BIRCH BARK
By:
August 26, 2025
Cross-posted from Josh Glenn and Rob Walker’s story telling experiment GIVE IT UP. Earlier this month, GIVE IT UP mounted exhibitions of meaningful objects in venues around Kingston, NY… and asked the general public to help persuade the experiment’s participants to let these objects go.
HILOBROW readers, we need your help! After reading the story here, click on the response link below and share your advice with the author…
The birch bark represents a time in my life that felt the softest, the most creative and mystical.
I was lucky to grow up in the woods, finding my hands brushing against the trees as I walked through the land my parents owned, shaking the occasional branch after a rainstorm to feel the rain trickle down the leaves—and doing a little personal rain dance.
I was even luckier to grow up with parents who saw beauty in the details, though each in their own unique way. My mom, who is an artist, can make all the dye colors from lichen. My dad, a pure lover of the woods, could sit in his chair in a field and do nothing but observe and admire for hours.
I spent most of my childhood running in and out streams, climbing trees, ogling at the stars, and howling at the moon. I spent the summers at my family’s summer camp, Camp Sequoia, which we ran for 75 years. It was all nature, all the time—from mudslides to water skiing, to camping trips and beyond. Sequoia gave me even more permission to settle into my surroundings and just have fun with it.
The land I grew up on had a lot of water running through the mountains and therefore these majestic birch trees. There is something about a birch tree that has always captivated me. It stands out, but in a soft peaceful kind of way—the way I wanted to be, and still do. Birch bark was also a canvas for creation: long before paper existed, it was a material for writing, drawing, and creating with.
When I moved out of the Hudson Valley, for over a decade, into the concrete jungle, I brought this piece of birch bark with me as a reminder of the magic of the natural world and the safety I felt in that. I don’t need it for that purpose, now that I’m back here. But the bark holds memories of a different time, it’s an homage to my youth, and so much more. It’s a reminder of a piece of me, like an old photograph or a drawing you forgot you did. It gives me a moment of hope, whenever I see it, for a simpler, mystical, magical existence where we are all shaking tree branches and dancing in the rain.
If you were in Samuel’s place, what would you do with the Birch Bark? Please SUBMIT YOUR PERSUASIVE RESPONSE HERE.
All GIVE IT UP stories can be found here.