The Mysemite Sketches

        Some years back, a guest at the Yosemite Lodge told me he had ushered his family into the park by announcing, “We’re in Yosemite.” Thinking he meant, “Your-semite,” his young daughter replied, “We’re in My-semite?”                                                        

        As John Muir might have said, “Isn’t it glorious that it’s Her-semite, My-semite and Your-semite as well.”

        The Mysemite Sketches are derived from my observations in a 58-year association with the park; the sketch being a method of transforming my trail notes and journal entries into metrical form.

            The Lymanlight grouping became an integral part of this collection when I was cabin-bound in Visalia during the winter of 1995-96. With the release of Stephen Lyman’s selected work Into the Wilderness: An Artist’s Journey, I was able to mingle my own experiences in the park with his specific paintings — my point of view from his point of view, so to speak. As light has been a key theme in my writing, I was struck by the reverence Lyman had for it.

            When I came upon Lyman’s wonderful work, I grew to realize that a higher authority had passed on the ability to capture the soul of Yosemite after Ansel Adams died in 1984. Although a highly accomplished photographer in his own right, Lyman was predictably humbled by the comparison. When I sent the Lymanlight Sketches to him in January of 1996, he wrote back saying, “Yosemite certainly continues to inspire many people.” Since his death in a climbing accident in Yosemite three months later, I have grown to realize how important Lyman’s work has been in focusing my passion for the “crown jewel” of our national parks, as well as helping me to better understand her.

            I have included John’s Song in this collection for several reasons. Written in the mid-1970s and later incorporated into my unpublished manuscript The Firefall Trilogy, the poem is longer than a sketch but speaks volumes as to my fascination with the inherent mysteries of Yosemite. It reminds me of how I have long viewed the park as a presence — embracing, though at times frightening, and very much worthy of our respect. Also longer than the norm is Yesterdaze, some free-falling recollections from my childhood.

            I have elected to use some of the Ahwahneechee words in my verse in the hope that they never grow antiquated. Words like Tissiack (Half Dome) and Pohono (referring to the wind in some instances and Bridalveil Fall in others) are as much a part of park as the intriguing people who first inhabited her.

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