In the summer after I...
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In the summer after I had finished college some buddies and I went west to work for the U.S. Forestry service in the mountains of Idaho. Assigned to search out and destroy plants that carried blister rust, a destroyer of timber, we spent all day tramping through the woods, on the lookout for "ribes" (pronounced "rye-bees") and staying clear of poison ivy and yellow jackets. My crew supervisor that summer was a crusty sort of free spirit for eastern North Dakota. He made no bones about the fact that he was not "into religion and, in fact, thought people who were had to be a little bit off balance. One day as he and I stood chatting, he learned I planned to enter seminary. I can still hear his thinly-disguised derision as he said, "So you're going to become a preacher man, huh?" He gave me an inscrutable look and walked away.
Years later, when I was serving my first parish, I learned that my summer supervisor had developed problems with alcohol and had been dismissed from the forest service. In the years since, I have often wondered what became of my "tormentor" in the days when he was in the saddle and I was a lowly "ribe goon."
Years later, when I was serving my first parish, I learned that my summer supervisor had developed problems with alcohol and had been dismissed from the forest service. In the years since, I have often wondered what became of my "tormentor" in the days when he was in the saddle and I was a lowly "ribe goon."
