Then out of nowhere “CRACK!”, the, very out of place, sound of lightning striking just yards away from us. This was particularly concerning since there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Now certain we are taking fire from an obscure Sequoia tree hating terrorist cell holed up in Kings Canyon National forest, I begin to scan for threats. Then another “CRACK,” but this time the movement catches my scan. “Chad look, a tree is falling! ” We both set our attention on the massive tree, reaching the end of its time. In what seems like slow motion, the tree lists like a sinking ship, then hyper-accelerates to the ground splitting itself in two as it crashes around a more sturdy neighbor.
“Holy Shit Chad! Happy Birthday Buddy!”
In a flash we transformed from Eric and Chad back to father and son. Then, like the old tree that fell to give room for new life, I knew it was time for me to step aside so my son could become a man. Quality time had found us in the enduring nothingness called nature.
The moment was beautiful – clearly a sign from above – time to throw my son off a cliff.
Now, we were both together, it was obviously time to find my cliff. During our drive in we noticed granite rocks just off the trail. After a few short minutes of scrambling about we found them: A perfect set of terraced stone walls up against the end of the world. It was late so we decided to eat dinner at the edge of infinity and forgo the cliff plunge until the next day.
I’ve often thought it strange that we regularly wait an hour for a good table at a restaurant but seldom will drive seven miles off road to eat a $7 backpacking meal on the edge of a cliff. This is the time and this is the place to dine with the past, present and future, to talk about everything.
Taking back what’s mine
There’s something about being the one to find the anchor points, tie the knots, rig your child’s climbing harness and set up the rappelling equipment. It puts you in a place of instant authority, control, and most of all trust.
Average is no longer the average in our world. It’s common place to see people base-jumping or literally flying over the earth before opening their parachutes.
The beauty, and our saving grace, of the extreme is that it’s all relative. I don’t care how many Youtube videos your kids have watched or how many X-games they’ve attended.
If it’s your first time crossing over the working end of a cliff with nothing more than your Dad’s knots and an “Atta Boy”, you’re now living in the extreme and the best part is that your Dad is now the hero keeping you alive…hopefully.
You’re boring and this story is just getting started.
So why am I telling you all of this? Certainly not so you can just post it on your facebook wall and tell people how interesting it is.
I’m sharing this story with you so that you will show your kids how much you love them – while you still can – by throwing them off a cliff.
I became fed up with looking online for things to do with my kids. The ideas are so boring that even Martha Stewart would have passed on them while she was still in prison.
It’s no wonder kids are turning to pop culture and drugs the moment they get a minute on your iPad.
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