Things Were Going Fine... Till We Hit the Rapids

By Barbie-Jo Smith

One afternoon my husband and I were driving in our truck heading home from a great day of fishing. As we chatted, he began to recount a story about being with friends and drifting down a lazy shallow mountain river on a sunny afternoon, enjoying the wonders of Mother Nature. Ahead was a bush trap, which is a low hanging tree limb that catches floating logs and debris. As they swerved to avoid the trap, and simultaneously rounded the bend in the river, they realized they were headed directly into a huge set of rapids. In recounting this to me, in his low key and calm way of speaking, he said, “Yup. Things were going fine till we hit the rapids.”

I threw back my head and laughed until my sides hurt. For me, this simple phrase sums up, not only the reality of the incident he was recounting and the riotous scramble to keep the boat afloat, but it symbolizes life in general. Who among us cannot say that they have experienced the smooth ride down the river of life, which sometimes turns around the bend throwing us into the rapids? It’s that sort of experience, and the ensuing determination to stay afloat, that makes us strong. On the other hand, being thrown into the river can be a hilarious and wonderful experience.

While each of us experiences life in terms of our own unique perspectives, I find that as I get older I see more of the humourous side to flailing around in the water. So my friends, put on your bathing suit, grab a towel, and let’s launch the boat into the rapids!

“Things Were Going Fine Till We Hit the Rapids” is a collection of short stories and embedded poems, based on real life experiences. The title has a double meaning, because we can literally hit the rapids on a boat ride down a river and we can figuratively hit the rapids on our journey down the river of life. Barbie-Jo writes with both sensitivity and hilarity, sharing stories from her life and introducing characters who whose antics and experiences will have you laughing out loud.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dream Write Publishing
• Release date: Jan 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781927510773

Book preview

One afternoon my husband and I were driving in our truck heading home from a great day of fishing. As we chatted, he began to recount a story about being with friends and drifting down a lazy shallow mountain river on a sunny afternoon, enjoying the wonders of Mother Nature. Ahead was a bush trap, which is a low hanging tree limb that catches floating logs and debris. As they swerved to avoid the trap, and simultaneously rounded the bend in the river, they realized they were headed directly into a huge set of rapids. In recounting this to me, in his low key and calm way of speaking, he said, Yup. Things were going fine till we hit the rapids.

I threw back my head and laughed until my sides hurt. For me, this simple phrase sums up, not only the reality of the incident he was recounting and the riotous scramble to keep the boat afloat, but it symbolizes life in general. Who among us cannot say that they have experienced the smooth ride down the river of life, which sometimes turns around the bend throwing us into the rapids? It’s that sort of experience, and the ensuing determination to stay afloat, that makes us strong. On the other hand, being thrown into the river can be a hilarious and wonderful experience.

While each of us experiences life in terms of our own unique perspectives, I find that as I get older I see more of the humourous side to flailing around in the water. So my friends, put on your bathing suit, grab a towel, and let’s launch the boat into the rapids!

Barbie-Jo

Barbie-Jo writes with both sensitivity and humour, sharing stories from her life and introducing characters whose antics and experiences will have you laughing out loud. ~Editor

Notes of Thanks

For years it has been my everlasting pleasure and privilege to be a part of the Writers Foundation of Strathcona County. I have had the honour of being among some of the most talented artists and writers in the country. They have encouraged me to be the best I can be. I sincerely thank them for their support, feedback, and most of all, their friendship.

Thank you to my peer reviewers: Karen Probert, Susan Hyde, and Laura Morrow. Your feedback and editing has enabled this book to take shape.

A special thank you for my dear sister/friend, Anita Catellier, who supports me in her most blessed way.

Table of Contents

Foreword

Note of Thanks

The River and the Rapids

Going Down with the Ship

Sofa Removal

Carrot Break

By Morning the Tent was Flat

Our Country Christmas Tree

I Trust You with My Life, But Not My Laundry

Pati O’Doors

Last Night is a Blur

Ten Days in a Bathing Suit

Soup

Grandma’s Magic Soup

The Widow-maker

Another Set of Stairs

Roll the Noodles on Your Thighs

Controlled Burns

The End of My Skiing Career

Bubbles and Pins

Paint

Molasses

The Midnight Heimlich

Mosquitoes

Fish On!

Urban Pruning

Fire in the Hole

Legend

Vintage Meat

The Black Toe Incident

Going Green

Butter on Her Backside

Pickles

Two Cats in a Bag

Camping in the Trailer

The Grizzly in the Kitchen

Menagerie

House Calls

Turkey Toss

Medusa Cement

Saying Good-Bye

Author Credits

The River and The Rapids

Life is a type of river that flows down to the sea

It runs by rather swiftly taking with it you and me

Towards all things that make our lives what they are today

Then onwards to the end of time; it carries us away

The river of life is like any other, alive with twists and turns

There are times when we paddle in slow water without a foamy churn

And there are times when the river rushes onwards swift and very deep

Urging us to paddle wisely, for life’s balance we must keep

In the calmer part of the river’s depths we take time to enjoy the ride

Amazing scenes pass through our lives filling us with pride

The things we’ve done; the friends we’ve made while paddling quietly

We have the time to study our lives and to set our spirits free

But the river has as wilder side that teaches who we are

Her rapids run by swift and hard, and she will carry us afar

Unless we grab the paddle and dig in tirelessly

She will dash us on the rocks of life and never let us be

She’s not an evil tyrant seeking our catastrophes

She exists to teach us how to live with life’s uncertainties

Her depths and calm show us that our lives have a smoother run

While her mighty rapids teach us how to survive until we’re done

She’s a wise old one, the river as she flows on through our lives

Giving us lessons of good and bad, ease and also strife

So through it all she makes us grow in, oh so, many ways

Furnishing tools to help us ebb and flow throughout our days

Thank you Mother River for your gifts both soft and strong

You have shown that in this world forever we belong

To the earth, the sky, the water and the everlasting land

Always striving for our best in life’s eternal plan

Going Down with the Ship

The summer was shaping up to be a great one! It was sunny, hot and an excellent time for Dad to implement one of his long held dreams—to own his own sail boat. After doing some research on price and realizing that a full-sized sailboat would require an equally full-scale bank loan, he downsized his expectations. An advertisement he spied in a trade magazine offered a boat that seemed to fit the bill and that’s how the Kon Tiki became the tall ship of our family.

The boat design had been modelled after the historic Kon Tiki raft, which was sailed from South America to the Polynesian Islands in 1947. The research trip was made to demonstrate that people sailed the oceans to other lands using only small craft, thereby proving on a scientific level, that cultures over the centuries could and did inter-relate. This anthropological foray seemed to fire up Dad’s desire to explore the waterways in his life. The current waterway was a deep landlocked lake on the prairies. He had visions of hoisting the sail and letting the fair winds take him to other lands to intermingle with different races of the world, but in this case, it meant stopping at a neighbour’s dock and having a beer!

As the due date for delivery harkened closer, excitement was palpable. Having been raised in the Maritimes, Dad had a sailor’s soul and a deep desire to be on the water. The fact that he was accident prone was a bit of an issue, but one that he conveniently ignored. There was a feeling of trepidation in those who observed the excitement; we had seen this before and there was always some sort of disastrous, but hilarious, outcome. This one was shaping up to be a lulu!

Kon Tiki was unusual to say the least. A big surprise to Dad was that it arrived in pieces, conveniently ready for assembly the box said. Made of fiberglass, it was rectangular shaped with blunted square ends and had no keel. This was the first clue that things might not go well. It was about eight feet long and four feet wide with bench seats at either end. Under each bench was to be inserted blocks of Styrofoam. This was another clue that the designers may have had second thoughts about the actual seaworthiness of their conceptual blueprint. The two-part wooden mast was inserted in a recessed divot in the middle of the boat and extended upwards to accommodate a rather large sail. In retrospect, the sail was too large for the boat, likely a last minute compensation by the designers in a valiant scheme to produce something floatable.

Never put off by small details, Dad set to work to assemble his vessel. The body of the ship was one piece. Into that were screwed the benches under which the Styrofoam was wedged. The mast had threaded metal ends that screwed together and then the boom was attached via a metal clip. There was one sail and this was threaded up the mast and out the boom via rings. Dad worked diligently to get everything assembled, so he could launch on the maiden voyage. Finally, Kon Tiki was ready. Her golden bronze shell shone in beautiful contrast to her crisp white sail and she took on a personality. Heretofore, she was referred to as she.

The day of the maiden voyage arrived and Dad took her out alone to put her to the test. It was a hot and humid prairie day with a stiff breeze; the type of conditions that can precede a thunderstorm. However, at that moment, the sun was brilliant in the sky and the time was at hand. Launching was a bit tricky because the shoreline was rocky and the breeze was creating medium-sized choppy waves. After clambering over the rocks, dragging the boat, and bashing his shins several times, Dad hit water. He walked the boat out until he was thigh deep in the water. In actuality, he fought with Kon Tiki as she pitched and heaved in the choppy waves and then hurled himself into the boat. There was no time to mourn over ankles scraped and bleeding, because he needed to hoist the sail quickly to prevent being pushed back to the rocks. That accomplished, he steered Kon Tiki outwards. Without a keel or tiller, and with an oversized sail, Kon Tiki essentially skittered across the water with little control. If she met a wave sideways, she rocked ominously in the trough. If she met the waves head on instead of parting the water, her blunted front ploughed into the wave throwing a tidal wave over the bow and onto the Captain.

Murphy’s Law was immediately enacted. The sun disappeared behind ominous black clouds that had been sneaking across the sky. The wind increased and so did the size of the waves. In no time flat, Dad was soaked and quickly disappearing between large swells. At times, only the mast and sail were visible, but on the crest of the waves a full visual revealed Dad head down in the wind, Kon Tiki grinding away through the waves.

He was a crew of one that day. Looking back, it likely wouldn’t have changed the outcome except that two people would have taken an unexpected swim. This day, however, Dad was the entire crew; captain, first mate, and deck hand. Naturally, the mast broke in the center and the massive white sail flopped down over Dad encasing him like a mummy. There were a few frantic seconds as his hands punched out in all directions until he freed himself from the clutches of the canopy. With a crack, the boom tore off and was swept away. With Kon Tiki taking on water and all sources of control gone, there was nothing else to do but go down with the ship. He was the Captain, after all. Trying to stand tall in the pitching, rocking boat, down he went.

In the meantime, with the change in weather, mother became worried. She sent us down to the shore to see if we could sight Kon Tiki and her Captain. Just as we arrived at the shore we saw Dad sink under the waves as the boat swamped. Thinking the worst we started kicking off shoes and shirts and prepared to swim through the chop to rescue our beloved father. We were all wonderful swimmers as was Dad, so the notion of plunging into the frothy lake seemed normal to us. Just as we were about to jump in, Dad bobbed to the surface. Because the storm came up so quickly, Dad hadn’t maneuvered Kon Tiki too far away from the shore—about 150 yards. Therefore, the swim to safety was easy, considering the fact that the waves were pushing him towards shore anyway. As it happened, the waves scooted the submerged boat inwards too and hung it up on underwater rocks. After the storm, it didn’t take much diving to find her. Several of us kids hauled her into the shallows where, working together, we tipped her upright. Soon enough, Kon Tiki was afloat—somewhat ragged, but afloat.

A day or so later, the mast washed ashore, trailing long fronds of seaweed. The boom was lost forever and we surmised that it either became driftwood or eventually jammed up the gears of someone’s boat launch. The sail was used to drape over the woodpile to keep the wood dry. The mast was put to use around the yard to stake up a leaning tree, and was eventually burned in a bonfire. About a week after the sinking and recovery project, the chunks of Styrofoam arrived on the rocks. We surmised that they floated around the lake several times before coming home. They were great fun to play with in the water and by summer’s end were reduced to bits and pieces, ready for the garbage.

Dad gave up the ghost of his dream to sail the lake and retreated to the comfort of the power boat to continue his riotous escapades, of which there were many. For the rest of the summer, we kids used Kon Tiki as a play thing in the water and Dad, ever the good sport, would sometimes join us in a bucking, pitching, laughing good time. She was great on rough water days because she bobbed wildly in the waves. Every once in a while on a big wave, one kid or the other was suddenly ejected into the water and this provided the best fun as she tried valiantly to send us to Davy Jones’ Locker. When it was time to go in, we could drag her up on the rocks, turn her over and leave her there for the next time. The fiberglass weathered very well, although the rich golden colour faded over time to a pock-marked muddy brown. We didn’t care. Kon Tiki always provided a shin scraping great time. At the end of each season, she was hauled up into the yard and turned upside down for the winter. We would find her waiting for us the next spring as the snow melted away from her hull. By summer, she was launched in the water again for another season of fun.

As the years drifted by, we kids grew up and went on our way to make our own lives. Mom and Dad sold the cottage and moved out west. I don’t know what happened to Kon Tiki. However, I like to think some other children discovered her under the low hanging branches of the spruce trees and, realizing their valuable find, launched into another decade of delight in their prairie tall ship.

Sofa Removal

George had a green tartan sofa that was years old. The springs had long given up the ghost, so sitting on it rendered the sitter a scant inch above the floor. It was enormous; deep and wide, and it weighed an absolute ton. His father, Leroy, had a love seat and chair that needed a new home. George knew the furniture and had used it a lot when he was growing up. It was cozy and soft, and big enough to accommodate his 6 foot 5 inch frame. Deal done. After all, how hard could it be? Piece of cake!

Memories tend to be short. Wrestling the old sofa into George’s basement apartment had been a horrific job for those who had manhandled it down a flight of stairs and around a tight corner. Now because the time had long since passed for the sofa to depart, there occurred a planning process of cogitation on just how best to perform the removal. Innumerable precise measurements were taken and then compared to the doorway opening; height, girth, and length. As well, several hoistings took place to truly determine the weight. Leroy and George stood in the doorway gazing up the staircase, mentally willing it to become shorter, wider, and more level. Oh, we’ll work out something, they chanted in unison. It can’t be that hard.

It was quickly determined that what had come down the stairs wouldn’t necessarily go back up. Besides, over the years the sofa had gained weight so to speak. For some reason it seemed so much heavier and would be even more so for the person on the bottom end of the staircase. Not spoken out loud, but understood by all, was the age factor. Leroy had bucked that sofa down the stairs several years before and now his aging muscles were telling him to think twice about doing that again. No matter how they twisted and turned, measured and thought, one fact remained. The sofa was huge and very heavy.

A donated sofa and recliner chair arrived in the back of Leroy’s half ton