Today I had the privilege of attending a work day and board meeting for The Refuge, a Christian Retreat and Conference Center being constructed on the Olympic Peninsula, along the Hood Canal. For the last seven years or more, this project has been under development, and is finally coming to fruition, as the main lodge rises majestically from the ground.
My parents have waited a long time for this dream to become a reality.
When I was a boy, I perfected the knack of walking into the kitchen as the last dish was dried, or rounding the corner of the garage as the last leaves were stuffed into bags. Mastery of this work-avoidance skill took a lot of practice and stealth, but I was able to spare the time, having hoarded many hours by the clever expedient of not doing my homework.
In 1999, we moved to Western Washington, and almost immediately my parents began hosting ‘work parties’ as they attempted to transform the grounds of the Refuge from a swamp to an elk pasture (they thought they were building a retreat center, but the resident elk knew better). A crowd of hard-working folks would drive out from Fort Lewis at crack o’ dawn and be industriously clearing trails or hauling brush while I was still slouching around in my boxers, sipping on my first Diet Coke of the day. With our house less than 200 yards from the Refuge grounds, it was hard to pretend we had other pressing engagements. We would keep the blinds drawn, pretending to be out of town, but sooner or later one of the workers would count our cars or spot one of the kids, and the jig would be up. We felt vaguely guilty about our half-hearted support of The Refuge, and so I would emerge from the house and join the busy crowd, making a big show of looking for my work gloves.
Many of the volunteers that attend these gala events are retirees, so you might think that I could impress them all with my physical strength and endurance. Nothing could be further from the truth. These wiry, tireless folk apparently train for weeks before coming out for a work day, and they routinely work me to exhaustion without seeming to break a sweat. One hot morning, gasping for breath as I hauled a load of brush, my childhood skills came to mind, and saved the day.
I realized that a major challenge for many non-profit organizations is publicity, and I was in possession of a serviceable digital camera. I promptly decided that the Refuge would be better served (and my skills better utilized) if I appointed myself official photographer and Media Relations Officer. Grabbing my camera, I now drifted slowly from work site to work site, snapping happily away while others slaved. If challenged by a sweating worker, I need only show my camera and shrug, made exempt from all actual work by this magical talisman in silver and black. I imagine there was probably a guy like me standing by, when they built the pyramids, sketching happily in a shady spot, sipping on a cucumber smoothie, while slaves hauled ten-ton stone blocks to the crack of a whip.
Even the grown-ups got to participate in the boat races. I carefully didn’t snap a picture of the lady who fell in the creek, while trying to retrieve an escaping boat.
Today, I decided to try some actual work, if only for the novelty of it … but I found I built my work-exempt role too well. No sooner was I loading some wood into a truck, than my Dad was asking me to take a few ‘candid’ shots of the other workers. When I tried to help move some picnic tables, I was again pressed into service as photographer. Slipping away to rake a few leaves, I was summoned by my Mom to shoot the boat races down at the creek.
She looks innocent, but that’s my rake she’s holding.
We did eventually hold the board meeting, and I collapsed into a comfy couch, nursing the blister on my right index finger. You’d think they would make those shutter release buttons easier to push! I suffered through the meeting and managed to choke down three helpings of baked salmon and a piece of pecan pie — I’m just a martyr among men.
We decided to table this issue.
Arriving home, I walked into the kitchen as the last dish from dinner was put into the dishwasher … it is nice to see I haven’t lost my touch.
Tim, Project 365, Day 293
Hmmmm…..five pictures for an entire workday? Your avoidance of work skills are quite admirable! Let’s not forget to mention how on the family hikes you were carrying the bags of chips while Mark carried the backpack with food and water! (I, of course, being the youngest, the only girl and the cutest had to carry NOTHING!)
At least you didn’t get Dad to show you how it was done…remember how we could do the job all messy and dad would come along to show us the right way. Before dad knew it he finished our jobs or did most of it while instructing us…Mom didn’t fall for that so easily…
Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch Tim!
I wish I was as skilled as you are at avoiding work. I manage most of the time with the excuse of school. When my mother comes into my room and motions darkly at the unmowed lawn, I just sit back in my big, comfy desk chair and shrug helplessly. “You wanted me to learn things, Mom,” I tell her.
But there are times when work is unavoidable, and I haven’t mastered the art of disappearing when I am most needed.
I’d love to see more pictures of the Refuge. What an amazing dream come true.
Love you, Aunt Kate
LOL! I think I won’t want the kids to read this blog entry… they don’t need any more ideas for how to get out of working (LOL)… and I already have a few who mostly want to just take pictures of everyone else working! Can’t wait to see the Refuge complete! Any idea on a timeline? Me… I busy myself doing spreadsheets or some sort of “bookwork.” (LOL).
Tim, you have no shame…letting those retired guys show you up! :-p
The center is looking great!
How cool to see that they have seen their dreams come true!