Kellen's Personal Statement from 2004-05

Hello everyone, 

Today is December 8th, and Kellen's Birthday. 

In Kellen's 2004-2005 year at Green Mountain College he wrote a personal statement for an application for switching his major from adventure recreation to a self-designed major in experiential education, adventure recreation and business. I think it is very appropriate a blog focusing on intention and can be read below.

Kellen's Mon, Christine is working hard to focus on what he's brought to her life and to others to help balance out the pain of his loss. With this in mind, Christine posted the following to Kellen's facebook page:

Hi All,

In honor of Kellen's Birthday please consider committing a random act of kindness in his honor. The idea for this comes from the Kindness Project started in memory of Cheyenne Cacciatore who passed away in 1994. Her mom started it as a way to keep her daughter's memory alive...the goal is to anonymously do something special for someone....a random act of kindness.

If you want you can leave a card or note that says, "This random act of kindness is done in honor of Kellen Sams. Pay it forward." The note is a symbol and not a necessity to accompany the good deed; but leaving behind the card will serve two purposes: to encourage the recipient to pass on the kindness and to show that Kellen continues to have an impact on others. This is about sharing Kellen's generosity, and his giving and unselfish nature.

So if you like, consider paying for the next person in line at the coffee shop, baking cookies for a neighbor, helping a person in need, giving coffee or cookies to the UPS driver or mailman, leaving cupcakes at a nursing home, dropping off old coats and hats at the homeless shelter, leaving your change in the soda machine, volunteering at the soup kitchen, saying something nice about your waiter or cashier to their supervisor etc......be creative with your own idea....what fun creative thing would Kellen do?

Love, Christine

Kellen’s Personal Statement 
for GMC Self-Designed Major

Kellen Sams

             My passion for rock climbing started six years ago. And it’s not just a passion for climbing but also a love for the outdoors. Seven years ago I started going to a camp for boys called Camp Kabeyun. I loved it and have gone back each summer. During my second year I went on a rock climbing trip and I had more fun during that trip than I had during my previous camp experiences. It didn’t matter that I was a horrible climber. I loved being out THERE. Out there is out in nature, out in the woods, anywhere far from civilization and challenging myself. Using only my strength and skill to hold onto rock holds you don’t notice until you are right on top of them. Being up high and looking down. I found all of this on that one day of camp. And I haven’t stop pursuing my love of this type of experience since. There are just so many things that I love about being outdoors, savoring what this earth has to offer.

            Camp gave me more than a love of the outdoors; it gave me the chance to help others. I assisted on the ropes course and on rock climbing trips. I have also been a camp counselor which includes not just supervising but supporting the boys. At the ropes course I taught the campers how to conquer their fears and participate in high-risk activities safely. This experience has been a foundation guiding me towards my major and my involvements at Green Mountain College in Vermont. In my work-study job, I am an assistant for the college adventure program which, in part, entails designing and facilitating a leader training program for new climbers. 

            But, as I have learned through my college experiences, I would like to be more than a camp counselor. I want to learn the techniques used by professionals in the field of adventure recreation and mix that with education. Through several college classes I’ve become intrigued with the field of experiential education. It seems to me to be a vehicle by which people learn things more easily and more deeply than through a typical class experience. Presently I am creating a self-designed major that will combine my love of adventure recreation (which has been my college major up until this point) with the direction of experiential education. I will minor in business. This course of study will have three important independent study classes in which I will research the history and application of experiential education and then explore ways in which that form can benefit adventure recreation and enhance a participant’s experience.

            I anticipate being a leader/teacher in the out-of-doors as a professional. I have had a connection with the Academy for Global Exploration recently which highly interests me. This program is a non-profit, college preparatory, outdoor-oriented boarding school. It provides a “life enriching adventure program to complement its educational goals.”  I plan to use this program as my internship and look forward to the possibility of becoming involved as a leader/teacher after graduation.

To summarize my goals in a manner that matches with my experience:  I would like to navigate the professional/educational world with the passion, experience and commitment that I navigate up a difficult rock face.                                            (2004-05)

Adventures in Africa

Our good friends Mike and Therese just got back from a three month trip to Africa. They had incredible adventures which are shared and wonderfully written about in their blog "From the Slopes of Mt Elgon".

I thought I might share them here so more people can enjoy them.

Plus, Kellen was at the heart of many of these adventures and blog posts.

http://thereseandmikeinuganda.blogspot.com/

Enjoy,
Craig

So There I was: The Long Road to Texas. by Tony Cullen

The Choice

So there I was, in the office of my two bosses with a circa 1980’s G.I. desk standing between us. The desk was hardly noticeable, covered and sagging under the weight of 3 decades worth of paperwork growing infinitesimally taller with each passing day. The office cluttered with work undone and documents that never pretended to have value. It was here that I was to make my stand and tell them I would be resigning this summer.

That is where the roots of my summer took hold. It was March and I just got back from visiting another potential graduate school. This time it was Texas Tech University located in hot, dry, and dusty Lubbock, TX (admittedly not my first choice for places to move or universities to attend). I can still recall a parting conversation I had with an intern years ago that haunts me now. “Well if you are ever in Texas let me know,” she cheerfully stated. My cynical response “I can’t foresee that happening but if I do I will let you know.” Hindsight being what it is I can only chuckle now. Little did I know that I would find my advisor and lab mates to be pretty cool people and if I had to be stuck in Texas getting my masters, these are the people that will make it enjoyable.

After a short, fruitful trip to Lubbock the choice was clear to leave my job with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to pursue a master of science in biology. I was excited at the prospect of learning the ecology of plants (my first love) in the southwest and with those plants come fire ecology (my second love).

Time to Talk

In New Jersey, the refuge manager is a pleasant, bumbling man with the mind of a packrat. He holds on to memories just as tight as the paperwork pile in his office (as his long-winded stories and sentimentally decorated walls would imply). He collects his employees just the same. Dainty little items kept within his reach for his disposal. He hates to lose employees regardless of the circumstance. In contrast, the second in command at the park, who is my direct supervisor, is shrewd, sneaky and calculating. He speaks in a condescending manner. He is the type of person you do not confide in. It seems he is always trying to mine you for private information about colleagues or constantly checking the status of assigned duties. He does not trust his employees as much as they do not trust him. How could I tell them I was leaving??

Well, it was actually a very easy decision. My bosses are textbook micromanagers, which,  most of the time, makes my job very tedious. In addition, I had been there for over 10 years and felt stagnant; there seemed no new opportunities to grow. The hard part was leaving a good paying job with health and retirement benefits as well as the security of having a steady job in a terrible market for employment opportunities. Not to mention the uncertainty of returning to school and the changes it would present.

“Well guys,” I paused to take a breath as the tension in the room grew “I decided that I am going to Texas Tech for graduate school”. In what would otherwise be a joyous occasion I felt reluctance on their part as they both moved forward to congratulate me. Well perhaps my friends and family will have a different reaction….

No, it was much of the same. This superficial happiness but this underlying stress. I felt lost. Fortunately for me I have a very supportive wife and two great kids that make me smile daily. So what’s the problem? I had to leave them behind for a year in order to make things work. That was the hardest decision for me.

The Parting

At this point you may be wondering why in the world would I have to leave my family behind. They surely could come with, yes? Well this is where being an adult has its disadvantages, making adult decisions. The long and short of it is my wife is a teacher and has all of her time invested in NJ. What this meant for us is she had 9 years into a pension system that requires 10 years in order for her to collect it when she retires.

The choice was obvious, however emotionally painful. We are pragmatic and knew what would be best in the long run. The plan was for me to move down to Texas at the end of August. The family would come down to join me once her school year was up. Pragmatism aside, our fear and anticipation of the end of summer were palpable. Nothing could stop the stream of tears that day as we said our goodbyes; the kids to young to fully grasp what was going on. It would be a daily effort in mindfulness not to feel sad realizing I wasn’t apart of my family’s daily life.

The summer itself was a blur of packing, organizing, saying farewells and parties to celebrate friendships. This summer was typified by extremes, busy and sad, unproductive and happy. As I sit here now and finish this narrative I think how fortunate I am to have a few supportive people in my life in a sea of doubt. They’re the ones who could see through the difficulties of this situation and remind me it’s not the end of the world. I am also thankful for the invention of skype and airplanes, which allow me to journey home with ease, if only for a little while.

From the Slopes of Mt Elgon: A Trip Within A Trip: Part 1 Mud Huts and Elegant ...

Hello Everyone,

Below is a link to Therese and Mike's blog from Africa. This is Part one of a Three Part story.

It is well worth sharing, plus it starts with "So there I was..." Go to or Join their blog to see the other parts.

Enjoy,

Craig

From the Slopes of Mt Elgon: A Trip Within A Trip: Part 1 Mud Huts and Elegant ...: So there I was…along with about 70 Ugandans on a muddy slope pushing a coach bus up a hill that was stuck in a rut about a foot deep as the ...

So There I Was; eyes in the dark. by Mike Deluca

So there I was…

…frozen between fear and excitement in the immediate presence of such a prehistoric and potentially dangerous creature.  With the absence of moonlight, the darkness that surrounded me was suffocating and I clung to the beam of light produced by my headlamp like a man-overboard to his rescue line.   My fear prevented me from both movement and breath.  Instead I focused on the beam, which was intern, focused on two reflecting diamonds in front of a mass of bulky shadow.  Those eerie shinning eyes peered back at me uncertainly.  They occasionally looked away as if searching for a means of escape, only to focus right back to mine. 

In hindsight, I probably should have turned the light off, but I was too afraid to loose sight of those eyes.  I knew that I could not walk any closer because I might provoke it, but neither could I turn and run.  I was already too close.  Running, even moving, could spook it into chasing me.  And it would undoubtedly win the race.  There was only one thing I could do.  Freeze.  With my whole being I silently urged those eyes away.  It needed to know I was of no threat and become tired of the stalemate.  I had no other move except stillness and patience, but every second made my knees weak and my heart pound.  The jungle walled me in on either side impenetrably, and the road was not wide enough for us both to cross.  It would have to turn back, crash through the jungle, or crash through me.  But how long until it decided?  The road to my camp was only a short distance away, a few hundred yards maybe, but those eyes prevented me from approaching any closer. So there I was, frozen.

Many weeks back, Therese and I had planned this trip within a trip.  The school we were volunteering with was on holiday and if we were going to do any in-country travel, this was our best window.  We set-out for a cross-country road trip through Uganda.  Very exciting!  Our trip would take us from the eastern border with Kenya north where Uganda borders South Sudan, then south-west along the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo, (formerly known as Zaire and arguably the most lawless dangerous failed state of Africa) before rounding south-west to the capital in Kampala and the coast of Lake Victoria.  The trip, done almost entirely by public transport, (which is an adventure in and of itself) introduced us to many interesting people and took us to many exciting places. 

Arguably the most notable being Murchison Falls National Park, Uganda’s largest protected area at 3,840 square kilometers.  It’s biggest attraction, and namesake, being Murchison Falls; a narrow cleft between two ancient unmovable rocks where the great Nile River passes with a thunderous fury.  In addition, it hosts an abundance of wildlife not seen in North America except behind bars or stuffed and mounted on walls.  The parks history is almost as turbulent as the falls for which it is named.  Senseless rebel activity by the lunatics of the Lords Resistance Army (LRA) in the north spilled into the park, closing it for most of the beginning to the 21^st century.  Poaching dwindled its numbers but in recent years the rebels have been pushed out into the Congo and the numbers have begun to rebound. 

After a day of touring the park and its unbelievable assortment of wildlife, Therese and I went outside the lodge where we were camped to find a place to eat.  The “canteens” are local little spots in the park where local people (park rangers, lodge staff, drivers) go to get local meals (rice, beans, matoke) and pay local prices (25%- 50% of what whites pay in lodges/camps).  We knew of a place not far from our camp that we had seen the day before and set out at dusk.  We found the spot and ate a great hot meal with cold beer (Nile Special of course).  It was also in a haphazardly constructed bamboo hut with plastic lawn chairs and no lights.  I used my headlamp with my water bottle to make a shaky bluish lantern from which to see our food.  I noticed we were the only “muzungus” present and almost everyone else was Park Staff.  They seemed to take absolutely no notice of us in the corner with our funny little light. 

As we finished eating darkness set in.  The change over from day to night happens in an instant in equatorial Africa; or so it seems.  It’s as if all the light from the sun is sucked to the other side of the world once the sun makes its journey over the horizon.  By the time we were ready to leave, the sun was gone and the moon had set with it.  Furthermore, thick cloud cover even snuffed out the stars! 

We had our headlight, and as we walked back to camp we half jokingly reminded each other of the dangers that existed outside.  But one in particular concerned us most.  We new the big cats (lions, leopards, cheetahs) were active at night, but they were mostly on the other side of the Nile from us.  Granted, we were only about a half a km from the bank, but those cats don’t swim.  Something else does though; something that kills more Africans than any other.  To be fair, it kills less people than malaria mosquitoes or humans with machetes, Kalashnikovs, or automobiles.  Regardless, what really concerned us at that moment was a Hippopotamus encounter! And that is exactly the situation we found ourselves in!

Weighing up to a ton or more and capable of reaching speeds up to 40 kilometers an hour on land, a hippo is a force to be reckoned with.  They are even more dangerous in water where they are good swimmers, thanks to their webbed feet, and can be extremely territorial.  Their ivory teeth can grow up to a foot long while their jaw has the power to snap through bone like it was a pencil.  Not particularly bright, they are spooked easily and apparently mow down anything in their way. 

All of these warnings I had heard about previously and now they raced through my mind as quickly as my heart pounded in my chest.  Time, like me, was frozen. My eyes locked and my body tensed with anticipation.  My stomach released a familiar little gurgle of adrenaline erupting into my chest, sending my body a shot of energy that seemed to shiver with electricity.  Or maybe the “gurgle” was me about to shit myself and the electric shiver was actually body shaking with fear.  Who can say?  All I know was that I kept my focus on that beam of light as it reflected the shimmer of those eyes back to us.

Then, as if it had finally made its decision, it turned and lumbered off into the jungle by some unseen path on its way back to the river.  I took my first breath in an eternity and quickly walked the short distance back to the camp.  I walked straight to the bar and ordered a double shot of cheap Ugandan Bond 7 whiskey, which I have taken to calling a “007”, but really only with Therese because no one else would get it.  She remains thoroughly unimpressed.  After my hand stopped shaking I told the African bartender James, a good man who literally grew up inside the park, my harrowing encounter.  He smiled that warm white-toothy smile that I have grown quite accustomed to in recent months, and congratulated me.  He very quickly moved on with his evening and not another word regarding the incident was uttered.

Now, many days later, and a whole host of additional adventures had, I am back in the stunning mountains of Bududa.  After more than 9 days traveling there and back again, those familiar mountains have come to feel like home.  The feeling of relief and appreciation I felt when Therese finally pushed open the cast iron door to our home and the lantern’s warm light filled the room was sublime.  Our overland travel was hard and uncomfortable.  It was a true adventure, and in the paraphrased words of my man Mark Twain, the experience was great, partly because it was worth doing but chiefly because I know that I shall never have to do it again.  Perhaps there is no better way of summarizing a close encounter with a hippo in the dark moonless night of the African bush.