Message from the Mountain

June 2026/Issue #24

For many people, Christopher Reeve will always be Superman — not just because he wore the cape, but because he somehow made audiences believe that a man could fly. Tall, confident, and impossibly sincere, Reeve stepped into the role in 1978 and instantly became the face of hope and heroism for an entire generation. He didn’t just play Superman; he was Superman in the minds of millions.

But the most extraordinary chapter of his life came long after Hollywood. In 1995, a horseback riding accident shattered his neck and left him paralyzed from the shoulders down. Overnight, the actor who once soared across movie screens could no longer move or breathe on his own without assistance. Most people would have disappeared from public life. Reeve did the opposite.

Instead of becoming defined by tragedy, he became a voice — powerful, determined, and impossible to ignore. He fought publicly for spinal cord research, accessibility, and dignity for people with disabilities. He challenged scientists, politicians, and even the public to rethink what paralysis meant. And somehow, through all of it, he carried himself with the same calm strength that once made him believable as the Man of Steel.

There’s something almost poetic about it. Christopher Reeve spent years pretending to be a superhero, only to become one in real life when everything was stripped away from him.

By the time he passed away in 2004, people no longer admired him simply because he played Superman. They admired him because he showed the world what courage actually looks like.

Christopher Reeve is one of those rare people whose real story eventually became more compelling than the role that made him famous. The arc of his life almost reads like a novel — fame, catastrophe, reinvention, and ultimately purpose. Honestly, for a lot of people, especially veterans, people with disabilities, caregivers, or folks who’ve had life flip upside down on them, Reeve hits differently. There’s a quiet toughness to the way he carried himself after the accident that people remember just as much as the cape.

www.christopherreeve.org

Twinkies for the Bear

by Jeffrey Pryor

I found out the hard way that bears love suet, much like a child (or adult) loves a twinkie. They will drag the suet, feeder cage and all to some secret location and have a feast of epic proportions.

This young twinkie slayer came back looking for seconds, and when it became aware that there was no suet, twinkie slayer stomped off pouting and saying things like Dagnabbit. At least, that is what I heard. Twinkie slayer just stomped off into the woods making a ton of noise, and saying something about going to the bathroom in the woods.

I guess that answers that question. Thanks for reading and supporting us. We are moving along and working hard Making Nature Accessible.