To Wales
Last week we went to Wales. It is a tiny country on the western side of the English Isle and a four-hour drive from Crofton, counting a couple of rest stops.
It has its own very distinctive language, heavy on the consonants. In fact, all road signs are written in both Welsh and English. Which language is on top is not consistent. By the time you figure out which part of the sign you should be reading, you are already passing it.
Wales is parted from England by the Severn River. At its wide mouth (think Columbia), there are two large suspension bridges no more than a couple miles apart. We crossed the southern one and the newest, the Prince of Wales Bridge.
Off the bridge, we turned south toward Newport. Soon we arrived at the home of Rick’s grandson, Cal and his three children, three snakes, and one dachshund.
They greeted us warmly; we had a delightful visit.
On Wednesday, the seven of us went to the Bristol Zoo Project, a conservation and education charity near Bristol.
Not nearly as large as Yorkshire Wildlife Park, it has a similar vision to provide natural habitats for wildlife while providing safe passage for hundreds of visitors to walk through them.
This wooden gorilla sits near the entrance as a welcoming feature. As you can see, two of Cal’s kids and I used it as a photo
Hello, Mrs. Highman. So you’re still around it seems, producing stories of life’s adventures. I’m happy to discover that. This is Phil from the class of 96 at PC. Perhaps you will remember reading my journals back in the day. I just went to the 30 year reunion a couple weeks ago and have been looking through some old memories. I thought of you and did a quick Google search and landed here. I’d love if you contact me if you see this comment. God bless.
Hi, Phil, from the class of ’96! Would you favor me with your last name? I’ve taught several Phils through the years, and I’d really like to pinpoint you.
Anyway, I’m pleased to know that you have found my website, and I do hope that you will continue to read and respond. I always reply as soon as I read the comments.
Ah—Philip Steller! I do remember you. Actually, I have thought of you over the last 30 years, wondering what you did after PCH. Where was the 30-year reunion held, and did you have a good time?
Regarding your journals–the assignment to write a journal was not favored by most students, but you seemed to approach it with a maturity and a gratitude fairly unique among your peers, if I remember correctly. Frankly, I don’t remember giving that assignment; and I may not have given it again. But I do remember that through it, we made a connection that I was glad for.
Regarding your name–whenever I hear or see that name, I think of the stars. After all these years, I finally looked up the spelling and found what you already know. The word, “stellar,” spelled with an a refers to the stars. So, there is no need to feel pressure to live up to your name since it doesn’t really refer to the stars.
However, are you aware of Georg Wilhelm Steller, a German naturalist of the 1700’s who discovered Steller sea lion and Steller’s jay? Hmmm–are you an explorer of sorts? Have you discovered anything?
Regardless, I shall continue to think of the stars when faced with your name.
Yep, I was probably the primary person who took the journal assignment very seriously. Technically it was Mr Clock who started it. Then you took over for him midway, and I think you made it optional because of all the pushback from other students (and perhaps their parents, not sure). Had any of those students been slightly more teachable or at least willing to try it, they might have found it at least a little useful. But I guess that’s a lot to expect from teenagers. I think I had a mind of an 80 year old from age 6 in some regards, though in other regards I never progressed beyond 6.
I still write in journals to this day. In fact, there has been so much stressful or traumatic stuff going on lately that I have written a LOT. It helps me process things. I haven’t counted recently, but I know I have well over 50 books filled with my thoughts over the years. Maybe it’s closer to 60 now, not sure. I also make handbound journals as a hobby.
I really enjoyed your handwritten reaction notes in my early journals. It made the writing feel a little more “sane” knowing that at least someone might be reading and responding. A part of me wishes we had continued that tradition throughout my life as a “journalist.” I think it would have made an interesting story. “Student sends journals to former teacher to read for 30+ years!” I haven’t even gone back and read most of my journals. I have only read some of the early ones. I might eventually do that, though I don’t really enjoy reading.
I don’t know where you call home these days. It looks like you are at least traveling if not living in the UK. If you ever make it back to Oregon someday and want to catch up, I’m always up for such things. At the same time I looked you up, I also found Mrs. Lampi. I texted her and might meet up with her sometime to say hi. Mr Roberts (Gary) was probably the other teacher I would be most likely to look up, though I have run into him once or twice over the years.
The reunion was fun. I wasn’t planning to go because of life circumstances and social stresses (I’m pretty isolated these days), but I ended up going last second.
I am aware of the Steller dude, though I have never been curious enough to look up his back story. We have the Steller sea lions and Steller jays here in Oregon, so I definitely come across the name congruence on occasion. I have an uncle who is obsessed with geneaologies, and it wouldn’t surprise me if that scientist guy appears on one of his branches (if there is a connection). But yes, I have always known about the star meaning. I also enjoyed the movie Interstellar, though that is completely unrelated. 🙂
You could say that I’m an explorer in the sense that I am probably one of the most avid hikers in most circles. One of my favorite subhobbies is to explore every high place and boulder out in nature, many of which require bushwhacking off trail to reach. I have visited hundreds, but there are many thousands more just in Oregon alone. More than I’ll ever have time to see in this lifetime. If I could give my own heavenly assignment I’d say, “Just send me off into the ‘forest’ so I can explore every place on every planet for several billion years.” But I’m sure God will have other things in mind for me to do.
Ha, ironic that you used the word “Frankly” because it was a codename I used in my journals back then.
Wow! A forthright and newsy response that begs for a reply, which I am happy to supply.
1. “I think I had a mind of an 80 year old from age 6 in some regards, though in other regards I never progressed beyond 6.” My daughter always got along better with older folks than her peers. In fact, she met her husband (35 years older) on line and married him 23 years ago.
2. “…so much stressful or traumatic stuff going on lately that I have written a LOT.” I have a student of the class of ’86 who has given me computer assistance for 22 months since I began weekly posting on this website. On the first morning of 2026 as he was driving to work, he was hit in the side of his car by a speeding drunk driver. It put him into the hospital for three weeks and a rehabilitation home for three months. He suffered abdominal damage, died a couple of times during surgeries, and still lives in pain more severe that he exhibits. Does your “stressful/traumatic” stuff refer to global events, politics, personal relationships, or health?
3. “I wasn’t planning to go because of life circumstances and social stresses (I’m pretty isolated these days)” I admit. You’ve piqued my curiosity. Tell more if you wish.
4. “One of my favorite subhobbies is to explore every high place and boulder out in nature…” I like the idea of “exploring every high place” both in nature and in spirit. What adventure! But I’m not a hiker.
5. “I don’t know where you call home these days.” I live in the Gateway district of Portland, having the same zip code address of my childhood (even before zip codes). Currently I am in the UK and will return home in exactly three weeks.
6. “If I could give my own heavenly assignment I’d say, “Just send me off into the ‘forest’ so I can explore every place on every planet for several billion years.” I think that God must love that out-of-the-box attitude, thinking beyond time and the stars. You just may wind up with such an assignment sometime.
Well, just like the good old days, I’ve spent more than 20 minutes responding to your “journal” entry. It’s been a pleasure.
Please pardon me for saving these q&a for an offline discussion. It feels a bit weird to have a lengthy back and forth on your blog. 🙂 Feel free to email me sometime, or we can reconnect again in the future after you get back from your extended trip if you’d like. I don’t get to Portland super often, but it does happen occasionally. Could meet up for “coffee,” (I don’t drink coffee) a park sit and chat, or a walk or something to catch up / reminisce.
However, I found your comment about your daughter particularly interesting, so I’ll respond to that at least. I am similar to her, but with a variation. I’m surprised to hear of someone who found a partner across so many years! I don’t judge it as weird though. I often find myself attracted to people not my age… though usually younger than me, rather than older. I have a couple cousins who found older husbands as well, though I’m not sure their age difference. Maybe 10 or 15 years. Most girls I found attractive as I aged were approximately 7 to 10 years younger than me. There’s nothing magical about this many years, but it seems like 2 or 3 girls I liked were 7 years younger. Alas, none of those women found me interesting even though we had very deep friendships, so I was “friend zoned” and ultimately cut loose entirely.
Back when I myself was a teen, most women I “had a crush on” were in my same year or one ahead, but that’s mainly because they were the only ones I was “exposed to” or spent time with. Most high school classes or “periods” didn’t contain students interacting across varied ages. I barely knew any underclassmen since the only time I saw them were brief moments passing in hallways or in the lunch room. Maybe if I had taken classes that bridged years, such as choir or drama, I might have gained more connections or interests in people from other years. In hindsight, I wish I had taken such classes. My life would have been all the richer for it.
As we get older, 5 or 10 years feels like a blink of an eye, and a nearly irrelevant amount of age difference! When we were kids, that same number of years felt like an eternity of difference! We counted our ages in half-years, as if mere months mattered! For example, most kids consider someone in their 20s to be super old because their parents are that age!
If I had to score, I would say I enjoy connections perhaps in this preference order 1) talking and hanging out with younger people, 2) talking with older people, 3) spending time with people close to my age.
I am VERY unlike nearly 100% of all people close to my age. In the same sense that there is a condition known as “bipolar,” (usually referring to highs and lows of mood and such), I think my “age preference” is “bipolar.” I have the least in common with people my same age. Most people my age are enthralled or captured up in the peak of life activities. They have goals, ambitions, families, houses, careers, and so much more. I have literally NONE of those things. So when I get together with someone my age, I feel almost unable to relate to most of their concerns and experiences. I can relate conceptually, but not experientially. I can respond, “I can imagine how that must be” but not “I totally understand,” because I haven’t experienced most things that “normal people” take for granted on a daily basis and assume that everyone else also lives and breathes.
I relate more to younger people because I’m a “Toys’R’Us kid.” If you saw the 80s commercials, you might know what that means. The jingle goes…
“I don’t wanna grow up, I’m a Toys R Us kid, they’ve got a million toys at Toys R Us that I can play with! I don’t wanna grow up, I’m a Toys R Us kid, they’ve got the best for so much less, you’ll really flip your lid! From bikes to trains to video games, it’s the biggest toy store there is (gee whiz!), I don’t wanna grow up, ’cause, baby, if I did, I couldn’t be a Toys R Us kid!”
It’s not necessarily true that I’m infantile and still like playing with Transformers, G.I. Joe, Star Wars and other such toys (though I still like stuffed animals more than most 2 year olds!). I don’t make a rebellious or conscious choice not to grow up or prefer immaturity. It just seems to happen. I have never been psycho-analyzed, nor do I wish to be, but I seem to be somewhat stuck being silly, goofy, nonsensical, random, playful, you name it. I know a lot of people who also claim such things with statements like “age is just a number” or “I don’t feel as old inside as I am outside” and the like… but for me it is an entirely different reality, I think, even beyond the norm. I can’t feel what others feel inside, so I can’t say for certain, but I don’t see most people “held back” to quite the degree that I am. Perhaps I’m genuinely developmentally disabled or something, with an eternal kid mind.
At the same time, as an odd dichotomy or complete contradiction that somehow coexists within my brain, I have genuinely ultra mature ambitions and thoughts that I call “old fashioned” for simplicity sake. The age “6” from the earlier comment isn’t a random number drawn out of a hat. I remember having some of the most profound spiritual and societal observations at that age, and throughout the youthful years that followed. I looked at the world around me with extremely rich spiritual analysis and maturity as a child and teen. I was very quiet, sensitive to others, respectful, and thoughtful in my actions. Even as a child, my goals were always of a spiritual nature when I was able to slow down and be self-conscious. It doesn’t mean I was useful to the world or to the church and God because of this pattern… but I was very self-aware, and I probed many deep thoughts that perhaps many people don’t typically explore until later in life.
Most of my “friends” are older than me because the world and culture doesn’t embrace young crossing with old. Meaning, I “wish” greatly that I could spend time hanging out with a younger crowd because of my silly, playful nature… but that’s the LAST thing most young people want: an old person trying to fit in with their exclusive age-lined circle. Sadly, it’s almost universally viewed as creepy when an older person expresses interest in anyone more than 3 years younger, for friendship, romance or even casual conversation (exceptions include the workplace, church, and other “socially acceptable” venues). I don’t mean I want to hang out with actual children though, just younger adults (like 20s and above). Oddly, even though I’m a big kid inside, I find actual children to be intimidating, and I don’t consider myself “good with kids.” I can’t do the “talk down” in silly voice to kids that most adults do, and I don’t know how to handle their misbehaviors. Since I was always well-mannered and mostly obedient as a kid, I kind of check out mentally when I see kids going nuts and misbehaving. I generally shy away from roles like a leader, teacher, babysitter, etc. My silly side can connect with the imaginative side of kids (even outdoing them by a lightyear of zaniness!), but my affinity with children breaks down at a certain point. I more resembled an adult because of my inmost thoughts as a kid. It’s a weird dichotomy that even I can’t fully describe or resolve!
I’m constantly annoyed that no one “hangs out” after the college years, for the most part. Well, perhaps women do more than men, but men less so, and impromptu cross-gender group hangouts in adulthood are extremely rare! I have ultra fond memories of high school and college age (I say college age because I didn’t actually go to college, but I passed through my 20s like anyone else) because people of that age just hang out at places, with or without a plan. At a rec room, at a church, playing sports, game nights, playing video games, going to late night restaurants like Shari’s and goofing off, bowling alleys, movie nights, beach trips, bike rides or walks down the street or across town, outdoor excursions, silly mischief, going to the mall, and a hundred other variations.
Once you pass through your 20s, everyone gets married, has careers, and no one hangs out anymore! It’s super crap and lame! I hate it with a passion! It’s like a terribly written, unspoken rule that I wish could be destroyed. The sand and ironic thing is that most adults regret not maintaining friends from earlier in life, gained during the “hangout age.” Their only friends as adults are their spouse and kids for the most part, and sometimes not even those if there is strife in the home! I know many adults my parents’ age or older who find themselves very lonely because the patterns of life destroyed the “hang out” beauty that only thrives in the teens and 20s age. Society is designed to spit out lonely people, and it annoys me greatly.
So when I see younger people hanging out like I used to enjoy when I was their age, I think “Argh! Why can’t I find people to hang out with like that?” I don’t necessarily want to break into their young circles because of the aforementioned social taboos associated with such things (I’d “kill their vibe”)… but I find it incredibly annoying that no one over the age of 25 or so does that anymore!
The only adult equivalent culturally to “hanging out” seems to be going to a bar. That’s fine if people enjoy that, but I don’t drink alcohol or consume any controlled substances of any kind, and I don’t like the atmosphere such things create. “Single clubs” or “dance clubs” or party atmospheres don’t appeal to me at all. And since I have no family of my own, I don’t fit in with most mixed company. People tend to ostracize older single people, males. They seem to automatically assume mal-intent or “something’s not right with him.” I get a lot of weird looks and awkward stares and silences when I’m just trying to be friendly or “fit in.” I’ve grown accustomed to this treatment, so I no longer take it personally, but it will never cease to be at least mildly annoying.
On the other side of the spectrum, as I hinted above, I also enjoy talking with older people. My pace of life is a bit too “fast” and “active” for most older people, so I don’t necessarily “do stuff” with them, but I enjoy talking with them. Internally, though quite silly, I’m also time-traveled directly from 1700 or perhaps 0 AD. I don’t fit in with progressive liberal society (aka Oregon). I intentionally avoid “progress” or “change for change sake” when I see a hollowness or spiritual danger to it. It doesn’t mean I judge anyone who has “moved on” from the “old ways.” I don’t see anyone as inferior to me in any way. But I can’t join them by throwing away the past because I find many things from the past to be better ways to think and live. All this to say, I can relate fairly well to most older people and their ideas.
Perhaps I’m a “bridge” in this sense, with strong attributes of both way older and way younger people. However, my form of bridge probably serves little useful purpose in society. I’m a bridge with a huge missing gap in the middle because I can’t relate to a huge swath of people similar to my own age!
I’m quite isolated because of my oddities. Though I can relate to both younger and older people in ways that might baffle or surprise both groups, I am apparently a person who “looks” and “acts” as someone they wish to avoid. I don’t necessarily know which aspects of myself they find avoid-worthy, but I immediately sense the distance offered to my attempts at connection and commonality. I often don’t even get the chance to prove my social worth or value in friendship, even though I know I have a LOT to offer. I’m usually viewed as the oddball or weirdo in spite of my best efforts to connect. I actually like being unusual and weird, but the loneliness that comes with it isn’t enjoyable.
A noteworthy exception to my inability to connect to people my age is my group of three friends from high school. David R, Jim M, Marcus L and I still hang out. David is still single as well, so we hang out the most. We are basically like David and Jonathan from the Bible… while I have no blood brothers, I believe what I have with these 3 probably eclipses what most brothers have for depth of relationship. The three of them are weird and silly like me, but also mature and deep-thinking. We will always have commonality and friendship in our little group, as long as we don’t lose our minds or start dying off.
One interesting exception to all this is “retirement homes.” It seems somewhat common for people in their 60s to 80s renewing the “hangout” age of their youth by going on trips, playing bingo, knitting, participating in activity centers, and such. I guess that’s because their pace of life has finally slowed, and they realize the need for friends once more. But generally speaking, the entire chunk of mid to late 20s to 60s is a social dead zone, and I hate that it “has to be that way” because I still have plenty more years to endure through that junky bracket. Also noteworthy, many people are so disabled socially because of those decades of neglect, that they don’t know how to reactivate that lost ability to connect, so they remain lonely into their golden years, not taking advantage of such cultural offerings to connect as seniors.
These are my very disorganized, shuffled thoughts on the matter of age and such. I could probably write entire papers or books on this whole subject (mostly musings, as I’m not expert), as it’s one I think about a lot. The topic comes to mind nearly every day because of how much I try to find friends as a lonely middle-aged person, met with nearly 100% failure due to various complicated factors – which include ineptitude and awkwardness on my part.
In case you can’t tell already, I hate the whole generation gap thing. I’m not saying I’m perfect and that I never judge or divide based on age differences. I’m sure I do some of the same things without thinking it through. Like everyone else, I judge on appearances and many other physical things. Nevertheless, it’s annoying to me that everyone seems to draw lines based on “which generation” they are part of. Boomers, Gen X, Millenials, Z, and whatever others that I can’t seem to keep straight. It would be nice if we all stopped physically aging around 30 or so, and no one could visually see the difference between 30 and 6000 (like the elves in Lord of the Rings, or the Garden of Eden before the Fall). Then we’d probably have a lot more cross-generational friendships and relationships, and people wouldn’t get so hung up on how old everyone is or isn’t. Oh well, my words won’t change anything! Only in heaven will age finally have absolutely no meaning.
Also, I did read the other stuff you wrote about your experience and stupidly cut short any thoughtful or caring responses I could emit. I’m terribly sorry to hear about your young friend. Though he “died” a couple times, I didn’t detect a finality to that, so hopefully “he’ll recover,” as impossible as that sounds under normal conditions. In a comical sense, it reminds me of some Monty Python sketches or Weird Al songs where someone “dies” in a terribly graphic way, but then they “got better” or sang a song about the experience by way of a weird form of dark humor. Sometimes humor is the best way to deal with the absurd afflictions of life. I met a woman far my senior who taught me that lesson some time ago. She had 60 surgeries but always laughed about the latest difficulty on the horizon.
I tend to be somewhat of an empath, so I have a hard time not absorbing emotions from the tragedies around me. It’s the main reason I don’t watch the news or participate in social media. I have enough troubles each day just managing my own internal struggles. But when people around me are suffering, I do not shy away from them. I do what I can to help bear their burdens. There have been a number of such tragedies around me over the last few weeks as well, enough to nearly shut down my daily functionality. But I usually recover after a bit of “grieving with/for them,” and I’m on the mend at the moment.
Alright, perhaps that’s all from me for the time being. That is, unless you write another response containing chunks I can’t resist responding to… even though I hinted already that I would prefer not to build a comment basement below your blog post that dwarfs its original word count by a factor of 1000! 😀 Not to mention that I didn’t even address a single thing written in your post. Ok, I’ll remedy that now. I like monkeys and primates, but in stuffed form. Most of my imaginative animal community these days are monkeys, orangutans and gorillas. They would probably like the sculpture in your photo. It’s HUGE!