cutting down trees

When I was a boy, in the sticky heat of Alabama summer, I would help my dad cut firewood. Our house was heated by wood, so the only way to stay warm in the frigid winter months was to store up logs over the summer.
My dad used a chainsaw. It was heavy, a little rusty and when you held it, you felt raw power, like gripping an element of nature - a piece of strength itself. At 7, I had a hard time just picking the damn thing up, much less actually cutting any wood.
I remember driving his red tractor into the woods and putting on thick leather gloves. The smell of dirt, the scent of sweat, muscle and forest filled our lungs as the wood chips flew. I remember my tee shirt sticking to my body, the dust of the wood and the drips of sweat running down my face - the heat was almost unbearable - it was glorious. I remember our thermos; filled with cool ice water it would sit out of the way, until the cutting was done - then my dad would unscrew the lid, lean his head back and take a deep sip.. then he would smile and pass it to me. The taste of cool water, on a hot summer day, when everything is dirty and sweaty - there is nothing like that first sip, it is absolute refreshment.
I remember seeing my dads arms lifting the logs, huge logs - he would pick them up and toss them into the red tractor. Powerful. Power like a river, or powerful like the way a bear stands in a raging river to catch a trout. It was raw and it was sacred. He wore a red, Fruit-of-the-Loom tee shirt with a pocket, it would be drenched in sweat, and I remember the way he smelled - it was the opposite of clean, the opposite of soap. He smelled like a human, like a man, like he had touched the world and bled a little, and was not afraid to survive. It was real, and I am thankful for it.

I have never met another person that showed me that you can do things.. hard tough rough things, simply for the pleasure of motion. My dad showed me what it meant to be a man.. to be part of this planet and not afraid of getting roughed up. Being a man is about strength, about fearlessness, about using your body, about sweat, about living for something greater than money, and dying exhausted by the beautiful fullness of the days you lived.
Thanks dad.