When you grow up in Phoenix, family vacations to the Grand Canyon can be pretty frequent. But for my family, they were never a familiar routine. As Alastair Roberts notes in this issue’s article on wilderness, the canyon is an icon of nature-inspired awe. Wonder, too—and one of the things most likely to inspire wonder in my family were tourists who didn’t experience awe. “Big hole people” we called them, for their inevitable muttering questions about what all the fuss was about.
I’ll confess: When it comes to fishing, I’m a bit of a big hole person. Perhaps it comes from those same Grand Canyon vacations—the only time my dad and I would fish, inevitably ending the day with nothing but drowned worms and empty hooks. When my brother finally pulled a fish from Lake Powell—by then we were in our early 20s—we all just stared at each other. Yay? we wondered, and dropped it back in the water.
But I do resonate with my colleague Andie’s description in this issue’s cover story of what makes fishing so special for her (a theme echoed in this issue’s poem). And reading her article helped me see that it wasn’t just the “big hole” that makes my heart yearn to return to the Grand Canyon with my kids.
Meanwhile: I’m really excited about Abby Santamaria’s new biography of Joy Davidman, the woman who married C. S. Lewis. (It’s the pinnacle of several new Davidman-related books coming out this year.) So I was thrilled when she pitched me an article on Joy’s truly explosive journey from atheism to theism. After you read it, I have two suggestions: First, read Tyler Wigg-Stevenson’s 2008 CT article that has remarkable resonances with Davidman’s story. Then pick up Santamaria’s fascinating biography.
—Ted Olsen, co-editor
