Lessons from the Reentry Council

"Atmospheric reentry is the process by which vehicles that are outside the atmosphere of a planet can enter that atmosphere and reach the planetary surface intact. Vehicles that undergo this process include spacecraft from orbit . . . Typically this process requires special methods to protect against aerodynamic heating. Various advanced technologies have been developed to enable atmospheric reentry and flight at extreme velocities."

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Away for nine days, my first long-ish vacation in over a year: blue skies, clear water, eagles and otters and beavers--and a cow moose and calf eating wild rice on the shore of East Pike Lake. Swimming every day but one, island exploring, discovering sacred art on a point of land on West Pike (does anyone know about this spot?), long, meditative paddles and portages, full moon through triangle window of tent, shiraz and smoked oysters on "The Rock" on John Lake, a great company of women.

When my daughter went on her 30-day canoe trip in Canada I was warned by others to watch her "reentry"--that when she returned she might lick her plate clean at dinner, she might sleep on the hardwood floors at night, she might be overwhelmed by the noise and heat of the city after so much time in the wilderness. What do I do? I take her straight from her Bloomington drop-off to a loud and busy Vietnamese restaurant for spring rolls and noodles. She was as twitchy as a person with Tourette's by the time our dinner was over.

(I think hers would be described as the "blunt body concept." Like when you plunge into a chilly lake headfirst, just to get it over with. NASA first thought a blunt body reentry would quickly defer heat and pressure away from the craft and be a better design for a lunar capsule, and when I think about those quick, cold plunges we took in those BW lakes, they always worked better than the slow-footed wading we all think will be easier on our bodies--but really only prolong the icy agony. You know, the nursing home shuffle down the granite, feet first icy wet, shuffle, shuffle, ankles icy wet, shuffle, shuffle, knees icy wet . . . Still, I wish I had done better with my daughter's return home.)

My reentry has been more of the rounded "manned capsule" variety. Today I came home to a quiet house--the boys are up at the lake place--and my daughter and I arranged fresh flowers from the Farmers Market into various and pretty bouquets. Then we each took a "Caramel Queen" caramel into the living room and watched a rerun of Top Chef, the one where Stephen comes back from Season 1 to act as sommelier for Sara's team. I read some of my favorite blogs. She made a fried egg sandwich. We shared notes about paddling and the Boundary Waters. We decided to splurge and have a large Pizza Luce garlic mashed potato pizza and slices of carrot cake delivered to the house. She's taking a nap now; I'm taking time to write.

And now I can unload my gear, lay out my wet Solomon's and wool socks to dry, wash my stinky clothes, flip through my journal and remember all the sights and sounds from this amazing trip.