A few weeks ago, "my people" came to visit me.
By my people, I mean Kristy and Gail Kelley, my Aunt Nancy and Uncle Marc, and my cousins Nicole, Laurence, and Franz. Oh, and Luke Kelley, the pup too!
By my people, I also mean those who are always up for spontaneous adventures and whims; those who enjoy carrying on conversations that dance from travel plans to hydro-fracking to flying airplanes; those who are OK with my quirks, including uncanny klutziness and a “need” to run daily; and finally, those who are brimming with energy and fun, yet will sit back at the end of the day around a campfire, s’more or good beer in hand.
By my people, I often mean those who climbed trees as kids.
I didn’t realize how refreshing , and hilarious, it would be to be around family. While they were here, nothing went according to plan (ever), but we still had a blast. With so many people to coordinate, with so many different interests and ages, we were an especially lively, but slow-moving group. Wherever we went, we kept the people around us entertained.
On one of our bigger, planned adventures, we went rock climbing with the Atlantic Climbing School in Acadia National Park. Our two guides were wonderful, and the scenery stunning. We climbed a few different routes on Otter Cliffs, where the rocks overlooked the ocean and waves crashed along the shore below us. Our feet hit mossy and jagged rocks after each rappel. Truly, putting words to it is tough.
It was after our final climb, squeezed in right before our trip time ran out, when one of the guides asked me: "Kerry, why are you so good at this?”
From my position, where half my body was dangling over the cliff-face and the other half of me was flat on the ground, I looked up at him to smile with a shrug and said, “I don’t know. I guess I climbed a lot of trees when I was younger?”
He laughed and told Nicole and I that he was once traveling with a stranger, met on trip to Ecuador, who made the following claim:
“There are only two types of people in this world: those who climbed trees as kids, and those who didn’t climb trees.”
That notion has stuck with me, and I’ve been wrestling with exactly what it is that sets the tree-climbers apart from the non-tree-climbers. The thing is, I get it. I have the friends who I know will be game to climb a tree with me…or climb a goal post in Scott Stadium…or streak the Lawn at UVa…or take naps after geology in the grassy patch beside Clark library…or take-on whatever crazy, non-practical adventure comes our way.
It was only recently, on a boat ride, that I started getting into words a few of the differences.
The Tree-Climbers
…remember childhood as a wonderful, fleeting and outdoorsy time, not as a time when thumbs got worn-out and eyes bleary from too much screen time. The rate at which smartphones and TV are taking over kids’ childhoods in the US is alarming. Don’t get me wrong, I spent many an hour on N64 playing Super Mario, playing SIMS on the computer, and watching “Hey Arnold” or “The Wild Thornberries”; however, playing outside was usually the #1 priority.
The memories remembered most fondly are perhaps the ones most ephemeral, i.e., those we can’t press rewind and replay on to do over again. Rather, they’re the ones where we were most engaged with the world and, perhaps more importantly, with the people around us.
For me, a few that came forth from my collage of childhood memories are: exploring with my best friend as “a spy” in the woods of Annapolis, cruising all day on the water with my cousins on Lake Conesus, making mud pies on the shore, catching garden snakes in the creek, making obstacle courses out of hockey sticks and deck chairs, building sandcastles and "merpeople" on the beach, playing with fire and writing our names with sparklers, and endlessly daring each other to do stupid things, like hold barefoot running contests in the snow. My hope is my kids get to have similar experiences and don’t fall to the easy addiction of digital pastimes.
K. Off my soapbox now.
…are tougher than the rest. Bruised shins, skinned knees, stitches in the forehead, slivers and thorns in the fingers…it happened; however, you learned from the bumps and the bruises, and often took pride in the battle wounds.
A lesson learnt in Campfire 101: fires’ embers hold their heat from the night before if you don’t douse them with water (or pee on them, if that’s your style)…who knew? Fourth-grade Kerry didn’t. At my little bro’s Boy Scout camp out, I picked up a seashell from a “burned out” fire, scorched my hand, and yelped as I threw it across the dirt. I never did that again, and I learned how to re-stoke a fire for breakfast.
…take more chance, push more limits. My poor mother. She was so good at letting me get myself into predicaments. I saw her genuinely nervous only once, on one of my tree-climbing ventures in a tall pine tree; otherwise, she would be the last to call me in from going out too far in the water or sneaking too close to the edge of the rocks. I appreciate that a lot. That bit of risk-taking carries into the later years, I think.
For example: our rock-climbing guides. They’ve done a lot of cool things with their lives, like venture around South America finding all of the best spots to climb. That kind of endeavor certainly requires a willingness to jump into the unknown and to brave things we know only so much about. I give huge respect to people who have the courage to take the risks required to follow their passions and create paths beyond the ordinary.
…simply, have more fun. All work and no play does not make for a happy person. Even work becomes more fun when you allow play and creativity to seep in. I could think of examples in the
adult world, sure, but I was recently remembering how much fun I had on my modeling jobs as a kid in Japan, when work didn’t feel like work at all.
adult world, sure, but I was recently remembering how much fun I had on my modeling jobs as a kid in Japan, when work didn’t feel like work at all.
On a photo shoot in an outdoor park, my friend and I were on a lunch break. We began by gingerly jumping across the dozen turtle-shaped stepping stones, which spanned across a river. Then, my friend began running across, back-and-forth. Unfortunately, my legs were a wee bit shorter than his.
On my first “miss,” one leg went into the water. On the next miss, I flat-out fell into the creek. “I’m in so much trouble,” I thought. We wandered back to the dressing room with impish grins, me dripping from head to toe. The hairdressers shook their heads, but laughed at us and mumbled things in Japanese as they used hairdryers to blowdry my hair and pink overalls.
…get perspective. Sitting in a tree all day gives you perspective.
…share cool experiences with cool people. Friends are made and bonds are tightened when you share good experiences with each other, whether you’re out in the natural world or not. My good friends are always game to climb a tree.
...appreciate the little things. If you can get away for a bit from the stuff that bogs you down on the ground, you can notice the birds chirping and the way the sunlight peeks through the leaves. It gives you a greater sense of contentment. I think you have to enjoy the little things from where you are, just as much as the bigger, planned things.
…have a certain spark and excitement for life. The tree climbers are the people you like to be around. Instead of shaking their heads, they join in the fun and the ridiculousness. They don’t take themselves too seriously and they recognize that we could fall out of the tree at any moment. Might as well enjoy it all while you can. They smile more too.
Perhaps "ground hogs" and "tree-climbers" is an oversimplified view of the world, but I kinda like the perspective from up here right now.
A note of thanks goes to my unofficial editor, Miss Sarah Turner, who shared her own tree-climbing stories after reading (my favorite part of it all)
