Amazing...This is a picture of Vic Sundquist, 95 years old, in the log cutting contest at the Dolores, Colorado Escalante Days celebration last weekend. A better man and person, you'll never meet.
He and our dad worked together in the logging camps and mountain forests above Dolores, affiliated with the now-underwater logging town of McPhee. In their time, logging was the gold rush... the dot com era of their generation... where young risk-taking men could make their fortune. All of those young men would later take that same courage and toughness into WWII. Poor Germans and Japanese didn't stand a chance.
As kids, we had the blessing of being able to sit around and listen to their stories. Those stories shaped our perception of what it meant to be men, husbands, and fathers... And especially what it meant to live a life with a mischievous sense of humor, a sense of adventure, and live life in such a way that you have memories and stories to tell... like having the gumption to join a log cutting contest when you're 95 years old and cut through that log in 22 seconds. "Live your life the right way, not half-assed. For hell's sake, get up early and make your bed the right way. Tuck in your shirt and wear your hat the right way. Mend the fence the right way. Set the water the right way. Stack the hay the right way. Feed, water and take care of your horse the right way, first, then yourself. Drive your car and truck and take care of them, the right way. Open the door for women. Love and protect everyone's children, not just your own, at all costs. Grab for and fight over who pays the check at the restaurant. Wave gently to oncomers when driving on backcountry roads. Hunt and fish because you love Mother Nature, not because you love a trophy to yourself. Climb a mountain so that you can see, not so everyone can see you. It's ok to stretch a tall tale once in awhile, but never, ever lie or cheat. Help someone who needs it, but be very reluctant to accept help yourself. Stay strong and independent." These are not their words, but their actions. I guarantee that Vic Sundquist oiled, tightened, and sharpened the blade on that chainsaw, himself, the right way.
This is conscientious living.
This is conscientious living.
Much later in life, after Vic's wife and our dad passed away, our mom and Vic struck up a mini-romance, mostly just a deep friendship, that never ended. Mom would often say, "He is such a good and interesting man." And that he is. And that they were.