Laste night, a desert storm blew over our camp at the Huntington school. The wind was insane and tents were being battered. I had crawled into bed and was trying to watch a movie but the noise of the wind flapping my fly and tent was too lound. Suddenly, the back corner was lifted completely off the peg and was billowing around me. I debated about what I should do...get out? or wait it out? I could hear voice outside and tried to figure out what they were going to do. Then the front of the tent bent in almost to the floor. I heard voices outside, wondering if I was OK or if I was still in. I called out, "Yes, I'm here." It was Fred and Randy-You're pole is busted and you tent is going to get blown away. You need to get out. I replied I would but I couldn't get to the door. They held the tent upright as I unzipped the door and crawled out. The wind was lifting the tent by the fly and bouncing it up and down. Why don't we take it down and you can go sleep in the school gym. We will take the tent down for you. Listen, I told them, this tent is not going to blow away with me and my gear bag weighing it down. What is another option. Well we can take the fly off but the pole is shattered. The seasoned camper/survivor in me kicked in-Let's take the fly off, duct tape the pole and I will tough it out in to the tent.
That's what we did.
I headed to the gear truck to get the duct tape. Bill was closing up the truck and Marti called out to let him know I was still in there. No problem, he said, the side door is unlocked, as he closed the back up. I thought I should check that so I walked to the side door and sure enough it was locked. I ran down the aisle calling out to Bill. It's closed, BILL, Don't lock the door. I could hear him outside What? But he opened the door! Thank the Lord he hadn't left, although there are probably worst places to be stuck.
In the morning we surveyed the damage. Busted pole and a small tear.
A quick trip to the Bi-Mart got a pole repair kit. Going to use freesole to repair the rip. A war wound of the trip.
2 comments:
Glad to know you haven't become just another piece of tumbleweed freewheeling in a different sort of way through the barren hills of Oregon! (And glad to see that you were parked in a green desert at the time.) Hurrah for duct tape! (which Jonathan insists on calling duck tape -- but then, he's partial to those creatures.) If Necessity is the mother of invention, then Red Green must be the father. I think they could use a wider palette, however. I have some bright pink (Breast Cancer) duct tape more befitting a princess that you could pick up on your way through here.
Oops. That last one was me, again.
And I forgot my "aside" to Corrie -- Sorry, Gayle, but you'll see, this is cool:
So Corrie, it turns out that, back in 1953, my parents, George (Geert) and Martha (Maartje) Dijkhuis, lived in the same apt house as did you and your family on Dufferin at Richmond for 4 months (one block from First church.) Rev. Gritter asked them to live in/manage the household of a family whose mother had gone back to the Netherlands for that time. My parents happily left the rooming house they were in at the time and my mom really enjoyed taking care of Joke and Nellie, the 2 daughters. Do you remember them or any of the other families to whom your parents sublet apts? i.e. de Koter's?
Are you familiar with the area now? Gayle lives a few blocks down in a similar old apt house, but the area around our church has changed drastically. Whereas our church used to be the tallest/biggest structure around, it is now dwarfed by office & condo towers. Still, we think our congregation is where God wants us to be and is leading us into ministries with the urban poor such as street level youth and adults.
Any chance you could join us for worship some time when everyone's back from traversing the continent?
Thanks, Gayle :)
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