Can You Drive a Fire Truck?

I came to San Juan Island because it felt more like home than any place I've ever been. Since coming here, I've had the chance to examine who I am and what I want. Living on an island also gives one the chance to sort out who one is not. It takes a lot of people, talented in lots of ways to make the islands tick.

Sometimes the little kid in me forgets my own talents and looks only at the accomplishments of others. If I'd known how many accomplished people live here, I might have been too intimidated to want to move here. As it has turned out, a little bit of ignorance on my part was a good thing.

Here are some potentially intimidating questions for a retired architect like me who likes to knit, read, write stories, and chat over a cup of tea: Are you a boater? Do you like to kayak? Do you ski? Mountain bike? Can you drive a fire truck? Fly a plane? Ride a motorcycle? Can you chop a cord of wood, throw it in the back of a pick up, and heat your house with it? And oddly, this one, can you write a grant proposal?

What I have to remember is that I have talents of my own, while at the same time acknowledging I admire and sometimes envy people who can and want to do all of the things mentioned above. Can I do those things? Yes. Maybe. And probably not. Depending on which things you're talking about. Do I want to do those things? Yes to a couple. Probably not to some. And definitely not to the rest.

When I was in high school, I babysat for a family who needed a nanny for their ski trips. Lucky me. I bought a pair of very stiff Head 180s off my hosts, and away I went. Being told I was a naturally good skier was encouraging. Nobody told me being a naturally good skier on those skis was practically a miracle. But I didn't know any better. I just kept taking lessons and making runs down the hill. Skiing gave me an exhilarating feeling of accomplishment and freedom, and I loved it.

Likewise boating. When I was an awkward adolescent, I spent many happy hours rowing a boat around the lake at the church camp where my family spent summer weeks together. Getting out in nature and camping helped my mother with her loneliness at having left England and her whole family behind when we immigrated to America. Meeting that need for my mom served to introduce me and my sisters to many fun outdoor activities, like hiking, boating, walking on the beach, sitting around a campfire, making Smores, and telling stories.

Most people are surprised to hear I rode a motorcycle for a time in my younger days. Not a moped or a scooter, an honest to goodness 250cc Suzuki. It took sheer adrenaline to pick it up when I laid it over one day in a dodgy neighborhood, but by jove, I did it. That chapter finally ended after my boyfriend was rear ended by a little old lady who didn't see him stopped to make a left hand turn, and then the bike was stolen from behind our less than upscale digs in a part of Portland where people should know better than to park their motor bikes out in the open. 

When Jim and I bought our run down old Victorian, I hung drywall and hauled concrete in wheelbarrows. I did those things until one day I stood up, lifting an eighty-pound bag of lime meant to sweeten the soil under our new do-it-yourself lawn. I fell to the ground, unable to walk, feeling like I’d had electric shock therapy to my lower back. Embarrassed, I dragged myself into the house where Jim couldn't see me, hoping it would wear off quickly. 

Surgery for a severely ruptured disk fixed that a few months later, but it shook me. Up until that time I'd felt invincible, and was confident I could do anything I wanted to do, including anything a man could do. Had I known about basic anatomy, body building, proper lifting techniques, and the importance of knowing one’s limits, I might not have had to learn in such a harsh manner the lesson of proper preparation and being smart about not lifting eighty pound bags of lime. 

However, having a ruptured disk did get me doing yoga, and learning proper back care. Because of yoga and common sense, in the intervening twenty-three years, I've had less back trouble than many people who haven't had surgery. Having a doctor tell me not to lift anything over twenty-five pounds for the rest of my life at age thirty-three was sobering. No, sobering isn't the right word. It was frigging depressing. But luckily, I have the gift of resilience and that phase didn’t last too long.

Since then, I've learned creative ways to get things done without brute force, and I've bent my doctor's rule many times since then as well. I knew calling myself a weakling could be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I've pushed myself physically, because I believed in "use it or lose it". Life teaches us lessons in many different ways, and adapting to my back injury was just another path to enlightenment, although I wouldn’t recommend it.

Now, back to the list of skills and talents I’ve encountered since moving to San Juan County. I can probably get by without learning to drive a fire truck or ride a mountain bike. I definitely prefer heating my house in a less labor intensive way than chopping down trees. I'll probably leave flying planes and kayaking to another lifetime. Rowing my way around Smith Lake and swooshing down the slopes of Mt Hood are memories I cherish and that’s just fine.

I was ignorant of all the ultra accomplished people I’d meet coming to San Juan, that’s true. But I think that was a good thing. Sometimes ignorance is, if not bliss, at least the thing that allows us to venture into places we wouldn't otherwise go. Ignorance on a conscious level that is. For I believe we humans have an inner knowing that when we listen to what’s inside us, can take us to just the right places. Maybe even places we can come to know as home.

© M.E. Rollins