Levers, Rocks, and the Example of Hard Work
Memories of Daddy have flooded me this weekend--partly for obvious reasons, partly more the less obvious reason of yard work. Some of my most vivid recollections of Daddy have to do with early summer mornings and Saturdays outside of the new house, picking up rocks, weeding, raking up rocks, spreading manure, digging up rocks, watering trees...did I mention rocks? As we've labored in our yard this Memorial Day weekend, I found myself remembering a particular day...
It had to have been in that first year after we moved into the "new" house, and I'm pretty sure it was a Saturday. The yard was still a wasteland of rocks and construction waste. Do you remember the "dumping" place for all our rocks--along the side of the front yard, near Nancy's fence? We were digging and picking up rocks in the backyard when Daddy (or someone) hit a big rock. Not just a "big" rock, but a truly gigantic boulder. My memory insists that it was the size of a baby bassinet, but perhaps it was a trifle smaller. Daddy dug all the way around it, and started to try to pry it out. No luck--it was too big. Even with Mommy's help, it was just too big to leverage into the wheelbarrow. I remember someone saying that maybe we would have to leave it there, or perhaps get a back hoe or something similar to get that boulder out of our backyard.
That was when Daddy (inadvertently, I'm sure, because he probably just wanted that boulder out!) taught me a lesson on simple machines and hard work that I've never forgotten. He got a big 2x4 from the construction waste pile, and instructed his children to grab littler pieces and bring them to the boulder. Using another rock as a fulcrum, he wedged the boulder up, and we frantically shoved our smaller pieces under. Then he wedged the boulder up a little more, and we'd shove more under. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I don't know how long it took--at the time it seemed like hours--but eventually Daddy and Mommy were able to tip that giant rock into the wheelbarrow somehow. Success!!!!
I vividly remember the feeling of pride and excitement at this accomplishment. We'd fought the rock and we'd won! Take that, stupid caliche-ridden yard! You can't beat us! We are too smart and strong for you!
A silly, inconsequential event? Perhaps. I doubt anyone else in the family even remembers it. I'm sure it didn't mean much to anyone else. But this experience, along with a thousand million others throughout my childhood, taught me that perseverance and hard work can solve many, many problems. Thank you, Daddy.
It had to have been in that first year after we moved into the "new" house, and I'm pretty sure it was a Saturday. The yard was still a wasteland of rocks and construction waste. Do you remember the "dumping" place for all our rocks--along the side of the front yard, near Nancy's fence? We were digging and picking up rocks in the backyard when Daddy (or someone) hit a big rock. Not just a "big" rock, but a truly gigantic boulder. My memory insists that it was the size of a baby bassinet, but perhaps it was a trifle smaller. Daddy dug all the way around it, and started to try to pry it out. No luck--it was too big. Even with Mommy's help, it was just too big to leverage into the wheelbarrow. I remember someone saying that maybe we would have to leave it there, or perhaps get a back hoe or something similar to get that boulder out of our backyard.
That was when Daddy (inadvertently, I'm sure, because he probably just wanted that boulder out!) taught me a lesson on simple machines and hard work that I've never forgotten. He got a big 2x4 from the construction waste pile, and instructed his children to grab littler pieces and bring them to the boulder. Using another rock as a fulcrum, he wedged the boulder up, and we frantically shoved our smaller pieces under. Then he wedged the boulder up a little more, and we'd shove more under. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I don't know how long it took--at the time it seemed like hours--but eventually Daddy and Mommy were able to tip that giant rock into the wheelbarrow somehow. Success!!!!
I vividly remember the feeling of pride and excitement at this accomplishment. We'd fought the rock and we'd won! Take that, stupid caliche-ridden yard! You can't beat us! We are too smart and strong for you!
A silly, inconsequential event? Perhaps. I doubt anyone else in the family even remembers it. I'm sure it didn't mean much to anyone else. But this experience, along with a thousand million others throughout my childhood, taught me that perseverance and hard work can solve many, many problems. Thank you, Daddy.
posted by Keryn @ 8:15 AM
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