ARE YOU A bear person? Is anyone a bear person besides me?
By bear person, I mean that I can hardly recall the details of my two kids’ births, but for some reason I can picture every bear I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a surprising number of them—and how I felt at that time.
A few years ago on my usual morning forest hike, I was off trail when 75 yards ahead, voilà—two tiny cubs splashed in a stream. Mama bear looked on. We were just a mile outside our busy Connecticut city.
For three or four minutes, the cubs played, scurried, and flopped. And watching them, I felt—thinking back on it today, I can feel it all again—the tangible sense that I was a father, son, husband, and journalist…