Off the Leash - By Hank

Well, folks, your ol’ buddy Hank has been sniffin’ around a bit and decided it’s about time for some quiet reflection. Christmas, you see, has that effect on a fella. It's when a dog like me, accustomed to chasing after the big bad scary UPS lady gets to curl up by the fire and ponder the deeper things. And by deeper things, I mean why my number one gal in the office, Erica, insists on putting up a tree in the middle of her living room this time of the year.  After a quick survey of staff, Erica leads in the Christmas spirit followed close by Safety Man Tim even though he says he only turns his house into something Clark Griswold would be jealous of for “his daughter” which is complete baloney if you ask me as the man dawns a Santa hat until late February.  These two’s actions are a puzzlement, to be sure, but a tradition all the same.

In the old days, a logger’s Christmas was a bit different. It was mostly about making it to the New Year without frostbite and with enough fuel to keep the stove burning. A real Christmas tree was something you walked right past every day on the job. You had a healthy respect for it, because it was your livelihood, your warmth, and the very thing that kept the mill running and the paychecks coming.  It was an investment in the future, a tree that he would not manage but his children would.  Back then, the holiday spirit wasn’t found in a brightly lit mall but in the smell of woodsmoke, the quiet of a snow-covered forest, and the company of a good, tired crew. Now, you’ve got to navigate the mall parking lot, which I swear is more treacherous than any logging job, just to find a gift for a cousin you see once a year.

Safety Man Tim was scratching my ears the other day trying to distract me from doing an inspection on his ham sandwich when he recounted his early years in the woods.  You see every Christmas season on one day not known to the crew, his Dad would start a big fire using the best buckskin larch on the job.  He would stop the crew and steaks would be cooked while coolers full of logger’s favorite beverages would be opened.  As the feast started, the crew would recount the last year stories that were full of embellishments and laughter.  As darkness would come, so did the bonus checks and a heartfelt thank you and Merry Christmas.

I got to thinking about all that while watching Erica decorate her office to look like something that belongs in Whoville.  I can’t help but think, have we lost the spirit of Christmas?  Nowadays it feels like our industry is more about the lights than the tree. The fancy, expensive iron we drive, the computers we use to track everything, the chase of more production, the endless paperwork… are we more focused on the lights and the fancy decorations than the true meaning of what we are doing?

But then, you get to thinking. A tree, whether it’s in the woods or your living room, is still a tree. It’s still got the same bones. And Christmas, at its heart, is still the same, too.  Sure, times have changed, and maybe that’s a good thing.  It’s a time for family. For Erica (and Tim whether he wants to admit or not), it’s about putting up the lights and fussing over the ornaments. For the kids, it’s about hoping for a new toy. For some of us it’s a few days off to recover from a very tough logging season.  We all celebrate Christmas in our own ways but maybe we need more campfires with steaks and time for reflection of the year behind us and less worry about buying the “perfect” gift for love ones. 

So, this Christmas, when you see those big logging trucks still rolling down the highway, remember that behind all the modern machinery and paperwork, there’s still an old dog just trying to make a living and get back to a warm fire. Maybe he’s got a few more bones than the loggers of old, but he’s still got the same grit. And when he's curled up by the fire, with the smell of pine in the air and the snow falling outside, he knows what really matters. It isn’t the lights on the tree, or the shiny new toys. It’s the quiet that comes after the hard work, and the feeling of home. It’s the hug from your children or your grandchildren.  It’s the time spent with family.  And that, my friends, is a treat worth chewing on.  May Santa bring you time with your family and a strong lumber market.  Lord knows we have all got enough coal in our stockings the last couple years.  Merry Christmas to you all!

Until next time,

Hank