I've recently been blessed to be able to identify with where I get certain attributes of myself. I know that my pudgy hands and feet are from my dad. I know that my stubbornness comes from my mom. I know my squinty eyes are inherited from my grandma Dwyer while my love of sweets comes from my mom's mom. My cold ears come from my grandpa Quatroke and my love of rocks come from grandpa Dwyer.
It's nice to think that for however unique I am, I am also an integral part of the tapestry of my family. I share Colin's sense of humor, Mike's sense of adventure, Johny's love of competition (running even?), I love Adam Sandler like Ryan does and admire Jennifer's grace and style. I wish I could have even a spark of Stacy's attitude and Suzanne's adaptability.
And so, from all of that, I need to make my own way in live. Maybe I'll be the only one to backpack through the Himalayas, or mountaineer through Patagonia. I'll probably be the only one to get a Master's in Geology. Maybe I'll get a Ph.D. (doubtful). Maybe I'll find my place in this world and where I fit into it.
What I really want to catalog in this post is this last weekend with my parents. There's a certain peace that comes when everyone reacts how they usually do. I had started setting up a top rope in one of the trees up in Three Lakes, WI. I didn't really expect anything to come of it. We were waiting for all the boats from the boat race to leave the marina so we could hitch up the Hayes' speedboat. So I "pulled a dad" and began my own project, incorporating everyone I could. Val was my spotter, although I have no idea what she planned on doing if I fell. Jessica was the photographer. And my dad was the curious little monkey who couldn't wait to get his hands on everything.
I ended up climbing about 45 feet or 50 feet up the tree and set up an anchor with two branches. So Jessica ended up climbing up after me. I was surprised at her agility and strength even though her hands are SO TINY! Val made it up after wards with her trick knee. My dad hovered around the edges of my peripheral vision the entire time. After Val got down, I asked my dad if he wanted to climb, and he said heck yeah. So I got him suited up... (in a medium... I still have no idea how that worked.)
He climbed up in his hiking boots and sweating through his purpley gray shirt. His strength is still there, but there is more of a question as he moves. His wrist, broken last summer, was giving him some issues, but otherwise, he scampered up there just as easily as I had. Once he got up, he asked for the hand saw and went to town getting rid of cluttered branches and dead limbs. Finally, he wanted to come back down. HOWEVER, he did NOT want to trust the rope. I told him, "It can hold a pick up truck, so I'm pretty sure it'll hold you." But dad didn't want to believe it. So he stood up 45 feet on a branch and did the funniest shaky dance I've seen in my life. He was hopping up and down, waving his arms and shaking the branches and holding onto the rope laughing, giggling and suggesting that the rope would likely NOT hold him up.
Somewhere in the middle of that dance, I realized what all the hopping was. My dad was afraid. He didn't want the rope to break. (Hell, who would?) And he showed his fear by admitting it, dancing around, laughing and finally, getting down to business. I saw in that moment why I laugh when I'm afraid. I learned it from my dad. And I'm so glad I learned that skill. Maybe one day this little apple will grow into a strong beautiful tree like my dad. I'll never forget that day up in the trees. And I hope he never does either.
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