Innocence Lost…

…Or Is It?

I was out in the field recently when one of my co-workers pointed behind me and asked, “What kind of cloud is that?”

I turned around, looked into the sky and replied, “A rabbit… or maybe a dragon. I’m a Field Engineer, not a meteorologist!”

It got me thinking. I can vaguely recall having the ability to lie on my back in the grass for hours, seeing a countless variety of ever-changing shapes and objects in the clouds. Having no thoughts of… well anything, and no regret over the fact that at that moment I was being completely and utterly unproductive. Where did it go? No wait, when did it go? Did it slowly fade away, or was there just one moment, one morning when I woke up and was… different, too busy with adult responsibilities to find pleasure in such a simple relaxing activity?

I probably spend even more time gazing into the clouds lately than I ever did before, only now I’m standing in a swamp with mud well over the ankles of my steel-toed boots. Every article of clothing, even my safety vest, is so drenched with sweat that I can’t keep anything in my pockets that isn’t waterproof. And I don’t see fuzzy animals, only the potential for rain. The pessimistic side of my brain is always calculating the possible impact to the schedule and increased cost of the project if those clouds also bring lightning. Rain without lightning is more of a good news/bad news scenario, the good news being that we can work through the rain while the bad news is… that we can work through the rain. The optimistic side occasionally interrupts, saying things like, “At least it’ll cool down a little bit.” Thoughts like that are all too brief as I am quick to remember how it feels after the rain. Isn’t humidity fun?

Cloud watching wasn’t the only casualty lost during the battle of my adolescence, let’s not forget snow. Snow used to be awesome, with a capital AWE! There was nothing better than the feeling I’d get, looking out the window, to see that the world had magically changed overnight, covered by a thick, soft, white blanket. If only modern science could capture that sensation. Forget “buying the world a Coke”, pass a bottle of that around! You would have so much world peace going on it would make you nauseous.

As a kid, I could play in the snow for hours on end. One winter, a buddy and I built a… well we thought of it as some kind of snow fort but it was more like a very small igloo. It was basically a short wall, over which we secured a blue, plastic wading pool (for structural support, of course) turned upside down, with snow packed on top. We carved out little nooks inside where we could stash sandwich bags filled with the last of the Halloween score. And we could hang out in there all day without a care in the world. But all of that would soon change with the acquisition of the much desired Driver’s License.

I have a very different relationship with snow these days, let’s just say… we’re not speaking to each other. For example, a few years ago we built a job in the Denver area. My company’s portion of the work was supposed to take place during the fall, which was lovely by the way. However, due to circumstances beyond our control, it was pushed to the cold, dead heart of the fourth snowiest winter on record for the region. Imagine my delight, the very joy in my heart as I stood in the parking lot trying to get a diesel F350 started up at 5:30 each morning while the temperature in degrees Fahrenheit could be counted on one hand. And then there’s the snowy freeway commute… I have a thing about driving on a frozen road. It’s a long story involving an attempt on my life by the state of Kansas one January night.

That’s right, Kansas, I said it. Don’t play dumb with me, I have a witness.

I won’t bore you with all the details of Level B Hazmat protective gear, supplied air respirators and such. To be blunt, it was already a complicated and dangerous project, only made more difficult by the wintery conditions. In the end, it was an experience I am proud to have been a key part of and would willingly take on the challenge of future projects of a similar nature. I just don’t choose recreational activities for myself that involve snow anymore, not just because of one project or one terrifying luge across I-70 in the dark (no Kansas, I will not let it go), but because it appealed to me less and less the more I had to drive in it, shovel it, etc.. Skiers and snowboarders rejoice, there’s one less individual crowding the slopes.

The Big Question…

Basically, what I want to know is if my younger self (armed with an impressive imagination and possessing the ability to find enjoyment in almost any situation) would be ashamed to meet the man I’ve become. Have I grown to fit his/my definition of a “boring adult”? Maybe not. Truth be told, an observant person who has seen me both as a child sitting on the floor with a bucket of Legos, and as a grown man completely absorbed in a spreadsheet or CAD drawing, would probably be astonished at the similarities. No, really! I love building a new spreadsheet or CAD drawing.

And as a grown, (semi-)responsible man of 30 years, my favorite meal is without a doubt, grilled-cheese sandwiches with hot tomato soup for dunking, just like mom and grandma used to make for me. And I don’t think that will ever change. If I ever did meet myself as a child, I can take comfort in knowing we could totally bond over a melty plate of those bad boys! I actually burned myself a couple of weeks ago trying to satisfy the craving. I was so absorbed in flipping a sandwich over with the spatula in my left hand, that I grabbed the edge of the skillet between the thumb and forefinger of my right (you know, for leverage). It was a Thursday evening and, as more proof that there is hope for me yet, before I could even reach the sink to run my hand under some water, my thoughts were already focused solely on how this may affect the weekend’s anticipated video gaming.

I suppose my younger self might not find me to be such a stick in the mud after all. I may not gaze at the clouds anymore, but I can stare with that same innocent wonder and amazement into an aquarium or a thunderstorm. I can still crack a joke or otherwise find some reason to laugh during a trying situation. And, most importantly, every time I sit down to take off my work boots after a long day on the jobsite a little voice in my head sings, “Won’t you be my neighbor?”

Thanks for stopping by! Come back soon to find out why “It’s a War Zone Out There!”