When I was younger and in need of good company I would journey to a medium sized town to the north where my old friend Andrea lived. We would hit town and have a good time.
It was here one night in our favorite tavern to the music of the band Moby Grape that I met Woodhead. He stood out in this place where old hippies come to retire. He looked like a logger, complete with wood chips on his shirt sleeve. I began to fear my town was rubbing off on me. Had someone stapled a piece of plaid flannel to my forehead to attract these folks? With a sigh I prepared to spend yet another evening listening complaints about the spotted owl. I had heard both sides so many times I could recite them word for word. This was the hot topic of the Peninsula at the time. I could have just gone to local watering hole and heard the same thing, saved the gas money.
But I was about to find out looks are deceiving.
His name was Ed and in spite of the wood chips he was not a logger, nor did he have an opinion on the spotted owl, not yet anyway. There was alot at stake all the way around he wanted to do more research on the subject, though he seemed to be able to recite a great deal of scientific information. He drew some interesting conclusions from the data he had read. Made the experts look pretty lame.
This was not suprising since it turned out Ed was a scientist, a chemist to be exact, with a PHD. The mystery became deeper. What would some one with so much invested in this much knowledge be doing running around this town at the ends of the earth where employment was iffy on a good day. Turns out he was working as a deck hand on the local ferry boat.
It took awhile and a few beers to get the story. He was a single parent raising a son by himself. he had worked for a chemical company making really good money in a large city in the mid west but his hours were long, his work was stressful and vacations of all kinds were discouraged by the corporate culture. His son was being raised by others and it hadn't been working out well. He decided to go against the tide and take a vacation try to figure out what to do.
Together he and his son drove the loop, our name for the northern most end of Highway 101 where it loops around the Olympic Mountains and ties back into itself just north of the city of Olympia, WA. They had stopped here for a night on the town, a hotel room and a hot shower after camping for a week. The whole trip had been fun, they had hiked, camped and seen things that made their jaws drop in wonder. They couldn't stop talking about it. For the next six months they talked about it. Then one day his son said "I wish we could live there and do stuff like that all the time."
Ed said it was like a bolt of lightening. Why not? Well for many reasons, he was well healed in his job, but it didn't make him happy. He owned his house, but he sure did love the outdoors, camping, and fishing, he thought about it all the time. He longed each day to be spending more time with his son doing these things. He had to make a living, send his son to college and all that. That was the sticking point what would they do without his pay check, it seemed they barely made ends meet as it was. But maybe. He began crunching numbers and came up with a plan. If they counted every thin dime they might be able to do it for one year. If at the end of the year he hadn't figured it out, well at least he tried. His qualifications could always land him a new position in his industry somewhere if it came down to it and they would be no worse off for having given it a shot.
Not all that many people make this kind of fearless life altering move. I was impressed by this alone.
The learning curve was steep. He got a job on the ferry but at a quarter of his former pay. He made adjustments, learned to cut his own firewood to heat his house. Learned cutting firewood was better than a gym membership for staying in shape. He also worked out his frustrations, spliting wood tends to be good for that. He cut so much firewood he had a ton to spare.
This led him to moonlighting selling firewood, but in his own individual way, on a sliding scale. Living in a town this size is like residing in a fish bowl, everybody knows everything, including your current fortunes. Ed taylored his prices to fit circumstances. Starting at a fair price per cord his scale could go as low as free. The wood chips on his shirt were from his most recent delivery to an old lady living alone who was to proud to take charity and to poor to buy wood to keep herself warm. She was pretty deaf so he would wait until she went to sleep then back in with head lights off and unload as fast as possible. It was a safety percaution among other things, one time when he showed up during the daylight she had peppered him with bird shot.
For this he earned the nickname Woodhead.
He had been there in that town for five years by then. His son was ready to graduate high school and no dad could have been more proud. They had hiked, camped and fished all over the Peninsula. Soon they were planning a vacation to Hawaii to, you guessed it, go camping. It would be their last chance before his son went off to college using the scholarship he had won.
It has been many years since I last saw Woodhead. My life abruptly changed not long after that night and I lost touch. But the lesson he taught me sticks with me his favorite saying says it all. "It's all about balance. Most of the finer things in life and the best memories come from spending time not money."
Thanks my friend, those words have served me well.