No man ever let me play with anything fun until Mike came along. Let me rephrase that – actually, there’s not a good way to phrase that – just go with it! Al just hired everything done. Jim winced every time I picked up a knife. Mike bought me a pocket knife for my stocking one Christmas, then stopped carrying his own, because I always carried mine!
I never touched a lawn mower as an adult. It was deemed too dangerous. Mike put me on the zero-turn mower, showed me the controls, then took me off it. Said that was an advanced lesson in our rocky yard – and we never got back to it. I will learn it, eventually.
When I asked, Mike started teaching me how to run some of his shop tools. I helped cut out the jigsaw to repair our tractor mailbox. I need to learn to do that again, to fix the rest of it. He drew the line at the chainsaw, though. Wouldn’t let me near it.
I can’t crank his leaf blower. So, I bought me a battery-operated one. Works just fine – not as powerful as his, but it’s fine for me. I bought a battery-powered weed eater, too. I’ve never used that tool in my life. But it’s not rocket science, and our yard now sports edged sidewalks and no weeds along our house or garage foundations. I still have other things to cut, but their time will come. Batteries are on the charger!
Mike taught me by letting me figure it out. I wanted long lessons with lots of explanations. Mike believed in learning by doing. Michael put me on the four-wheeler for the first time in Alaska. He showed me the gears, the brake, the gas. Sent me on my way down the road. I got to the end of the road, and realized I was stuck. Didn’t think I had enough room to turn around without tumbling into the ditch. I’d forgotten how to reverse. So I sat there, furious at myself, and not a little irritated at Mike for letting me go off on my own.
I saw a SUV coming down the hill. I was elated – we lived on an island. Surely anyone over the age of five could operate one of these things! The rig stopped behind me. Mike got out. Didn’t say a word, just put one knee on the seat of the four-wheeler, turned it around, gestured for me to get back on, and slowly followed me home. I asked him – “How did you know I was stuck?” He answered, “Because I know how long it takes to get to the end of the road and back, and you weren’t.”
And that was our life in a nutshell. Mike knew exactly how to do everything in our world. I knew my half, even a few things he didn’t know, and I was learning his half as fast as I could. I learned how to build a fire in the woodstove. I learned how to hook up propane bottles. I learned how to start a BBQ pit. I learned how to ocean fish, how to drive our boat forward, how to tie up our boat and wash it down, how to hook crab pots back into the boat, how to fry deer steak and make gravy, how to pick Dungeness crab and shrimp for freezing, how to operate the food sealer, and how to do dozens and dozens of other things that had never cropped up in my 42 years of city living. But I had Mike over my shoulder for every single one of them – and now, I don’t.
I guess there’s a reason Mike taught me the way he did. He gave me the bare bones, then let me figure it out through trial and error. He was always there to bail me out, but one of the best lessons he taught me was how to bail myself out. Have the courage, have the daring, use my brain, and get it done.
Michael, we have a long way to go, baby. And I will never, ever be as skilled as you. But for now, please enjoy our newly-edged sidewalks, and please send Brandan a deer for mowing this huge lawn for us. You’re still teaching me country girl skills, darlin’…at 62.
At 62 