We didn't put up outdoor Christmas
lights this year. (Not that we have ever set up a spectacular winter
wonderland in the past; we have always put up a modest string of
lights or two just so the neighbors didn't think we were a family of
Scrooges.)
Simply put, I looked at the outside of
our new house and realized lights could not be put up without
climbing up on the roof. Longtime readers will think this is because
of my recent ladder incident. Although there may be a
smidgeon of truth to that, the real reason was that in my old age, I
have become scared of heights.
My 12 year-old self would never have
believed this. Although I certainly never did handstands on the edge
of tall buildings, heights never bothered me, and I sometimes very
much enjoyed them.
Back in the day, my family annually put
up a somewhat elaborate display of Christmas decor including lights,
wooden reindeer pulling a wooden sleigh carrying a wooden Santa
Claus. After getting vandalized one year, we started putting the
reindeer and sleigh on the roof as appropriate. Our two story
split-level house had a lower roof on one story and a higher roof on
the two-story side. Originally we put the reindeer on the lower roof
but decided people might miss it if coming down the road from the
opposite side. So my brother amazingly convinced my parents that we
should put the reindeer on the higher roof.
We set up our ladder on the lower roof
only to find it didn't quite reach. I think we were going to try it
anyway by climbing up as high as possible, grasping the overhanging
ledge with a hand or arm and then pulling the rest of our bodies up.
Luckily smarter minds decided we should borrow the neighbor's ladder
instead.
Our house also had a basement which
actually sat above ground on the side and in the back. This meant a
three story drop from the top roof to the concrete driveway. Of
course the first thing we did up on the roof was to glance down to
appreciate the long drop. Then we sat and took in the panoramic view
thinking we could see the entire world. Setting up the reindeer
wasn't much fun, but I loved being up on the high roof.
Flash forward thirty years to find
myself standing on a ten-foot step ladder getting ready to climb on
the roof of my one-story house. From the step-ladder, I would have
to throw my body onto the roof while I imagined myself quickly
sliding down the slope and down onto the patio below. I stood on the
ladder a long time before I finally talked myself into it. I
survived and learned that using the step-ladder wasn't so bad.
Ten years after that, we now had an
extension ladder which should have made climbing onto the roof even
easier. After a big hailstorm, I watched roofers all over the
neighborhood practically sprinting up ladders and stepping onto
roofs. I decided I could do the same. After chickening out a few
times, I climbed up the ladder without thinking and without stopping.
I made it to the roof easily.
I spent about an hour cleaning up
debris and cutting branches from an overhanging tree. As I cleared
the debris, I realized I wouldn't get closer than five or six feet
from the edge. The closer I got, a nervousness grew in my stomach.
I imagined myself getting dizzy and threw branches from as faraway
from the edge as I could.
"This is strange," I thought.
"I've never felt like this before. I still remember running
around on the top roof of my parent's house never worried about
falling."
When I finished I walked back to the
ladder and sat down on the roof. I realized I would have to go to
the edge to climb down the ladder. I slowly slid down the roof from
my sitting position until I rested next to the ladder. I turned and
tried to set my left foot on a rung only to push the ladder away.
Luckily it didn't fall but that made me sit back down and rethink my
predicament.
After a few more failed attempts, I
realized the ground was only about ten feet down. A jump wouldn't be
so bad. Or better yet, if the gutter could support me, I could just
slide down, hold onto the gutter then drop easily to the ground. I
seriously contemplated this until I realized the gutter would never
support me. Twenty minutes later, probably too tired to care
anymore, I finally managed to slowly get my feet on the ladder and
climb down.
There are other incidents which make me
think I'm scared of heights now, but being afraid to go on the roof
has mystified me. Maybe it's just a matter of age perspective:
Twelve-year-old self probably looked
down and thought, "If I land just right and drop to the ground
like a paratrooper, worst case scenario is a broken arm or
leg."
Current self looks down and thinks, "If
I fall, best case scenario is
a broken arm or leg."
