Andrew Dickson shares about why it’s important to appreciate nature and shared outdoor spaces.
There’s a line from the film “Road House” that’s been echoing in my head lately: “Opinions vary.” It’s a good reminder. Especially right now. Last weekend, out on Tomales Bay, everything aligned. The wind eased. The stars came out. The bay began to glow. And out there — away from the noise — you remember something essential. Not just about nature. About America. About freedom. About access. About shared places that don’t belong to any one person, but somehow belong to all of us.
If you paddle past Hog Island at night, you’ll hear a sound that doesn’t quite make sense — a low, guttural grunt. Not pigs, but birds. A massive colony of double-crested cormorants packed so tightly the trees appear to have leaves. They sound like a pig farm in Arkansas as they wait for the flood tide and the fish to move.
Places have a way of naming themselves — if we listen. That idea shaped how I grew up. My parents believed stewardship wasn’t something you talked about endlessly. It was something you practiced. They used to read to me the “Frog and Toad Are Friends” book as a child while tree frogs chorused in the wetlands outside. Years later, fly fishing in Montana, one line from that book came back: “Time’s fun when we’re casting flies.”
I learned that ownership has rules. Love doesn’t. Here’s the truth we forget: People protect what they love. And people don’t fall in love with places through permits, signage or labels. They fall in love through experience — through stories, effort and moments that stay with them. Opinions vary. But quiet still matters. Soul still matters.. Because fun — real fun — was never meant to be owned. With a Perspective, I’m Andrew Dickson.