Johnny Yooper
ArboristSite Operative
The wife gets on my case once in a while for working the kids “too hard”. She tells me “you’re not gonna work them as hard as your Dad worked you when you were growing up”. I tell her “I ain’t no worse for wear”, but might as well be talkin’ to the woodpile. Yeah, it’s true, for more Saturdays than I can remember, Dad and I would head several miles out of town to the camp and cut firewood; we burned wood in the fireplace at home until I was just about out of high school when he installed a wood boiler in the basement. Burned maybe 5 or 6 cord a year. We’d have that ’71 Chevy K10 shortbed overloaded every time, and never failed, always lost a few pieces crossing the railroad tracks in town, we’d just look at each other and laugh and whoever was driving at the time would push in the clutch, pop ‘er in neutral hit the e brake and we’d get out and toss the pieces back on and then only six or so blocks home. On a good day, we’d hold up a whopping 1 or 2 cars ‘til the last piece got tossed back on. That was back in the mid 70’s. Fast forward to today………family and I are eating brunch (French toast, bacon, eggs, etc.) and I say to one of the kids “pass me the syrup” and then I ask “who makes the best syrup?” and they all chime in “you do!”. We have some woods behind the house and this will be our sixth year of tappin’ maples and boilin’ sap for that liquid gold we enjoy so much. So I tell the kids I have a bunch of popple cut and split for the upcoming syrup season and need some help with the piling. I tell them if they want to have syrup on their pancakes, French Toast, and ice cream, there’s this thing called enjoying the fruits of one’s labor, and today we’re going to labor. So we head out and it starts snowing about half way through our task, but the little troopers finish the job with nary a complaint. We were just about wrapped up when I took the pic below. One or two more piles like that and we’re set for the season. Other pic is from 8 years prior, kids helping pile some firewood in the garage for the wood stove in our living room. I think I’ve got ‘em primed now for helping with the bigger stuff that goes in the OWB. Wife knows it don’t hurt ‘em to do a little work here and there, but the main reason for getting them out there tappin’ trees, hauling sap, piling wood, feeding the syrup stove, and so on, is the memories. Will they look back on those times when they’re 20 and smile? Not likely. When they’re 30? Maybe. But, some day they will. Those railroad tracks in my home town are long gone, but the memories are there for a lifetime. For those of you with kids, go make some.