Cutting Wood

Our home was heated by oil, and sometimes, the sweat off the backs of children. I am not saying my brother and I were slaves. Everyone outside our immediate family might have thought so. I don’t think they had child protective serves back them or one of the neighbors might have called.

Like most kids we liked getting up early on Saturday and Sunday morning to head somewhere to work all day cutting, splitting and stacking wood – no – we really did! It meant spending time with dad and being away from most other people. Our neighbor Chuck came often too.

With ours and Chuck’s, we had two full size pickups to use. Our routine was to fill both pickups on Saturday, and both on Sunday… for a few weeks straight. The goal was to have 5 to 7 cords of wood for the winter burn. I got to learn how to cut, split, and stack wood (twice - once into the truck and once when we got home), sharpen the saw, replace the chains. Some of my best lessons in driving were turning around or backing in deeply wooded areas so my brother and I wouldn’t have to “hump the logs” clear to the truck.

We also got good at “tossing rounds” in a “chain gang” line. It was a game of watch where you were throwing, and watch what is being thrown at you. The were lots of "near misses." Mostly we laughed about it. Some times "choice" words were emitted from young kids' mouths.

With the wood split and stacked neatly, and the added “side racks” we could get about a cord and a quarter to the top of the cab, sometimes more. “Remember to add air to the tires to accommodate the extra weight!”

It was the rare occasion where some one got hurt while we were cutting wood - mostly smashed hands or fingers, a dropped tree round on a foot. I learned never to use a chainsaw to clear brush because of “kick back.” That happened a few times. One time several stitches were required in a leg, and I saw a pair of glasses get cut neatly in half at the bridge of the nose – but there were no lasting scars – except maybe the leg.

When I was in college my roommate Clay and I cut wood to make extra money. Our other roommate’s father, Evan, let us cut wood on land he owned near Newcastle. It was called Cougar Mountain, and for years it was wilderness near the city. Today that area is all housing and golf courses. Clay and I had fun taking down huge alders – almost imaging we were true lumberjacks trying to lay it down between standing trees with precision. By the end of the day we were exhausted, so when we delivered the wood (green and split) the price became “eighty dollars dumped” or “one twenty stacked around back.” I think only one person wanted it stacked, but by the time they were through they wished they had paid the extra forty.

When I got married, Dad, Mom, Julie and I would go cut wood. We usually only went a couple of weekends, and my truck was a mid-size. We also changed our routine. We didn’t split on site, but simply loaded as many rounds as possible and dumped them in the driveway. We made a couple of trips per day to get "rounds." We then split, and stacked once rather than twice. One time we got really nice maple and the splitting maul just bounced off the rounds. I ended up renting a gas powered splitter… in just a few hours I was done!

I don’t burn much any more, and I haven’t cut wood in years. The memories I have of those days, and all of the things I learned remain dear.

- Craig