My great-great-grandfather, Jakob Gsteiger, immigrated to America in 1858. The name Steiger is derived from the German word meaning "to climb" — or more precisely, "a narrow, steep path."
I have carried that name my entire life. I did not fully understand what it meant until I was 65 years old, standing at the base of Devil's Tower in Wyoming with two of my children, looking up.
My grandfather Carl E. Steiger bought the JH Ranch in 1940, set just ten miles from Devil's Tower. For the first thirteen years of my life, I gazed at that formation every day. It was simply part of the landscape — the backdrop to everything. I never thought much about climbing it.
When I turned 65, something changed. My children and I decided to climb it together.
It was the most challenging thing I have ever taken on mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Devil's Tower does not offer easy passage. It demands everything — attention, strength, trust in the people climbing with you. We made it to the top in six hours. We rappelled down in two.
I stood at the summit for a long time. I thought about Jakob Gsteiger crossing an ocean in 1858 with nothing but conviction and the clothes on his back. I thought about my grandfather buying that ranch in the uncertain years of 1940. I thought about my father, who turned down a congressional seat to raise his family on that land. I thought about the narrow, steep path each of them had chosen — not because it was easier, but because it was theirs.
A name is not just a word. It is a story you are born into and given the chance to continue.
Ours means to climb. I am still climbing. I intend to keep going.