I remember a particularly interesting conversation around the time a group of us were starting the Nevada Land Conservancy, the first independentland trust in Nevada. I was chatting with someone who took no care to mask his disdain for what we were setting out to accomplish. He was certain we were going to be “in the way” of progress. We talked further about what makes this area unique. I listened for the essence of his attachment to this area. It didn’t take long to find. As a child, some sixty-odd years ago, he spent every possible minute on, along, and in the Truckee River. He spoke of “his” swimming hole and where he learned to fish. He reflected on the stunning seasons along the river, when the cottonwoods turn from green to brilliant yellow in the fall. I said “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. We are going to protect those kinds of places, and those kinds of experiences, for future generations.”

It’s been eleven years since I had that conversation, and much has changed. Nevada Land Conservancy has helped protect over 35,000 acres of Truckee River corridor, private parcels within wilderness study areas, trailheads, scenic valleys, and the tops of mountain ranges. We’ve helped Nevada ranching families stay on their land, and we have built coalitions of people to find conservation solutions together. We’ve done it for wildlife, recreation, and water. We’ve done it today for Nevada’s future generations.

I didn’t have any “future generations” of my own until 2002; now the objective is more personal. I want my children, and yours, to know: how cold water feels right where it springs from the earth and how massive lenticular clouds form in a clear blue sky. I want them to know infinite distance – the vast gold, brown, purple, and blue horizon of the Great Basin — and the magical Black Rock under a full moon. I want them to know the fresh smell of sagebrush after rainfall and the changes in light and sound after snowfall. I want them to see the tops of distant peaks where the mule deer, the pronghorn, and the pygmy rabbits play. I want them to climb to the top of the hills where young children stood a thousand years ago. I want them to know where birds stop to rest as they journey through in spring and fall. I want them to have “their” swimming holes and know where trout hide in the Truckee River.

I want our children’s hearts to be full of “belonging” to this place, their home – Nevada.