And You’re Going to be a What?

I can see why his parents were annoyed. Having built a thriving and profitable pencil company they pushed their son along to a Harvard degree. This was to be his ticket to a career in law or business. It would be his path to success. 

Over the dinner table Hank announced casually  his true calling- writing. His mother dropped her fork in alarm. It crashed like a gunshot on the elegant hand painted porcelain plate which was adorned with wildflowers and roast chicken. His father just froze in disbelief. In the awkward moment of silence that followed as his father stared intently at Hank. He assumed his hearing had failed him- “Did you say ‘writing’?”

Hank reassured his father that his hearing was fine. “Yes, writing”. His father froze again for what seemed like minutes but probably was only seconds before speaking- “About what?”. Hank was happy to explain. He had given it some thought. He announced that he would write about nature. He would study trees, plants, birds and animals and how man fits into the cycle of nature. 

Having determined his hearing was not impaired Hank’s father queried in a half pleading voice- “But who will buy this?” Hank confidently said he had already published a couple of short articles for the local paper and he was now working on an essay. Someday he would also write a book. His mother swooned and staggered off to bed with a mixture of moans and sobs.  His father remained at the table, determined to test his son’s plans and bring him into reality.

“Where do you plan to live?” he asked, fearing his son would reside in his bedroom for most of his life. Undaunted, Hank said- “I will be moving into a little one room cabin down by the lake”. Anticipating further inquiries he added, “I will live with- just a bed, desk and a shelf for my books”. His father questioned him again- “Isn’t that camping?”. To which Hank responded “Don’t you see the point? If I live simply I am free to be part of the world around me. I am not structured and defined by a workplace or by chores and demands of a big house. I want to live freely”.

To be sure, Hank’s plans were not completely thought out. His mother provided fresh laundry and some food. She knew she was enabling him but her maternal instincts were too strong to stay away. There was one big complication. Hank did make the local paper one time but not for the right reason. He accidentally started a fire while camping which burned 300 acres near his cabin. Then there was the time his mother had to pay his bail after he was arrested and locked up for the night for not paying a tax. His friends did not help. He was a charming and social fellow who enjoyed the short walk into town to meet with various abolitionists, poets and teachers at the local tavern. They just reinforced his belief in individual freedom and minimal government.

Hank’s parents gradually accepted his eccentricities and they abandoned hope for his becoming a lawyer. His essay “Civil Disobedience” praised resistance to unjust laws. In fact, it was a citizen’s duty to resist. The essay was actually reprinted and praised in many circles. His parents did not anticipate that their rebellious son, Henry David Thoreau would be remembered for centuries, well beyond their lawyer and banker friends. Today they would enjoy visiting the Walden Pond State Park in Concord. They could dip their toes into the pond, admire the trees that grew back in the forest and reflect on his diary on display. 

On the day of my visit a couple of decades ago Henry’s diary was turned to a page where he expresses his regret for having improved his log cabin by adding interior walls which now require his attention and maintenance. I wonder if I am lost in my world of purchases and obligations? Maybe he is speaking to us today. You did a wonderful job parenting Mr. and Mrs. Thoreau. And thanks for perfecting the pencils, but I think Henry had the right idea.