Thanks to everyone for contributing these recollections and thoughts about Jeff. Reading them has helped me find the peace I needed to come to grips with his untimely death. My path first crossed with Jeff's in 2006 when he took a job in Yosemite leading the effort to restore some Park lakes to their original fishless condition to benefit amphibians. As a researcher studying the decline of amphibians in the Park, it was my job to teach Jeff everything I knew about Yosemite's aquatic ecosystems. His intellect, passion, and unusually keen skills as an observer of the natural world struck me right away and we become fast friends. In subsequent months and years we spent many days together in the Yosemite back country, and during those rambles I learned just as much from him about birds and plants as he did about amphibians from me. Since Jeff's death I've been back to some of the places where he and I spent time together during the last three years and have felt again and again the hollowness of knowing that I'll never again see Jeff walking along those lake shores, never again marvel with him at the beauty of this Earth, never again see his wide easy smile.
During my thoughts of Jeff since his death, I keep returning to a couple of powerful and unforgettable lessons he left me with. During the course of our amphibian research we suffered numerous setbacks and often seemed to be working against insurmountable odds. Despite the grim prognosis for the Park's amphibians, Jeff did not let that darkness overwhelm him (as it often did me). Even on days when all hope seemed lost, he always saw the bright side and never lost his ability to smile. In addition, although Jeff was keenly aware of the role that humans were playing in the decline of Yosemite's amphibians and in the destruction of ecosystems worldwide, he never let this reality affect his positive outlook toward humanity. In his company, my tendency toward misanthropy felt totally absurd.
So Jeff, thanks from the bottom of my imperfect heart for showing me how to smile despite the darkness, and the importance of remaining connected to our fellow human beings. In your passing, you've left a hole as big as the mountains you loved so much.
Roland
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
It will take some time to accept that Jeff is gone, but these are some precious memories I will hang on to. When I first met him (at a Mono basin Chautauqua), I remember telling him it was like finding an old friend that I'd had all along but didn't know yet. Kinda strange, but we had all these common connections, mutual friends, and experiences, they just hadn't been shared together. In the winter of 2004-05 Jeff came over to live in Lee Vining at the old house of Dave and Sally Gaines, when the Mono Lake Comm was first getting started. Many old memorories there too. I came over for dinner and played guitar with Jeff (and Sacha there too), sang some great songs. I keepsake I now have is a song I once knew but had forgotten that he scribbled out with some lyrics on the back of an envelope. Another time he came down and some of us went out to the hot springs in the snow, ended up having an epic snowball fight, laughing with each strike, that went on until our hands hurt from the cold. Later that spring, Jeff came out with us on a trip to the Amargosa River, camping in the desert, and exploring the strange river canyon that flows into Death Valley. It wasn't enough, and I am sad that there were not more of those times of friendship and fun, but happy that I got to know the old friend that I almost missed having. What a good man. Peace to your soul, from Dave Herbst.
ReplyDelete