tourism trends of the mid 19th century- I kid you not when I say that it was the aspiration of millions of Americans to travel to Niagara Falls, simply to have the experience of being overwhelmed by the sheer terror of beholding that roaring cataract. They would send ships over the edge, blow up outcroppings of rock jutting from the falls,2 and other such stunts to draw people in and experience the sublime.3
All of this draws me back to camping. The state parks of southern Wisconsin might not be able to rival the majesty of Niagara Falls, but there is still something about being in the woods late at night and early in the morning that energizes and encourages me while connecting me with Him who made both me and that tree over there.
Here’s some pictures I took while camping. They highlight some of my favorite things about the experience; I’ll spare you the commentary as they will quickly become pretty obvious.
Some other stuff I’ve been up to
One of the reasons I’ve felt so fried lately is that Courtney and I are both currently living the life of full-time jobs and evening grad school, which severely limits 1) free time and 2) energy to be expended in free time. That’s ok - It’s for a season and a good thing in the long run.
We really like New Glarus beer, which is made and sold exclusively in Wisconsin. One of the knock-on advantages of camping in Wisconsin is crossing back into IL with the car riding *a little* lower.
This past Tuesday we held a VP Debate watch party at school. To my surprise, we had 40 kids show up! Though perhaps the copious amounts of pizza and extra credit may have been a strong incentive, I’m so so grateful to teach students who are even remotely interested in attending that kind of thing.
Last night Courtney and I attended a lecture at Moody Bible Institute (where one of our pastors is a professor) to hear him give his inaugural lecture before joining the faculty of the seminary. As we drove home we both talked about the fact we wished we could go back to college purely for the joy that is attending random lectures and hearing interesting, rigorous, and grace-filled conversations between people who know a lot about what they’re talking about. We both LOVE our grad programs… but there’s just something about sitting in a lecture hall at 8pm on a Thursday night. Does that make me a nerd? I’m not sure I feel quite smart enough for that label. I suppose it makes me curious - I’ll gladly own that one.
This weekend is Wheaton’s4 homecoming, and Court and I are really excited about going to the football game on Saturday and connecting with some friends. In the vein of feeling some college nostalgia, I can’t wait to be back on the campus that was so formative for me, and where the Lord met me in powerful ways. Wheaton is my pillar of stones on the Jordan.
Or gravity, for that matter.
The utility of such stunts quickly wore out as 1) they ran out of rock outcroppings to blow up and 2) onlookers were disappointed with how quiet the explosions were compared to the falls. True story.
An enchanting little book on this era is Sam Patch, The Famous Jumper. One of my all-time favorite history books.
The superior midwestern private Christian liberal arts institution