I don’t have a song or line from
a movie to tie to this piece so I’ll just wing it.
Recently, my wife and I were in one of the local arts and crafts store, looking for lord
only knows what. While I was looking around and all the stuff and doodads on their shelves, my eyes fell
on a Pinewood Derby kit. I immediately winced and smiled simultaneously at the memory those chunks of wood
brought immediately to mind.
In
1967, during the first half of my third grade year my mom, sister and I lived with my maternal grandparents in Tennessee while
my dad was working out of state on a short term project. Third grade wasn’t a particularly good year
for me. I seemed to draw out the worst of my teacher and was having a hard time fitting in with other kids
in my class.
One of the activities
I became involved with to try to remedy the situation was signing up for the Cub Scouts. I got to wear
the cool, blue uniform and try to earn badges for various and sundry activities. One of those activities
early on was the Pinewood Derby.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with these derby’s, they are races held, featuring
wood cars carved from blocks of wood provided in kits sold just for that purpose. I didn’t know jack
about carving but my grandfather (“Pappaw”) most certainly did. He was always whittling on any kind of wood that
his hands grasped.
The kit was purchased
and my Pappaw carved the car. We didn’t know the rules. We thought that we only
could work with what the kit provided: A block of wood, two thin slats of wood that would serve as the axles, and four little
nails that connected the four plastic wheels to the axles. Nothing was mentioned about being allowed to
paint the wood or to weigh the car down by boring it and filling it with lead to cause it to move faster. Somehow,
the other scouts thought to add these things to their cars but not Pappaw and me.
That all said, Pappaw took great pride in carving my car for me.
The shape was boxy but smooth. I took a black felt marker and “customized” it and I
was ready for the races.
On
the night of the race, Mom took me to the school where the derby was being held. My number was called and
I marched my car up to the top of the ramp along with the other scouts. The lever was dropped and the cars
took off. Within seconds, the wheels flew off as the car hit the break in the ramp. Most
of the kids were dying with laughter and to say that I was embarrassed and humiliated would be an understatement.
When Mom and I came home, I was in tears as I walked right
past my smiling grandfather and straight to my room. He had no idea what was wrong and I sure wasn’t
in any mood to tell him. I left Mom to break that news to him.
I still have all the pieces of that pinewood car. No one
could pay me enough money for it for those pieces of pine represent memories and lessons learned. It taught
me to look beyond what I’ve been given and, while making the best of it, to not be afraid to bring in something from
outside the “kit” I’ve been given to make the situation better.
I also learned to take losing a race or battle in stride. I’ve
experienced lots of losses in life. I’ve learned all I could from them and moved on.
Those blocks of wood taught me to be sensitive to those
who have helped me even if the outcome isn’t what one would hope. Many people have helped me the
best that they could over the years and, often times, it still wasn’t all that I needed but, boy, did I appreciate their
help and let them know it.
Realize that it isn’t
winning the race that matters sometimes but participating in the race and learning from losing.
Not all races “matter”. Sometimes
they’re meant just for fun . . . and learning.
