Changes

            In a quiet grove, far, far away from any road or building, a tiny oakling twisted and curved its trunk back to peer up at its giant father oak and inquire, “What’s happening to me, dad?” “You’re changing, son,” was his simple reply. “But why?” The papa tree didn’t really know what to say, so he said, “Because you have to prepare for the future.” The oakling relaxed his miniature trunk and looked down at the ground, thinking. He had no clue what his dad meant with such a fuzzy answer. “But why can’t I just stay green, dad? Why am I all orange and yellow?”
             The big oak was silent for a moment as he thought of the technical reasons of why his little boy was turning odd colors: the air was becoming colder, the sun was staying less time during the day, and the chlorophyll inside each of his leaves wasn’t able to produce as much food as it was during the sunny summer months, therefore causing the bright green pigment of the chlorophyll to die out and give rise to other pigments present in the leaves. His son wouldn’t understand any of that.

            The father oak’s deep voice was steady and reassuring, “All of your leaves are going to fall off your branches soon, son. It’s a sad time, because leaves are what make us so beautiful and elegant. Our leaves turn different colors to give us one last bit of joy and beauty before they fall.” “So I’ll be naked?!” the oakling squeaked out as he brought all of his leafy branches closer to his trunk. “Yes, you’ll be more naked than the jaybird that made a nest in my topmost branches, but has now gone away for the winter months.”

            The oakling shuddered as a cool breeze blew through his leaves and then turned back to his papa. “But why aren’t you turning all funny colors, dad?” Despite the massive oak’s understanding of how his leaves were closer to the sun and that he was actually capturing the precious energy before it could reach the tiny tree residing in his shade, he still didn’t know how to properly explain it all to his little boy. After a couple minutes, he softly touched the top of his tiny orange-and-yellow boy with his bright green leaves and said, “It is going to get extremely cold in the coming weeks. So that you don’t have to feel the cold, you’re going to go to sleep soon, for a very, very long time. Longer than you have ever slept before, or can even imagine. Many of the animals you have seen in the forest will do the same, too, like the bears and squirrels. My leaves will not change and fall until you are deep in slumber, because you will need me to watch over you and shelter you while you are so naked and cold.”

            The little oakling became very solemn and he widened his eyes as he whispered, “Will it hurt to be so naked and cold?” Without hesitation, the father replied, “Son, I will cover you and keep you warm until I have to go to sleep. The next thing you will remember is waking up to birds chirping, a cool breeze, the sun shining, and a new set of beautiful, gorgeous leaves budding on every one of your little branches.”

            Smiling at the thought of the promise of new green leaves, the oakling looked down the length of one of his branches and admired all the different colors. A breeze blew and broke one of the leaves at the tip of his branch free. The little oakling watched as the gust of wind carried his leaf a few feet away from him and gently placed it on the ground. With a big yawn, the oakling gazed at his dad and said, “I love you, dad.” The father oak shifted his branches to shield the oakling from stronger gusts of wind and said, “I love you, too, son.”

Pacifying Paranoid Passengers

            What makes a good driver? Snazzy gloves? The ability to drift around a turn at 50 mph? Someone who can beat everyone else off the line at a traffic light? The loudest exhaust and/or stereo system? All these qualities and more may or may not indicate a good driver. The true test of a vehicle-operating guru is his or her ability to keep the other passengers in the car calm and quiet.

            No one likes a backseat driver. There are two types of backseat drivers: those who are just plain annoying and those who are truly concerned about their safety or don’t want to get lost. The first type can’t be helped; these are your little brothers, teenagers in general, and friends that you will never take on a road trip again. The second type of backseat driver can actually be helpful. Sometimes we are unaware of our driving habits that may make other people nervous, such as cutting closely in front of cars or always braking too quickly.

            I recently went on a mountain drive with a friend. The late summer air in the mountains was so cool and inviting. As we drove toward Midway Reservoir, she turned to me and said, “I like how you drive. I’m not paranoid that you’re going to drive off a cliff or anything like that.” I asked, “Are you normally concerned that the person driving will just fly off a cliff?” She responded, “No, but I can tell that you are in control of the vehicle and that you’re not going to let it get out of control.” That made me feel good, because that is how I try to drive – in control. Later, as we drove back down the canyon, though, I swerved to avoid a hole in the road. I was only going 25-30 mph and felt in complete control of the car, but my passenger gasped and said, “I didn’t like that at all.” I apologized, promptly slowed down and kept an eye out for unruly road wrinkles.

            There are a lot of accidents that occur because the driver was not in control. Whenever I hear about an accident that could have been prevented, I think about the passengers and what they must have been thinking before the accident happened. Had the driver been exhibiting any odd behavior like swerving for fun? Do they wish they had said something to the driver? Could any of the passengers say, “I told you so,” after the accident occurred, or, “Guess you owe me five bucks… knew you couldn’t do it”?

            Steering wheels and pedals give a driver an odd sense of security and control, but the truth is, cars can be unpredictable. Sometimes the best driver in the world is victim to a pure accident. A tire can blow, a screw can come loose, a light can burn out, or a deer can jump out in front of the vehicle. You can rarely be ready for such occurrences, but you can certainly practice safe driving habits that may reduce the effects. Two hands on a steering wheel during a blow-out is much better than one, or a knee for that matter. A foot that tends to favor the brake rather than the gas could prevent a bloody animal mess. Defensive driving is about expecting the unexpected. And saving yourself the stress of having to listen to unwanted driving advice from the peanut gallery.

            

Determination

I’ve been thinking a lot about something my friend Pierre encourages in a presentation of his. His presentation promotes taking care of yourself in order to be the best you can be, and in turn you will be much better at helping those around you too. The thing that interests me most about his discourse is a section about determination. He says something to the effect that if you want to take a jog every evening at 7 o’clock, don’t let anything get in between you and your 7 o’clock jog. The reason I’ve been pondering this point is because just when I think life can’t get any more complicated and busy, it does.
 I’ve been meaning to hike Mount Olympus this whole summer, but I haven’t yet. I keep telling myself I will, but last weekend I had a tree come down and I’m still cleaning it up, and the weekend before that I had an early morning work meeting on Saturday that threw off my whole weekend, and the weekend before that I had to clean my house, and the weekend before that…
 My resolve is often weak. I’m not a planner, except for when it comes to far-away vacations. I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, and I usually go with the flow and do whatever seems fun or necessary at the moment. There is relatively no stability in my life outside of my work schedule. So how do I do what I want to do without not doing it because something else comes up?
 One old person I know would say, “Grow a spine!” After hearing this, I would normally bristle and counter with a prideful statement to indicate that I do indeed have a spine, but the image is nonetheless accurate. I feel like a jellyfish, being pushed this way and that in an endless ocean of possibilities and opportunities. The only way I’m going to reach any of my destinations with any amount of surety requires the help of evolution: I have to grow a spine, along with fins and a powerful tail in order to cut through the powerful currents that lead me to, well, wherever they want to take me.
 So this weekend, I’ve got a date with a mountain. I’m not going to let anyone or anything get in the way. What’s that you say? What if a whole tree falls on my house? It’ll have to wait until I’m done hiking. What if there’s a work emergency? I’m turning my phone off Friday night and not turning it back on until after the hike. What if my house is so cluttered that I can’t find my hiking boots? I’ll hike barefoot (or maybe at least with some socks on).
 The fact of the matter is I will never do anything as long as I allow other things to interfere with my plans. Determination, like any other skill, requires practice. It’s not one of those things that you either have or you don’t. It’s a learned trait that everyone can exercise. So if there’s anything you’ve been putting off because other things keep getting in the way (i.e. camping trip, Grand Canyon visit, moose hunt), discover the determination inside of you and grow a spine!