February 25, 2000

The weight of peer pressure was measured at 550 pounds last night.

Kurtiss and I went to church a few months back. It was in the fall, so a
relatively new season. At the time I was a little disappointed. We had
heard a lot about the new Minister in Syracuse and we were excited to
hear what he had to say. As it turned out it was Care Ring Sunday. Don't
get me wrong, but even with an enlightened young minister, the sermon
had that telethon feel to it.

Despite that, the sermon did it's job. I have had something to think
about. One of the stories was about a long time church member who had
always helped with everything, until finally he needed help, himself.
Scott, the minister, talked about how hard it is for someone to take
help sometimes. How hard it is to need help.

I have needed some help these days. I do as much as I can myself, but
you can not haul fire wood in a beetle. I haven't actually tried. In
fact I have come close to trying, but didn't want to be picking bark out
of the carpet for months. See how suburban I have become! Maybe I should
just buy a volvo.

Pete Miller and Kevin Virkler are the two people I know best up here. I
have known them for years now, and actually worked for Pete a few times.
Pete helped me move firewood first. I couldn't help feeling indebted,
but he wouldn't accept any cash. The next time I needed wood, I bought
it from Kevin, and he was glad to help me move it. Moving it was kind of
part of the deal, so I didn't feel so indebted, but still he went out of
his way to help. I owe him something.

Last night I really needed help. My wood stove arrived in Watertown. I
had arranged with Pete ahead of time that we would go in his truck to
get it, but there was no specific schedule. When the stove arrived I had
to 48 hours to collect it. Pete had lent out his truck, so I had to call
Kevin. At work. Kevin was so nice. He left work early and we drove to
Watertown to pick it up. That was only half the battle though.
the 550 pound beast into my house took , Pete, Kevin, one of Pete's
cabin renters and myself.

I am naturally very proud of being able to do everything myself. We
don't need to go into the psychology of that, except, I believe, it is a
fairly common american way, if you will. If there is anyway I can do
something myself, I will go out of my way not to get help. It is hard
for me up here, having people be so friendly. I know it sounds like I
should have worse things to complain about.

I feel that I need to repay every little kindness but I have trouble
finding the way. With my silly old friends I know I could make a fun art
project, or write them a nice letter. It's a whole different society up
here. I have been trying to sort out the etiquette of the bar. There is
a whole system of who buys drinks for whom. It is very hard for me to
understand. I usually end up receiving a soda, even when it is I who
feels he owes some debt. Kevin bought me fries and a soda the night we
moved the stove. I had no idea he would. It just happened  and I was
left feeling even more awkwardly in debt. And when I do get a drink for
someone, I feel just as awkward, like I have misspoken.

Once in awhile I think of Scott's sermon, Maybe I should just relax and
take the help that people want to give. I know that I myself would be
glad to help anyone in the same ways. So some days I fear I have not
tried hard enough to be appreciative, and others I think I have tried
too hard. Maybe my offers to repay the debt are embarrassing.

I saw a movie or read a book. I don't recall which it was, but there was
a plot about someone who moves to a new town, or meets a new group of
people, and does everything he can to fit in. He does everything to fit
in. I sometimes think that I have dreamt this ending or even the whole
thing. In the end of the movie, book or dream, he has done the wrong
thing and no one likes him anymore. When I think of this, I get chills.
What if, no matter how hard I try and how much I worry, I am just not
doing the right thing? I have a vision of woman standing sternly in
front of me and telling me how badly I have messed up. Some times I try
to imagine just what she is saying so that I can know what it is I have
done wrong, and do it right in real life. I don't know why she never
tells me. It feels like 550 pounds, sometimes.
 

MixiM