Don Wood’s Wood
October 13, 2005 from A Life in Progress--Part One
It
was at Gilpin, the hippie commune where I lived off and on for a few
years. Don Wood had a load of firewood delivered. You see Don was one
of the few hippies in Gilpin who actually worked for a living, and
could afford to buy a few things. The firewood looked very wonderful in
a big pile. I think Don had put a sign on it, "Private Firewood" or
some such thing. Anyway, I was a big protester in those days, always
ready to embrace any cause. The idea that a person in Gilpin would try
to keep something for himself and not share it with all the other
hippies, just didn't sit right with me at all.
So I pondered the
situation a little, and then went into action. The firewood was still
in fairly long logs, and I began piling. Fairly soon there was a
substantial log cabin rising, right in the middle of the main path
where everybody walked to get to the Big House, as we called the house
where David Graham and Toni and the kids lived. The building actually
looked quite substantial, built as it was with impressive looking logs.
It looked strong but, you guessed it, it was built with -- no nails.
Nor spikes, nor pegs, nor anything. Just logs piled up somewhat
precariously one atop the other, each fitted in a certain way so as to
not roll out of place, as long as they weren't too seriously disturbed.
Well
the wonderful structure didn't take more than a couple of hours to
build, although it was built under some stress since I was conscious of
being a radical protester, and not sure what would happen if Don should
come along. The marvelous building sat there all day until Don arrived
home from work. I kept going back and forth admiring it. When you build
something and it goes up that fast, it takes a lot of looking and
admiration.
Anyway Don arrived home and I kind of went into hiding,
to observe the effect. There is no question that Don was surprised to
see a building where only this morning there had been just a woodpile.
It took him a little while to act, but Don was, after all a man of
action. From my secluded vantage point, I shortly heard the sound of a
chain saw. Don was amazingly wealthy compared to many hippies in our
commune. The chain saw roared and Don began to attack the log cabin.
You see he assumed, and it appeared to a casual view, as though the
cabin were what it looked like, a quite substantial building.
Well
Don's chainsaw roared and he began to saw. And as he did, the building
began to come down around him. In a trice the logs had all rolled out
of their carefully placed positions and they were on a heap on
the ground, pretty similar to the way they had started that morning.
Don gave a couple more cuts with his chain saw and then retired into
the house, probably to get some supper.
We remained friends. I'm not
sure what he thought of my building venture. I don't know if he knew it
was a protest. Maybe he thought it was just a creative endeavor. No, he
must have known it was a protest. Anyway he was a nice guy and didn't
seem to bear a grudge.