“They carry a big pipe.”
I admit I am still trying to figure out exactly how a pipe would help climbers pee when they were up on the side of a mountain. The individuals were talking about the risks of belaying, and the story of being below flying, um, garbage came up. Every sport has its risks. Baseball has hurt elbows. Soccer has hurt knees. Swimming, well, okay, I’m not sure you hurt anything by swimming. But football has hurt everything. Apparently climbing has falling or being hit by falling stuff. (*picture courtesy of National Geaograhic) I don’t see myself ever doing mountaineering (a fancy word for saying you are climbing a rock outside). However, I do see myself possibly belaying my daughter as she mountaineers. So, I suppose I should get to know the equipment she will need. Personally, I would want a really big, soft, squishy, mat underneath her. Sadly though I don’t think I would be able to haul it around Yosemite and get it to the base of El Capitan. Certainly there are more dangerous sports she could have chosen. Take for example, doing gymnastics on the back of a moving horse. Oh yes, that’s right, she does do that. It’s called vaulting and is actually a competitive sport. With her first competition coming up in May, I will get a chance to practice my mat chasing skills. Again, it is pretty unlikely the judges will want me running behind the horse dragging a big red mat. I’m not sure how we got here in terms of her activities. Two years ago we were doing gymnastics (okay, a bit dangerous with the high beam and all) and swimming. Still, as I watch my otherwise anxiety prone daughter scale a 40 foot climbing wall, or pull herself up onto the back of an enormous, moving equine I am struck by the sense of empowerment and freedom she must feel. And although I hope it is years away, I can still imagine her real sense of freedom when her only toilet is the huge pipe hanging below her.
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“Oh yeah! If I were single I wouldn’t be here. When my daughter’s in college I’m on a sailboat all over.” Do you remember the song by Christopher Cross, Sailing? When I was in middle school it was my theme song. At the time I’m not sure I even really paid much attention to the words. But the idea of escape must have registered in my pubescent brain like an anchor in a storm. Since then the thought of sailing anywhere has been sadly replaced by the reality that I get easily seasick. It didn’t used to be that way. Pre having a child I could go through the murkiest water and keep my sailors feet. During one momentous trip across the Channel in England it seemed like the entire boat, other than my husband and me, were throwing up all over the place. Somehow, though, we made the two+ hour (usually it would only be about 1 1/2 hours) crossing without losing our lunch as well. Fast forward six years and it would be me in misery as I suffered through a multi-hour whale watching tour/party in Mexico. I was near hysteria at the point where the crowd with us began dancing the Macarena and encouraging the boat to stay out a little longer. I was told by the captain that if I swam for a moment I would feel better. Probably he was simply sick of my whining. Unfortunately, he didn’t warn me of the jellyfish. I was back in the boat within minutes, jellyfish stings across my back. Since that memorable trip I have been understandably hesitant to get back on a boat. I am wary of even short social trips by speedboat on our local lake. Still… the idea of a sailboat, skimming across the water, sails stiff in the wind, holds a unique place in my imagination. Through the power of dreams I do not feel the nausea, but only that glorious sense of escape. |
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June 2020
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