I
was contemplating the concept of sacrifice the other day as I trudged up West Buffalo
Hill Road last Sunday toting two pizzas, a camcorder, and a digital camera
housing over two hundred 6th grade Boston Whale Watch pictures. The only thing that I’d neglected to pack was
my pride.
It’s interesting how the desire to
meet the needs of others can inspire great effort. Had this errand been simply for me, I most
certainly would have scraped the idea of summiting such an incline wearing
three inch heels in 80 degree heat.
However, I had an appointment, a deadline, a truck that had suddenly
gone ka-put, and two pizzas cooling rapidly so I had to act fast. The four quarter pay phone calls I made in
lieu of my forgotten cell phone were quickly consumed by answering
machines. It looked as though I would
need to take the high road.
I’m sure by now that you’ve figured
out that I never actually intended to walk the ENTIRE way. Outwardly, I was all about sacrifice. Inwardly, I was scheming. Sporting a brave smile, an angelic glow, and
slightly quivering ankles, I began the ascent, certain that someone: a beloved friend, a vague acquaintance, or an
ax murderer would quickly spot me and offer me a ride. Instead, I received broad grins, beeping
horns, and enthusiastic waves as I tight roped along the mostly shoulderless
edge, gritting my teeth, bathed in sweat, and practically snapping my ankles
off every other step or so.
It
was, as I mentioned, a time of great reflection. I realized that I had obviously neglected to
cultivate enough deep and meaningful relationships with others as the
thousandth car zipped by. I thought
about my talented video editor, housed at the top of Buffalo Hill Road liked a
warped Rapunzel, sacrificing his Father’s Day for the 3rd year in a
row to produce an amazing movie of our school trip for the enjoyment of my 6th
graders. Isn't he concerned regarding my
unexplained absence? Shouldn't he have
contacted the local authorities, the FBI, or hired search dogs by now? If not for me, at least for his late
lunch? His long-suffering patience was
part of my undoing.
Going into this project, I had no
idea regarding the level of commitment it would take to produce a worthwhile,
enjoyable film. Who knew of the blood,
sweat, and tears that were to be extended to bring this movie to an appreciative audience? For when the ending credits
rolled, it would be the behind-the-scenes heroes who needed to be
commended. Todd and Sarah Sutay for
magically transforming hours of potentially boring video into Oscar-worthy
cinematography (and listening to me gripe about my tender throbbing ankles
during the six hours it took to do it).
Than Mehlenbacher and Steve Ott taught me how to pop a clutch and
refrained from criticizing me about my unfortunate choice of footwear.
After the climb, I vowed never to
strap on those shoes again. Those cute
brown wedge sandals with the endearing peek-a-boo toe feature became demonic
instruments of torture, leaving behind bloody heels, blistered baby toes, and
weak ankles. It is said that you should
never judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in her shoes. Well?
Having gone the distance with me, what are your thoughts? Was it worth the sacrifice? The smiles on the faces of my 6th
graders lead me to say yes. As for the shoes, who could stay mad at them? They’re such a pair of uplifting soles.
as published in Warsaw's Country Courier
http://www.mywnynews.com/arcade_warsaw/
as published in Warsaw's Country Courier
http://www.mywnynews.com/arcade_warsaw/
