August 16, 2004

• Eagle vision

  
  

   

  
  

  When I was younger, say, early twenties I recall that I had the perception that middle aged, say fiftyish, people probably had a handle on most of life’s illusive, subtle nuances.  Not that they were right in all the truths that they held dear but, that they had long since settled in on how they felt about all the important stuff.  Maybe they did back then but, now that I find myself in this age bracket my experience is that I have more questions than answers.  I have found very few truths-in-a-nutshell upon which I can rely to carry me through the constant barrage of life’s challenges.  I am continually learning and re-learning how to deal with life in a way that feels right to me, to establish what is right and wrong, and what is important and why.  I have to constantly pull myself up by the seat of the pants and point my nose in the right direction as I struggle to reign in the cynicism that creeps into control of my view of the world and the people that define it.

  
  

   

  
  

  I had another object lesson in this effort about a week ago.  My son is working for his Eagle Scout rank as a wrap-up to his scouting career.  Each Eagle Scout candidate must complete a project that meets several criteria, a couple of which are community or social benefit and leadership.  The project he came up with was to build a few benches along the bike path that is in our community.  The path is a real nice asset to the community with portions following the river through the city and others winding through the wooded hills between our city and the next.  The bench idea quickly evolved with input from “The Committee”, to a covered affair much more elaborate than the original, simple “bench” concept.  We agreed to this with the caveat that there would be only one bench.

  
  

   

  
  

  We designed and planned, held meetings, and solicited approvals.  Finally, building day approached.  In my mind Son and I would get up early on Friday, set the posts in concrete and then, with an early start on Saturday, we would put in a long day and have the whole thing built by nightfall.  It was doable; I know how to build and he has the young muscle.  Then, a few days before B-day (Build Day :}) Son asked, “what time do I tell everyone to show up on Friday?”.  “What…who?!”, I gasped already knowing the answer.  “The other scouts, a couple parents, and the scout leader”, Son replied.  I immediately descended into a murky pit of insurmountable problems.  What would have been an enjoyable two day project with Son was now turned into a four day project of, “Don’t pick up the saw by the blade when its plugged in”, “I’ve always driven nails in this way”, “If you hit Johnny with the hammer again, you’ll have to have quiet time”, and “I know we could have designed the bench that way, but…we didn’t”.  I was thoroughly and really disheartened.  Son explained that it was necessary.  Leadership and managing the helpers were supposed to be part of the project.  I was now dreading the whole event with every fiber of my being.  “C’mon Bob”, you say.  “Aren’t you being a little pessimistic”, you counsel.  NO!  I was convinced it was going to be hell weekend.  But, its Son’s final scouting hoorah and we could get through it.

  
  

   

  
  

  Oh well. (@#$$%@#@!!)

  
  

   

  
  

  Well, given the lead-in to this story, you can probably guess where this is going.  For one thing, the project needed a little more labor then I had envisioned.  Even with the power auger on the tractor, digging the holes in the hard packed, old railroad right-of-way required two hours of strenuous labor.  Extra hands came in…well…handy.  The young ones, much to my pleasant surprise, were very adept at helping when needed, but staying clear when something we were doing was a little dangerous.  The adults in the group came, apparently, ready to follow directions and acquiesce the leadership role to Son and me.  Very little haggling over methods to “skin the cat” emerged and the whole effort ran smoothly.  The next day even more people showed up.  Again, the group worked as a well oiled, if not poorly designed, machine.  My reservations (ok pessimistic, cynical laments) were only realized briefly when a particular person (which I should admit to myself was probably the sole focus of my pain) showed up for only about 20 minutes; just long enough to say, “you gotta cut those bolts off (this as someone had already gone to get the saw)” and “thats not the right way to hold that board when you cut it”.  Fortunately, he had to leave to make sure the County Fair got up and running properly (hee hee hee).

  
  

   

  So, I really had to eat crow on this one.  I realize that I have gotten so pessimistic about the ability of a group of people to work together productively without a lot of bickering and hurt feelings that I irrationally avoid most situations where this might occur.  It is time to reset my thinking on this issue and pull my expectations up out of the bog that I have allowed myself to create.  If  nothing else good comes out of this Eagle’s project, other than a few splinters for some hapless bikers, I can say that my middle aged eyes have gained a little clarity on the human condition.

  • 5:00 pm
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