“Walls turned sideways are bridges.”
— Angela Davis
There were times on our childhood farm when my sisters and I were faced with kid-sized problem-solving. These challenges brought us together, and we learned that four heads were better than one.
Dad often answered our questions with a question, encouraging us to use some of our God-given powers of deduction. Our imagination, combined with knowledge and past experiences, helped us to come up with ideas of what our next step might be.
I realize now what a gift he was bestowing on us, but at the time, as the youngest of the bunch, my first instinct was to ask our dad to bail us out.
“The chain came off my pedal tractor AGAIN! Can you fix it for me?” In my little brain, completing my sidewalk farming before lunch was a dire situation, one that Dad could solve for me.
The day I remember most clearly, I ran to the machinery shed and found Dad working on some much bigger problems than mine. Dad very calmly reminded me that my sisters and I knew our necessary tools and where to find them.
“And be sure you put everything back where you found it,” Dad would always remind us.
My second-born sister spent hours observing how our father fixed things, and in my eyes, she became a tractor expert, even the pedal-sized ones. What I learned, and I kind of wish that I hadn’t, is that I could rely on her knowledge when Dad was too busy.
There are things I should have been forced to do for myself, but I did learn how to be the tool runner. I accepted praise for knowing the names of tools when I should have been the one doing the fixing.
Birth order really does impact how we function in the world, and I took full advantage of being the baby of the bunch, the little kid who didn’t want to get grease on her hands.
I realize that growing up as farm kids, surrounded by many friends who were also raised like us, gave us ever-growing skills.
The power of reasoning and seeing a problem through to resolution plays a part in building confidence, while also learning the power of teamwork when we put our heads together to fix whatever required our attention in that moment.
We also knew that we were not ever going to throw something away and get a new one just because the item gave us headaches. What I did learn was to choose my pedal tractor wisely, avoiding the Silver King with the sloppy chain that slipped every time I tried to plant corn in the side yard.
I will never forget one day, running to my Dad with great pride to tell him “we” had finally fixed the latest catastrophe.
He grinned and said, “See, you now know there’s more than one way to skin a cat!”
Speechless, I hurried back to my sister in horror, asking for clarification.
“You didn’t tell Dad we want to skin cats, did you? You aren’t going to believe this! For some crazy reason, he thinks that’s what we’ve been doing!”
