Work

Why do we make our kids keep on playing even if they're losing?  We've been playing  multiple games of "Magic the Gathering" every evening.  I think of the outcome as having three possibilities: A) dad wins, B) kid wins big, and C) kid barely wins.  Imagine you're the kid, don't you want option C every time?  When we barely win, it feels earned.  We had to fight for it and it's a great feeling of accomplishment.

But in this house, we have a rule: you don't get to quit a game just because you're losing.  I instituted this rule before Max got new cards!  Ben found two awesome cards for his deck and he dominated our decks!  Ben organized and strategized this new deck completely on his own so it shocked me to see him just stomp all over the rest of us.

"I can't even attack if you've got out "Illusionary Wall!  You just hit me with "Flame Wave.  I think it's not fair.  You should take at least one of those cards out of your deck."  It sounded like Max was making a final plea before resigning.

"Max, you have to finish the game.  You're just going to have to find a way to beat him."  I didn't really think that suggestion was possible but I really wanted Ben to have an official win.

Now, Max has the best cards and Ben is losing the Arms Race.  There's no doubt that they've become better Magic players because of their relationship with each other.  We all laugh at how scared we were of "Illusionary Wall" and "Flame Wave."  Even my deck is good enough to handle those cards.


One time, I was asked to cut down some trees.

  The temperature was in the teens and I'd forgotten to plug in my engine block heater overnight in Old Greenish, my diesel F250.  It was definitely not going to start cold, no problem, just plug it in at 7 AM before barn chores then start it up at 8 or 9.

That's not how block heaters work.  I know this by the end of every winter but I forget it every spring.  I drained both batteries by 10:30 AM; no problem, just use jumper cables and the suburban!  Nope, suburban battery was dead.  Tractor!  The tractor has a battery and an alternator, I can just run cables to my truck battery.  Nope, in that crescendo of panic, the tractor fuel pump just bit the dust.  Remain calm, don't break something, go slow, it will all seem better soon, clear your head, breathe.

How about the four wheeler? Nope.  Solar panel battery bank, nope.

"Maybe those jumper cables are too small of a gauge and they can't carry the current you need."  Yep, says the friend who came to help.

But he'd already boosted me and Old Greenish was warming up.  Time to load up saws and the four wheeler with the log splitter.  I was feeling better already.  Even though I'd missed hours of daylight fooling with that truck, we'd still get to the trees before noon.  The friend and I identified the most problematic red oak to fell first.  We determined that the tall one with a dead top was the worst culprit; it leaned over the house.  We also identified the second tree to cut.  He's pretty darn good with notching a tree so we put it down within an inch of our mark.  We had enough time in the day to cut the trunk into sections, drag off all the limbs, but we didn't have time to start splitting.

The log splitter was giving us attitude.  I don't guess it liked being stored all summer.  Another problem is this, we roped the tree to the splitter and the splitter to the four wheeler and tried to pull the tree to direct its fall.  The main problem here is that I forgot to look behind me and before I knew it, the splitter had been pulled up off the ground and then landed right on the motor.  The splitter never forgave this insult.  "No problem, let's start it.  Nope.  Troubleshoot, clean out carburetor?  That's the right track.  How about starting fluid?"  Some of you know where this story is headed.  Spray that explosive aerosol into an engine and you might get a surprise.  If you just got done working on a carburetor, there's gas all over your engine.

There wasn't much to say when the splitter engine spat fire.
"Oh shit."  He's not surprised.  He lives this way too and he had a nice cold Aquafina to extinguish the flames while I wrapped my hoodie around the disappearing plastic components of the engine.

"Wanna quit for today and come back tomorrow?"  Man I was hoping he was ready to go home.

"Sure, I'll bring my splitter tomorrow." Unfailingly indomitable.

So we cleaned up the ground around the neatly sectioned red oak trunk and headed home to our families.

I received an annoyed phone call on the way home.

It was the wrong tree.

This story almost ended there, but we decided the best course of action was to finish the wrong tree and get the second tree done before dark the next day.

The thing you'll notice if you throw yourself into any work is that many people will have absolutely no idea why you're doing it.  It seems like the default position is to work only when it brings financial gain.  Doesn't this cheapen work?!  For me, something earnest and honest, - real work- is tainted when money is involved.   Of all the benefits I've gotten from work, money is not near the top.  Through work we help people, teach people, build everything, maintain goodness.

I'll always be extremely self conscious about employment.  I had a teaching gig lined up after grad school. It was a busy year, but I taught full time, did research, and completed a bunch of PhD courses.  I felt my life's focus shifting to the lab.  It's exciting to do research with expensive equipment and smart people.  Literally every person in my life would have been supportive if I'd just lost myself in research at that point.  Everybody probably expected me to become an aloof scientist anyway.  So I quit.  I couldn't bear being away from my new little family for 80 hours a week.  I kept teaching part time, but I mainly worked at being the primary caregiver- the Stay at Home Dad.

One role I played dwarfs everything else. A Stay at Home Dad chooses to be vulnerable when he's been trained to be tough.  He chooses mercy over justice; patience over power; tenderness over "the lesson."  He learns to make bread while baby naps.  He loses aggression; testosterone dips, look it up. This is when Ben became an expert Go-Fish player because of countless hours in the waiting room of speech therapy. Sam became the "bravest baby."  I hope someone reading this remembers how fearless he was on playgrounds at the park.  We even routinely took snakes to show and tell at Max's school.  We're talking foundational stuff here; I was there when their neurons were making connections.

So, I've worked.  I'm self conscious because I don't have money to show for it, and that seems to be everybody's focus.  But, I don't guess I wanted or needed the money in the first place.  I did choose the correct work to do. I do my best.

In moments of guilt or shame, it's not my money that redeems me.  Instead, the fruits of my labor can't be spent.  I look back at my twenties and see spots of distraction and addiction and ennui but the underlying fabric is pure.  I was assembling my Group.

Remember that wrong tree? I kept the second tree and it's warming my house today- the work has been done.  Cut wood is a Chronic Present.  I made my friend keep the wrong tree, I didn't feel right.  I hope it warms his house well and I hope his family thinks it's the right tree.