Steel Drivin' Woman - January 12, 2019
Well, I was both glad and sad on Saturday, January 5, 2019. Glad for the X chromosome that induces some women (and men) to make chocolate chip cookies – and sad that I am lacking that Y chromosome that, well… This will get clearer as you read. And don’t worry, it’s nothing offensive.
The Glad
Bob, Laur, and I got some training to be volunteers for the Santa Rita Mountains – home of Mt. Wrightson, Pete Mountain, and Mt. Hopkins. Yes, Laur and I are also training to be volunteer patrollers in the Santa Catalina range, but the Santa Ritas are practically in our backyard and we are up there on a regular basis. Might as well contribute!
We three amigos learned how to do four things – naturalize a fire pit, brush (ie. clip or prune or trim) vegetation, pick up litter, and make drains.
Naturalizing a fire pit, I can do. You toss the ring of rocks as far away as possible, you remove the ash and spread it far and wide – much like Johnny Appleseed. You bring in some new earth to cover the site, and then spread some leaves and twigs so that it blends in.
Brushing vegetation that could trip or scratch someone – no worries. You just cut things at their base and toss the branches as far as possible.
Picking up garbage? Easy peasy. Bend over, pick it up, put it in a bag, bring home, throw it in a nimbin.
The Sad
But digging drains in the hardened earth and smashing up clay? Well, that turned out to be something that the boys could do better than me. Grrr. I do Body Pump (weightlifting) three times a week, and I can do as many push-ups as any man my age who doesn’t go to the gym (and some—well, maybe one who do/does…)
But swinging a heavy implement with force? Not in my area of equal do-ability. The boys could work longer and harder, and therefore accomplish more. Laur did point out that I did pretty well, all things considered – I’m a gal (so have less musculature and lung capacity by nature), I’m almost 62, and Bob and he each have 60 more pounds of force to put into things.
Still, my nickname is Wreck-It Ralph. What good am I if I can’t bash things to pieces with a sledgehammer?
*****
So, I take comfort in the song “John Henry.” Circa 1870s.
John Henry had a little woman.
Her name was Polly Ann.
Polly Ann drove steel like a man. Lord, Lord.
Polly Ann drove steel like a man.
In Harry Belafonte’s version she only comes into play after John Henry’s death. “She walked down the track and never looked back…”
But in the universal version … when John Henry took sick and went to his bed, Polly Ann stepped in and “Polly Ann drove steel like a man, Lord, Lord, / Polly Ann drove steel like a man.”
But I took even more comfort in the homemade chocolate chip cookies that Joyce – Bob’s sweetie – gave us at the end of our training. Not that I want anymore, anytime soon. These chocolate cookies are the crack-cocaine of the cookie world.
But I can’t help but think, if I’d eaten these before I started pounding things…
The Glad
Bob, Laur, and I got some training to be volunteers for the Santa Rita Mountains – home of Mt. Wrightson, Pete Mountain, and Mt. Hopkins. Yes, Laur and I are also training to be volunteer patrollers in the Santa Catalina range, but the Santa Ritas are practically in our backyard and we are up there on a regular basis. Might as well contribute!
We three amigos learned how to do four things – naturalize a fire pit, brush (ie. clip or prune or trim) vegetation, pick up litter, and make drains.
Naturalizing a fire pit, I can do. You toss the ring of rocks as far away as possible, you remove the ash and spread it far and wide – much like Johnny Appleseed. You bring in some new earth to cover the site, and then spread some leaves and twigs so that it blends in.
Brushing vegetation that could trip or scratch someone – no worries. You just cut things at their base and toss the branches as far as possible.
Picking up garbage? Easy peasy. Bend over, pick it up, put it in a bag, bring home, throw it in a nimbin.
The Sad
But digging drains in the hardened earth and smashing up clay? Well, that turned out to be something that the boys could do better than me. Grrr. I do Body Pump (weightlifting) three times a week, and I can do as many push-ups as any man my age who doesn’t go to the gym (and some—well, maybe one who do/does…)
But swinging a heavy implement with force? Not in my area of equal do-ability. The boys could work longer and harder, and therefore accomplish more. Laur did point out that I did pretty well, all things considered – I’m a gal (so have less musculature and lung capacity by nature), I’m almost 62, and Bob and he each have 60 more pounds of force to put into things.
Still, my nickname is Wreck-It Ralph. What good am I if I can’t bash things to pieces with a sledgehammer?
*****
So, I take comfort in the song “John Henry.” Circa 1870s.
John Henry had a little woman.
Her name was Polly Ann.
Polly Ann drove steel like a man. Lord, Lord.
Polly Ann drove steel like a man.
In Harry Belafonte’s version she only comes into play after John Henry’s death. “She walked down the track and never looked back…”
But in the universal version … when John Henry took sick and went to his bed, Polly Ann stepped in and “Polly Ann drove steel like a man, Lord, Lord, / Polly Ann drove steel like a man.”
But I took even more comfort in the homemade chocolate chip cookies that Joyce – Bob’s sweetie – gave us at the end of our training. Not that I want anymore, anytime soon. These chocolate cookies are the crack-cocaine of the cookie world.
But I can’t help but think, if I’d eaten these before I started pounding things…