Force of Nature

20x24 Acrylic Gallery Wrap

In Kaneohe, I stuck with Cub Scouts, earning all the badges, then went on to Webelos, and finally Boy Scouts. But when my family moved down the coast to Kailua, I didn’t join a new troop. I never went beyond Tenderfoot. However, two of my four sons did, and both are Eagle Scouts today, an accomplishment they can be proud of, as am I.

Anyway, after nearly drowning myself with eight glasses of water a day in Cub Scouts, my mom signed me up for something new: trampoline lessons.

I’d been on a trampoline a few times in my friend Bobby’s back yard. Sometimes his dad climbed on with us, a big guy who could bounce us ten feet in the air. It was awesome … until he bounced both of us into the neighbor’s hibiscus hedge. Luckily for us, we only got scratched up and didn’t break our necks. For a while, I wasn’t too sure I wanted to get back on a trampoline.

But Mom was excited about it. “How about we get you some lessons and maybe get a trampoline of our own?”

It was more fun being at Bobby’s house, but … sure.

We never got a trampoline, but I did end up taking lessons and liking it. I learned how to do front and back flips and three-sixty spins. I showed Bobby what I’d learned, too, but whenever his dad came out to bounce us to the moon, I suddenly remembered I had to go home.

After three months of driving me to the other side of the island for my weekly lesson, Mom had had enough. “Maybe we can find something for you to do a little closer to home,” she said.

And that was the end of my trampoline lessons. It was also the end of her trying to figure out things for me to do. I was too young to understand much of anything that was going on in our family, but looking back I can so clearly see all the sacrifices my mother made for us. She tried her best, but she was hanging onto threads.

My step-father had been suffering unidentifiable head and neck pains, and had been spending more and more time in Tripler Army Hospital, also on the other side of the island. With that going on, and me, and my three sisters, and all the house and yard chores, and all that driving, my mom had her hands full.

But something happened during those three months of trampoline lessons that had a profound effect on my life.

We’d just left the house one day, again heading over to Honolulu for one of my weekly lessons. My Mom and I were alone in the car. I sat up front daydreaming, my hand like an airplane out the window, rising and falling in the wind.

I was thinking about Bobby and his dad, how they did stuff together and sometimes let me come along — going to the marine base, where Bobby’s dad was an officer; swimming in the sun-sparkling military pool; making play structures in Bobby’s back yard; camping with the scouts; playing on a huge rubber pontoon that Bobby’s dad had brought home from the Marines.

I was happy as we drove, my mind freewheeling down good-times memory lane. The day was warm, the air smelling of red dirt and ripe mangoes. Thoughts coming, thoughts going. Then, completely out of nowhere, I said, “I wish dad was like Bobby’s dad … he takes us everywhere.”

That’s all. A thought expressed. A simple statement.

Mom swerved off the road and slammed on the brakes. Red dirt dust blossomed up around the car and billowed into my open window. With the engine idling, she faced me. Her eyes were on fire.

“Don’t you EVER say ANYTHING like that AGAIN! He works SO HARD for you!”

I sank back against the door and froze, gaping at her. What did I do?

Mom sat with both hands gripping the wheel, glaring at me with those wild eyes, a time bomb with its clock ticking down to its last tick.

Then she blinked, turned away, and drove on. I didn’t say another word all the way over to Honolulu.

That was a pivotal moment in my life, and it was powerful. To this day I pretty much keep from revealing myself, especially if any controversy might be involved. I am silent. I am closed. I listen and keep my mouth shut. Don’t you EVER!

I’m getting better, though, now that I understand where that reluctance to share my thoughts and feelings came from. Still, I find it amazing how one innocent moment in time scarred me for so much of my life.

What we say and do matters, sometimes in ways we may never understand. But someone else might.

I may have popped off to my own kids a time or two, but I can only think of one that may have created that same kind of indelible memory. One of my daughters, an incessant risk taker, said one day as I got into my car, “Hey Dad, watch.”

Melanie was nine years old at the time, and excited about every aspect of her life. She dropped her skateboard to the road and took off. Downhill. A very steep hill, one with intersecting roads where cars could pop out and run her over before she’d even been seen. But on she went, flying down with no brake but her foot, which at that speed would be of no good at all.

On the edge of panic, I raced after her in my car. Before she reached the busy main road at the bottom of the hill, she took a left at the first street and came to a stop in her friend’s driveway, where her friend and her mom were about to get into their car. I barreled around the corner and came to screeching halt behind my thrilled, grinning, invigorated, life-loving daughter. I jumped out of the car. “Don’t you EVER do that AGAIN! You nearly gave me a HEART ATTACK!”

After I calmed down, I had to explain my panic to her friend’s mom, who rolled her eyes and said she completely understood.

I have never forgotten that day, and I doubt very much that Melanie has either. Fortunately, and unlike me, she did not let my momentary hysteria kill her passion for living a full life. To to this day she has continued to explore a life of wonder, experience, and wild choices … safely … thank heaven. But she did get one thing out of it. She knows that her dad loves her, even though he does not reveal himself nearly enough. But she knows.

What we say and do matters.

Life, to me, is a school. Some days are quiet and peaceful, some are as wild as any out-of-control middle school classroom, and some are scary or flat out weird. But I have learned a whole bunch of things in this life-school, and I continue to learn, every day, every moment.

Much of what I have learned and done over the course of my life makes me proud. And some of it makes me cringe. But it’s all part of the curriculum. In the end, one way or another, I will graduate and head out into the Meadow.

But not yet. I still have time to study harder, which is good, because I have more work to do. I don’t just want to graduate. I want to graduate with honors. That’s my goal.