- Joined
- Jan 20, 2004
- Messages
- 1,526
Fast-forward a year, and my leg was partially broken. I had a plate on the fibula, the narrow bone on the outside of the lower leg, but my tibia was still too broken up to receive a plate. At 25 years old, I was home-bound, heart-sick, and, surprisingly, the sudden center of attention for my teenage brother’s four best friends. Over the course of a couple months, I found myself every day as the unofficial leader of a group of five teenage guys, each of whom had an interest in the wilderness and a hole in their lives in some way.
I considered returning to school, albeit online, but my mom counseled me to see the need in my brother’s and his friends’ lives, to realize that they were all drawn to me suddenly and insistently, and that I had a unique opportunity to invest myself into other people’s development for this brief window, instead of putting my time into just myself, via pursuit of school and a career. Her words resonated with me, and thus began the part of my adult life which, at this point, has brought me more fulfillment and satisfaction than any other endeavor I’ve taken, including graduating from law school.
For the next five years, 2003-2008, those guys virtually lived with my family. Their high school years were spent in what became a comfortable routine. Every day after school, they’d stow their backpacks at home, then come over to my house. My parents were involved in house re-modeling, so The Guys and I would attack the heaviest labor, putting their teenage strength and energy to tasks like tearing down drywall, cutting 15-foot-tall pyracantha bushes, and shoveling endless scoops of dirt to raze unwanted hills in yards.
Concurrently, we played video games, talked about life, watched Major Payne and Napoleon Dynamite repeatedly, talked about family problems, and, day-by-day, molded characters and ethics of behavior into one another.
Being teenagers, The Guys were thirsty for adventure. I funneled this directly into wilderness pursuits, teaching them everything I knew about shelter making, orienteering, and fire starting. We all loved fire building most of all. With parents’ permission, I’d take the guys out to the desert-scape west of Albuquerque and build fires and shelters, then scorch hotdogs and burgers over the flames our metal matches and knives had created.
Being teenage guys, each found they wanted to be bigger and stronger. I had a good set of weights, a large porch, and a good bit of knowledge about lifting techniques and routines. We’d lift together in my back yard three or four times each week, and each of us made notable progress.
Eighteen months after my leg was crushed, I developed an interest in knife-making. All of the guys knew the importance and value of knives, so we all embarked on the quest of building our own knives. I printed an online tutorial, ordered materials from an online dealer, and we set out to hacksaw, file, and sweat out our own knives, made for each guy’s personal design.
Predictably, those first knives were OK in quality, but the love for shaping steel sunk deep. I went on to further the skill until my leg healed enough for me to return to college, and two of the guys continued as well.
So how does all this translate to me being thankful or passing on traditions?
One of the guys had always loved working with his hands. He discovered that blacksmithing was what he most enjoyed. Because of our time in my garage shop, that guy decided to become a professional farrier (horse shoe-er) and has gone to blacksmithing school, works with an established professional, and has started his own company. Now that I’m finished with ‘higher education’ – a bachelor’s of journalism and a Juris Doctor – I’ve returned to the knife shop. Tomorrow night, after Thanksgiving’s food has been eaten, we are going to practice our forge skills.
Another of the guys had been overweight his whole life. When we started lifting together, he lost fat, became stronger, and decided to play high school baseball. He went on to receive a baseball scholarship at an in-state college.
My biological brother also discovered a love of exercise and physical systems. He chose to get his bachelor’s degree in biology, with a focus on anatomy and physiology.
Another of the guys picked my brain about journalism while I was doing my bachelor’s; he’s since returned to college and is getting a bachelor’s in journalism and political science, with an eye toward law school.
Each of the guys refers to the others, me included, as a brother. We’ve helped each other move, listened as broken hearts have been poured out, and stood in two of each other’s weddings. Even though I’m now in my mid-30s and they’re all in their mid-20s, we see one another several times each week and continue our friendships and brotherhood. Truly, as iron sharpens iron, so we’ve sharpened each other.
My leg remained broken for 7 1/2 years
However, after three surgeries, I’ve gone on to heal completely - and miraculously - from the leg crushing. My tibia’s shorter than it used to be, so I have to wear an orthotic, but I can hike and jog, do all manner of physical labor, and am even training for my first-ever 5K, and at least two of the guys are going to join me.
Never would I have chosen to get my leg crushed, but never could I have foreseen how such a terrible accident would bless me with the opportunity to be and become a brother to others in need, and how doing so would enrich my life daily. For this, I am always thankful.
May you each have a wonderful Thanksgiving (and, for my fellow Jews, a happy Hanukkah!) and may you be blessed with the gift of gratitude.
- Zack, aka 'Trout Tamer'
I considered returning to school, albeit online, but my mom counseled me to see the need in my brother’s and his friends’ lives, to realize that they were all drawn to me suddenly and insistently, and that I had a unique opportunity to invest myself into other people’s development for this brief window, instead of putting my time into just myself, via pursuit of school and a career. Her words resonated with me, and thus began the part of my adult life which, at this point, has brought me more fulfillment and satisfaction than any other endeavor I’ve taken, including graduating from law school.
For the next five years, 2003-2008, those guys virtually lived with my family. Their high school years were spent in what became a comfortable routine. Every day after school, they’d stow their backpacks at home, then come over to my house. My parents were involved in house re-modeling, so The Guys and I would attack the heaviest labor, putting their teenage strength and energy to tasks like tearing down drywall, cutting 15-foot-tall pyracantha bushes, and shoveling endless scoops of dirt to raze unwanted hills in yards.
Concurrently, we played video games, talked about life, watched Major Payne and Napoleon Dynamite repeatedly, talked about family problems, and, day-by-day, molded characters and ethics of behavior into one another.
Being teenagers, The Guys were thirsty for adventure. I funneled this directly into wilderness pursuits, teaching them everything I knew about shelter making, orienteering, and fire starting. We all loved fire building most of all. With parents’ permission, I’d take the guys out to the desert-scape west of Albuquerque and build fires and shelters, then scorch hotdogs and burgers over the flames our metal matches and knives had created.
Being teenage guys, each found they wanted to be bigger and stronger. I had a good set of weights, a large porch, and a good bit of knowledge about lifting techniques and routines. We’d lift together in my back yard three or four times each week, and each of us made notable progress.
Eighteen months after my leg was crushed, I developed an interest in knife-making. All of the guys knew the importance and value of knives, so we all embarked on the quest of building our own knives. I printed an online tutorial, ordered materials from an online dealer, and we set out to hacksaw, file, and sweat out our own knives, made for each guy’s personal design.
Predictably, those first knives were OK in quality, but the love for shaping steel sunk deep. I went on to further the skill until my leg healed enough for me to return to college, and two of the guys continued as well.
So how does all this translate to me being thankful or passing on traditions?
One of the guys had always loved working with his hands. He discovered that blacksmithing was what he most enjoyed. Because of our time in my garage shop, that guy decided to become a professional farrier (horse shoe-er) and has gone to blacksmithing school, works with an established professional, and has started his own company. Now that I’m finished with ‘higher education’ – a bachelor’s of journalism and a Juris Doctor – I’ve returned to the knife shop. Tomorrow night, after Thanksgiving’s food has been eaten, we are going to practice our forge skills.
Another of the guys had been overweight his whole life. When we started lifting together, he lost fat, became stronger, and decided to play high school baseball. He went on to receive a baseball scholarship at an in-state college.
My biological brother also discovered a love of exercise and physical systems. He chose to get his bachelor’s degree in biology, with a focus on anatomy and physiology.
Another of the guys picked my brain about journalism while I was doing my bachelor’s; he’s since returned to college and is getting a bachelor’s in journalism and political science, with an eye toward law school.
Each of the guys refers to the others, me included, as a brother. We’ve helped each other move, listened as broken hearts have been poured out, and stood in two of each other’s weddings. Even though I’m now in my mid-30s and they’re all in their mid-20s, we see one another several times each week and continue our friendships and brotherhood. Truly, as iron sharpens iron, so we’ve sharpened each other.
My leg remained broken for 7 1/2 years
However, after three surgeries, I’ve gone on to heal completely - and miraculously - from the leg crushing. My tibia’s shorter than it used to be, so I have to wear an orthotic, but I can hike and jog, do all manner of physical labor, and am even training for my first-ever 5K, and at least two of the guys are going to join me.Never would I have chosen to get my leg crushed, but never could I have foreseen how such a terrible accident would bless me with the opportunity to be and become a brother to others in need, and how doing so would enrich my life daily. For this, I am always thankful.
May you each have a wonderful Thanksgiving (and, for my fellow Jews, a happy Hanukkah!) and may you be blessed with the gift of gratitude.
- Zack, aka 'Trout Tamer'
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