The Longest Summer:

An account of the Appalachian Trail.

My cell buzzed on the table, next to an obnoxiously large carabiner-turned-keyholder that said, in words too small to read, “For Mountaineering Use Only” as if the stocky red and gray 'biner with an extra clip on the back didn’t get the message across. I let the buzzing go on long enough to manifest a raised eyebrow on a neatly-suited businessman at the next table before I lazily reached up and clicked on my Bluetooth. I was in a crowded cafe in the “Little Italy” section of San Diego, watching the tourists go by while I enjoyed a double espresso. I hate it when people call it “eX-spresso.” It’s one thing when a person does something incorrectly because it’s complicated, like finding a cure for impotence for instance. It’s another thing altogether when they mess up something as simple as a word that they see printed everywhere. People have become so lazy, they don’t even see the letter “s” in the beginning of the word. They just slide right past it like that thing from Carnegie-Mellon University where all the words are misspelled but you can read it anyway as long as the first and last letters are correct.

“EX-spresso” people are just one of the many things that bother me on a daily basis. Another is when people use the word “irregardless,” when they mean to say, simply, “regardless.” A testimony to the limp-wristed “sheeple” we Americans have become, some weasel at Websters Dictionary included “irregardless” in the dictionary as an alternate for “regardless,” capitulating to the illiterate and imprecise. I discovered this once while trying to express my displeasure to someone when there was a dictionary nearby. God knows, we wouldn’t want someone to learn from their mistakes.

I’m disgusted at Webster as I answer the phone,

Sup Mickey?

My youngest brother Michael is probably the only 21 year old male in this word that I enjoy speaking with on a regular basis and he sounds excited.

I thought of an adventure!

Earlier this year, Michael came out from Philly and spent his last “underage” summer with me in San Diego. We started a habit of “adventures” by going to Tijuana while he was here because he was too young to get into the clubs in the US where I earn my living as a Jazz singer. The real adventure for me that summer was trying to find a way to entertain him that didn’t involve places he couldn’t go. I probably could have slipped him in to most places. I’ve worked with most of the bouncers and club owners in town; but, I felt like that would have been a violation of the trust that I enjoy from their acquaintance; besides, I enjoyed the challenge. He certainly piqued my interest with his opening line.

Whaddaya got?

The Appalachian Trail…

I thought for a moment of the miles and miles I’d hiked with our Scoutmaster Father and Grandfather and the rest of Huntingdon Valley Troop 208. Rainy days and nights, painfully slogging along the rock piles of Eastern Pennsylvania with a vintage BSA backpack and bulky boots, were somehow forgotten in the romantic notion of the legendary footpath that stretches from Maine to Georgia. I figured he wanted to do a few of the sections that our other brother Doug and I had hiked since he was too young to come along when we did it as teenagers.

Sure Bro, we can do that. We can do Sunfish Pond or Wind Gap when I come home this summer. Maybe we can get Doug to come along.

I wasn’t quite aware of the enormity of his plan:

No man, the WHOLE THING!

The whole trail? disbelief

Yeah man, I read about it in school last week.

My thinker kicked into gear: It hadn’t even occurred to me to do the whole trail. Sure, I had thought about it as a kid, just grabbin’ a pack and starting in Georgia; walking all the way to Maine; through the woods and the mountains like some kind of Thoreau Brothers. The WHOLE TRAIL? What was that, like a thousand miles or something? Two thousand miles? I thought about it for a minute. Maybe I could swing it. I wondered how long it would take… Was he serious?

Let me do some research Mikey, I might be able to take off for a couple of months.

I think we need like six months.

SIX MONTHS? I thought. It can’t take that long. How the hell do people do it? Take off for six months? Nah, we could get it done quicker than that. I was a Marine wasn’t I? I had to get online as soon as possible. My laptop was in the car. He lit a fire in my imagination and suddenly I reclaimed a forgotten dream with the force of ten sledgehammers.

Our adventures were like that; spontaneously catapulting from impossible to mandatory in the space of a few blinding moments of irrational speculation and inaccurate calculation.

As far as I was concerned, we were going; and Doug was coming with us.


(for the rest of this story, please start at the bottom of this blog:)