A Winter’s Companion

When I was young, we did not have central air or electric heaters. So in the fall, we would gather wood for the winter. My brother and I would collect twigs for kindling, cut down trees with either a handsaw or a bow saw and split logs.

My father never said how much wood we had to bring in. We felled and gathered and chopped and cured what we thought was sufficient.

There was only one contingency. If we ran out of wood, we had to go out in the snow and gather more. Our winter clothes were minimal and most of my jeans were pretty torn up, to varying but significant degrees. Needless to say, we learned quickly to gather more wood in the fall.

When I would complain that it was painful, my father would tell me that pain meant that I was getting stronger.

In this case, “stronger,” was a euphemism for, “arthritis.”

But it significantly influenced my values in a lasting way. I learned the value of contribution, tenacity, hard work and a unbreakable will. Epictetus once wrote, “You may shackle my leg, but my will, not even Zeus could overpower.”

And at the end of the day, that is all that you have.

The difference between fortitude and fragility lies not in physical strength, but strength of mind and strength of character.

There two credos that I live by.

The first is that it is never truly possible to take out of anything more than you put in.

The second is that a person must first do what is necessary-- Then do what’s possible.