It is a significant tribute for someone to continue to be remembered long after their passing. I purchased a cabin in Emigrant Gap about three years ago. Being interested in the area and it's history, I started researching via the internet. And that is how I found Russell Towle's blog which has been the source of a wealth of information about the North Fork American River region and it's history.
Thank you for the legacy! I am sorry that I never met you.
Carol Guida
Emigrant Gap
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
The signpost
This made me think of Russell.
A poem by Wilhelm Muller
(translated by Mirian Abramowitsch)
The Signpost
Why do I avoid the paths
That other wanderers tread,
and seek out hidden trails
through snowy, rocky heights?
I have done nothing
that I should shun people --
what foolish longing
drives me into the wilderness?
Signs stand on the paths,
pointing toward the towns,
and I walk aimlessly,
without rest, seeking rest.
One signpost I see standing
immovable before my gaze;
one road I must travel
from which no one has ever returned.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I'm Ken Smith, I'm the "Dad" in this image, and I remember Russ so vividly from our time in Palo Alto, that I recently googled him, and was saddened to find a 'remembering Russ' blog, but thrilled by the life he lived. I have to tell you, he was Russell Towle even at age 9-10. A lot of credit should go to Russ's Dad. I remember one trip Russ, his Dad and I went on down to Needles National Monument to go spelunking. Pretty big adventure for a 10 year old. Another thing Russ and I did, along with Jack Burns (pictured), is we hiked up Palo Alto's paved creek beds until they became concrete conduits, and kept going, for a whole day, and we came up through a conduit miles from home and didn't recognize where we were. We had to call one of our Moms. I don't remember who, but I bet it was Russ's because his family would have understood. Reply to ken@ideasmith.com .
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I would like to dedicate a song I wrote years ago to Russell. I have read Russell's Blog many times as I am an avid hiker/environmentalist/prospector and I have always found his writing to describe these beautiful places as very inspirational. Because of his writing I have hiked some of these places he has described. I hope the rest of us can pick up the torch he carried and continue to preserve these wild and historic areas.
This song is called "First Light". This song came to me as a vision of the sun rising over the mountain tops somewhere in the Sierra Nevada. It could be anywhere as you hear this song play.
http://soundcloud.com/doug-reagin/first-light
This song is called "First Light". This song came to me as a vision of the sun rising over the mountain tops somewhere in the Sierra Nevada. It could be anywhere as you hear this song play.
http://soundcloud.com/doug-reagin/first-light
Friday, November 19, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Just because ...
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Death is nothing at all
by Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918).
Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)




