After reading David Gessner’s essay, “Learning to Surf,” in a recent issue of Orion, I quickly went off to find his books. I found Prophet of Dry Hill and quickly sensed the awe and reverence Gessner has for John Hay.

Gessner’s description of his conversation with Mr. Hay reminded me of my own sense of respect and admiration for the life and work of Bill McKibben. I realized, at that point, that it was probably not a coincidence that a piece by McKibben was in the same issue (“Pie In the Sky”).

I’ve never met Bill McKibben. And I’m a bit of a late-comer to his work. But I remember reading his introduction to a hard back edition of Walden and thinking “That guy has a great attitude.”

So, if I was to meet with McKibben at this point, I suspect that I’d approach that visit much the way Gessner describes approaching his encounter with John Hay. Like the best writers can, Gessner captured that sense of uncertainty between humans – that respectful anticipation of the unknown – that finds its way into our daily lives and reminds us (or should, at least) that we are participants in a complex natural drama.

I believe it is that delicate touch – that ability to capture the nervousness and the vulnerability of these moments – in nature and in modern life -- that make writers like Hay, McKibben, and Gessner such important voices of our time. Their writing captures what it feels like to be a parent, a consumer, a citizen, and an animal. Like Thoreu and Abbey before them, these writers set into print remarkably insightful and accurate accounts of our challenges and our responsibilities as humans. And, best of all, they do it with a great attitude. Afterall, none of it matters if it can’t be enjoyed.