Most people missed my high-wire act a few weeks ago.
My neighbours – smart people they are – went indoors when the lightning and torrential rains came down. I, on the other hand, grabbed the extension ladder. You see, I never got around to cleaning my eaves trough last fall, nor this spring, nor on any dry day this summer. Consequently, when heavy rain came recently, the water poured off my roof, swamped the eaves and cascaded down the walls of our house. I finally got the message. The eaves needed to be cleaned out. So, I climbed the ladder to the roof and emptied it. All in the pouring rain! That adage Mom used to tell us never even crossed my mind:
“If there’s lightning, don’t go near trees, towers or elevated places!”
The truth of the matter is that I’m terrified of rooftops and other high places, including tree houses, Ferris wheels, helicopter rides and fire escapes. I even get woozy in open elevators. I mean, to most people the recent addition of the glass-bottomed elevator at the CN Tower has been a real draw. Not for me. In the 32 years that the tallest, free standing structure has stood on Toronto’s waterfront, I haven’t once taken the elevator to the top.
Another phobia I admit to readily is one involving sharp instruments. Ice picks, steak knives, razor blades, exacto knives, some screw drivers and chainsaws have always given me the creeps. It has nothing to do with those murders in Texas, by the way. I think it’s just what most people might describe as a healthy respect for what Arlo Guthrie famously described as “implements of destruction.”
Crippled by two very palpable phobias – a fear of heights and a fear of sharp objects – and facing a common problem – towering tree branches overhanging our tiny house (and the soon to be used horseshoe pits), I therefore had no choice. I had to call in the experts … experts with apparently neither of those two psychological handicaps. That’s when I contacted my son-in-law J.D. and his dad Ron. Both, I understood, exhibited coolness in high places and dexterity with deadly chainsaws.
“No problem,” they said. “We’ll take care of it.”
And they did … sort of. The other day, my eager, willing and able assistants arrived replete with gear. J.D. wore work boots and long pants. And Ron, similarly dressed, brought in the heavy stuff – box of tools, gas can, and, oh yes, not one chainsaw, but two. Was I impressed. My troubles seemed over. Before long, my two guardian angels would be racing up that extension ladder and have those menacing tree limbs buzzed into saw dust.
As a symbol of my trust and respect, I handed them my neighbour’s extension ladder. I should have spotted a first sign of trouble. They couldn’t figure out how the ladder worked. OK, I admit, it’s an old ladder. The idea of its two sliding sections interlocking with antiquated snap devices was a bit complicated. I helped them sort that out. That solved, we extended the ladder up into the tree. I had one, small further suggestion – roping the top of the ladder to the tree limb to make sure it stayed put.
“Good idea,” they said.
“Why didn’t they think of that?” I asked myself.
No problem. Soon, I figured, the wood chips would be flying and almost as quickly as you can say “Paul Bunyan,” there’d be nothing but a pile of tree limbs, chainsawed into bite-sized pieces, ready for somebody’s fireplace. Well, not so fast. One of my able-bodied experts suggested he didn’t want the other wielding a chainsaw around at such heights. The other didn’t want the first doing it either. Next came the surprising question:
“Have you got a hand saw, Ted?” they asked. “Better not use the chainsaw up there, but cut slow and steady with a hand saw.”
OK. I got the hand saw and up they went safely (but tediously) cutting each limb by hand! Then, when we finally got to slicing all those limbs into firewood, Ron winced at the first cut. I looked inquisitively. “Chainsaw blade’s dull,” he said. I just chalked it up to the way the day was going.
To cut to the chase (as it were), I knew we’d get the job done. But not quite the way I envisioned it. Don’t get me wrong. I’m delighted. J.D. and Ron got the job I couldn’t do done. I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t have to climb up that ladder or wield that chainsaw.
But I learned an important lesson: Experts have healthy phobias too.
