Green Eureka!

It was a tragedy. Most everyone who knew Joey loved him. He marched to his own beat, and at the age of twenty six he marched off of a precipice in the middle of the night, somewhere in the North Cascade Mountain Range of Washington State. He was an experienced outdoorsman and seldom traveled alone, but was in need of a few days solitude to organize some ideas for a book he was writing on the therapeutic value of camping. Park rangers surmised that he awoke in the middle of the night, probably to urinate, and the combination of darkness (there was no moon that night) and sleepiness resulted in him wandering a step too far in his mission to relieve himself. It was not uncommon in such an area of rugged mountain terrain and quick steep drops for this to occur. It was the third death from a fall this year, and the year is only four months old.

Oddly for such a healthy young man, Joey had written a last will and testament which he had given to his brother in a sealed envelope a year or so before.

"Paul," he said when he had handed it to his only sibling, "I want you to take this and keep it someplace safe. Don't ever open it, unless I die. It's my will and I want you to hold on to it in case anything happens to me. I trust you. Please make sure that it's honored."

Paul looked at his younger brother with mild surprise. He wondered if anything was wrong with Joey, but left it alone, his brother had always been a little off beat.

Sensing the mixture of his brother's curiosity and concern Joey added, "I just think that it's a good thing to do. You never know when your time may be up, and there are a few things important enough, (he paused a moment) for me to do this. Maybe you should do it too."

That was the end of the conversation. Joey placed the business sized envelope in his brother's outstretched hand, smiled, and walked out the door. Paul had seen Joey a number of times since then, and never did either of them make mention of that unusual day.

When news of his brother's accident reached Paul he went into shock. After a few hours he bawled. Then he took the envelope from his office safe and got in the car to drive home to Massachusetts. It was a three hour ride from New York City. Paul, and many of Joey's boyhood friends had all left home for college and then moved to the city, either Boston or New York. Joey had returned home after college, and would work for a few months, then travel. Work for a few months, and travel. He'd been doing that for four years, but his parents never complained and his friends never hassled him. He brought joy and humor to all their lives with his warm, energetic and optimistic personality.

Paul arrived in West Stockbridge the evening of the tragic news. The body and camping gear were to arrive the next morning, and the funeral was scheduled for the day after that. His parents, needless to say, were distraught. Paul too was devastated, but took it upon himself to notify Joey's closest friends, and all their relatives. After closing his bedroom door and taking off his jacket, he remembered the envelope that protruded from his pocket. For a moment he stared at it in disbelief, as the realization of what opening the envelope meant. He would never see his brother again. He felt like a golf ball was lodged in his esophagus and swallowed hard while fighting back tears that swelled in his eyes, as he slid a finger under the corner of the envelope and tore it open. Four lines were scribbled on a white piece of notebook paper which was dated and signed. He read the lines once, and then again. Then Paul placed the paper on the edge of his desk and picked up the telephone to begin making the tragic calls.

The next morning when Paul had a moment alone with his father he showed him the letter. The body arrived around noon and was delivered directly to Hoping Funeral Home. Paul signed for the camping gear which was dropped off at their house. He brought it into the garage and sorted through it, taking one particular item and putting it in the trunk of his car. In the meanwhile, his father called the funeral home and informed them that a grave site needed to be dug on the side of Mount Greylock, the location in which Joey requested to be buried in his last will and testament.

The funeral director began to protest, but when Joey's father informed him the location was on private property owned by their family, he consented. They had purchased the five acres over twenty years ago where they built a crude shelter and often camped together as a family. Joey's father knew the spot his son was referring to, and was moved that this was one of his last requests.

The following morning about forty people arrived at the funeral home. There was a short service and then the procession was led up a windy dirt road to the location of the site. Honoring another of Joey's final requests his father read aloud a short poem that was to have been the dedication at the beginning of the book Joey would never finish writing.

The service ended and the grief stricken mourners began returning to their cars to descend the mountain. Paul approached Jared, one of Joey's closest childhood friends.

"How are you taking this," he asked, sure that the answer would be not well.

"Not well," replied Jared solemnly.

"Come to my car a minute, I have something that Joey wanted you to have."

"What is it," Jared asked without expressing any care to hear an answer.

Paul didn't respond, but took Jared by the arm and led him to his car. He opened the trunk and pulled out a nylon sack with a draw string at the top.

"This was Joey's tent... He left a will, and I know this sounds a little weird, but he only made four requests. One of them was that you take this tent, and use it. He said you would understand."

Jared shook Paul's hand and took the tent under his left arm. Without any words he walked to his car, tossed the tent in the back seat, and followed everyone else down the mountain.

Jared returned to New York City the next morning after spending the remainder of the previous day at Joey's parent's house. Three months passed where Jared immersed himself in his work. It seemed to be raining almost every day. Before Joey's death he'd been working nearly seventy hours a week, now he was up to over eighty. The life of an aspiring attorney was not easy, and there were many nights where Jared didn't even go home to sleep. He tried not to think about Joey for it only upset him, and he figured when enough time passed it would stop hurting to think of his lifelong friend being gone. But it didn't.

One Thursday morning in July, Jared was on his way to an important meeting in Connecticut. When he stopped to get gas he looked in the back seat for his book of maps and saw the nylon sack. The skies were blue.

He got back in the car and without any thought drove right past Stanford, the location of the meeting. He was like a bird programmed to follow a specific route. After what seemed like hours, the car finally came to a stop at a dirt parking lot in some unknown state forest. Jared grabbed the green eureka tent from the back seat and began walking down a narrow path. The sun was slowly sinking and the hot afternoon turning to a cool pleasant evening. Jared, still dressed in his suit and tie did not walk very far, his dress shoes were not cut out for hiking. He soon came to a small clearing where set up the tent. It had been eight summers ago when Joey took him on his first (and only) camping trip, but Jared remembered how to pitch the tent. Joey had made him do it without helping, he said it was the best way to learn. Jared took off his shoes, and then his jacket and tie, and then his shirt and slacks. He climbed in to his friend's old tent. In his tee shirt and boxers he laid down on the cool nylon floor, propping his head beneath his rolled up jacket. The stars rose one by one and Jared stared out the tent's meshed window straining his ears to hear anything that would break the silence. He lingered on the fringes of sleep, and dreamt of Joey.

When the morning came he awakened, feeling rested but hungry. He packed up his tent and his sadness, and walked back to the car. He drove straight to the nearest dinner and ordered a colossal breakfast. While Jared waited for it to arrive he went to the pay phone and called his office. He apologized for having missed the meeting, and explained he'd been having a personal crisis. He was gonna take a few weeks of the vacation time he had coming, to finish writing a book.