By Stuart J. Faber

A portion of Willow Run plant today. (Stuart J. Faber)Our minds often work in mysterious ways. It’s hard to explain. I often can’t recall the name of a person I met yesterday, yet frequently the visions and memories of certain folks I met during my childhood tiptoe into my thoughts with uncanny clarity.

It’s been over 75 years since Jack Jerstad drove up to our Racine, Wisconsin house. Donning a bright Hawaiian shirt, he emerged from his 1930s Ford Woody Station Wagon, greeted us gleeful, screaming kids and whisked  us off to day camp where he taught us about nature’s magic-water creatures, weather, identification of species of trees and birds.  He honed our swimming, boating and hiking skills.  I only knew Jack for a few weeks during that summer of 1940, yet, he has had a profound impact on my life. It was Jack’s enthusiasm and dedication to the kids which sparked my passion for nature’s earth and its innumerable gifts.