Og the caveman’s great adventure
Greetings from the Ridge.
I can imagine the scene. Og the caveman wakes in his cave, stretches, belches up a bit of the mastodon nuggets from the night before, looks over and sees his wife Ogala still sleeping by the fire, then walks out into the cool Pleistocene morning. He looks across at the next hillside. Ever since he was a little Neanderthal he had been curious about that hill. His ancestors had inhabited this valley for centuries, never leaving its confines and a bit fearful of what might lurk beyond the next horizon. Og grunts to himself, “This. This the day.” He grabs a piece of tiger bone for a walking stick and begins to walk toward the hillside. The other cave families are just awakening as Og passes their smoky hovels and they give him confused shrugs as he walks toward the distant hill. Og simply smiles and points to the hill... the hill that no one has ever climbed beyond. By the time the sun had risen to its apex the entire Neanderthal village was abuzz with the news. Og has gone to climb the hill. Og has gone crazy.