In the remote southwest corner of Texas, separated from Mexico by the muddy Rio Grande river, lies the vast Big Bend National Park.  It is larger than the whole state of Rhode Island;  a desert flatland of wide vistas colored in brown and tan, with a few smudges of green, smothered by a brilliant blue sky and punctured by the majestic Chisos Mountains.  It is a hostile environment where visitors are warned that everything they see “either pricks or stings.”

Many years ago, I was backpacking the mountains with two buddies.  We had plans to camp that night in a place called the “Meadow,” because it was a relatively flat area between two mountains that sometimes had wild grass growing.  When we arrived, we were surprised to find three other backpackers already there.

The tallest one was immediately recognizable, but we said nothing.  In the backcountry, there are only two questions.  The spoken one is “are you OK?”  The unspoken one is “do you know what the hell you’re doing?”  They were OK, and the two companions clearly knew what they were doing.

Since there is no wood in the desert for fire, backpackers must carry tiny propane stoves to cook dinner.  The six of us pooled our resources and sat around the stoves that evening.  Knowing he was also trained as an economist, I tried to make light conversation, but he was uninterested.  He was not rude.  He was just absorbed by the hostile beauty around us.  In particular, he was studying how much brighter the stars became as he walked away from the tiny stoves.  It seemed to me that he was sad, because he had discovered so late in life, that there is more beauty outdoors than indoors.

James Schlesinger died Thursday.  A brilliant, blunt intellectual, he could never be mistaken for a Jim.  He  held three different cabinet positions (Defense, Energy, & CIA) for both Republican and Democratic presidents.  He is probably the only person who can say he was fired by three different presidents.  Watching him that night, I realized that it is not sufficient to be smart, that it is not sufficient to be right — if you cannot “sell” it.  That chance meeting seared the lesson into my mind!  I thank him for that lesson and hope he died with intellectual peace — that he was able to rationalize an irrational world.