Speech by H'Krih Shelhammer

When I was a child, I had the fortune of growing up on 4 acres of land located on a sparsely populated road in the Ocala National Forest. My days were filled with swimming, reading in tree branches, finding worms for my mom so she could go fishing, and the exploration of the woods around our house. Of course, my realization of how fortunate I was came to me as I visited that area about ten years after we had moved. Upon my return I saw that the yellow dirt road that I had so often ridden my bike down was paved and that new houses were encroaching on the land surrounding our log cabin. I also noticed that much of the forests that my dad and I had ridden through on horseback had given way to yet more houses and buildings.

The sadness that overcame me also took me by surprise. I realized that, by the time I had children and they were old enough to appreciate nature, my child-hood home could very well be in the middle of a town. I suddenly had insight into what my father must feel when he drives through Ocala itself. He has always shared stories of how he used to ride for hours over hills and through woods without seeing a single soul. He told me of all the different wild animals he encountered and the times he spent canoeing down crystal clear rivers. Nowadays, if we are driving together he's able to point out the mall where his family's house had been, or the store where there used to be a paddock for the mares.

When I was a kid listening to these stories, I remember thinking, "Yeah, sure dad. That mall's always been there." As I got older and started to see changes for myself I began to think, "Huh! I really hope I don't ever have to say goodbye to the special places that I care about." Now, I sometimes am gripped with a fear that my grandchildren, or quite possibly even my children, will find themselves in a world where nature is experienced through old National Geographic movies or stories that seem to be the stuff of folklore and legends.

There is an old saying about how the wind from the wings of a butterfly can cause a hurricane on the other side of the earth. When I was a teenager, I imagined this occurring in quite a literal sense. I began to think about how actions might get an immediate and extreme result. Fortunately, I came to realize that my sneezes couldn't cause the total devastation of a village in Asia; however, I also learned that this inability to cause such major and instantaneous transformations applied to changes made for the good. It seems as though my idealistic visions of "saving the earth" actually require lots and lots of paperwork, money, and other people who have the same vision and drive. I am still in the process of accepting the fact that each ounce of change is going to be achieved in sometimes very small steps.

That is why we are here today. It is because of my grandparents, Harriet and Elmer Heubeck, Jr. who enjoyed nature in all of its glory and strove to share its beauty with all they knew. It is because my father has a desire to preserve what he can of his childhood home. It because I have to think of what kind of world I want my children and grandchildren and grandchildren's grandchildren to grow up in.

Even though it was my family who chose to put an easement on this part of my grandparents' property, our success would have been limited without the help of others. We would like to thank the Conservation Trust of Florida for supporting a cause that we believe in, and to thank Mr. and Mrs. Wyndham for having the foresight to purchase land with an easement.