BRIDGING THE GAP
As people and sentient beings we like to rationalize things. To think that because some elements are in place, we can be pretty sure of a specific outcome. This can be construed as mere human vanity, but we like to think that we have some insight into cosmic synchronicity. Or at least I like to. But sometimes we are blindsided and we simply have to decide and act without what feels like adequate ruminative time to arrive at the “perfectly reasoned solution”.
As humans, we are also very adaptable, this being posited as one of our main strengths and the primary reason for our success here on planet earth. I personally am sensing a chicken vs egg conundrum here. For instance, do we rationalize situations in order to avoid the arduous (and often erroneous) reasoning process? Or, are we so adaptable because of the very inclination of our impeccably reasoned scenarios to detonate in our collective faces? The fact that I am formalizing this in writing should be an indicator to the discerning reader of my position on this subject.
That’s correct, I just don’t know. What I am sure of is that one of the best ways to find yourself upon the horns of this logical dilemma is through your childrens’ desires and actions. To say nothing of the force-multipliers that are grandchildren.
Since this is nominally a woodworking blog, I’ll give a woodworking based example. In the year 2000 my oldest daughter Cora was living in the state of Utah where her (then) husband was serving in the US Air Force. She is my oldest child and the mom of our first grandchild, Abraham. This situation created a powerful tractor beam effect which engendered rationalizations like…”Well sure, we can drive out on a three-day weekend! We just need to budget eighteen hours of driving time each way” On a longer stay there, during which time I delivered a boxed set of wood blocks to my grandson, my daughter confided to me that Abraham, while certainly enjoying the set of blocks and their box, had his toddler’s heart set on a bridge. Until that moment, I had no idea that small children were even aware of bridges.This thrust me into a flurry of adaptation. This included sourcing treated lumber (selected carefully for clearness), urethane glue, clamps and a sheet of plywood at the local Home Depot. With this stuff in hand, it was a simple matter to rip the treated 2x’s into bendable strips, build a bending jig of the sheet of plywood and make cold-bent curved laminated bridge timbers.
Then, with Cora facilitating an introduction, I asked at the AF base Special Services woodworking shop if I couldn’t (pretty please) use their planer to surface these laminated beams? Well, I couldn’t due to liability restrictions. But they could, and did, for me. Thanks Air Force! This, with my youngest daughter Mary ably assisting became the arched bridge depicted. The bridge became a prominent kid magnet and went to live with an appreciative neighbor when Cora and her family moved on.
