I REMEMBER - STUCK ON THE MOUNTAIN...

My son Nicholas (Nicholas Gerald when he was in trouble - Nick -now that he is in his mid-twenties...) has always been competitive.  The middle son of three brothers, he didn't get to be the first and he didn't get the free pass like his little brother somehow always did.  He figured out, early on, that since he couldn't be the baby and couldn't be the oldest, he would just try to be the best.


I remember a camping trip once at the north coast of California - Ft. Bragg area - where we all went down to the beach to play.  All boys like to be climbers and my three were no different.  They were climbing on everything, rocks, driftwood, etc.  They tried their hand at climbing the mostly sheer face of a small hill, but they gave up about halfway up, as it looked pretty impossible.


We were putting out the blanket and picnic basket when I heard this tiny little pleading voice from off in the distance.  "Dad, Dad......HELP!!"  We looked everywhere and though we could hear Nick, we couldn't see him anywhere.  That is, until we looked at the impossible-to-climb cliff and there he was...almost to the top...and stuck.  He would have made it, but he wasn't tall enough to reach the next handhold and it was much too difficult to go back down.


Most parents have "saved their children's lives", multiple times, from fast car stops, choking on hot-dogs, to grabbing them before they ran into the street...etc.


This time was a bit more difficult.  I had to dash over and start climbing the cliff to where he was....all the while telling him reassuringly that Dad was on the way.  


When I got to where he was, I discovered the problem...hand holds are not necessarily footholds and going back down (let alone carrying somebody) was not a solution.  Other than the worry of us both tumbling down a two or three story high rocky cliff, I had it under control.  We had to finish climbing to the top.


The brave adventurer bravado was gone when I arrived where he was stuck.  The all-trusting, 'my Dad is a super-hero' look took over from the 'deer in the headlights' look as I climbed up next to him. There wasn't any time and this wasn't the spot to lecture him about the danger he got himself (and me) in.


His answer to my "It looks like you got yourself stuck" was a proud "Look Dad, I got higher than my brothers."  Which indeed he did...the classic half-full vs. half-empty observation shared by all my children.  It wasn't a sobbing, "I'm gonna die!...it was "I almost got it Dad, but I can't reach the next rock..can you help me up?"


Since Nick is still here and I am telling the story, you can successfully surmise that we made it.  


Still the adventurer, I am confident he will somehow, always find the next handhold to make it to the top.


rlw

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I REMEMBER..the guy who couldn't pull up his sox

...an old guy in a wheelchair we met on the street the other day. Lise and Sarah and I were leaving her ballet studio and walking back to our car. Coming toward us was this man in a wheelchair. Disheveled, dressed poorly, and obviously handicapped, he was weaving back and forth trying to get the attention of everyone that was on the same side of the street as he. We thought he might be panhandling. Sarah stepped out of his way and walked behind Lise. He was obviously trying to say something to them. I stepped up to him and said "Can I help you?". A look of thankfulness came across his face, and he said "Yes, thank you. Can you please, please pull my socks up? I can't do it."

He wasn't crazy or a menace. He wasn't panhandling. His old raggedly socks had fallen down his swollen ankles, and all he wanted was for someone to help him pull them up. After I pulled up the socks, he said "Thank you" and rolled away. I am sure I was gone from his thoughts. I, however, couldn't let go of the moment. I had my emotions changed in an instant--from distancing aversion to abject sympathy.

I had the blues because I had no shoes until upon the street, I met a man who had no feet. ~Ancient Persian Saying

At 61+, I am definitely on the backside of my turn on earth, losing my hair, legally blind with 20/1250 corrected lenses in my tri-focals, have a heart condition I have to take meds for every day to keep it beating regularly, have glaucoma and take drops every day to keep from going totally blind, and on the mend from almost a year off including radiation and chemo treatments for tonsil cancer....and I am still 1000 percent better off than this guy. God forbid that I should even take a nanosecond to ever lament my situation after meeting a man that would trade with me in a heartbeat.

I have often commented on how fabulous my life has been, and in many ways it is even better now that I have re-focused on my extra turn as a cancer survivor. I am happy every day...just to be here. Every day is Another Day in Paradise. I know people that are in the prime of their life, excellent health, making far more money than I will ever see...and are obviously very unhappy. This one executive I know just returned from a two-week vacation in Hawaii. I popped my head into his office and asked how his vacation was and without even looking up, he scowled and said, "I don't want to talk about my vacation." He never looked up at me or asked how I was doing... just kept on working at his computer and nothing more was said. It was a bit awkward, so I just turned and left. I thought to myself how fortunate I was and how obviously miserable he was.

I am even more thankful for my life today. I can pull up my own socks.