"Thinking..." (written the summer of 1999)

The Ex-wife mentioned several times during our marriage that she wished I would...
"think better, on my feet".
I admit that, as a carpenter for the last 24 years, my thinking has pretty much been...
"Cut the board, nail the board".

I've always come up with a good idea or one-liner 10 minutes too late to be useful.
I have relied on instinct, ...or tolerated embarrassment to get me through most situations.

She was 'pro-active' and I am 're-active'.
Her family was producing it's second generation of college graduates at the same time my family was getting the hang of crude tool implements and learning to walk upright.
That's the impression I got.

This past week, I'd wished I was able to think on my feet several different times.
It would have kept me from putting one of those feet in my mouth.

Within hours of getting my daughters off to a week of Girl's Camp, I was talking with my neighbor, Eugene.
We were coordinating schedules so we could take care of a fence repair.
Tuesday? No. Wednesday..., no.
Thursday? No, his wife was having surgery that day...

"Oh, gosh." I said. "I hope it's nothing serious."
He lets me know she was having "breast augmentation".
My mouth fell open and no words came out.
I could not think of anything to say. I mumbled something to the effect of...
"I'll try to act as if I don't notice... or stare at her."

A man who can think on his feet would surely have responded better than I did.
In case you happen to find yourself in a similar situation, make a mental note.
Have a snappy one-liner ready for such situations.
My neighbor said, "I hope you DO stare at her so I can get my money's worth out of it."
I don't know... maybe silence would serve best.

I was asked by an ecclesiastical leader (stake president's counselor) to help with the rappeling event at Girl's Camp.
When I said I considered myself fairly accomplished at repelling females and would be happy to help, Ray Bingham corrected me. He explained the difference between "RA-pelling" and "RE-peling".
I still offered to help although I had only seen it done on TV.

*****


That day at camp, my youngest daughter, Heidi, age 14 was in the age group scheduled to rappel down an 80 foot granite vertical cliff.
Hey... I didn't even want to hike to the top to look things over,
let alone... allow my fatness to be eased over the edge on a rope the size of my little finger.
My daughter was showing the same lack of enthusiasm.
At least I had the excuse of falling off a roof 8 days earlier and was still stiff and sore.
Heidi wasn't warming to my encouragement to give it a try.
She had seen my bruises from a 10 foot fall...
and we were at the bottom staring at eight times that distance, rising before us.
I pulled out a $20 dollar bill.
I said, in front of witnesses, "There's a JACKSON waiting for you if you do it."
Some manipulative woman leader, apparently skilled at being a 'chiseler' said to hold out for a "LINCOLN" as well, meaning a $5 dollar bill.
Of course, word spread quickly amongst the girls and Heidi went over the edge to the chant of...
"TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS!" by all the girls, both at the top AND at the bottom.

I was proud of her, and when she touched down I paid up right on the spot with my last $20.
I doubt I can use a penny as a 'Lincoln'.

*****

My 16 year old daughter, Aubrey, threw me for a loop later that day by saying, "Dad, I forgot to bring pads."
It took a minute for that one to sink in.
I was pretty sure I heard the rotation of the entire solar system grind to a halt.
I'm 45 years old and managed to dodge any such 'request' my whole life.
I don't even like walking down that aisle in stores.
Aubrey was getting ready to leave on an over-nighter with her age group and...
"Could (I) PLEASE run to the store and get some?" Some?

Any real store was 40 minutes away, so I went to a tourist trap rip-off mini market, 5 miles up the road.
It was a LONG twenty five foot walk from my truck in the parking lot, into the tiny market.
The life of a father of daughters is a difficult journey, at times.
One store shelf was stocked with a dozen packages of the needed items, all different.
I checked to see if anyone was watching.
In less than a minute I received quite an education about "Lady Time Treats"
...as my daughters refer to them.
There were "innies" and "outies"... medium, large and maxi.
I didn't have a clue what she wanted, so I just grabbed something.
I walked by the "reach in" refrigerator to get some milk to calm my churning stomach and headed for the checkout.
I set the milk and the "things" on the counter, then awkwardly tried to hide them with a big handful of candy bars and a bag of chips.
I tried to not make eye contact with the checkout lady behind the counter.

Now would have been a good time to 'think, on my feet'.
A "thinking guy" wouldn't have said anything... letting the transaction be completed in silence. Even quoting that great American, Jerome Horwitz, when he said those now famous words...
"I'm a victim of Soy-com-stance!" would have been better than my comment.

(Note: Don't recognize the name of this early to mid-20th century humorist?...ask any guy).

My comment...?
"Uh, ....uh, I've never... uh, bought these kind of things before but but my daughter needed them. I don't know if they are the right things ... or size..."

The checkout lady said her late husband wouldn't get them for her either.
I didn't ask why he died...
...for fear it might have been in a hail of bullets during "that time of month".

*****


Later, I was preparing to leave the camp, head home, so I could enjoy peace and quiet for the rest of the week.
Heidi saw me and asked me to stay to see her in some campfire skit later in the evening.
OK... So I helped burn trash with 3 other men-in-camp so the bears wouldn't be a problem.

After an endless parade of giggly skits, I was too tired to drive 2 hours back home.
I spent the night under a tree in my sleeping bag.
I slept through the Camp's "breakfast".
A tragedy, since normally I enjoy my morning meal,
...sitting with over 200 singing and chanting teenage girls, ...usually.
I wandered over to the 3 men-in-camp to see what they were up to.
They were gonna cut some firewood.
The camp chainsaw was an engineering work of art. Unusual.
It fired up EVERY time the starter rope was pulled. Unheard of!
Only problem was the chain and bar was too worn out to cut efficiently.
Made firewood cutting twice the effort.
We were quite tired by lunch.

A Young Women's Camp Leader approached us, calmly said a girl had a possible concussion.
She needed to be taken to a Sonora hospital, over an hour away.
None of the other men said a word... or moved their hands...
A sure sign they wouldn't be the first to 'blink' in a stare down or poker.

Oh well, I knew my way around Sonora anyway.
After all, it was my old hometown...
...But I was planning on going home to Modesto after lunch.

The Camp Leader laid out the acceptable, approved policy for this sort of thing:
"... A chaperon would need to go along.
If the 'injured' girl stayed at the hospital, 'the chaperon' would need a chaperon while traveling back to camp."
Huh? I don't have that many seat belts.
This would mean a trip half way to my home destination,
delivering the 'injured' girl to the hospital.
Then travel BACK to camp to drop off the 'chaperon' ...and her 'chaperon'...
I was going to have to write all this down to keep it straight.

Once we loaded up, I witnessed a miracle in my truck.
The 'injured' Princess made a remarkable recovery.
As soon as the Camp Nurse closed my truck door, wishing us well,
...Princess asked if the truck had air conditioning.
The 3 young women and I were squeezed into the truck seat.
We must have looked like packaged, pressed ham if someone were looking into the windows.
The 'injured' Princess didn't care for the cassette taped music I was playing.
She asked if the radio worked.
...Well, not much radio signal at this mountainous altitude.
Before long she was working the buttons and knobs as if she were attempting an "instruments only" landing of a 747.
She'd instantly forgotten all about her 'concussion'.

*****

Our posse escorted the 'injured' princess into the ER and checked her in.
I called her parents, a good hour's drive away.
Two hours later, the 'chaperon' and her 'chaperon' and I headed back to Camp.
The whole day... and I was driving away from where I'd originally planned on going.

Back at Camp, Heidi came up to me, saying something about "warm and fuzzies".
Someone had given her some, or had exposed her to them.
Or something like that.
I defended myself, saying it wasn't my fault and reminded her I'd bought her insect repellent before she left for Camp.
She gave me a sideways look and dropped the subject.

I keep getting roped into doing stuff that gives me something to complain about later.
I wonder if there's a "How-To" book written on "thinking on your feet".
Or, a book on How to say "NO".

I'm "thinking" a couple days of lake fishing might be nice...