Let’s be clear.

I stood up for you, not because I agree with your opinion, but because I believe you have a right to your opinion.

I marched with you, not because I agreed with the position of everyone who marched, but because I supported your right to be heard.

“Do you love your children?” my roommate asked.        Yes.

“Do you like your children?” my roommate asked.          Yes.

“Do you like all the choices they make?                                  No.

But they are grown. They exercise rights. They make their own choices.

When President Jimmy Carter reinstated the draft in 1980, there was a huge outcry. People protested. The front page of my hometown newspaper featured a 21-year-old holding a sign: Is anything worth dying for?

Yes.

That.

Your right to sit there on the curb with that protest sign.

Freedom of Speech is precious.

I may not agree with everything you say.  Sadly, much of what you say may be unfounded.

But oh, how I champion and applaud your right to say it!

Silence?

No.

I saw that a majority of my good friends from all over the country were marching. Women of all generations. They are smiling, thoughtful, intelligent women who have seen much they didn’t like – especially in the last few months. Many of them are history buffs and well know that women have not always had the right to vote.

They also remember personally what it feels like to not have a voice-to be disrespected in the workplace or the home simply because they are female. Others have experienced firsthand that it is more difficult for a woman to get a higher paying job – a job that is often reserved for men because men will not settle for the lower paying jobs.

Some had dignity and esteem gouged from them during the young and learning years when they were seen just as an object – something beautiful to toy with and tease and demand favors of in the workplace. They are wiser now. Stronger. Firm. Not often angry, just insistent that their daughters not have to fight the very same fight over again.

I was out of town, off the grid, well beyond the bounds of any city or civic institution. I followed the news with interest. The march was referred to as a protest and that startled me. I saw that some of the women carried placards refuting or against a particular person -the new president of the United States.

Protest is strong language to me and I dreaded seeing violence or law-breaking. (Indeed, I continue to be grieved by the emphasis and spin that this is against a person and one person only rather than against policies) But a march? A march of solidarity among women? I had indeed taken my own solitary march that morning – a mile through snow a foot deep that made me long for snowshoes.

Had I been in town, I would have marched with them. Not against a person or thing, but for several things:

For friendship

For solidarity

For love

For equality

For justice

For truth

For freedom

For liberty

For unity

For doing the right thing

For logic, reason and wisdom to prevail

But mostly for love

Love in all things

Love to the stranger and alien

Love to our families

a kinder, gentler and more understanding response

and courage in place of fear

Because perfect love casts out fear

My favorite black classic Loki jacket –trusty outdoor companion for the past five years – is spending the ski season at Purgatory as a hard-side accompaniment to my daughter’s short down jacket. Meanwhile, I’ll be comfortable in my winter layers and knee length down coat – or so I thought.

The weather forecast called for mostly sunny weather and I trusted it. My trust did not prevent me packing a rain poncho and ice grips. There had been no precipitation for the previous week or 10 days at Natural Bridges, but it is December. Any water in the canyons is mostly frozen. And some ledges are in shadow 24 hours a day.

With a temperature reading of 33 degrees, I exited my car in the down coat over a ubiquitous hoodie, slung my daypack across the shoulders and set out for Kachina Bridge. I planned to hike the entire five-mile loop. Down to Kachina. Through the canyon. Under Owachomo. Across the mesa. Back to my car.

The trail was varied. Some steep slickrock, through some big sage, sandy creek bed crossings with hundreds of slender willows, a Mormon tea plant here and there amongst the mini forests of pinyon pine. In places the trail was narrow and I brushed against bushes and branches at the sides. Worried about tearing the nylon shell of my jacket, I looked down. Small dark spots spread across thighs indicating the down was absorbing droplets of water. The sky was still sunny, the weather dry. Quickly, I checked the bite valve of my water reservoir. Dry. Safely hooked to a shoulder strap in the up position.

The trail I was hiking was perfect terrain for ungulates. Without planning to do so, I had verified some oft-repeated scientific information.

My purpose for these three months of volunteer work at Natural Bridges is to facilitate accurate information for visitors via print or interpretation. When we tell visitors Desert Bighorn Sheep get most of their water from the plants they eat, visitors are skeptical. Sage and rabbit brush seem so dry. But it really is true! You can get water from plants. I hiked while the morning was still warming up, the sun peeping into the canyon. I passed through a vegetation buffet designed for large mammals. I took on water.

The Loki jacket’s purpose for the next three months is to protect a down jacket – to keep the down from being shredded by the jostling snowboards and skis of other powder buffs as she scans tickets. Loki jacket is doing that job well. But how am I to keep dry while hiking the rest of the season? How about wool?  Or maybe just a new Loki Mountain Jacket?