Letter from the Editor

If you asked me a year ago what I thought I’d be doing on July 12, 2024 in Portland, OR, I wouldn’t have said writing an editor’s letter for the Pigeon Press. The thought wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. 

A year ago today I was backpacking my 29th mile in the middle of the Olympic mountain range. I, along with about eight other students my age, were led by three adults along a trail and over Anderson Pass for 36 miles and it was, not to be too cliché, one of the most life changing experiences I’ve had.  Ironically, I just got back from backpacking in that same mountain range just a few days ago. This time, with the opportunity to lead a group for 21.5 miles around the Seven Lakes Basin. A full circle experience no doubt. One I also would not have guessed for my future self.

My point is: the future is wildly unpredictable.

You’ll find yourself on paths you didn’t even know existed living out dreams you didn’t even know you had.

As I stepped one foot in front of the other across the High Divide of the Olympics, I imagined myself walking into my last year of high school. I suddenly felt very lost, which, when you’re already in the middle of nowhere praying you’re walking on the right trail and not living out the opening scenes of a “Lost Hiker Found After 17 Days!” story, is extra unnerving.

I started thinking about the email I would soon receive from David Schonfeld reminding me to write this letter. What was I supposed to write about? I had no idea. Quite literally a sea of empty thoughts floating around up there. Nothing. Nada. The one thing that crossed my mind was the log of salami in the pocket of my waist strap. I only wished I had coordination enough to retrieve without losing my footing, the next scene in the lost hiker story. 

Was salami really the best idea I had? I couldn’t write about salami. If I were to though, I would tell you that Boar’s Head Uncured Genoa Salame is the best there is. But bring a toothpick if you plan on eating it. 

So I kept thinking, trying to conjure up some big narrative about how I’d been dreaming of writing this letter since kindergarten. But that wasn’t true, though I am honored to be writing this now. I wanted to be a singer/songwriter in kindergarten. More thinking. More walking. More lakes. More salame daydreaming. Still nothing. I just didn’t know.

Then I thought about everyone else who didn’t know: The editors before me who swam through the same sea of empty thoughts, the rising seniors (myself included) unsure of their post-graduation plans along with every other human ever.

I reminded myself that I don’t know just as much as everyone else doesn’t know. We’re all living our lives one day at a time. We can try to predict the future, so as to be prepared, but few things unfold exactly how we expect. 

An unknown author once wrote: “When thinking about life, remember this: no amount of guilt can change the past and no amount of anxiety can change the future.”

So, as we enter the new school year with its many uncertainties, I remind you to be comfortable with the unknown. Time will tell, but until then, there’s no point in worrying. Do what you are doing now and do it to the best of your abilities. 

Here’s to the past, the present, the future and, perhaps most importantly, salami.