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Saturday, October 30, 2010

Lure of the Highest Mountain

This is the first part in a mini-trilogy that I don't tire of reading. I hope I've painted a picture as vivid as the one in my mind's eye for the reader.

Lure of the Highest Mountain/Oatmeal Cookies
By Victor Epp

Part I - Assault on the Fridge

What causes people to strive for the unachievable - to climb the highest mountain against impossible odds? We gasp in awe at the indomitable spirit that tests every fiber of the human body in the pursuit of higher goals, whatever they may be. Admiration of such achievements inspires us to emulate our heroes, if only we can learn what drives them to their destiny.

That sense of purpose, that ethic of achieving must come from somewhere. These must be very special people, who strive for their goals while the rest of us would rather watch television, or play video games, or spend an enormous amount of time and energy making up excuses for not doing something we were supposed to do. Just where does this insatiable thirst come from anyway?

Oatmeal cookies are the answer, plain and simple. Oh, does that surprise you? You were thinking more along the lines of destiny, a thirst for knowledge or a sense of adventure, perhaps even a desire to challenge difficult tasks. Oh sure, all these lofty ideals contribute to the purpose, but without oatmeal cookies, none of these attributes would ever surface. I can prove it to you too, first hand and hands down.

See, around our house everybody had sort of a sweet tooth. We knew though, that too many sweets were not good for you. What to do? As usual, Grandma had the perfect answer. Oatmeal cookies were tasty and not too sweet. Not only were they a good substitute for candy, but the oatmeal also provided the necessary roughage for a healthy digestive system.

There were three people in our family very fond of oatmeal cookies. Actually there were only three people in our little family at the time so it was a unanimous taste. You can well imagine the number of lively discussions that always started with 'Who ate the last of the oatmeal cookies?' That usually wasn't a question but more of an accusation. I only tell you this to give you an idea of how often these cookies were on our collective minds.

Well, you couldn't just put them in the cupboard or the pantry now could you? I mean, they would just be too obvious and tempting there. Of course the two alleged adults each had their own schemes for blaming somebody else for missing cookies. Finally in fairness to our pint sized other family member, it was decided to put the cookie jar up on top of the fridge. That way he wouldn't be the victim of false accusations by anarchistic cookie looters, nor would he be able to gorge himself into oatmeal heaven. While all that roughage might have been good for his digestive system, you have to remember that all this was before the days of disposable diapers and, well, there was already too much laundry as it was.

Well now, there were just a few little details we had overlooked in selecting a cookie home. Firstly, while we knew there was nothing wrong with his eyesight, we didn't think the kid was really paying attention. Second, the cookies were so far out of reach that it never occurred to us how much he really wanted them. As far as we were concerned, when we said no, there was no other option. In our minds the cookies were safe.

How wrong can you get? I mean, here's a little kid about two feet tall peering way up at this tin can full of oatmeal cookies roughly six feet off the ground. There are no steps leading up to the prize. In fact the only way up is on the slippery fridge door. It's like trying for the peak of Mount Everest. But wait - didn't Edmund Hillary climb Mount Everest? He climbed it with the help of his faithful Sherpa guide Tensing and having done that planted his flag upon the summit. When asked later what drove him to undertake such a treacherous journey he said, ‘because it was there.’ The whole world was in awe of the remarkable feat.

It turns out that we had our own version of Sir Edmund. Not only that, but he had his own Mount Everest – in the embodiment of our refrigerator. Now in order for you to get the whole picture you have to step back a minute and look at it from a one and a half to two year-old's viewpoint. He has no lofty ideals of planting the Canadian flag on the summit of the fridge! And this is no frivolous adventure about 'because it's there' either. Here's this pintsize kid with only one thing on his mind - OATMEAL COOKIES! All that lies between him and his prize is that humungous fridge.

You have to know that a child's brain isn't all cluttered up with bits of useless information. It works kind of like a giant industrial vacuum cleaner, sucking up everything that comes in its path. It notices in an instant that the fridge is tightly placed next to the kitchen cabinets. It also already knows that if you yank on that shiny handle on the cupboard door, it will open and you can enjoy yourself by hauling all the pots and pans out and make interesting banging sounds. Of course most often that's not too good an idea because it always gets mom upset. Well, sometimes it's all right because when mom shows up, you can yell 'COOKIE!' at the top of your lungs. Who knows, you might even get one if you say that 'please' word.

But then the little sponge brain notices that if you grab the other shiny handle on the drawer just above the pots and pans door and step on the bottom shelf, you can get your little eyeballs up to the level of the counter to see what's on it. Naturally, anything that's worthwhile is going to be right at the back of the counter and no matter how far you reach, your little arms are just not quite long enough.

But wait! With the right hand wrapped on the front rim of the sink and a little leverage from the left arm, you can just barely get your little foot on the second cupboard shelf. Unfortunately the laws of physics don't allow for standing in this position and still be able to grab something, but -.

At this point, our little tyke is in a bit of a pickle. The only way down is to let go of everything and whack his head on the floor. This is not an option, even for him. But, looking around, he discovers that the cabinet door is jammed up against the fridge. It's just low enough to get his left foot on and just high enough to boost his center of gravity on to the counter. Go for it, he says to himself!

It turns out that the stuff on the counter isn't nearly as exciting as what's on top of the fridge after all. But then he spots a windfall. Well now, let's be realistic. Even he wouldn't have figured out how to move the breadbox up against the fridge. It just happened to be there. It also happened to be tall enough for the final assault on the summit. And it was just strong enough to support about twenty pounds of ingenuity and raw courage.

And that's where his mother found him stuffing his cheeks with oatmeal cookies, oblivious to the dangers of his perch. Now you'll have to cover your ears while I tell you what his mother had to say. Well, on second thought, I'd better not. In my book his accomplishments that day equaled anything Sir Edmund Hillary ever did, when you factor in the size and age difference.

Author's note

It must be remembered that all this took place before the advent of childproof door locks. The only thing we could do was change the door handles to knobs and secure them with sealer rings. But that only solved the problem in the kitchen. Wait ‘til you hear what the little bugger managed with his bedroom dresser. Well, that’s for another time.



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