From Tasks to Treasures

When I was younger, I thought that I would find my greatest joys inside major events.  These would be at time like Christmas or other important holidays, say the kid’s graduation ceremonies, or maybe some kind of career success.  You know-the kind of events that you look forward to and plan for during your life.

What I learned as I got older was sure, these events did bring the reward of happiness and joy just like I expected.  What surprises me now is how the littlest of things somehow became important enough to eclipse these expected pleasures.  I have learned that if you stop and take stock of what is going on around you, you can find a treasure chest of happiness in the places and the times that you lest expect it.  In fact, I have been most surprised to find that sometimes the activities that I thought of as tasks (or not so fun) have turned out to be some of my most sacred and rewarding experiences.

Now I want to tell you a little story.  Most likely, this story may seem very simple to you.  But, to me it is immensely important and one of my most cherished experiences.

This story begins way back, about twenty years ago.  It starts at a motorcycle dealership in Riverside.  I was there with my wife Samantha, my then 3-year-old daughter Bonnie, and my son PJ who was only 1 year old at the time.  We had gone there to buy me a bigger faster quad to ride during our frequent trips to Glamis.

When we got to the dealership that day, I instantly fell in love with what just had to be my next new bike.  But there was a hitch.  Before my wife would say yes to the deal, she showed me this really cute little 50cc quad specifically designed for small kids.  Sammy thought that instead of riding my daughter Bonnie around with me on my big bid, that Bonnie was ready to learn how to ride on her own.  And she really liked the fact that this mini-quad came equipped with a tether cord that attached to a kill switch at the back of the bike.  This tether allowed an adult to follow behind the bike.  And by pulling on the tether, you could kill the engine if the kid riding it got into trouble.

While I have to admit that I thought the tether was a great idea, I knew what this contraption meant to me personally.  You see, I got a little selfish in my thinking.  I had this very clear image of what was going to happen if we bought this little bike.

   I could just picture me out at Glamis…

   Coming back to camp exhausted after a good hard ride with the big boys…

   And then having to run around in the sand dunes for hours…

   And do this in my riding boots…

   Chasing after a 50cc quad…

   With a crazy little quarter-pounder behind the wheel going full throttle…

For those of who have never done it, please try to understand that just walking in the sand dunes is hard enough.  But running?  Trying to keep up with a quad?  It was my worst nightmare!  Those who really know me know that I absolutely detest unnecessary exercise of any sort.  And that running around in the dunes is just not my idea of having fun.

But despite this “vision” or fear that I had, I knew that I had to be a good parent.  And being a good parent means that sometimes you have to push aside your own selfish feelings, make the necessary sacrifices, and think instead about the happiness your family.  I also knew that the only way I was going to come home with a big new bike for myself was to also bring home a new little bike for Bonnie.  So we bought both bikes and brought them home that day.

Now sure enough, the very next weekend we were back at Glamis.  And sure enough it was just exactly like I had envisioned.  First thing Saturday morning I go out for a big bad ride on my new quad and come back to camp exhausted by what this big brute of a new bike had just done to me.  As I pull into camp there’s Sammy with a gas can in her hands.  She was busy filling up Bonnie’s new little bike.  And there’s Bonnie, putting her little helmet on and trying to figure out how to fasten the chin strap.  And there’s me, going oh ____!  I, guess its time for me to step up to plate, bit the bullet and deliver.  It seems I was going for a nice long jog in the dunes.  Oh boy!

So we finished putting Bonnie’s helmet on, I start the bike and instantly Bonnie tears out of camp at full speed heading for an area we called the kiddy dunes.  And there I am, in my old Malcolm Smith riding boots running as hard as I can to make sure that I kept up with her with the tether in my hand.  I’m running up the duns, down the dunes, and around the dunes.  While I’m running, the sand is pouring in the tops of my old Malcolm Smith’s making each step more and more difficult and turning my feet into what feels like boat anchors.  I’m running and gasping and running and gasping.  Now just about the same time that I was completely spent and ready to pull the plug using the tether, Bonnie suddenly stops.  And while I’m still behind the bike on my knees hyperventilating and doing everything possible to just try and catch my breath, Bonnie turns her little head and she looks back at me.  And when she turned, there was just enough room in the opening of her helmet for me to see her little face.  And on her face was the biggest smile I had ever seen on her before.  Then if that wasn’t enough to completely melt me, she shouts out a little “Woo-Hoo” which in motorcycle language roughly translates to – “Wow, I’m really having a good time right now”.

Well that big smile and that little “Woo-Hoo” absolutely tore my heart out.  It crushed me with a wave of happiness I had rarely experienced in my lifetime.  The incredible sense of beauty and extreme pleasure that struck me in that moment was unimaginable.  And I don’t know if it was the lack of oxygen in the blood that was circulating in my brain at that moment, or not, but I would like to think that this very powerful emotional reward that I was feeling was actually the direct result of my being a good parent.  This hope was fed by the thought that perhaps my small sacrifice had just resulted in my daughter having the very best time of her young life.

At that same moment, I also realized that I was witnessing a sort of “right of passage” for my young daughter.  I was stunned by the fact that just moments ago she climbed onto that bike as a toddler.  Now in the span of just a few short minutes she had transitioned into being a full fledged little kid.  I knew then that I would never again think of her as a toddler.  I sat there in awe of the fact that in my mind she could grow up and change so quickly.

Then it came to me that Bonnie wasn’t the only one that had just undergone a “right of passage” out there in the sand.  I too, had just grown older.  And between my breaths, I thought silently to myself – Wow, doesn’t life move past us all so quickly, and how important it was to savor and treasure each passing moment, before the opportunity to do so would be lost forever in the blink of an eye.

As it turned out, I kind of got lucky that day.  You see, the reason Bonnie had stopped was because her little thumb got tired of pushing on the throttle and she was ready to head back to camp.  And that was a really good thing.  Because after that moment I was so happy and so energized that I would have gladly continued running behind Bonnie all day.  If given the chance, the way I was feeling, I would have run myself right into a heart attack!

Now as the years continued to pass, I couldn’t wait as each of my successive kids became just old enough to climb on that little 50cc treasure.  I was actually eager to run behind each of them holding the tether and listening carefully for that little “Woo-Hoo” as a signal that they were having fun…and that everything in my world was as good as it can get.

Now this story doesn’t end there.  I want to turn the clock forward to the recent past.  Just about six weeks ago, I was in the desert again.  This time I was in Barstow.  I was there with my oldest daughter Heather, her fantastic husband Dale, and my precious little 3 year old baby granddaughter, Jenna.  We were there to watch an off road race and to do a little riding.

After the race, my son-in-law Dale, went to the back of their trailer and he rolled out the exact same kind of little 50cc quad that the other kids had learned to ride on.  As he got the bike out, he looked at baby Jenna and said come on sweetie it’s time to learn to ride.  And off they went, out into the desert.  Jenna on her little quad, and Dale running behind her with the tether in his hand. 

Now I was a little more fortunate this time out, because I had my Rhino with me (which is kind of an off-road gold cart).  So I was able to follow along a short distance behind the two of them, and this time without breaking a sweat.  I followed them, and followed them until little Jenna’s thumb got tired of holding the throttle and they headed back to camp.

When we got back, I pulled up next to the two of them just as Jenna was climbing off the bike, not as a toddler anymore, but as a full fledged little kid.  While Dale was bent over huffing and puffing, I asked Jenna how she liked her ride.  And there it was.  Her answer came with the same little “Woo-Hoo” that we taught all the kids as a clear indication that they were having a blast.

Now it’s really a good thing I was wearing sun glasses at that moment.  Otherwise everyone at our camp would have seen me break down and start to cry.  I suddenly found myself so overtaken by emotion that I had to start the Rhino back up and head a couple of hundred feet out so I could be alone and cry my eyes out for a while.

I sat there and cried because of the memories that this event recalled.  I cried because of the thought of having shared the exact same experience so long ago.  And I remembered the intense pleasure that it brought me and the pleasure it brought to the kids.  I also cried because once again I was witnessing another “right of passage” this time involving three of us.  There was little Jenna who had just become a full fledged kid.  There was Dale, who once again had demonstrated that he was a responsible, loving father-a father ready to do anything in order for his daughter to have a good time.  And then there was me.  I had just become an old fart.  An old fart who realized that maybe, just maybe, he had done something right during his lifetime.  And so I just sat there for a while and cried.

I’m going to end this story, right there in Barstow.

Now you can take anything that you want from this little story.  You may think that there are some lessons here-lessons that are important for young people who are setting off to start their own family.  You may think that this is a story about finding pleasure in odd places-places like the sacrifices that all good parents continuously make.  Maybe you think that it’s about recognizing and understanding the changes that occur during our lives, or passing the baton from one generation to the next.  Or you may think that it’s about growing older so quickly, and watching it all go by in the blink of an eye.

Well, I’m not going to tell you what you should think about this little story-that’s something for you to figure out.  But I will tell you exactly what this story means to me.  And, I’ll tell you this in one split second…

“Woo-Hoo”