Driving by a perfectly still lake one early morning in the Adirondack Mountains, my friend Ross caught a fleeting glimpse of a hat and a fishing pole sticking out above the tall reeds and called out, “Geezer in the weeds.” I wanted to know who that guy was and I longed to be spending the day in a boat on that beautiful lake, too. I live in the city (and love it) but spend a lot of time in the wild to recharge, re-center, and reconnect to myself and the planet. A side note: geezer in its original British form is not necessarily an old man; it’s someone whose name you don’t know or who is in disguise. The masked Mummers going town to town singing and playing for their room and supper were also called guisers.
