Excerpts From The Life Of A Logging Camp Kid
Episode Three: The Thankful Edition
On this day, Thanksgiving, we tend to or are admonished to be reflective upon what we are grateful for. It is easy for one's mind, or at least mine, to wander toward the obvious: home, family, friends, health, funds, food. The list continues, and I am filled to the brim with gratitude for all that exists, both the good and the bad, in my life. As I have been accessing the saw gas tinged archives of my brain here of late, it has occurred to me that there are many things in my life now that I should be hugely thankful for.
Today, my family was reclining on various puffy relaxation bits of upholstery that my large part-Polynesian children have beaten into a comfy sort of submission. As I squished myself into the warm embrace of fake micro-suede, watching something streaming across my smart TV as various family members perused their plethora of electronic devices, it dawned on me just how much my life has changed in two short decades.
For instance, when I want to call my Grandma, I can tell my car or phone to dial “Grandma” . No longer do I have to schedule time in a room that was probably designed when the Pony Express was in business. When I speak to her, there is a natural progression in the conversation. For two years of my teenage life I spoke approximately two minutes on the telephone. It was actually a satellite phone, there were two in the little room in the cookhouse that also served as the camp post office, and half the time my mom was trying to cover my other ear so I couldn't hear the conjugal visit that was occurring on the other phone. It's also tons of fun to say hello, count at least 10 seconds, and hear the tin can melody of what you think is your Grandmother's voice in return. Yes indeed, I am truly happy with the improvement in phone technology. Now if I could only grow to love to talk on the phone.
Another item that gives my interior warm feelings of thankfulness would be my ability to walk outside unarmed. For the last fifteen years I have inhabited a farm in rural Idaho that has produced it's own set of tales, but I can walk to the barn unmolested by carnivores. This is a thing to rejoice over! One time in camp, after a family meal, I flung open the front door of our trailer and smacked a BBQ licking black bear right on the caboose. I have been chased by those creatures, been glared at by their malevolent eyes, and witnessed their crude attempts at playing basketball and bouncing on our trampoline. The only time my hair rises on the back of my neck these days is due to static electricity from the resident barn cat hitching a ride on my shoulders. Thankfulness.
If I break a bone, there is no chartering a plane to land on gravel or skis depending on the time of year; I can just drive to urgent care. I can eat ice cream in the summer, and not worry about having my mother try to strategically order it in such a way that it won't arrive melted on our once a week by plane grocery delivery. If I want to drive an ATV, it has four wheels instead of three and working brakes.
It's so easy to get caught up in the constant cycle of diversionary need. A need to be entertained or at least diverted most of the day. I am quite guilty of committing this infraction myself. The thing is, there was a time when I would quite literally entertain myself in ways unfathomable by most people even then. I must admit, I do pine for my old hobby of exploding icebergs on the beach with my shotgun, taking pictures of the garbage dump bear Sampson, and most of all dancing in the snow at midnight among the swirling northern lights. That light dancing thing was an excellent challenge because you had to dodge amorous bull moose with sixty-two inch antler spreads. It's easy to say you are bored by your current situation in life, but it is my belief that there is something amazing to be gleaned from every situation, and it is my hope that more people will seek to grab their “Northern Light” life moments.
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