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© Copyright 2000 TheTalewagger
The Totem Pole Challenge by The TaleWagger
One day last summer, a grandfather was sitting on a pier, with his grandson, fishing. It was a warm sunny day and several people were out, enjoying the fine weather. On a seat, near the grandson, an elderly woman was reading a book. When she had finished reading, the woman gathered her possessions and wandered away, leaving the book on the ground by the seat. The grandson, bored with not being able to catch a fish, strolled across, sat on the seat, and picked up the book. He quickly flicked through the pages, decided that it was of no interest to him, and proceeded to tear out the pages, one by one. When he had sufficient, he screwed them into balls and went to the water's edge. There he proceeded to throw them into the water. "Mike!" his grandfather shouted out. "What do you think you're doing?" "Nothin' Grandpa", came the reply, just playing with an old book someone left behind". "Don't be destructive,' scolded his grandfather, 'someone will have to clear up your mess. More importantly, you should realise that the author must have taken a lot of trouble to write that book." "But it was only an old book Grandpa," replied Mike, "and anyway, anyone can write a book. It's easy!" The old man sighed, gave an old-fashioned look, and asked. "Have you heard the story of the Totem Pole Challenge?" Mike shook his head. "In that case, you'd better sit down and listen carefully." With the fishing forgotten for a while, Mike sat cross-legged on the ground and his grandfather began the tale. *** "Many years ago, there lived, deep in the wilderness of North America, a small tribe. One day the Chief met with his three sons and told them: 'When the snow melts, I will trade half of our pelts, with the woodcarvers, for a totem pole.' His sons were aghast! 'But father,' they cried out as one, 'if you do that, we will not have enough pelts to trade for food. We have tomahawks, and there are many trees, we can make as many totem poles as you want!' The Chief was not convinced but paused for a moment to consider. His sons were adamant. 'Anybody can make a totem pole, it's easy!' they chanted. "Anybody can make a totem pole, it's easy!' Finally the Chief gave in and agreed that, come the Springtime, they could each make a totem pole. The elders of the tribe would then select the best one and it would stand in the middle of their village. The first son spent the winter sheltering from the cold, stayed close to the settlement, and carried on doing the things that he had always done in the winter. The second son spent all of his spare time making his tomahawk into the finest and sharpest one in the village, and looking for the most suitable tree to make into a totem pole. The third son travelled afar, though the deep snow of the inhospitable countryside, to seek out the wigwams of the totem pole makers. Then he spent the rest of the winter learning how they carved trees into totem poles; finely honing his tomahawk and studying the most-prized totem poles in the area. When the first day of Spring arrived, the three sons set about the task of carving their totem poles. At the end of the day, the third son had finished, and all of the tribe agreed that he had carved a magnificent totem pole, fit to stand in the middle of any village. At the end of the week, the second son had finished and the villagers agreed that he had done a good job, but he had actually carved out a canoe, not a totem pole. At the end of the month, the first son had finished and the villagers were unanimous that, thanks to his efforts at carving, there would be ample kindling wood for many winters to come! You see Mike, nothing done properly is ever as 'easy' as it first seems!" The End.
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