Sticks and Stones

​Mom often said: "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." But, come to think of it, Dad said that as well. As a matter of opinion, I think every parent has probably recited that exact phrase. Children learn from their parents; I used the term raising my kids, and I have heard my daughter say this to my granddaughters. It's an easy thought to preach but not always so easy to practice.
I try to stay positive and say nice things, but I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to taking a negative attitude and saying things that aren't very nice. I frequently wish I could retract my words, but it's too late; I already said it. Sooner or later, Mom found out what I did. I can still hear her voice, "Thomas, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
"But Mom, they started it." I tried to justify my actions by telling Mom what the other person said to agitate me.
Mom interrupted me, saying, "Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will never hurt you." As I grew older, I challenged Mom on this theory.
One day, Mom sat in her wing-backed chair in the living room. I held a hank of yarn stretched over the backsides of my two open hands while she wound it into a ball. When she finished, Mom pulled a lead from the fresh ball of material, dropping the ball into the basket next to her chair. She wrapped the strand of yarn around and between her fingers, then the tip of her needle, as she resumed working on her project.
While she toiled, I began a conversation: "Are you familiar with Sir Issac Newton's third law of motion?" She said that she was. "Then, if I should throw sticks and stones and break someone's bones, the opposite and equal reaction would be that my bones would be healed, right?"
Mom rolled her eyes, "Newton was talking about physics, not an age-old adage."
"Correct," I agreed. "Physics; as in motion. Throwing sticks and stones is clearly a motion." Mom found knitting very relaxing; I was annoying her with my ridiculous point, and I knew it.
Mom looked over the rim of her glasses, "Go find something to do, son before I clean your clock." She said this tongue-in-cheek, but I also knew she meant it. I pressed on.
"I don't have a clock that needs cleaning," I said, "But if I did, would cleaning my clock create a motion?"
"Cleaning one's clock is an idiom," she said.
"Don't call me an idiot," I retorted.
Again, looking over her glasses, Mom chuckled, "If the shoe fits…."
"Is that an idiom," I asked?
Now, I don't know much about knitting, but I know it requires two knitting needles. One needle gathers the knitted yarn, and the other needle, which seems to do all the work, is easily freed. Mom pointed the free needle in my direction, "Get before I create a motion you're not going to like!" She had had enough; it was a good time for me to skedaddle. Maybe I could go bother Dad; he always enjoyed a good play on words.
Dad was big on first impressions. "Choose your words wisely," he would say, "You'll never get a second chance to make a first impression."
A person's first impression is often drawn from the words we speak. But, accurate or not, it can develop into a long-lasting opinion. Dad also taught me the importance of your tone of voice. "You can say to someone, 'I like your shirt.' Depending on your tone of voice, that can come across as a compliment, or a sarcastic insult."
These childhood lessons from my parents have carried well into my adult years. The older I get, the more care I take in my wording when meeting a new person; doing so has brought good returns.
My wife and I enjoy taking our Scamp to Canada in the fall. Near the end of the season, when it's cooler, the campgrounds are quiet; sparsely populated. Still, we've met some wonderful people there.
One morning while camping at Sleeping Giant, I was talking to a man at a nearby campsite. "This might sound crazy," I prefaced my question (in case it sounded crazy). "But did you hear music this morning? Maybe a harp?"
The man smiled, "That was my wife, Sally. She brings her harp along when we travel. I hope she didn't disturb you."
"Disturb me," I questioned? "It was beautiful. I thought I was being serenaded by angels sent from heaven." Good first impressions were made both ways, and my wife and I have stayed in touch with Al and Sally ever since.
Last week, we set out to enjoy the fall colors on the far east side of Lake Superior. The bright red and gold maple, birch, and aspen leaves are spectacular! To break up the ten-hour drive from our home to Lake Superior Provincial Park, we stopped at Sleeping Giant to camp the first night.
Being the last week of camping in Canada, all the stores and gas stations were sold-out of firewood, and we arrived after the park office was closed. "I guess we won't have a campfire tonight," I told my wife.
While I set up camp, Melissa spoke with the neighbor asking if he knew where we could buy firewood. "I bought two bundles at the office," he told her, "I'm only going to use one tonight, so I can sell you the other." That was very generous of him. So Melissa returned with a bundle of firewood. But we still didn't have a fire.
The wood wasn't very well seasoned and needed a good bed of hot coals under it. Without dry wood, I had no way to create a bed of coals. Unsuccessfully, I tried to light the fire several times, then finally gave up. "Oh well, that's how it sometimes goes," I told my wife. We had six more hours of driving to get to our next destination, so we headed to bed for a good night's rest.
The drive through the Canadian countryside was gorgeous. The hills, the trees, the lake; everything added to the beautiful scenery.
We arrived and set up camp just in time to walk the beach, collect a few rocks, and watch the sunset over Agawa Bay on Lake Superior. We wanted to close the night with a glass of wine at a campfire, but the only wood we had was that bag of fire-retardant greenwood.
I walked the campground, searching empty campsites for any firewood that might have been left by another camper. Instead, I found a campsite that was left a total mess!
Beer cans, empty liquor bottles, and trash were scattered all about. A brand-new tarp wadded up and shoved into the fork of a birch tree. The tarp wrapper, and a couple of plastic sacks, had blown across the road, getting caught in a bush. Even the fire pit was a disgusting mess.
It looked like the people tried to start their fire using a blue koozie as kindling. The koozie melted and left a few burn marks on the wood, but it did not ignite. So I gathered the wood from the fire ring and saved it for our fire.
I used the shopping bags to collect the trash, empty cans, and bottles. I kept the green tarp; I could use it to cover my wood piles at home. I also kept the full bag of well-seasoned firewood they left behind. Score! The wood and the tarp were my rewards for cleaning up the mess they left behind.
The recovered wood made a nice, warm fire, creating a good bed of hot coals. That allowed me to mix in some of the green wood, while savings some dry wood for the next night. We enjoyed wine by the fireside while listening to the rhythmic waves lapping the shore of Lake Superior on a chilly fall evening in Canada. Life is good. Really good and would get even better. Sleeping Giant was not the only Canadian campground where an American could hear sweet music in the morning.
As Nova Mae and I strolled along, I heard a beautiful voice floating through the crisp morning air. The singer would stop for a moment, then sing out again. It was as if she was singing a duet with a silent partner. The sound was terrific, but I couldn't locate the source.
The scenario reminded me of the movie; The Little Mermaid. Call me crazy, but I wondered if Ariel (the mermaid with a beautiful voice) had relocated to the north for a moment. As I looked out on Lake Superior, expecting to see a mermaid appear, I was distracted by a woman walking down the road.
The young lady with long dark hair was coming our way. I also thought about walking to the road to ask if she had heard the music. But, just then, she started singing. She strolled with casual confidence, perfectly content singing to the trees, wildlife, or anyone else who might be listening. I was mesmerized by her angelic voice and watched as she passed by.
The girl stopped to talk to a lady sitting in a car at a site across the road. Perhaps to tell her, "I'm going to take one more stroll around the loop before we go." Then she continued walking, singing her song. I couldn't help myself. I had to go talk to the lady in the car.
"Your friend has a beautiful voice," I said.
The lady humbly replied, "Thank you. That's my daughter, and yes, she does."
"I sure hope she sings on stage or in the theater," I said. "Her voice is a gift that should be shared." Her mom and I had a brief conversation. They were packed up, ready to head to the UP of Michigan. "The UP colors should be at their peak now," I commented.
Always on the lookout, I noticed a partial bag of firewood by their picnic table. Although the thought had entered my mind, to ask would be rude. "Well, I sure enjoyed your daughter's music," I said. "Her song made my morning extra special." We said our farewells, then I went back to our Scamp. The morning serenade wasn't the only unexpected blessing that day.
The weather forecast called for overcast skies, an 80% chance of rain all day, and colder temperatures. Fortunately, the weatherman was wrong. It was a day of sunshine, mild temperatures, and brilliant fall colors. Melissa, Nova Mae, and I took advantage of this bonus day; we set out to hike the trails along the Sand River.
The views were breathtaking! The Sand River is a canoeing trail with many portages for paddlers to get around the many waterfalls and rapids. And yet, father upstream, the water was perfectly calm ahead of the falls. A bright red maple tree reflected like a mirror on the smooth water's surface. Looking up and down the river, I commented, "It's amazing how calm and serene water can so quickly become turbulent and dangerous." We finished hiking the trail, then returned to our van.
We debated stopping for another bundle of firewood on the way back to our Scamp. "The clouds are moving in; we're leaving tomorrow and can't take any wood across the border home. So I think we should hold off," Melissa suggested.
I agreed, "Besides, we still have a half bundle of dry wood and a few pieces of the green wood for a fire – if the rain holds off."
As I backed the van into our campsite, I glanced at the picnic table across the way – just in case. "Someone else grabbed the rest of that firewood," I said to my wife. She wasn't surprised.
After parking the van, Melissa and I walked down to the beach. This part of Lake Superior has different rocks than ours, so we gathered some pretty stones for our granddaughters to polish in their rock tumbler.
Next, I walked around the Scamp to build a fire. "Would you look at that," I said to my wife. "Remember the lady with the daughter singing this morning, and I went over to tell her what a pretty voice her daughter has? Remember she had some left-over firewood?"
"You didn't ask her for it, did you," my wife queried.
"No, but she brought the wood over and set it next to our fire ring while we were gone," I said. That was very cool! We enjoyed a nice fire on our last night camping using the wood she gave us mixed with the last couple of pieces of our greenwood. We still had the other half bundle of dry wood.
The following morning, we packed up for home. On the way out of the campground, we saw an old Boler camper, the predecessor to the Scamp. I stopped to chat and offered them the rest of our wood. "We don't want to take your wood," the man politely declined.
"We're headed back to Minnesota today," I said. "We can't take the wood over the border; we'd like you to have it." The couple graciously accepted our gift. I drove away feeling good about the whole experience.
I reflected on my conversation with Mom years ago; sticks, being sticks of firewood; stones, being rocks from the beach. Then, adding Dad's advice, I concluded: Sticks and stones can be really good if you 'Choose your words carefully, use the right tone of voice, and make a good first impression. 
Life is good.