To Adirondack Peeks editors,

I felt disappointed when I read the poem Deprivation by David Crews in your Spring 2020 edition. To read a poem titled Deprivation, comprised of complaints of minor discomforts and an image of animal slaughter, in a hiking magazine as a global pandemic cause mass death and exposes systemic racism in our country, felt strange. The insensitive treatment of suffering exposes PEEKS’ seeming desire to celebrate the journey in New York’s 46 highest peaks to self-inflicted challenges. His opening lines, "[…] not having / shelter from rain, from nature’s elements,” I must assume occurs when the author has intentionally exposed himself to a calculated risk. He mentions Seymour mountain. I’d argue that most people, especially those marginalized by race and poverty, are denied the health, economic and cultural benefits that come with access to a place like Seymour Mountain. Yet if they were to find a copy of PEEKS and read David’s poem they will perhaps recognize some of their own voices in his lines. Is this the best way for us to communicate our vastly different experiences in New York? I have debated with myself over my reaction to his poem. However, each time I read it everything the poem fails to say screams in my face. Not everything has to be topical. More simply, the poem does not even attempt to explore its own title. Still, true deprivation left by the pandemic will reach the Adirondack Park. Systemic racism, which has recently drawn people across the world out in massive protest, risking further spread of a deadly disease, must currently exists in the Adirondack Park. In a place of unparalleled peace and beauty, diversity remains absent. That is a deprivation. As long as that is the case, the park will also lack understanding. I understand Crews may not have set out to address such issues. I do think the poems placement in PEEKS does show a mentionable lack awareness. David’s inability to “turn off humidity,” as his legs, “always climbing,” carrying out the irksome peak-bagger trope, instead offering a form of solidarity with those who have no choice but suffer humidity and fruitless labor, highlights our lack of engagement with humanity as lovers of the environment. He worries he might “scrape his arm up”. Reportedly 8.5% of our population has no health insurance. Since it is Mr Crew’s birthday I wish for him that out of “a thousand oppressive thoughts” one key realization “coronates” him. His complaining about mosquitoes on Seymour severely understates the power our public places hold. As the redemptive value of wilderness goes untraced for multitudes of disenfranchised citizens, David can simply satisfies his deprivation with a purgation shower, a relish of tangy beer and a carnivorous oral engagement with tender steer flesh. The latter image says a lot about David’s presence of mind in our mountains. As he leans in to a kiss a steer, Crews is attempting another calculated risk, presenting an image of anticipated violence and fetishistic satisfaction. Animals have no feelings and David pays very little attention to what actually happens inside a slaughterhouse. The artist’s true deprivation, or sense of it, seems to be a complete lack of compassion. I’m not fooled that there are any romantic moments. Workers in slaughterhouses across the country experience some of the worst working conditions our society has to offer. Crews’ description of pain, unpleasant smells and mud are just a blatant heist of emotion. I hope everyone’s journey through the High Peaks is less challenged by the natural community which David seems to claim. The High Peaks Wilderness, a place exemplified on a global stage for preservation and conservation methods, provides an easier path to celebrate inclusivity and freedom from the deprived inequalities our civilized minds create. Maybe David intended to lead us somewhere else. Those of us who have bagged all the peaks might feel a duty to protect the environment around them. We can also allow that environment a chance to enrich the society which surrounds and supports it. Sharing our discomforts after a challenging hike can inspire us. The names listed on the 46er roster may continue to challenge themselves again and again each new season until they grow old and wise along with the character of wild places. That’s the beginning of the journey. Contextualizing these wilderness experiences threads each of our journeys into the societal fabrics where pandemics and racism extoll true deprivation. Am I self-righteously posturing or providing unsolicited workshop advice, virtue signaling? Probably. As I read PEEKS and feel cautious about visiting a park that I’ve visited every summer of my entire life, I am more compelled to plan ahead and prepare for the burdens our societal issues present.

Respectfully,
Miles Ross
#8377

Dear Adirondack Peeks Editors,

I was disappointed when I read David Crews’s poem Deprivation in the PEEKS Spring 2020 edition. I feel the poem exposes PEEKS’ desire to celebrate the journey to New York’s 46 High Peaks, to challenges of insensitivity. Current events pertaining to the pandemic and systemic racism in our country do and will affect the Adirondack Park. The poems descriptions of the sport of hiking and indulgences in the rewarding comforts afterwards, appear harmless on the whole. I’ve debated with myself over sharing my reaction to the poem. Each time I read Deprivation I am left feeling more uneasy and confused. Maybe because the ideas in the poem hardly explore it’s own title and the dislocation seems unintentional. Deprivation, or loss, seems to me to come by very little fault of one’s own. For example: personal loss or hardship, extreme poverty, mass incarceration or experiences of those directly affected by COVID-19 or systemic racism. All the while I know that the author of deliberately chose for himself to be exposed to those conditions on Seymour that day. David may not have set out to address such societal issues by writing the poem. I sense that in his phrasing however, he is certainly aware… “There’s something about it – not having / shelter form rain…” I agree, there is. I wonder if our homeless and migrant worker populations also agree. Mr. Crews lets us know he finds the bugs to be bad, the humidity inescapable, his legs tired, and the potential of scraping his arm unsettling. What else can we learn about deprivation from him? All the while, for over 100 years environmentalists and activists have fought to protect our wilderness from development and pollution, so that the citizens of our state, country and neighboring countries can benefit from the economic, health and cultural value of a natural ecosystem. In a technology driven economy, access and diversity in the Adirondack Park remains far behind. Poor and marginalized people are proportionately oblivious to the High Peaks. They suffer everyday in their daily lives much worse than us peak-baggers. David goes home, takes a “purgation shower,” drinks tangy beer and fetishizes slaughtering animals. Sharing the discomfort of an adventure can be inspiring. Understanding the context of these challenges is what makes it a journey. We owe aspiring 46ers the journey aspect as is so eloquently put in the President’s Report. I’m proud to find myself on the roster (not far ahead of David Crews, who I’m sure is a fine person) but I’m more proud to know and understand firsthand the value of natural space on Seymour, in the High Peaks, and all around New York as a resource that can benefit everyone, and not only deprive some.

Sincerely,
Miles Ross
#8733
only deprive some.