Self Sketch
Reflection on a Literacy Artifact
Written in 2007 and included in the PhilWP Invitational Summer Institute I archives
by Ed Levenson
I love camping in a tent and the accompanying activities of cooking on a Coleman stove and sitting around a campfire. From one’s campsite base, one can venture into the neighboring countryside, climb mountains, and enjoy sailing or canoeing. My children and I have camped up and down the Eastern Seaboard and in Maine, and New Hampshire and upstate York. The most spectacular places have been Acadia National Park in Maine and Smoky National Park in North Carolina/Tennessee. Camping is our happiest way of experiencing nature and America’s natural beauty directly.
My camping vacations with my children have generally been unmarred by accident, although once a twenty-foot tree branch dropped on our site when we were away and another time the steep rocks of Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire evoked fear of broken bones or sprains. To be sure, the tent in Yosemite Park in California in 1969 – before my children were born of course – has never receded too far out of my mind
Camping is our happiest way of
experiencing nature and
America’s natural beauty directly.
Real danger, however, occurred in New Hampshire in August 2001 when my daughter Aliza and I capsized our canoe because of brisk winds, a strong lake current, and careless uncoordinated shifting of our weight. I labored strenuously – but in vain- to empty the canoe of water by turning it over and over; I later learned that the only way to do that is to jump in the stern and make the canoe project perpendicularly upward. All the while, people in a cabin cruiser 250 yards away were watching us and were thinking that we were playing. After ten minutes, I said to Aliza, “We have no choice; we have to let the canoe go and do the backstroke; because it is the stroke that requires the least energy to the island 150 yards away in the other direction from shore. “Ee, it has leeches,” Aliza screamed. Ironically, once we let the canoe go, the people in the boat realized that we had not been playing and came to rescue us. Aliza and I were very fortunate, for our life preservers were old and water logged and may have been fated to do more harm than good.
Three weeks after our return home, 9/11 occurred. On September 15 in my local neighborhood Pathmark Supermarket, the cashiers were collecting contributions to the national relief effort. I wrote out a $100 check more than I would have given ordinarily, in gratitude to God and in honor of our rescuers. My artifact is a hand written copy of the letter I sent about what I had done.
Ed Levenson teaches Social Studies at Edison High School. Ed joined the Philadelphia Writing Project in 2007 as a teacher consultant. Ed is a frequent contributor to the PhilWP Journal and serves on the editorial review board.
Ed’s piece was originally written in 2007 and was included in PhilWP Summer Institute I archives.