Disegno Interno

“Our lives become the stars that others steer by, and if we live them well, the world will change.” -Barnes Boffey

When my father was dying from emphysema, I was in my final year of college. I would drive from Ames to my hometown on the weekends. Later, staying for weeks at a time when things started to get worse. This was probably the most time I ever spent with my father and it allowed for deeper, and stranger (because of the morphine), conversations than any others that had previously transpired between us.

We would pass the time in his bedroom, which had transformed into something resembling a hospital, watching TV, napping, talking. One afternoon he started to tear up.

“What’s wrong dad?” I asked, as the tearing turned into a harder cry.

“It’s just, it’s just… that I never taught you girls anything.”

I was stunned. I blurted out, “That’s not true!” as my mind searched for something, anything, that he had in fact taught us. “You taught us about money and finances, and gave us advice…”

I was grabbing at straws, in all honesty I wasn’t sure what he taught us. His emphysema started to get bad when I was in junior high and we didn’t spend a lot of time together besides watching TV.

“Not anything that matters!” He responded in disgust.

I spent the next few minutes trying to console and convince him that, yes, he had taught us something that matters! Eventually, he settled down and fell sleep.

It’ll be three years this January since my dad passed away and last spring I discovered something that he had passed on to me, although somewhat indirectly – the love of manual labor and working outdoors.

We had a woodstove growing up, and I have pleasant memories of falling asleep by it in the winter. I love the sound, smell and heat from a fire. My dad would cut down trees for people and we ended up using them in our stove. For storage, my dad had welded together some brackets and rings to pile the wood into. I have fuzzy memories of seeing him split the wood, which was on some property on the other side of town, but I clearly remember him yelling at me to stand clear. And seeing the ground covered with wood chips and sawdust! At the end of the day they followed him home on his boots, gloves and overalls…

That last paragraph of memories had been tucked away in my brain for years, until I saw the Best Made axes. Something deep inside me wanted one. When I saw them, I had such a feeling of conviction that if I bought one – it would make me happy. It was bizarre. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not the type of person who needs material objects to be happy. In all actuality, I sometimes think that if I had less I would be happier.

When I told people that I was going to buy an axe, they asked why. I guess I don’t fit the lumber jill stereotype… I thought it over. The aforementioned memories are one reason. What I’m about to tell you is the other.

Around the same time I purchased my axe I had the opportunity to hear Jerome Ringo, former president of the National Wildlife Federation, speak at a conference. He was the first African-American to head a major conservation organization. Most of his speech focused on this:

While there is an obvious demographic that comes to mind when we think of conservation, we must challenge and encourage the relationship between all people and nature. All people must learn to care for the earth if we have any hope of saving it. But how can we expect our children to be stewards of the planet if they are inside playing video games all day long, or if they do not have access to resources that put them in touch with nature? They must learn to appreciate the environment before we can expect them to care for it, which means they must be taught. Who will teach them?

Right then and there I knew what I had to do. I have a responsibility as a parent to teach my son to respect and care for the environment. To get started, I spent the summer chopping down trees and limbing them for firewood. Learning how to wield and care for my axe, becoming comfortable with it. And after clearing dead wood from the forest on a cousin’s farm, we celebrated with a bon fire. Was I happy doing all this? You betcha!

It’s a small start, but as the saying goes - if you want to change the world, you have to start with yourself. I have hopes of becoming more involved with local conservation groups and possibly 4H, most definitely encouraging my son to be a boy scout.

Unlike my father I want to be certain that when I go, I have taught my son (and hopefully daughter) something. At the very least, to swing an axe.

As the Best Made website says, “Buy an axe, unfurl a legend.”